The Spellbinder: A Loveswept Classic Romance

by Iris Johansen

  “Oh, yes, I remember.” He pulled a face. “And it nearly drove me insane.” His voice lowered to velvet sexuality. “I’ll be delighted to return the favor.”

  The melting began to ignite tiny languid flames in every vein. “I didn’t mean to—” She broke off. “You’re doing it again. No Irish coffee and no seduction. Not until you answer my questions.”

  He lifted a brow. “Want to bed?”

  She took a hasty step backward. “No, Brody, you aren’t being fair. I’m truly concerned about this. That gun frightened me.”

  He studied her thoughtfully. “All right.” He turned away and laid the hair dryer on the counter of the vanity. “Dammit, I was hoping to put this off until tomorrow morning. There’s an evening newspaper in the second drawer of the desk in the study. You’d better take a look at it.”

  She gazed at him in bewilderment and then turned on her heel and left the bathroom.

  Brody ran a comb through his damp hair, took off the towel, and slipped on his terry-cloth robe before following her to the study.

  Sacha was gazing at the picture in the gossip section of the newspaper. “It’s a shot of you and me on the beach.” She lifted her gaze. “Levine?”

  He nodded. “I told him to take a few pictures of us together and then feed them to the columnists, making sure there was a caption mentioning where they’d been taken.”

  “I guess I don’t have to ask why. A trap?”

  “It has to end. Louis said that and I agree. You’ll be in danger until it does.”

  “Well, you certainly laid a clear trail for him.” Her hands were trembling as they held the newspaper, and she deliberately steadied them. “You did everything but give him the exact address and spread out the welcome mat.” She closed her eyes. “Dear heaven, I wish you hadn’t done this thing.”

  He took a step closer and gently took the paper from her. “It has to end,” he repeated. “Don’t be afraid, I won’t let anything happen to you.”

  “Afraid?” Her lashes flew open to reveal eyes shimmering with tears. “Of course, I’m afraid. What a stupid thing to do. He’s going to come here. Gino is going to come here. Until you did this, there was a chance he wouldn’t find us.”

  “I told you that I’ll keep you safe. I know you don’t like being bait but—”

  “Do you think I’m afraid for myself? What kind of person do you think I am? Gino almost killed you the other night. This time he’ll probably succeed. Don’t you understand? He doesn’t care whether people live or die if they get in his way.” She rubbed her ear. “He laughs—”

  “Shh.…” He took her hand from her ear and brought it to his cheek. “He’s not going to hurt anyone again. If Amanti gets out of this alive, he’ll be put away for a long, long time on an attempted homicide charge. I’ve set Randal investigating him too. He’ll dig up everything illegal Gino’s ever done in his life.” He turned his head, and his lips touched her palm. “But we have to catch him first.”

  She jerked her hand away. “Stop being so damn soothing. If you think I’m going to stay here and lure him to your house, you’re insane.” She whirled away from him. “I won’t—”

  He grabbed her shoulders and turned her back to face him. “You will,” he said with implacable firmness. “You’re not going anywhere, Sacha. You’re through running away.”

  “I won’t stay here,” she said, blazing with anger. “You broke our agreement. You said you’d make sure you’d be safe here. I would never have come if I’d known you’d do something like this.”

  He shook her gently. “Stop it. We’re long past agreements and bargains.” He forced her to look into his eyes. “Aren’t we, Sacha?”

  “No, I …” She drew a shaky breath. “Yes, but you had no right to do this.”

  “Perhaps, but it’s done now, and the trap is set. Levine and his men are deployed undercover outside and won’t make a move until Gino is inside the house. Levine has set up a radio signal that will set off a beeper he gave me if any intruder is sighted on the grounds.” His mouth tightened. “And if you try to leave, Levine will escort you politely but firmly back to the house.”

  Her eyes widened. “You’d keep me prisoner?”

  “I don’t want to do it.”

  “But you would. I don’t like this, Brody.”

  A flicker of pain crossed his face. “Do you think I do? I’m scared to death I’ve set you up as bait, and something will happen to you. But I’m more scared of letting you run away with no protection. You can’t leave, Sacha.”

  “Don’t count on it.” She took his hands from her shoulders. “I developed a violent antipathy to coercion when I was a child. I won’t be anyone’s prisoner, not even yours, Brody.”

  “It will only be for a little while.”

  She shook her head. “No! You’ve made a mistake but I won’t compound it by remaining here. I’ll find a way to get away from Levine and you.” She turned and strode out of the study.

  “Peace offering.” Brody stood in the doorway of the bedrooms holding a tray containing two tall cups frothed with tiny mountains of whipped cream. “I made the Irish coffee.” A worried frown creased his forehead. “I may have gone overboard on the cinnamon though.” He crossed the room and sat down on the bed beside her. Balancing the tray precariously in one hand, he awkwardly plumped up her pillows with the other. “That’s a pretty nightgown. I told the shop to send something blue.” A teasing smile touched his lips. “Now that I think about it, I’ve never seen you in any of those nightgowns. I wonder why?”

  He knew very well why, Sacha thought crossly. Their passion for each other had been too urgent to allow them to tolerate even a wisp of material between them. “Why are you here? I’m very displeased with you, Brody.”

  His smile faded. “I know. That’s why I’m here.” He gazed at her soberly. “We may not be together much longer, and I don’t want to waste a moment on bitterness.” He took a cup off the tray and offered it to her. “Peace, Sacha?”

  A wrenching pain tore through her. He was right. One way or the other their time together was coming to an end. How would she be able to bear it? He was so dear. Passion and wicked mischief. Gentleness and humor. Arrogance and in-security. He was a paradox of characteristics that only made him more human and lovable. She couldn’t stay here and put him in danger, but they need not part in anger.

  She took the cup from him and smiled. “Peace.”

  He breathed a sigh of relief that was almost boyish. “Good.” He set the tray on the bedside table and took his own cup from it. He took a tentative sip. “Too much cinnamon?”

  She took a drink of the coffee. Far too much cinnamon. But how could she tell him when he was gazing at her so hopefully? “It’s wonderful. Better than mine?”

  He chuckled. “Now I know I’m forgiven. You’re lying to me.”

  “No, truly, it’s—” She met his eyes and burst out laughing. “Almost tolerable.”

  He looked down at the whipped cream in his cup. “Have I ever told you how I love to hear you laugh? It’s always rich and earthy and makes me want to laugh too.”

  She took another sip. “Even when it’s so unkind as to be at your fine coffee?”

  “Even then,” he said thickly. He raised his gaze. “I don’t mind. I like it. Everyone takes me so damn seriously. The so-called great actor, Brody Devlin. Even Cass does it sometimes. You’re the only one who really laughs at me.”

  “I take you seriously too.” She reached out a hand to ruffle his chestnut hair as if he were a small boy. “But life is too short for us to go around with long faces. I have to laugh.” She brought the cup to her lips again. “And besides, I was laughing at your coffee, not you.”

  He stopped her before she could take another sip. “Well, I won’t make you suffer any longer. You’ve had enough of the stuff to soothe my ego.”

  She brushed his hand aside. “I’m getting accustomed to it. Maybe I’ll use an entire box of cinnamon, too, from now on.” She li
fted the cup to her lips again.

  “I said, you’ve had enough!”

  Her eyes widened at the sharpness of his voice.

  He smiled with an effort as he took the cup from her hand and set it and his own cup on the tray. “You’re tired. Go to sleep. I’ll take the tray back to the kitchen.”

  She was suddenly sleepy, a peculiar heavy drowsiness.

  Brody’s gaze was narrowed on her with a watchfulness that was also odd. Why was he …? Then she knew!

  Her gaze flew to the cup on the tray. “You drugged me.”

  He nodded. “Only a light sedative. It was necessary, Sacha.”

  “Necessary.” The word sounded slurred even to her own ears. “How could you do such a thing?”

  His hand gently brushed her hair back; his face was a mask of pain. “I know you, Sacha. You would have made a run for it. I couldn’t let you do that. And you would never have gone along with the rest of the plan.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “The trap’s been baited. Gino knows where you are. There’s no need for you to stay here now. I’m moving you to a house about a mile down the beach and sending some men to guard you.”

  She felt panicky even though sedated. “But if he thinks I’m here, he’ll come. You’ll be alone.”

  He nodded grimly. “And waiting.”

  “He’ll kill you.” She struggled to sit up, but her muscles felt too heavy to move. “No, Brody, please.”

  He leaned forward and gently brushed her forehead with his lips. “Don’t fight the sedative, Sacha. I’ll be fine. I’ve played in enough thrillers to be at least adequate at the role. I won’t let anything happen to me. Just relax and go to sleep. When you wake, it will all be over and you’ll be safe.”

  “No, Brody, you don’t know him. He’ll—”

  A shrill buzz interrupted her words, and Brody stiffened as if he’d been stabbed. “No! No! Not now, dammit!”

  The buzz was repeated, and Brody reached into the pocket of his robe and took out a small rectangular control box. He pressed a button and then jammed the box back into his pocket. He got up from the bed, reached into the drawer of the bedside table, and drew out the gun Sacha had discovered earlier in the evening. “Sacha, listen to me.” He wrapped her hand around the mother-of-pearl handle of the gun. “Try to stay awake.”

  He had just told her to go to sleep, she thought hazily. Why couldn’t he make up his mind?

  “He’s coming, Sacha. I wanted to get you away from here before he—” He drew a deep breath. “I’m going to the kitchen and get the other gun. He’ll have to come in through either the kitchen or the front door. I’m going to stop him.” He moistened his lips. “But if something goes wrong, you’ve got to stay awake so that you’ll be able to protect yourself. All you have to do is point the gun and pull the trigger. Okay?” He leaned forward and gave her a quick hard kiss. “It’s going to be all right.” Then he was gone.

  If something went wrong. What had he meant? Gino.… If something went wrong, Brody would die. He had given her the gun to protect herself, and he had no weapon. “No!”

  She struggled to a sitting position, her hand clutching the handle of the gun. She hadn’t realized such a small pistol could be so heavy. Her wrists felt as if they were made of water, but she must hold onto it. Brody needed the gun.

  She swung her legs to the floor and swayed dizzily. Damn Brody. Why had he done this to her? He had wanted to protect her. King Arthur to the rescue, sacrificing everything with a gallantry he hadn’t even known he possessed.

  She was on her feet, walking toward the door. Waves of darkness kept coming in and going out like a capricious tide. She clutched the jamb of the door, feeling a vague sense of triumph. She had made it to the first goal, now she had only to get down the hall and—

  A crash!

  Another crash. And then the sounds of curses from the direction of the kitchen! She knew that voice. “Gino.” She didn’t know she had whispered the name. Gino was in the house. Brody hadn’t been able to reach the gun in the kitchen in time. Another crash. They were fighting! Brody’s voice, reverberating down the hall, jarring her from the horrified haze, encapsulating her.

  She was running down the hall. At least she thought she was running. She seemed to be moving in slow motion. Then suddenly she was standing in the doorway of the kitchen.

  Gino. Just the same as in years past. A mountain of a man with thick curly black hair and beard and a face that had haunted her life since she was seven years old. Gino and Brody were on the floor struggling. But Gino was so strong. She knew how strong he was. She had to stop it.

  “Gino.” He didn’t hear her. She repeated it, louder. “Gino, I’m here. It’s me you want.”

  He looked up, and a savage smile of joy lit his face. “Pretty little Sacha.” He tore free of Brody’s hold and rolled away. “Oh, yes. It’s you I want. I’ve had ten years to think how much I want you.”

  “Sacha, get out of here.” Brody’s voice betrayed the agony he was feeling. “He has a knife.”

  She saw it now, gleaming wickedly in Gino’s left hand. But why was Brody so frightened for her when she had a gun in her own hand? She glanced down and realized that her gun was hidden by the floating skirt of her gown. She tried to lift it, but it was too heavy. She would try again in a moment when she had gathered more strength. “He likes knives,” she said dully. “Almost as much as cigars. Right, Gino?”

  “Ah, you remember.” Gino got to his knees. “You were a very brave child. I almost hated to hurt you like that.”

  Brody was fading back toward the cabinet, taking advantage of Gino’s concentration on Sacha. The cutlery drawer, she realized. He was trying to reach the gun in the cutlery drawer. She had to keep Gino’s attention, but it was so hard to think. “I was afraid of you. We were all afraid of you, Gino. Did it make you happy knowing you could make a child fear you?”

  “As a matter of fact, it did.” Gino rose to his feet, his enormous bulk suddenly dominating the small kitchen. “It made me feel a little godlike. I was the ‘boss.’ The money was good, but that feeling was better.” The knife glittered in his hand as he stood there, his eyes narrowed on her. “I could throw this knife, Sacha, and pierce your heart. Or I could come closer and feel it sink into your flesh. Which should I do, pretty Sacha?”

  From the corner of her eye she saw that Brody had reached the cutlery drawer. She tried to keep her gaze fixed on Gino’s face. “You never let us choose before. Why now, Gino?”

  “You’re right.” Gino’s deep laugh boomed out. “I want to feel you die.” He began to come toward her.

  She lifted the gun in her hand and pointed it at him, trying desperately to stop it from wobbling.

  The next few moments were a jumble of wild impressions: Gino’s arm drawing back to hurl the knife. Levine’s shout as he and his men rushed into the room. Brody’s cry of rage and panic. A shot tearing through the room. Gino’s look of surprise as he fell to his knees and slumped over. Had she shot him?

  Then she was falling, the shining beige tile of the floor rising up to meet her. “Brody!” Was Brody all right? She couldn’t see him in the darkness. “Brody, where are you?”

  She heard a low sob as strong arms closed around her. Then she heard nothing at all as the darkness deepened into unconsciousness.

  Ten

  Cass Radison was sitting in the chair beside the bed and smiling down at her.

  Cass? Something was wrong. Cass wasn’t supposed to be here in Malibu. He had returned to his own apartment in Los Angeles. Sacha shook her head to clear it of the fuzziness clouding her thinking.

  “It’s all right.” Cass leaned forward and spoke quickly. “Everything’s fine. Just relax, Sacha.”

  Relax. That was what Brody had told her after she had found out he had put the sedative in her coffee. Brody! She sat bolt upright in bed. “Gino! Is Brody all right?”

  “Brody’s fine,” Cass said soothingly. “And you weren�
��t hurt either. Brody stopped Gino before he could throw the knife.”

  She lifted a shaking hand to push back her hair. “I was going to shoot him but the gun was too heavy.”

  “Brody shot him.”

  Her gaze met Cass’s. “Is Gino dead?”

  Cass shook his head. “No. But he won’t be out of the hospital for quite a while, and after that he’ll face a damn long prison sentence. Randal uncovered a rather nasty murder Gino Amanti was connected with about fifteen years ago.”

  “I see.” Gino was out of her life. How strange it felt. Free, but strange. She couldn’t quite comprehend it. “How long have I been asleep?”

  “Almost twelve hours. Brody asked me to stay with you to explain everything and go over the arrangements.”

  “Arrangements?”

  He nodded as he took out a small notebook and flicked it open. “He wants you to stay here as long as you like, and I’m to invite Benoit to be his guest here too. In case you wish to return to Paris, he owns a villa just outside the city, and the same arrangement could exist there. There will be a generous monthly allowance, of course, but he has a good deal of influence in this city, and he thinks he could pull certain strings to help your career. Harris will stay with you as long as you need him and—”

  “Stop!” She held up her hand. Her head was whirling with confusion. “What are you talking about? I can’t take any of these things.”

  “He was very specific,” Cass said gently. “He wants to make sure you’re safe—and happy. He said to tell you that he wants you happy, not content, whatever that means to the two of you. Something about rockets going off and a ‘shining.’ ”

  “Why are you telling me all this?” she whispered. “Why doesn’t Brody tell me himself?”

  Cass hesitated. “He’s not here, Sacha.”

  Pain. White-hot agonizing pain. “Where is he?”

  “He just left in a taxi for the airport. He’s on the four o’clock flight on TWA to New York.”