by Nika Rhone
Of course.
Steeling himself against the instant visceral reaction he had to the sight of that damned bikini, Doyle took a seat on the chaise next to her and did his best to only make eye contact, but it was hard, damn hard. Just like his—
“Good morning,” Thea said, over the top of her book.
“Good morning.”
Eye contact, eye contact, eye contact…
“So?” Thea lowered the book onto a raised knee, her upper body twisting a little toward him. The movement almost drew his eyes to forbidden territory, but he held onto his resolve. Barely. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
Pleasure, pain, it was all the same right now, and all centered about three feet below his brain, which seemed to have taken an unscheduled break and left him unable to string two words together. “Uh…”
Looking alarmed, she said, “Doyle, what? Is it my mother?”
“Who was that guy you were with last night?”
They both blinked in surprise, at the question as much as the rough voice that demanded it. Doyle cursed himself. It was what he wanted to know but not how he’d planned to ask it. He’d meant to be calm. Thorough. Professional. Instead he’d come off sounding like a jealous jackass.
“Which guy?” Thea asked, innocently, twisting her body just a tiny bit more toward him, the worry erased from her eyes. Maybe a little too innocently. But Doyle didn’t have a lot of experience with a disingenuous Thea, so he couldn’t be sure.
“Blond, about six foot, estimated age about thirty, drives a dark blue Toyota Camry rental. Sound familiar?”
Thea’s mouth had opened in surprise as he spoke. Now she snapped it shut.
“My, my, my, your people sure do have a lot of time on their hands, don’t they, to be able to provide you with such detailed reports. I’m surprised they didn’t supply pictures as well.”
Making a mental note to have his people get pictures of everyone Thea interacted with from now on, Doyle said, “Their job is to watch over you and protect you from potentially dangerous people and situations.” Now, why did that suddenly sound trite, even to him?
“Since when is a date a dangerous situation?”
“Is that what it was? A date?” Somehow, that bit of information was like the jab of a needle between his eyes.
After considering it for a long moment, Thea finally pursed her lips. “Wellll,” she said, drawing the word out, “I guess, no, it wasn’t a date. Technically.”
“So, this guy—what did you say his name was?”
“I didn’t.” Thea lasted almost ten seconds under Doyle’s glare before she relented with a put-upon sigh. “Nick. Nicholas Hastings.” She made a sour expression. “I’m surprised that wasn’t already in the secret spy file you have on him.”
It would have been, if he’d taken the time to run the rental car information before he’d come to speak to her, but Doyle didn’t think she needed to know that. Instead, he asked, “What do you know about him?”
“He’s from Chicago, single—a widower, actually—doesn’t do drugs, and he’s a great dancer.” She shrugged. “What else do I need to know?”
If he’s the psychotic stalker who’s been sending you sexually twisted letters. But Doyle bit his tongue and kept the words inside. “Why he’s in town. Why he approached you in Farraday’s. Why he showed up at Pot and Kettle yesterday and how he knew you’d be there.”
“He’s here on business. He didn’t approach me; I approached him. And he overheard me mention that I was planning to meet Amelia for lunch and showed up because he enjoyed spending time with me, surprising as that may seem.”
He wasn’t sure why, but that last sounded almost like an accusation. He brushed a flicker of guilt away. “And last night?”
“I asked him if he wanted to join us when we went out dancing. He doesn’t know anyone in town and he was bored out of his mind sitting all alone in his hotel room all weekend waiting for his meeting on Monday. Is that a problem?”
Yes. “No, I guess not,” he said and then couldn’t help persisting. “But what do you really know about him?”
Thea stared at him a moment, her head cocked as if she were trying to figure out a puzzle.
“Enough.” A secretive smile curled her lips. “For now.”
For now? For now? Why did that have the ring of a possible need for her to know more at some point in the future? That she might want to know more in the future? And just why did that bother him so damned much?
“I don’t want you seeing him again.” Doyle assured himself that it was as much for Thea’s safety as for his peace of mind that he’d made the snap decision. It was the truth, even if it wasn’t the whole of it, but he couldn’t bring himself to admit it. There was something about Nick Hastings that he didn’t like.
“You…what?”
The incredulous tone was Doyle’s first hint that he might have been a bit hasty in issuing his decree.
“It’s a matter of security. This Hastings is a stranger, and right now you’re—”
“In a position to be a target, making me and everything I do a security risk, meaning I have to stay in sight of my bodyguards at all times, take no unnecessary risks, look both ways before I cross the street, don’t take candy from strangers, yadda yadda yadda.” Thea scowled. “I’m not a total idiot, you know. I wasn’t planning to run off with the guy. But there’s no reason I can’t go out with him if I want to as long as one of your people tags along.”
“I wouldn’t be doing my job if I let you go into a potentially dangerous situation when I could have prevented it.”
“A potentially dangerous situation?” She hooted with laughter. “Oh, my God, did you really just call a date a potentially dangerous situation?”
Okay, maybe that had been a bit over the top.
“It is if we don’t know anything about him except what he’s told you,” Doyle said. “You don’t even know if any of it is true.”
“So do a background check on him!” Thea threw up her hand in frustration, dislodging her book and sending it tumbling to the ground. “I know at least two of your people are ex-spooks. It shouldn’t be a problem for them to whip up a report that will tell you everything your little heart desires about him. But I can already tell you that you won’t find anything more dangerous than a speeding ticket. Nick’s a nice guy.”
Something about the calm, firm assertion about a man she’d only met two days ago nettled Doyle. “Ted Bundy’s victims thought he was a nice guy, too, right up until he killed them.” He growled as he snatched up the book, shoving it back into her hands before she had a chance to bend over and get it herself. He wasn’t sure he could stand the sight without going insane.
“Nick isn’t Ted Bundy, and I’m not planning on being anyone’s victim.”
Snatches of some of the twisted things the letters had contained about what the stalker wanted to do to Thea once he had her in his power brought a sudden grimness to Doyle’s entire demeanor.
“No, you won’t be. I can guarantee it. That’s why you’re not going to go anywhere with this guy again. Until”—he held up a hand to forestall the protest he saw forming on her lips—“I have a chance to check him out.”
Thea’s lips compressed as she obviously struggled with the high-handed decree. “How long will that take?”
“A few days, maybe more.” Or less, but she didn’t need to know that. The longer she was kept away from Hastings, the better. In a few days, she’d probably lose any interest in the guy, anyway. She always did. Aside from the one moron she’d hooked up with for a few months in college, in all the years that he’d known her he couldn’t think of a single instance where Thea’s interest hadn’t waned by the second or third date. She just didn’t seem to be able to focus her interest on any single person.
Except you.
The thought was as unwelcome as it was unbidden. There was a world of difference between a schoolgirl infatuation and adult interest, and Thea definitely fell into the f
ormer category. Because she was still a kid and way too young for someone like him. Even if Hastings was only about four years his junior, and even if she did look like a centerfold in that damned thong bikini, and even if she did make every cell in his body stand at attention whenever she was around, especially his—
“What about tonight?”
The question dragged him from his wayward thoughts before they could do any more damage to his already strained self-control.
“Tonight?” He cleared his throat. “What about tonight?”
Thea nibbled her lower lip, drawing Doyle’s attention like a hunting dog to where her white teeth tugged at the tender pink flesh. “Well, we sort of had plans for dinner.”
“Break them.”
With a huff, Thea said, “You don’t just break reservations at Rudolfo’s.”
Which was the absolute truth. Not if you ever wanted to get a reservation there again before the next Ice Age. Rudolfo knew how to nurse a grudge.
“Then go alone.”
That suggestion earned him a disbelieving snort. “Right.”
“Take Lillian or Amelia, then.” Anyone but Hastings.
“Lil already has a date, and Charles hit town today with his father and their campaign entourage, so Mellie’s having dinner with them.” Her nose wrinkled in annoyance. “There has to be someone who would be willing to bear my company for a few hours in exchange for a good meal.”
It was then that Doyle saw the trap that had been laid. The one he had almost stepped right into, blinded by suntan oil and miles of skin. Damn, he had to come up with an excuse now, before she managed to ask him—
“What about Sam?”
“Sam?” Doyle blinked, feeling struck dumb by the name. Sam?
Thea nodded, smiling. “Yeah, Sam. He’s off today, isn’t he? Maybe he’d like to go with me.”
Sam? She wanted to ask Sam to go to dinner with her, not him?
His pride pricked despite the fact that not seconds before he had been scrambling for an excuse not to go, Doyle said, “Sam’s out on a date.” He knew his tone was curt, but he didn’t care. It bothered him that he hadn’t been Thea’s first choice. A lot more than it should have.
“Hmm. What about Rick?”
Grinding his teeth, Doyle replied, “He’s on duty tonight.” Was she going to ask every member of the security staff except him?
“Oh. Well.” Thea’s teeth tugged at her lip again as she thought.
Doyle felt a corresponding tug in his loins, and his temper flared at the unwanted arousal. “You could always ask Simon.” Despite his aggravation, he almost laughed at the look of horror that appeared on her face at the mere idea.
“And here I thought you were my friend,” Thea said in mock moroseness, shaking her head. She sighed. “Guess I’ll have to risk Rudolfo’s wrath and cancel, after all.”
It stung that the idea of asking him to dinner apparently never entered her mind. “Do I suddenly have the plague or something?”
Thea looked surprised. “No, of course not. I just…I didn’t think you’d want to go, that’s all.”
Since you’ve been going out of your way to avoid me like I have the plague for days. The unsaid words were there as clearly as if they’d been spoken, and Doyle suddenly felt ashamed of his own childish actions.
“I’d love to go to dinner with you, Thea.”
“You would?” She didn’t look entirely convinced.
“Yes, I would.”
After a long moment, a smile bloomed on Thea’s face, wiping out the last traces of doubt. “Okay. The reservations are for seven.”
“I’ll pick you up at the main house at six-thirty, then.”
As he walked away, Doyle grinned, triumphant at his success in diverting Thea from her date with Hastings, blissfully unaware that he’d just been played like a pro.
****
She was going to dinner with Doyle!
Calm and nonchalant as she walked back to the house, inside Thea was doing the Snoopy dance. It worked! It actually worked! She had thought there had been signs of jealousy in Doyle when he switched Sam for Kirsten when she went to the gym, but after the way he’d been going out of his way to avoid her this past week, she’d begun to have doubts.
But Lillian told her to go with her instincts and Des agreed, saying that just the fact that Doyle was avoiding her was a promising sign she was closer than she thought to breaching his reserve. And now they had a date!
She’d known Sam was spending the day with Des’s roommate, Sheila, just as she’d known that Rick was likewise unavailable. What she hadn’t expected was Doyle’s reaction when she suggested them as possible replacements for the now off-limits Nick, with whom she’d never actually had any dinner plans. She sent him a silent thank you for his unwitting part in her campaign and hoped he was enjoying the list of sightseeing ideas she had given him the day before.
She’d expected Doyle to be surprised by her choices, hoped he might be a tiny bit jealous, but had been shocked when he’d looked a little hurt. Doyle had been avoiding her. Why should he be hurt when she was simply returning the favor?
Sighing, she shook her head. She’d never understand the man. But for tonight, at least, he was hers, and for now, that was enough.
Chapter Ten
Doyle was having a good time.
The realization, made somewhere between the appetizer, a mouthwatering seafood platter which they’d shared, and the main course on which they’d gone in opposite directions, butter-soft filet mignon for him versus chicken tequila fettuccine for Thea, came as something of a surprise. A good one, but a surprise nonetheless.
Not too long after he’d finished congratulating himself over having routed Thea’s budding interest in Nick Hastings, Doyle had slowly begun to understand the full implication of having shanghaied the empty seat at Thea’s table.
He would be alone.
With Thea.
In public.
For hours.
And God knew what sexy little outfit she might decide to wear. Or how he was going to react to it, or, rather, how his body was going to react. Lately it seemed to have a very determined mind of its own where Thea was concerned.
He was in serious trouble.
Panic had very nearly sent him to the phone to call her and make some excuse for having to back out of their dinner arrangement—he wouldn’t, couldn’t call it a date—but uncertainty had prevailed long enough to let logic reassert itself.
It wasn’t as if this was the first time they’d gone to dinner together. He’d taken her someplace special for her eighteenth birthday. And her twenty-first. She’d even surprised him with dinner at Q’s when he’d turned thirty. So, they’d eaten out before. Alone. In public. For hours. And nothing bad had ever come of it. So why was this any different?
Because those had been special occasions, and this was…what? Not a date. No, it was just two people who got along well together and liked spending time involved in their common interests going out for some good food, a few drinks, and maybe a little dancing if the band that sometimes played at Rudolfo’s on the weekends was there.
Hell, it was a date!
Immersing himself in paperwork all afternoon had still left him with too much time to worry about what sexy little number Thea was going to wear. And how he was going to manage to drive all the way downtown in a state of semi-arousal, since that seemed to be his permanent condition lately whenever she was within ten feet of his unruly body.
Hell, who was he trying to kid? She didn’t need to be anywhere in the vicinity. All he had to do was think about her wearing that itty-bitty, almost-not-there bikini and he was ready to go.
The dress she chose had nearly taken him to his knees. It wasn’t sexy in the explicit sense of the word. The neckline wasn’t overly daring, her shoulders were covered, and the back didn’t plunge to her derriere. But the way the soft plum-colored fabric hugged her body, clinging to her in all the places a man’s hand would want to cling: a
t the breast, at the luscious curves of her hips, at the ripe globes of her ass…God, it was enough to drive him insane, seeing her like that and knowing she was forbidden fruit.
Only because you decided she was, his inner devil taunted. Nobody else considers her off-limits.
This was Thea, he’d reminded himself firmly as he’d helped her into his car. Thea who’d cried in his arms like her thirteen-year-old heart was breaking when her dog, Pebbles, was hit by a car. Who cheated at Scrabble, and had once talked him into buying enough Girl Scout cookies to make him sick for a month.
And yet…
Was he being fair by continuing to see her as that gamine girl he’d befriended when he’d first come to work on the estate? Was he ignoring the fact that she was now all grown up so he could also ignore the burgeoning desire he felt whenever she was near? Was he really that much of a coward?
The questions had slowly wormed their way through his thoughts during the drive to the restaurant. They were only reinforced by the looks of male appreciation Thea garnered on the way to their table. He wanted to snarl at every man who sent her one of those assessing glances.
The lady in question seemed totally unaware of the looks being sent her way. Or, if she did notice, she dismissed them without the usual preening that he was used to seeing from Margo. When men admired Margo, she always shot him a little smirk, to make sure he’d noticed her being noticed.
Funny, he’d never thought about that before, but now that he had, he found it annoyed him. Especially when compared with the smile Thea gave him as they were seated. Not one that said “Look at all the other men here who want me. Aren’t you lucky you’re the one I’m with?” but said instead, “I’m really glad to be here with you.”
It was that smile that had lightened his mood and allowed him to fall into the easy, familiar banter the two of them had always enjoyed. The meal passed in a comfortable blur of topics from baseball to movies. But when Doyle brought the subject of Amelia’s upcoming wedding up over dessert, Thea’s expression turned wistful.
“Trouble in paradise?”