“This has nothing to do with the union,” Janet said. “His wife went into labor and he’s on his way to meet her at the hospital.”
“How far along—”
“Apparently the labor was well advanced. It’s their third child, so she’ll probably give birth any minute.”
“I meant how far along were the dinner preparations?”
“The main course is taken care of, but he was in the middle of supervising dessert.”
“See if the sous-chef can carry on without him.”
“But he left strict instructions that no one could touch anything.”
The satin evening purse that hung from Glenna’s bare shoulder began to vibrate against her hip. She held up her palm to ask Janet to wait as she opened her bag and took out her phone. “Glenna Hastings,” she said.
The voice was distorted by static and difficult to make out. Glenna pressed her fingers over her other ear and the reason for the poor reception soon became apparent. Four of the six musicians who should have set up forty minutes ago were stuck in a traffic jam in the Midtown Tunnel. Glenna told them to do their best, then terminated the call and turned to her assistant. “Janet, I need you to go to the lounge on the main floor and bring back the piano player. He’ll have to fill in until the other musicians get here. We can only hope they make it before the dancing is suppoed to start.”
“The piano player? What about the chef?”
“He thinks he’s indispensable, but I’m sure the rest of the kitchen staff can muddle through without his leadership. Oh, and make a note to send a gift to the chef’s new baby. That should head off any tantrums.”
“The baby’s?”
“The chef’s.”
Janet smiled. “You make it sound so simple.”
“Simple solutions are usually the best.”
“I’ll have to remember that when you’re on vacation next week. I’m glad you’re going. I don’t mean I’m glad you’ll be away, I just mean you never take time off and…” Janet’s words trailed away as her gaze went past Glenna’s shoulder. Her lips pursed as if she had just tasted something unpleasant. “Uh, Miss Hastings?”
What now? Glenna thought. “Yes?”
“That man’s here.”
“Excuse me?”
“The one with those scars.”
The butterflies unfolded from their knot in her stomach and started to dance, music or no music. She hadn’t thought he would come. She hadn’t thought she would be so pleased to hear that he had come, either. Glenna fought the urge to glance behind her and kept her gaze on her assistant. Her tone hardened. “Do you mean Mr. Marek, Janet?”
“Uh, yes. I think that was his name. What’s he doing here? I thought he was one of the workmen who were setting up the decorations.”
“Why would you assume that?”
“The way he was dressed when he came to your office. And his…uh, size.”
“Actually, he’s Master Sergeant Marek of the United States Army Special Forces and he’s here as my guest.”
“Oh, my gosh. Was he part of the group that rescued you?”
“Yes.”
“That explains it.”
“Explains what?”
“How you can bear to look at…I mean…” Janet paused. “I’m sorry. That must have sounded awful. I’m sure he’s a very nice man.”
“And I’m sure you’re not so shallow as to judge someone solely on the basis of their appearance. Now, if you’re quite finished making personal comments about the guests, would you mind going to the lounge to fetch the piano player as I asked you to, Janet?”
A dull flush appeared in her cheeks. She nodded and hurried off.
Glenna felt as if she’d just kicked a puppy. She usually liked it when Janet spoke her mind, but she wouldn’t tolerate anyone making remarks like that about Rafe, no matter who they were. She focused on her phone again and dialed the number that would connect her with the kitchen. Whi listened to the sous-chef expound as excitedly as a Broadway understudy on his sudden chance to step in for the star, she turned in a circle, trying to look casual as she scanned the room.
The crowd was growing larger by the minute, but the noise level wasn’t yet above a genteel hum—the guests who had paid the thousand dollars a plate to attend were generally too well mannered to shout. They were the kind of people Glenna had grown up with—men who kept several tuxedoes in their closets, women who wore earrings that cost more than what it took to feed and house an orphan for a year. They could well afford to contribute to charity.
She spotted a retired mayor, two senators and a prominent art gallery owner. She also spotted Abernathy Black, the executive director of the Winston chain. If she wanted to approach him tonight with her idea about investing in Rocama, she’d have to make sure to do it before he got into the champagne. She wouldn’t want a repeat of that awkward kiss last New Year’s.
But she wouldn’t mind a repeat of the kiss Rafe had given her this afternoon…
No. She wasn’t going to go there. Any relationship she had with Rafe now was going to be strictly business.
“Hello, Glenna. Looking for someone?”
The rush of pleasure she felt at his voice made her start. She forced herself to maintain her calm as she put away her phone and turned to face him. “Rafe, I’m glad you decided to attend. It should be a…”
The banal chitchat dried up on her tongue. She didn’t mean to stare, but she couldn’t help it. “You’re wearing a tuxedo.”
“Something wrong with that?”
“No, not at all. You look…” She had to swallow hard to keep from blurting out the truth. Who needed a chef to prepare dessert? Her pulse was already racing as if she were having a sugar rush. Rafe looked good enough to make her mouth water.
He was six feet three of masculine elegance, from his polished black shoes to the snow-white shirt that was buttoned snugly at his tanned throat. The formal cut of the suit emphasized the strong lines of his body in a way that no padding or clever tailoring could ever mimic. Yet he seemed completely oblivious to his virile appeal. He wore the sophisticated clothes with the same careless confidence he’d displayed when he’d strode naked from that moonlit pool in Rocama.
There went her knees again. She offered her hand in her best businesslike greeting. “Black seems to suit you,” she said finally.
He enclosed her hand in his, one corner of his mouth curving upward through his scars in a lopsided and utterly lethal smile. “You look illegal in that dress.”
Oh, God. Why did he have to smile? This was twice in one day and she was already having enough trouble with her knees.
And compared to the other dresses that could be seen in this room, Glenna’s would be considered modest. The beaded straps bared her shoulders, but no more than a shadow of her cleavage was visible above the neckline. The bias-cut jade fabric did tend to cling to her figure, but the skirt fell to mid-calf. She had no reason to feel as if Rafe could see through it, despite the fact that he did know what she looked like—and felt like—undher clothes.
Stick to business, she reminded herself. “Thank you. I trust your room is satisfactory?”
“It’s more than I expected, Glenna. Thanks for having the hotel put me up.”
“It was the least I could do. You wouldn’t have been comfortable camping out in my office.”
“I’ve slept in worse places.”
“I know.”
His hand tightened. His smile faded. The gleam that appeared in his gaze was at odds with his civilized clothes. Was he remembering how she’d slept in his arms, how his touch had made her forget the dank cement storeroom and the darkness of the jungle? Was he thinking of how she’d stretched herself over his naked body…?
She had to stop this obsession with nakedness. Their relationship was over. She simply had to try harder to believe that.
Her evening bag vibrated. She was grateful for the interruption, even if it did mean another problem. “Excuse me a minute, would
you, Rafe?” She freed her hand and reached for her phone. “I need to take this. We’re having some…labor problems.”
Rafe stepped back and listened as Glenna went into action. She didn’t need to raise her voice—she issued advice and instructions with natural authority. If she ever joined the service, she’d be officer material for sure.
And then he’d really be in trouble, because if he ever wanted to do to an officer what he wanted to do to Glenna…
He imagined leaning over and closing his teeth around those beaded straps that held up her dress. One strap at a time, he’d drag them over her shoulders. He’d use his teeth to get rid of the rest of what she wore, too. That way he’d be able to taste every inch of her skin as he revealed it.
“Glenna, darling!” A ruthlessly thin woman in a red dress brushed past Rafe’s arm and stood on tiptoe to kiss the air beside Glenna’s cheek. “How fabulous to see you looking so well after that horrible business last month. Your mother was so worried, wasn’t she, Miron?”
“Terribly. How are you, Glenna?” A florid-faced man with thinning white hair repeated the air-kissing ritual. He stepped on Rafe’s toe as he backed up. He glanced over his shoulder. “Oh, pardon me, sir. It’s such a crush tonight, but all for a good…cause…”
Rafe lifted one eyebrow as he watched the man fumble for something to say. So far, these society types had been too polite to stare. Mostly they just averted their eyes and found somewhere else to be. He wondered how this man would have reacted if he’d run into him at dusk in a rain-soaked West Virginian forest.
To his surprise, Rafe felt Glenna’s hand settle inside the crook of his elbow as she moved smoothly to his side. “Rafe, I’d like you to meet Candy and Miron Thomas. They’re very dear friends of my mother’s.” She gave the couple a tight smile. “I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for Master Sergeant Marek. He and his team were the ones who rescued me last month. With his busy schedule, we’re all lucky he agreed to attend tonight.”
Candyressed his chin. “Ah, then you must be in the military, Captain Marek?”
“Yes, ma’am. And it’s Sergeant.”
“How fabulous. Miron’s second cousin was an admiral or something. He and his wife give the loveliest parties when they’re in town. You must know him. Hancock Thomas.”
“Sorry, ma’am. We don’t move in the same circles. I’m in the army, not the navy.”
Candy’s laugh was as thin as her body. She patted Glenna’s hand and snagged her husband. “Oh, look, Miron. Isn’t that Bunky? We simply must go and say hello. Fabulous meeting you, Major. Talk to you later, Glenna.”
Rafe waited until they had moved out of earshot before he dipped his head toward Glenna. “I don’t need rescuing,” he said.
“I’m sure you don’t. They’re nice people once you get to know them.”
“They give out promotions pretty easily, too. Look, I know you’re working. If I’m cramping your style, I’ll come back later.”
“Don’t go yet. Actually, I’d like you to do me a favor.”
“Name it.”
“See that man to the right of the exit doors? He’s about my height and has black hair with a white streak above his left temple.”
Rafe followed her gaze. “Sure. What about him?”
“That’s Abernathy Black. I wanted to run my idea about the Rocaman resort past him, and it would be great if you could help me.”
“How? You want me to take him outside and rough him up if he doesn’t agree?”
She laughed, twisting her head to look at him. “No, Rafe, I’d like it if you could help me describe how beautiful the island is.”
For a moment he couldn’t breathe. He’d never heard Glenna laugh before. It was another new aspect of her, like her temper. And it was even more intriguing. “I didn’t pay much attention to the scenery,” he said. He ran the edge of his knuckles along her cheek. “Yet I do have a vivid memory of the beauty I saw.”
Her smile faltered.
He knew he shouldn’t be touching her. He knew he shouldn’t be talking like this, either. Still, compared to what he wanted to do, this was nothing. “It’s strange, Glenna, but in all the time we spent together, you never laughed.”
“I never knew you had a sense of humor.”
“I don’t. It’s only army issue.”
Her lips twitched with another bubble of laughter. He touched his finger to her lower lip and imagined putting his mouth there. After he dragged her clothes off with his teeth. After he kissed the rest of her body…
Kissed. The name finally made the connection in his head. His fingers curled into a fist. “Abernathy Black?” he muttered. “Isn’t that the guy who kissed you?”
“We’ve forgotten about it. We have a good working relationship, and I need him on my side to get my project in front of the board.”
Rafe dropped his hand. No man could forget kissing Glenna, or be content with a working relationship after getting a taste of more. He’d only be fooling himself. That applied to skunk-haired what’s-his-name over there as much as it applied to Rafe.
Dammit, what did he think he was doing? Did he honestly believe he’d be able to work with Glenna and keep himself from touching her? So far he hadn’t been able to keep his hands off her for more than a minute. How was he going to live up to their agreement for another week? If he didn’t…
What? Would she refuse to help them? That was unlikely. He was certain that she was as determined to get Juarez as he was. Rafe hadn’t accepted Glenna’s invitation to this black-tie fund-raiser in order to keep an eye on her—he knew she wouldn’t back out now. No, he wasn’t here because of the mission, he was here because of her. Just hearing her laugh had been worth the cost of the tux rental.
They had nothing in common. It was more obvious than ever that they came from separate worlds. She was no longer the stressed-out and vulnerable hostage he was duty-bound to protect, yet the physical attraction was still there. It wasn’t only him—she’d been a full participant in the embrace this afternoon before she’d had second thoughts. As long as they were both clear about what was going on between them, why should he continue to fight this?
Right now, with Glenna’s hand on his arm and her body warm against his side, he couldn’t think of a single valid reason.
“Rafe?”
She was no longer looking at him. She was looking toward good old Abernathy. But she didn’t appear interested, she appeared…concerned.
Rafe glanced across the room. “What is it?” he asked.
“See the dark-haired man who’s talking to Abernathy? Does he seem familiar to you?”
He wrenched his thoughts away from Glenna. There was something about the way Black’s companion held his shoulders and the tilt of his head that rang a bell. His back was toward them, yet when he punctuated something he was saying by a flick of his fingers, Rafe felt his senses go on alert.
The last time he’d seen that same careless gesture, half a second later he’d had the butt of a rifle slammed into his gut.
The dark coloring, the height, the weight, it all fit. But the resemblance had to be coincidence. Leonardo Juarez had no reason to be here. He wouldn’t dare.
Or would he? Juarez was arrogant enough to consider himself invincible. He had the money and the connections to show up wherever he wanted.
Still with his back toward them, the man started to move toward the exit doors. Rafe gave Glenna’s arm a gentle squeeze. “Stay put, okay?”
“What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to check this out.”
“Rafe, be careful.”
“Hey, what could happen? Like you said, we’re not in the jungle anymore.”
Chapter 11
Glenna paced over to the window and looked out at the city. Lights twinkled through the rain from constellations of steel and glass that lit up the night. The traffic that splashed along the street in front of the hotel had grown sparse, but it would never cease completely. All around her wer
e the sounds of technology: the low hum of the printer beside her desk, the whisper of the air-conditioning, the distant whoop of a siren and the rumble of a jet heading toward the Atlantic.
We’re not in the jungle anymore.
Rafe was right. All she had to do was look and listen and that much should be obvious.
Yet reality could be confusing at times. If her feelings for Rafe weren’t real, then why hadn’t they disappeared? If the infatuation had only been a result of their situation, then why did he affect her the same way now, in her world, a month later?
The glittering starscape in the ballroom had lost its sparkle once he’d left. He’d actually been flirting with her. And she hadn’t stopped him, she’d enjoyed it. Maybe she should have agreed to go back to the base with him immediately. It might be better to get this over with now before her feelings could become more confused.
She pulled back from the window, her gaze straying to her reflection in the glass. Only the lamp on her desk was lit, so her face was mostly in shadow. A lock of hair had pulled loose from her twist. She raised her hands, locating one of her hairpins so she could tuck it back into place.
Instead, she found herself studying her image. When had she started to wear her hair up? She couldn’t remember. It was something she was accustomed to, another part of the pattern that defined her life. Yet it wasn’t comfortable—the pins often poked at her scalp. She frowned and removed the hairpin. Another lock tumbled to her neck.
“I thought I’d find you here.”
She whirled around, her pulse taking a hard leap. She pressed her hand to her chest. “Rafe!”
He stepped into the office and closed the door. His tie was undone, his collar opened. He held his black jacket hooked over his shoulder by one finger. “Isn’t it a little late to be working?”
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