by Gayle Wilson
Chapter Three
When the door came slamming into the room, Tyler stumbled backward, trying to get out of its way, and almost fell into the shower stall. Her back and shoulders banged against the glass enclosure, rattling the doors, which thankfully held.
She threw her hand up to maintain her balance, and her flailing fingers dislodged the wedding dress she had hung over the top of the stall. She caught it with her knee, trying to prevent the designer gown from dropping to the floor.
It was only as she stood there, balanced on one leg, the other raised and bent at the knee, the wedding dress draped over it, that she realized how little she was wearing. She became aware of it only when the man’s eyes reminded her.
It was the first time she had seen any sort of emotion in their blue depths. Anything other than cold threat. What she saw in them now wasn’t cold. She quickly lowered her leg, grabbing the dress as it began to fall.
She had locked the door. What the hell kind of person would...? Then she answered her own question. The kind who had kept those men from finding her. The kind who carried a very big gun and who looked as if he knew how to use it. And the kind who wasn’t even bothering to pretend his eyes weren’t examining her body.
Her shaking hands lifted the bridal gown to her breasts in an attempt to cover some of that exposed skin. Her underwear, designed to fit under the low-cut neckline of the dress, apparently wasn’t doing much of that.
His eyes openly examined the strapless, skin-colored lace corselette before they moved down the length of sheer silk stockings to the white peau de soie heels. Even considering how long her legs were, that examination seemed to take forever.
Tyler had paraded down a lot of runways wearing less than she had on right now, but somehow that was very different from the one-on-one, up-close-and-very-personal assessment this man was making. Her eyes lifted longingly to the broken door, hanging a little drunkenly on its hinges.
There was a dark brown terry-cloth robe hanging on the back of it. That’s what she had intended to put on when she started taking off the bridal gown. Only he hadn’t given her enough time. Or the privacy a locked door would seem to demand from any civilized person.
Civilized. The possibility that he really wasn’t was frightening. Between them they weren’t wearing enough clothing to start a small fire. Not that she had wanted to start anything. She just wanted to get into something less conspicuous than what she’d been wearing and then she wanted to get out of here. Out of the hotel. Out of the insane situation she’d somehow gotten herself into by agreeing to marry Amir.
The man’s gaze finally came back to her face, and meeting his eyes, Tyler felt her fear explode again, almost as strongly as it had been when she’d opened Amir’s door. She wondered suddenly why she had believed she could trust this man. He looked as dangerous now as the men who had been standing on that narrow terrace, one of them pointing a rifle into the street.
She stood motionless, trying to read the face of this stranger to whom she had appealed for help. Trying to decide if he meant to hurt her. After all, he had kicked in the door she’d locked, and he had slowly examined her exposed body, neither of which seemed to bode well for his intentions.
“Now why don’t you tell me what’s really going on,” he said.
His voice was very calm, and she realized that whatever had been in his eyes a moment ago, that smoldering blue heat, was gone. Snuffed out as easily as someone might pinch out the flame on one of those tiny candles on a child’s birthday cake.
She felt a little of her tension ease, but she didn’t know what to tell him. She wasn’t sure what she had seen—a security operation or an assassination. And even if it were the latter, she didn’t know if Amir was involved. Or who was.
She really knew nothing other than the fact that she’d seen someone in Western attire fire a shot off the terrace of Amir’s suite as two of his bodyguards watched. She had no way of knowing what, if anything, that meant.
“I needed to get out of this dress,” she said, trying to think what she could tell him. What would be safe. And true. After all, the only thing that was important now was getting out of here. The Tommie Sue part of her had been screaming that warning since before the door upstairs banged closed, separating her from the man with the rifle.
“It’s too conspicuous,” she added, lifting the wedding gown she still held in her left hand a fraction of an inch.
“Who were the men outside?” he asked, ignoring the gesture. Ignoring what she’d said.
“Hotel security,” she suggested, remembering their claim.
“I don’t think so,” he retorted, but his voice was still calm. “And I don’t think they were the groomsmen of any wedding party. So why don’t you just tell me what’s really going on before I lose patience with whatever game you’re playing.”
She hesitated again, still not sure what to do. She had witnessed something she knew instinctively she wasn’t supposed to see. From their reaction, she believed no one was supposed to see what those men had done. She just wasn’t sure telling this man about it was the smartest thing she could do. She didn’t know who he was, either. What he was, she amended. Because he was obviously something outside her experience.
“I was supposed to get married,” Tyler said again, deciding, even as she talked, how much of the truth to tell him and how much she should hide. As certain as she was that she had to get out of this hotel, out of the wedding, she didn’t feel she could make accusations against Amir when she had no proof that he, or anybody else, had done anything wrong.
There was probably a perfectly harmless explanation of what she had seen. After all, her feelings were colored by the realization that she had made a serious mistake in agreeing to this marriage. Amir’s was not a world she could enter, but that didn’t mean he was guilty of—
“And?” the blue-eyed man prodded.
“And...I decided at the last minute I didn’t want to go through with it. I ran away and some people, some of the wedding party, came looking for me.”
She paused, assessing her audience. His eyes had not left her face after their initial, unhurried scrutiny of her body. But they revealed nothing of what he might be think ing. No clue to that and therefore no help in shaping her narrative.
“I just don’t want them to find me,” she finished, deciding finally that the less said about what she’d seen the better.
Maybe this man could help her. That’s what she had thought at first. That had been her instinctive reaction to him. But now something about him bothered her—almost the same sense of wrongness that the men with the rifle had caused.
In his case, however, it wasn’t the gun he held. It was something about his eyes. Their coldness. Their...emptiness. She shivered at the unexpected descriptive her brain had suggested. Empty, she thought. That’s exactly what they were.
“You think they would call in security to help them look?” he asked.
“Maybe,” she agreed, trying to think why they might. When an explanation occurred to her, she hesitated about voicing it. After all, he didn’t look very gullible. “If they thought something had happened to me,” she continued. “My fiancé’s very wealthy, so if they didn’t know I’d run away...”
She realized suddenly that she shouldn’t have told him about Amir’s money. Probably not a smart move, considering the situation, but it seemed too late to back out of the story now.
“They might call in security if they thought someone might have...” She paused, wondering if she was simply giving him ideas. Out of the frying pan and into the fire?
“Abducted you?” he supplied smoothly when she hesitated.
His tone had changed again, but she still couldn’t read it. Damn it, she couldn’t figure him out. Not enough to know whether she could afford to tell him the truth. Whether she dared to do that and then appeal for his help. “Maybe,” she agreed.
“Why would they say you’re dangerous?” he asked.
“Is that wh
at they told you?”
He nodded, his mouth shifting at the corners. Not quite a smile, but something. A change of expression, she thought. Almost an expression, at least, and not that cold mask.
“I’m not dangerous,” she promised softly.
The subtle expression she had noticed before flickered again. Obviously he thought her claim was amusing. And she knew why. Because he’s the one with the great big gun. And because he really is dangerous.
“Okay,” he agreed, seeming to accept what she had said, although his eyes were still amused. “So what now?”
Which, unbelievably, seemed to imply he was willing to help her. Tyler took a breath, trying to think what to do. Anything but let those men find her, she decided. “Could I stay here?” she suggested. “Stay in your room?” Into the fire.
“You could...but I’m leaving,” he said, blue eyes guileless. “I have a plane to catch.”
Maybe he’d take her out of the hotel with him, she thought, grasping at possibilities. If she were wearing different clothing, with something over her head to hide her hair and part of her face... Hope began to grow. They would be looking for a bride—a bride alone—and she would have become someone else.
“I could go with you,” she said.
The corners of his lips lifted minutely. “But I don’t have another ticket,” he said.
There was a suggestive undercurrent in his refusal, and only when she heard it did she realize how her request might have been interpreted.
“I didn’t mean on the plane. Just...away from the hotel. They’ll be looking for a bride. For a woman alone...”
The words trailed away because even in her mind the plan was unfinished. But surely he’d be willing to do that. It wasn’t much to ask. Men were supposed to respond to women in distress. Some kind of code of chivalry.
Yeah, right, her mind jeered. And how many men do you know who follow such a code? Especially if it puts them in danger?
But maybe, she thought, looking into his considering eyes, maybe he would. Especially since he didn’t know that the men looking for her also had guns. She wondered again if she should tell him what they’d been doing. Tell him about the rifle.
Not telling him was unfair, but there was no one else she could turn to. And there was always the possibility that she had been wrong. That she’d put the wrong interpretation on what she’d seen. That it didn’t mean anything. Nothing sinister.
This man had a gun, and he looked as if he knew how to use it. If she had to pull someone into this, and she didn’t see any other way to get out of the hotel, then surely it would be better to choose a person who seemed capable of dealing with the risk. And he did, she realized. That, too, was in his eyes.
“All right,” he said unexpectedly. “Out of the hotel and into a cab. I’ll drop you wherever you say. Within reason.”
She nodded, willing to agree to anything. His offer was the best she was likely to get. If he would get her out of the hotel, she’d worry then about what came next.
“There’s a robe behind the door,” she said. “Would you hand it to me?”
Surprise flickered briefly in his eyes and was controlled. He caught the broken door with his free hand, pulling it toward him. Without releasing her gaze or his gun, he reached behind it with that same hand and took down the robe she’d asked for. He tossed it to her, and she caught it awkwardly.
She waited a moment, hoping he’d have the decency to go into the other room. Finally she hung the wedding dress across the top of shower enclosure again. Then she turned her back and slipped her arms into the sleeves of the robe. She didn’t turn around until she was knotting the sash around her waist.
His eyes had lightened, and she realized he was laughing at her. Not laughing, she amended. She wondered if he even knew how to laugh, but there was no doubt he was amused. And she didn’t understand why she had turned her back. She was comfortable with her body, at ease with showing it off. That had been an integral part of her profession, so her reaction to this one man looking at her was hard to explain.
“You planning on wearing that?” he asked. His eyes remained on hers. They didn’t examine the bathrobe, even though he was obviously referring to it. “Because if so, I have to tell you that it will attract as much attention as the wedding thing.”
“I thought maybe I could borrow something of yours,” she suggested.
His eyes moved up and down her body, appraising, but doing it quickly this time. Asexually. Then he stepped out of the bathroom and walked over to the double closet. He pulled a small black nylon bag, duffel shaped, off the shelf and pitched it unceremoniously onto the bed.
“There’s not much there,” he said, “but you’re welcome to anything you think might fit.”
She hesitated only a second before she walked across to the foot of the king-size bed and bent to pull the bag toward her. As she did, she glanced up and found his eyes on the shadowed cleavage the corselette had been designed to create, emphasized now by her leaning position. She straightened quickly, the bag in her hand, and his eyes came up to meet hers. This time there was nothing in them but amusement.
Her mouth tightened. For some reason, despite the seriousness of her situation, Tyler was a little annoyed that amusement seemed to be the only emotion she had the ability to evoke in this man. She hadn’t intended to be provocative. She had simply been reaching for the bag, but still...
Not quite sure why she was angry, she unzipped the duffel with more force than was necessary and began rummaging through its contents. He had certainly told the truth. There wasn’t much here. A couple of changes of underwear—briefs and T-shirts rolled neatly together to conserve space. Two pairs of worn jeans, also rolled and not folded. A knit golf shirt. And another shirt—this one a long-sleeved white button-down. A pair of cotton knit athletic shorts. Several pairs of socks. Loafers and some well-used running shoes.
She glanced up, assessing him, wondering if the jeans would be worth trying. He was only an inch or so taller than she. Narrow hipped and flat bellied enough that they might be possible. Out of the pile she’d created on the unmade bed, she picked a pair of jeans and the white button-down, along with the running shoes and a couple of pairs of thick athletic socks.
She didn’t look at him again until she had chosen the items and was ready to make the trip back into the bathroom to try them on. When she did, his eyes were uncommunicative, neither disagreeing with nor commending her choices.
“Are these okay?” she asked. “Okay to borrow? I can mail them back to you. You’ll just have to give me your address.”
“Throw them away.”
“But the shoes are—”
“I don’t want them back,” he said. “Not any of it.”
“You don’t want to give me an address,” she concluded.
“Would you give me yours?” he asked.
She wouldn’t, of course. She was a woman, and he was a stranger. And besides, after what she had seen, she didn’t want anyone associated with this hotel to be able to find her.
“No,” she said truthfully.
He nodded. They stood a moment without speaking, eyes holding. His seemed open and honest for the first time. But they weren’t, she knew in her gut. That was only for show. He had forgotten how to be open. That cold control was habitual, and she wondered what was behind it. And then decided that wasn’t any of her business. That was something she didn’t need to know—what had made this man so hard.
She took the items she’d picked out and retreated into the bathroom. There was no way to lock the door this time, but then he’d already demonstrated how inadequate that would be in keeping out someone who was determined to get in. If he wanted to, there was nothing she could do to prevent him.
But as she began to dress, she realized she was no longer afraid that he might assault her. She felt a lot of emotions about the man she had appealed to for help, but fear was not one of them. Not any longer.
There had been only one brief gl
impse of the man beneath the controlled facade—that moment when he’d broken down the door, demanding answers. She hadn’t given him any. She still hadn’t told him the truth, and he probably was aware of that, but it seemed he was willing to help her anyway.
And maybe, she thought, it was safer if he didn’t know what she’d seen. Safer for him. Still, the urge to tell him had been almost overpowering. For some strange reason, she had really wanted to tell the man with the cold blue eyes all about it.
WHEN SHE CAME OUT of the bathroom, he was standing just beside the bed, almost where he had been before. Now, however, he was dressed in the other pair of jeans and the knit shirt, the pale blue of its faded cotton a contrast to his darkly tanned skin. The towel he had wrapped around his waist had been thrown on the bed, but the clothing she had rummaged through was no longer there. She assumed he had stuffed it back into the bag.
His hair was completely dry, and it was lighter than she’d realized at first, sun streaked and very short. On him, however, the length looked good. Almost military. He wasn’t handsome. His features were too strong for that, too harsh, but he was striking. You’d probably give him a second look, Tyler thought. Most women would.
“What do you think?” she asked, clearing those assessments from her head. It didn’t matter how he looked, as long as he was willing to help her get out of here. And after that, she would never see him again.
His eyes examined her again, but this time she had given him permission. She had used one of her stockings as a belt, threading the silk through the loops of the jeans to hold them up. She had tied the tails of the shirt in front and turned up the cuffs a couple of times. The double layer of thick socks insured that the running shoes would probably stay on her feet long enough for her to walk to a cab. She hadn’t been able to do anything about her hair, except to take it down and comb it out.