“Actually, I have a flight booked for New York at 4pm, but I thought I’d swing by here first to confirm that you truly didn’t want me.”
His meek grin caused her eyebrow to inch up.
“Hmmm,” she nodded. “If there is business you have to be getting back to−”
The Ice Queen had returned. She might be sitting across the desk from him, but the gap represented no smaller span than the Atlantic Ocean.
“Just stop,” he held out his hand, startling her. “Don’t put on the, I am too important to be bothered with my own safety attitude. I know you are scared. I saw it in your eyes. Maybe you don’t want to share what was in the email that just came in, but don’t sit there and deny that it hasn’t upset you. You need help and it’s not the kind of help you trust going to the authorities with. It’s the kind of help that had you seeking my services in Maine. Maybe you didn’t know me at the time, but my resume must have convinced you that I was the guy for the job. So please,” he relaxed slightly, dropping his hand back onto his knee. “Please, don’t put on this air around me. I get it that you’re important. That you are busy. That you are rich. That you are beautiful. But none of that matters when someone chases you down an alley and bashes your window in.”
To his surprise, the soft pink bottom lip of Amanda Newton’s mouth dropped. Sharp eyes drilled into him, gauging his sincerity.
“Alright,” she conceded with a subtle softening. “But I have meetings right now. We’ll have to continue this discussion later.”
“Discussion?” Ray rubbed at his forehead, feeling tension creep in there. “This is your life.”
Easy. Take it easy. Why are you getting so worked up over her?
“Fine. I’ll give you your meetings, but no more running around, heedlessly ignoring your safety. If you’re keeping me on, you’re playing by my rules.”
“I play by no one’s rules, Mr. Gordon.”
“You’ll play by mine if you want to live. I’ll be working in the lobby until you are done, and then I will accompany you to your apartment, and there you will tell me all that you’re not telling me now.”
He could see his directions eating at her−physically peeling her skin away and exposing a side of her not often visible to the world.
“Perhaps,” she reasoned hoarsely.
Ray raised his eyebrow.
In the field−from his men−even at the gas station−that raised eyebrow could strike a man down into meek compliance. Not so much with Amanda Newton. She regarded him levelly.
“I’ll see you when I finish up. You might want to grab yourself some lunch or dinner. I don’t usually get out of here until after seven.”
“Seven it is. But even cloistered away here in your office, someone is connecting with you. If it happens again before seven, call my cell phone and I’ll be right up.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Amanda stared at the door after Ray Gordon’s tall frame stalked out. She felt like life had just slapped her on the side of the head and then opened a hole in the floor beneath her. She clutched the desk to keep from being sucked into that crater. Before her, the black monitor beckoned. If she switched it back on that picture would be there.
Had she made the right choice in soliciting Ray’s help? What else could she do? She couldn’t discuss this with George. It would upset him too much
She didn’t want to get the authorities involved, because honestly, she had no idea what her parents were doing on that road in South Africa. Although she doubted with all her heart that their motivations were nefarious, she couldn’t be sure.
Situations like this called for men like Ray Gordon. She had entrusted herself to his services in the past, but it was different. There was a level of disassociation. And he hadn’t sat before her and so matter-of-factly called her beautiful.
Amanda shrugged her shoulders. Not a shrug so much as a twitch to cast all the monkeys off her back. She had to get back to business, which meant turning that monitor on and moving past that email.
Determined, she reached forward and pressed the button with authority. Bravado fled, and she was left with that jarring image. Tears began to creep behind her eyes. She angrily tipped her head back to avert them.
She wasn’t in this alone.
Now she had help.
***
Amanda felt the darkness creep in from the windows. She glanced at the time on her computer. 5:00pm. Two hours would fly by with the amount she still had on her plate, but she couldn’t help wondering what Ray Gordon was doing at this moment. She was tempted to access the security monitors to see if he was still sitting in the lobby.
Tossing that rogue notion aside she delved back into her work, and two hours later found herself peeking at the door. On cue, it opened. Ray strode in with a determined look on his face. The jeans and field jacket clashed with her décor, but they fit perfect on the man as if he had been born in them. Under that slightly tan sheen she noticed the shadows that had crept beneath those heavy-lidded eyes. Signs of fatigue were visible with the bristly growth along his jawline and the mussed sandy hair. Given his itinerary, he had to be dragging−yet still he was here.
“Okay, Elena, let’s go,” he ordered with a brief grin.
A man of visual contradictions, the grin was an attractive contrast to the stark lines of his face.
“Elena?” she asked, perplexed.
“Freeze.” He raised his eyebrows in emphasis.
Drawing a blank, she frowned. “Oh, wait, it’s a movie, right?”
“Seriously?” Ray shook his head. “I’ve spent three out of the last four years in the Middle East and even I’ve seen Freeze.”
“I−I don’t go to the movies.” Why was it so embarrassing to confess that? Why did she give a damn what he thought of her? “I’m too busy.”
Holding her head up to his bemused inspection, she heard him mention, pity, before he stepped over to her fish tank and dipped his head. Colored lights cast his face in an azure hue.
“A Clownfish,” he observed with another striking smile. “Looks like another animated hero.”
Okay, even she was familiar of the fish movie. Sam dragged her to that one.
“I wasn’t aware that Navy SEAL teams were so big into animated movies.”
Ray stood tall, one corner of his lips raised. “Not bad, Miss Newton. You almost attempted a joke.”
Taking a few steps towards her, he splayed his hands wide. “My niece,” he explained. “The movies are part of the package.”
Trying to imagine this bearish-sized man watching an animated movie with a little girl produced a foreign tickle inside her rib cage. This man was more accustomed to holding a rifle than a bag of popcorn.
“Well,” she quickly changed the subject. “George is meeting me downstairs for the drive home.”
“Alright,” he drawled. “I’ve got my car parked in the garage. I can come with you and pick it up later.”
The thought of this stranger coming to her apartment made her anxious. She had never had a visitor in her flat−another fact she felt awkward and embarrassed to admit. But there was merit to him being there. After today’s email, she was not eager to go home alone. Taking along over six-feet of muscular protection slightly appeased her fears.
Donning her long rain jacket, she shut down the computer while simultaneously stabbing her arm into the sleeve.
“Well, George doesn’t know there have been other incidents,” she began haltingly. “And I don’t want him to. He will worry too much.”
Ray seemed conflicted about helping with the other sleeve, but she swung into the coat before he could even move.
“So seeing me in the back seat might pique his curiosity?”
Pique? More like give him a heart attack. George might be used to the occasional passenger from abroad, but never a man like this. Never someone so casually dressed−so raw−so strong−so−so ruggedly impressive.
“Exactly,” she rushed out.
“If I take my ca
r and follow you out of the garage, a car could get between us.” His gaze darkened. “And then another. Two car lengths could be all it takes to−”
And that sobering notion brought all the craziness back to root. The image on that long stretch of road, always so close in her subconscious now wore a prominent position behind her eyes. Chills charged up her arms as she fought not to hug her coat tight about her.
George would get over it.
“Okay,” she said in a hushed tone. “Let’s go.”
***
Ray met the old man’s eyes in the rearview mirror. The censure was blatant.
“Where to, Miss Newton?” George asked stiffly.
Amanda fidgeted with her purse strap and glanced out the window. “Home, George,” she hesitated, and added, “Mr. Gordon is a friend visiting from the States.”
“Indeed.” George muttered from the front seat.
In any other vein Ray might have found this situation amusing. But this woman’s safety was at stake, and now it was his job to see that she remained that way.
There was something about Amanda. To the world she portrayed herself as the Ice Queen−as a powerful figure who feared no one. He had glimpsed chinks in that armor, though. The trauma in her pale eyes as she read that concealed email. The trembling she had struggled to mask in her office. And now, the discomfort under her butler’s scorn. Well, maybe not scorn. More like stern concern. The man had done a remarkable job in saving Amanda from harm in that alley. If he were twenty years younger he would be a viable source of security for her.
Ray tried to convey assurance in that short connection in the mirror. I will protect her.
Maybe there was a brief nod. It was hard to tell because they had pulled up along a curb and Amanda was poking her high heels out the gap of the opening passenger door.
“Whoa,” he commanded as a blast of cold air replaced the swift, dexterous woman.
“Thank you,” Ray muttered hastily to the driver as he bolted out of the car.
Nearly clipped by an oncoming cab, he dodged around the back of the Audi and caught up with Amanda as she stepped under the ornate green and gold awning of her apartment building.
“Am I going to need a password to enter this place?” he asked, reaching for the door.
The cameo of her soft smile was truly something to behold.
“I see you’ve met my cousin,” she murmured.
“Any mail, Mr. Romley?” she asked the doorman.
“No madam,” he replied amiably while sliding an inquisitive glance at Ray.
“Thank you,” she uttered, hastening towards the elevator.
As soon as the doors slid shut she seemed to relax some.
Ray watched her staring at the ascending numbers on the panel above. Her chin tipped back enough that she rested her head against the wall.
“You might consider identifying me as your security agent. You never know what ears are listening. Let them know that you mean business.”
Cool eyes sliced his way. “I will not advertise that I’ve been spooked. Stating I have a security guard gives off just that message.”
“You say to-mott-oh, I say to-may-toe.” He grinned.
Golden eyebrows dipped into a frown. “I’m British. Of course I say to-mott-oh.”
“Interesting, that,” he hefted his shoulder off the elevator wall as they approached her floor. “I found that you’re actually a dual citizen.”
Cool eyes assessed him, but she didn’t blow up with rash accusations. She was smart enough to know he was doing his job.
“I’m sure you know all of this already,” she stepped into an ornate foyer accommodating the door to her apartment. “I was born in the United States and lived there until I was six.”
“Yes, I am aware of your history.”
A slight twist of her lips hinted that he had no clue.
“Your cousin, Sam, is an interesting chap.”
“Mule? Yes, he is a spot of sunshine on a rainy day.”
Ray cocked his head. “How poetic. But why Mule?”
“He always made a fuss when his mother, my aunt, would call him Samuel. As kids he told me he didn’t like the proper name. So I called him Mule, as in Sam-mule.”
Amanda slipped a keycard into the door. Ray stepped forward and dusted her arm with his hand.
“May I?”
Startled by the gravity of that question, she stared at her door, trying to comprehend the horrors that could lurk behind it.
“No one can enter that elevator without Mr. Homley being aware. There’s no need for−”
Her argument died under his raised eyebrow.
“Fine.” She stepped back.
It was a hassle traveling with a gun, but it was worth the inconvenience to have it on him right now. He extracted it from the waist of his jeans, watching her eyes flare and then settle back into their sloe-shape.
The door opened silently into darkness. Amanda made a sweeping motion with her hand, and he followed suit, locating the light switch.
A sophisticated living room greeted him in soft glows. He motioned her inside and whispered. “Stay right here. Let me check everything.”
“But you don’t−”
His elevated index finger stopped her. She gave a quick nod and slipped her purse off her shoulder, gripping it against her stomach with both hands.
One last look into her eyes and Ray started inching along the wall, carefully surveying each entryway. The apartment was relatively small for such a ritzy pre-conception downstairs. Granted, it was definitely elegant, but there was little in the form of art or décor. One picture hung in the living room. A muted sunset.
Satisfied that the apartment was vacant he returned to the entrance where Amanda stood rooted with her hands still clutching her purse. She glanced down at her white-knuckled grip.
“I used this as a weapon the other night.”
Ray wanted to reach for her. To run a consoling hand up and down her arm. That was absurd, though. He never consoled. He was trained to remain distant. Emotional attachments were vulnerabilities, and simply unheard of with clients.
His niece was a vulnerability, but he drew the line there. And God pity anyone who tried to hurt her.
“You’re resourceful,” he commended softly, imagining what could have happened had her purse failed her.
“So, what do we need to review?” She moved stiffly through her living room, hovering before a leather couch as if her long legs were incapable of bending.
It took willpower not to shake his head. She epitomized discomfort. Not that he blamed her. Discovering that you are a target of some idiot’s mad intentions disconcerted every client he had dealt with.
“Sit down, Amanda. This isn’t an inquisition. I work for you. I’m here to help you.” A visible crack in her armor encouraged him to proceed. “I have found in the past that it’s best to get out of the business environment to surroundings that will comfort you while you discuss troubling issues of a personal nature.”
Amanda sank onto the leather cushion, her raincoat still clutched about her. “The workplace is where I’m most comfortable.”
Right. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to guess that, but she needed to be away from that laptop at her desk. For every second she stared at it he could see her lose a piece of herself.
Ray moved past her to peer into the kitchen. If he didn’t put her immediately on the spot, maybe she might relax some. Maybe she might remove her coat.
“Do you have anything to snack on?” he asked. “All I had today was a pack of chips from the vending machine in your lobby.”
On automatic pilot, Amanda rose regally and clanked her high heels across the polished wood floor. The lengthy stretch of calf revealed beneath the hem of her coat caught his attention. As she strode past him, a gap in the coat, and the slit in her skirt revealed a quick glimpse of milky white thigh.
Bending into the open door of her stainless steel refrigerator, her face looked disappointed
in the glow from the interior bulb. Ray inched around the granite island for a glimpse.
“I have some leftover salad,” she offered, and then stooped, retrieving a wedge of cheese triumphantly. “Cheese. Crackers, and a glass of wine. How about that?”
At least the wine might relax her some, he thought.
“The cheese and crackers sound perfect, but I’ll pass on the wine. I’m working. You should have a glass, though. You’re off the clock.”
Pink lips curled into a sad smile. “Seriously?” She cocked her eyebrow.
Damn, she looked way too hot at that moment. Vulnerable. Grouchy. Combative. Tired. Sexy. This woman packed a load.
“Okay, well,” he fumbled for a response. “Think of it as medicine. My grandmother takes two tablespoons of red wine a day for health purposes.”
“Self-prescribed?”
Ray chuckled. “Of course.”
Amanda reached back into the refrigerator and extracted a green Port bottle. Reaching towards the closest cabinet, she pulled out a stemmed glass and poured what would amount to two tablespoons of wine into it.
“Maybe after a swig of that you can take your coat off,” he suggested.
Steady blue eyes met his and he swallowed.
“Maybe,” she replied as she hiked up onto a barstool next to the kitchen island. The length of her jacket draped around the wooden legs. It gaped open now, revealing the silk blouse he had seen her in earlier, and the tight black pencil skirt that would probably consume his dreams later.
She crossed her legs, and he gulped. In the process her black pump fell off. He was about to stoop and retrieve it, but she kicked off its mate and sat bobbing a stockinged foot.
He eyed her glass. It was down to one tablespoon.
“I’m tired, Mr. Gordon.” A pale hand wound into her glossy hair to massage her temple. “And I have at least two hours of work to finish before I can rest. So let’s−”
“−get this over with?” Ray chided. “That’s not the proper attitude. And you can call me, Ray.”
“I don’t address anyone in business by their first name, Mr. Gordon.”
“Fair enough.” He cut off two wedges of cheese with a knife from a stand in the middle of the granite island. “But keep in mind that my sole focus is on you. My sole concern is for you. That is my job. I’m not here to protect BLUE-LINK. I’m here to protect you.”
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