Dusk

by Miller, Maureen A.

“You were bored out of your mind,” she ducked her head, dissuading latecomers who approached.

  Ray wrapped his hand around her slim waist, negotiating a direct path to the lobby doors. It was an automatic motion, but about three paces across the marble floor, the realization that he had his arm around her brought on a rush of heat. How insane. This was his job. How many times had he grabbed onto clients, ushering them through crowds. None had ever caused such a reaction before. Even now his fingers wormed tighter into her hip−for protection? Or, for something else?

  Amanda didn’t withdraw from his touch, but she didn’t ply herself to his side as other interested clients had done in the past. His fingers curled around a taut muscle running down the side of her abdomen. Definitely in shape. When did she manage that? She was always in the office.

  “Our rental is parked just outside,” he announced.

  Amanda remained silent, but her long legs matched his stride.

  He reached the passenger door of the red Chrysler and held it open for her. This was his turf. He wasn’t about to rent a BMW or an Audi.

  Scanning the hotel entrance across the roof, he kept his hand at the small of her back as she tucked herself into the car. Satisfied that no one was watching them, he rounded the back of the vehicle and climbed in next to her.

  A light drizzle misted the windshield. The soft thump of the wipers matched his pulse.

  “Are you sure you want to do this?”

  “Yes.”

  He took his eyes off the insanity of Manhattan traffic to examine her response.

  Although she stared straight ahead there was a determination in the set of her shoulders−a confidence in the angle of her chin. She glanced his way when she caught him watching and released a breath.

  There. There was the real Amanda Newton. God, she was beautiful.

  “Yes, Mr. Gordon. I’m sure.”

  And hell, she smiled. He might as well wipe the drool from his face.

  A taxi’s blaring horn broke into his reverie.

  “Well, we’ve got about a two-hour drive ahead of us. Do you want to stop and get something to eat? We might actually make better time if we let some of this rush hour traffic through.”

  “That will be good,” she said to the passenger window. “I haven’t had a chance to eat yet today.”

  If it was up to him he would plop a giant steak and brownie ala mode in front of her. She looked like today wasn’t the only day she hadn’t had a chance to eat.

  “So, what did you do during the conference?” she turned and asked.

  He fisted his hand around the steering wheel and maneuvered around a double-parked food truck.

  “I made some calls. It took the better part of the day to work with the South African Police Service to narrow down where your parents−” Ray swallowed the words. His fist tightened. “To narrow down who handled the case. It was an office in Upington. Does that mean anything to you?”

  Amanda frowned. “No. My aunt said that they flew into Johannesburg.”

  “Right.” Ray nodded. “It’s about an eight-hour drive to Upington.”

  “Is there anything there?” she asked. “In Upington? Anything relating to gemstones−” she cleared her throat “−or the jewelry business?”

  Discomfort came through more than curiosity in her question. Interesting, Ray thought.

  “Actually, wine,” he mentioned. “Grapes are their biggest export.”

  “Grapes,” she repeated quietly, seeming to test the word out for any stray memories.

  “Did you speak to the police in Upington?”

  “Actually, I just got through before I came into the conference room. It was early morning for them.”

  Nervous energy shimmered off the woman at his side. “What did they say?”

  “Look, there’s a place that will give you a thick steak and a pint of beer just down the road. Let’s stop there and talk over dinner.”

  He caught her blue eyes watching him.

  “I thought you don’t drink while you’re working.”

  “I don’t. The pint of beer is for you.”

  “How do you know I like beer?” she asked.

  Ray turned to gape at her. “You like beer? I thought you drink champagne all the time…and wine when you’re slumming.”

  He could hear the air pass over her lips as she strove for self-control.

  “Alright,” she hissed. “Let’s just get this over with. I run a global company. Yes, I have a load of money. Yes, I’m a bit aloof at times. I have to be.”

  Slim fingers curled into a fist on her lap. “But I don’t drink champagne. I like beer. I go to the pub whenever I get a chance. I don’t spend my free time on the French Riviera. I don’t even own a car, technically. They’re all company cars. Honestly, I’ve never really had an opportunity to drive. I like to walk. I love to walk. I’d walk all over London if George wasn’t on my case all the time. And there is always the Tube…”

  Even in his periphery he could see her belligerent glare. “So don’t go stereotyping me as a rich diva, Mr. Gordon. You don’t even know me.”

  He swore she added in a hushed whisper, no one knows me.

  Ray turned into a parking garage and paid the meter. As he pulled into a narrow spot flanked with cement columns he turned off the ignition and listened to her agitated breathing.

  “Where do you spend your free time, then?”

  He expected her fingers to zap a frozen ray at him.

  Instead, she looked him in the eye and said, “The cemetery.”

  ***

  Amanda reached for the chilled pint of beer and took a tentative sip. Her eyes dropped closed in relief. It had been a long day. A long conference. The tight schedule had kept her from thinking about the cryptic letters from her unseen harasser, who had fortunately gone mute. Ray’s haunting prophecy that maybe the man was busy plotting her return to London had her tipping back another sip.

  Ray.

  She stared at him over the rim of her mug. He was watching her with that half-grin of his−as if he found her amusing. No one had ever accused her of being a stand-up comedian, so what was so funny?

  “What?” she asked defensively.

  Warm golden eyes slid over her face, dropping to the beer mug held an inch below her lips. He noticed her two-handed grip of the heavy glass. Self-consciously, she set it down.

  “You’re making me envy that glass.”

  Heat rose to her cheeks. How so? By the way she was holding it? Was he implying he wished she held him that way?

  “I wish I could order one.”

  Or, there was that.

  Don’t be so ridiculous, Amanda. This guy looks at you and sees a prima donna who yields him a pay check.

  “Alright,” she set the beer aside. “Now tell me what you learned from the Upington police.”

  “Not a lot, unfortunately. There were language barriers, and I’m guessing inadequate records. In fact, I was told to call back and speak with the station commander.” Ray stretched his arm along the top of the booth. “His accent was thick, but with a few prompts to repeat statements I got a little more information out of him. He was a constable shortly after the incident with your parents.” He waved off an approaching waitress. “He remembered talk of the young girl who was brought into the station and slept there for several days before her family could get to her.”

  A muscle twitched beneath Amanda’s eye. She clutched the mug, concentrating on its chill.

  Pale cinderblock walls. Green plastic chairs. A man’s dark face−leaning in.

  “Do you want an orange?”

  “There was no I.D. in your parents’ car, their passports presumably stolen.” Ray continued cautiously. “That led the station to believe this was a matter of a theft gone wrong.”

  She heard him speaking. She saw his full lips moving. They fascinated her. Everything about him riveted her. She found herself staring at the exposed collar where two buttons on his long-sleeved white cotton shirt we
re unfastened.

  How long had it been since she’d seen a man’s chest? There was a brief relationship in college, but her studies proved more important. A few years ago there were infrequent liaisons with a financier. Mutual convenience, perhaps? Surely she had never stared at him as she was doing with Ray Gordon right now.

  And surely she was looking for an escape from this conversation. As much as she craved the knowledge, she dreaded it as well.

  “Amanda−”

  In a matter of time this man would find the facts she was searching for. He would capture her assailant. And then he would be gone.

  “Amanda−”

  She blinked and hiked her eyes up from that gap in his collar.

  “Tell me to stop if you don’t want to hear anymore. I understand how difficult this must be for you−”

  “No−” Staring down, her eyes locked on the blue diamond ring. In the shadowy ambiance of the pub there was no glitter to be found in the gem.

  “No. I want to hear everything you’ve learned. I do,” she nearly pleaded. “I admit it makes me anxious. Even the few things you just mentioned have conjured up old memories…memories from a different person−a little girl. I can see that station. Well, not all of it−but pieces. The walls. The chairs. A man offering me an orange−”

  Still focused on her ring, she noticed Ray’s long fingers unfurl close to hers. Their fingertips sat only an inch apart.

  “Amanda,” his deep voice curled around her. “In order to determine the credibility of this man that is threatening you, we need to learn if he really had a connection with your parent’s murder.”

  Amanda nodded. “Yes. Absolutely.”

  She looked up into Ray’s eyes and saw compassion there. “I’m not a basket case,” she assured.

  “No,” he chuckled, “you’re the polar opposite of basket case.” The hard lines around his mouth softened. “Look. I need something from you−”

  Swallowing slowly, she murmured, “What?”

  “I need you to be honest with me. I don’t want the Ice Queen. I want the real Amanda. I can’t deal with false pretenses. I need to know what you’re thinking…what you’re feeling. If it’s bad, you need to tell me to back off. I am not just some guy collecting a paycheck to protect you. I take every assignment to heart. I become vested. And quite honestly, I’m worried about you. There are CEO’s out there that are total asses. They’re harassed−and honestly, they get what they deserve. But you don’t deserve this,” he said vehemently. “This isn’t your typical extortion plan. This is disturbingly personal.”

  Indeed.

  Looking into his eyes she felt a sense of support that no law official could offer. He was inviting her to trust him. The temptation was so strong she nearly reached forward to touch his fingers.

  A steaming plate severed that connection as she stared at the steak with a heaping side of mashed potatoes.

  “Remind me again why I allowed you to order?” she asked.

  “Oh, something about this being a foreign country and you weren’t familiar with the cuisine.”

  Smothering a snort, she dipped her head to conceal her smile. She had said nothing of the sort.

  Perhaps it was being away from the drama back home. Maybe it was the long day with only a hasty granola bar for sustenance. Or possibly−just possibly−it was the company. Regardless, she was starved and she jabbed her fork into that mountain of potatoes.

  For once she didn’t feel like she had to be on her game. When was the last time she had dinner with someone and not spoken about global economic uncertainty and environmental risks? Yes, he had been hired by her, but he tactfully kept the conversation away from that aspect, allowing her to enjoy her dinner.

  She studied him, catching the quick grins and animated hand gestures as he regaled tales about his niece. He never once touched on his past−his recurring stints overseas−or the reason that it all ended. He had to be in his thirties. That meant a hasty retirement and foray into civilian security. Why?

  Ray stretched his body back in the booth and smiled at her. The ambiance of the pub made that smile all too appealing.

  “You look like you’re actually relaxing,” he observed.

  Amanda shrugged and set her fork down, surprised at the dent she’d made in the meal.

  “I haven’t been out to dinner where the topic of conversation wasn’t about BLUE-LINK.”

  “Do you want to talk about BLUE-LINK?”

  Her entire being revolved around her company. It was her life, and she was proud of it.

  “No,” she shook her head. “Not really.”

  “If we didn’t have to get on the road right now, what would you like to do? If you could go anywhere−do anything−what would it be?” he asked.

  I’d want to stay in this pub forever.

  “I would−I would−”

  She didn’t know how to answer the question. There was no ready-made response, like cliff-diving in Mexico, or taking up archery.

  Folding her hands in her lap, she looked down and whispered, “I’d like to see Freeze.”

  Well, he must have thought she was a loser. He didn’t comment. He didn’t laugh. He slid his long body out of the booth and hiked his jacket over his shoulder. He handed a credit card to a passing waiter.

  “But−” she floundered, “I’m supposed to pay.”

  Ray’s eyebrow hitched up. “I have an expense tab, remember?”

  “Right.” For one delusional moment she forgot this dinner had been business.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Ray frowned at the laptop. His sight had grown bleary from tactical searches that had yielded very little. Sitting back with his legs stretched out, his eyes dropped closed for a minute. There was no noise from the adjoining room. No television. No shower. Thank God for that—he didn’t want to conjure up an image of Amanda naked under a stream of water.

  Too late.

  Their departure from the restaurant was a hasty one, and that was entirely on him. When Amanda whispered her desire to see Freeze it had sucker-punched him. It was much easier regarding her as the Ice Queen—a calculating, unemotional business woman. But in these past few days he had caught glimpses to believe otherwise. He didn’t want to see the earnest and uncertain layers beneath her cool facade. There was never an occasion where he felt anything other than a professional sense of duty regarding a client. With Amanda there were emotional tugs that were beginning to make her protection personal.

  At a standstill with clues from her past, he decided to do a welfare check on her−an excuse to knock on that door between them.

  Amanda answered his knock promptly, her pale face registering alarm.

  “Is everything okay?” she asked anxiously.

  He felt like a heel for scaring her.

  “Yes. I just wanted to−” Suddenly, I just wanted to check on you sounded so lame. “I−well, honestly I’m so messed up with my time zones, I’m having a tough time falling asleep.” LAME! “I happened to find Freeze available to stream on Amazon. I could give you the link−”

  “Oh−” A soft pink lip dropped. Her head turned to glance back into her room. He followed her gaze to the laptop sitting on the desk. Of course she had been working.

  Even in jeans and a New York Yankees t-shirt she still managed to look elegant. Fine blonde hair fell into a straight line at her shoulders, while her bare feet revealed shiny, perfectly manicured toe nails.

  “Hey,” he backpedaled. “I know you’re busy. You had mentioned it, so I thought it might take your mind off−”

  “If you’re having trouble sleeping, would you want to watch it with me? I mean, you can maybe explain the plot if I get lost.”

  Likely chance of any plot being above her head.

  But, the invitation was too tempting. Maybe it was his goal all along. Later he’d reprimand himself for acting outside the scope of his duties. Keeping close to her was surely the best way to protect her, though.

  A quick scan of he
r room produced an identical match to his. A kitchenette, desk, and small seating area with a doorway into an adjoining bedroom. He glimpsed a corner of the king-sized bed and immediately yanked his eyes back to the couch. Yeah, there was plenty of room on the couch.

  “Well, if you’re sure, I can put the laptop on the coffee table−”

  Her face brightened. Pearly teeth flashed. Blue eyes sparkled.

  God help him.

  “I think I saw microwave popcorn in the bin on the counter,” she reported as she stepped back to admit him.

  Ray held up a finger and turned to retrieve his laptop. As he followed her into the room he tried not to stare at her rear hugged by those snug jeans. His gaze hiked up just in time to catch hers turn to dismay as she stopped at her desk.

  “Everything okay?” he asked, fearing she had received another email.

  “Oh, yes,” she smiled awkwardly. “Just feeling guilty at the thought of watching a movie when I should be working.”

  “You’re entitled to some downtime, Amanda.”

  “Not really. People depend on me. You know that. Look at Jack Morell and Olivia McKay in Maine. I couldn’t watch a movie while they were out in the Atlantic Ocean, fighting for their lives.”

  Ray set his laptop down on the coffee table. “You were not responsible for them or for the predicament they were in. If I recall, you were involved because you were protecting BLUE-LINK’s reputation.”

  That jab lit a spark in her eyes. Perhaps it was unwise to rile her, but he liked that spark. He liked it a lot.

  “If all I cared about was protecting BLUE-LINK I wouldn’t have hired you to protect them. I wouldn’t have ordered you to go out on that boat and chase them down.”

  Amanda settled onto the couch and dropped her head into her hands.

  “You’re right.” Her words were muffled by her palms. “I was defending BLUE-LINK.”

  Ray sat down on the couch beside her, forcing his hands to remain on his knees. “You care too much, Amanda.”

  She peeled back a few fingers to peek at him.

  “You’re the CEO,” he continued. “You have no need to care about individuals, but you do. You were on the phone every second that drama played out in the Atlantic−regardless of the hour. I know the CGIS special agent on that case. He told me of your involvement, even after the dust settled and you learned that BLUE-LINK was not liable in the Eclipse case you still followed up on Warren Pennington’s health. If I heard correctly, you sent a huge bouquet of blue and white roses to that surly old meteorologist. My contact in CGIS said the man snorted and then possibly blushed.”