Harlequin Presents January 2013 - Bundle 2 of 2: The Ruthless Caleb WildeBeholden to the ThroneThe Incorrigible Playboy

by Sandra Marton

  Good-looking women, in duplicates of Blondie’s outfit—tight, low-cut, short, glittery dresses that left bare long, long legs made even longer by sky-high stilettos.

  None of the women were as good-looking as Blondie.

  Or maybe none of them carried themselves the same way.

  She was easy to spot, even in the crowd. She had her hair piled up on top of her head in a mass of curls. Plus, there was the way she held herself. Tall. Proud. Her posture almost rigid.

  Forget what she was wearing, that I’m-too-sexy-for-this-dress thing.

  It was her bearing that spoke loudest, and what it said was, Keep Away.

  Caleb found his eyes glued to her.

  He saw what happened when she approached one of the tiny tables ringed around the dance floor and one of the bozos seated at it laughed up at her, said something, and put a hand on her hip.

  She pulled back as if that hand was a scorpion.

  He saw what happened when she fought her way through the mobbed dance floor with a small silver tray of drinks in her hands and another bozo cupped her bottom.

  Somehow, she managed to take a step in just the right direction and sink her spiked heel into his instep.

  Without spilling a drop.

  Caleb smiled.

  The lady could handle herself...

  At least, she could until the same bozo followed her, crowded her into a small, miraculously vacant corner, and said something to her.

  She shook her head.

  The guy said something again. And touched her. One fast, quick grope at her breasts.

  Caleb’s smile faded. He stood straighter, tried to see more of what was happening but people walked by, got in the way...

  Okay.

  Blondie had slipped free. She was moving as fast as she could, heading for what had to be a service door.

  The guy went after her.

  He got to the door at the same second she did. Caught her by the shoulders. Yanked her back against him. Ground his body against hers.

  She fought back.

  It was useless.

  The man was too big, too determined, probably too high or too drunk. Now he had one hand on her breast, the other, dammit, the other between her thighs...

  Anger flashed through Caleb’s blood.

  Didn’t anybody see what was happening? Was he the only one who understood that this wasn’t a man making a fool of himself, that it was—hell, it was attempted rape?

  He swung away from the balcony railing, dropped his glass on the first table he passed, went through the crowd and down the nearest staircase pretty much the same way he’d gone through linebackers in his days as a tight end on his high-school and college football teams.

  Where was she?

  He was tall, six foot three, but it was almost impossible to see past this mob.

  The service door had been in the back of the room. On the left. He headed in that direction, not bothering with “sorry” or “excuse me” as he shoved his way across the dance floor, just doing whatever it took to get where he needed to be.

  It seemed to take a lifetime but finally he broke through the crowd.

  Saw the door.

  But that was it.

  Blondie was gone. So was the guy.

  Caleb looked all around him. Nothing.

  Okay.

  He drew a couple of deep breaths. Some good Samaritan must have seen what was happening and put a stop to it.

  Or the guy had figured he’d had his fun and given up.

  Or...

  Holy hell!

  Somebody opened the service door, stepped back fast and let it swing shut. Elapsed time, maybe three seconds...but long enough for him to see everything he needed.

  The door didn’t lead to the kitchen. It led to some kind of big, dimly lit closet. A storage area, probably.

  Inside, the blonde waitress was pinned against a wall, struggling against a man who towered over her.

  Caleb ran to the door. Shoved it open. Said something hard and loud and absolutely ugly.

  The man swung toward him.

  “What the hell do you want?” he snarled. “This is none of your business. Go on, get the eff out of here!”

  Caleb looked at the woman. Her eyes were enormous, her face pale despite the heavy layers of makeup. One strap of her dress was torn and the bodice was falling down.

  “Are you all right?”

  “He was going to—” Her voice broke. “He was going to—”

  “Hey, pal. You deaf? I told you to get the eff out of—”

  The man was just about Caleb’s size. He had a muscled body, same as Caleb.

  But there was a difference.

  One of them was all lust and ego.

  The other was all righteous rage.

  Caleb went straight at him.

  It didn’t take very long. A couple of quick rights, a left to the gut and the son of a bitch staggered and clutched his belly.

  “I was just having some fun,” he said.

  Caleb’s smile was all teeth.

  “So am I,” he said, and hit him one last time.

  That was the blow that did it. The guy fell back, hit the wall and went down it, slow and easy, until he lay right where he belonged.

  On the floor, at the waitress’s feet.

  Caleb looked at him, wiped his hands on his trousers, then looked at the woman. She was even paler than she’d been moments ago.

  “Hey,” he said softly.

  Her eyes flew to his.

  “It’s okay,” he said.

  He saw her throat constrict as she swallowed.

  “He’s—he’s been after me all night.”

  The words were a rusty whisper. She was starting to tremble. Caleb cursed softly, stripped off his suit coat and held it toward her.

  “Put this on.”

  “I tried to get rid of him but he wouldn’t leave me alone.” A shudder went through her; she looked at Caleb again. “And then he—he grabbed me. And—and he pushed me in here. And—and—”

  Caleb stepped forward, started to wrap the jacket around her. She jumped at the feel of his hands.

  “Easy,” he said as softly as if she were one of the fillies he used to tame when he was a kid, working with the ranch hands at El Sueño.

  Carefully, he draped his jacket around her shoulders. It covered her from her throat to her knees.

  “Come on,” he said. “Put your arms through the sleeves.”

  She did. And even more carefully, making sure he didn’t let his hands brush against her, he snugged the lapels together and closed the buttons.

  She trembled, but she let him do it.

  Her attacker moaned.

  Caleb looked down at him. The man’s nose was pouring blood, and angled crookedly across his face. One eye was swollen shut.

  Not enough, Caleb thought coldly.

  The woman seemed to sense it. She touched his arm.

  “Please, could you get me out of this place?”

  “Shall I call the police?”

  She shook her head.

  “No. The publicity... And—and he didn’t—he didn’t... He never had the chance to—to do more than—than touch me. You got here before he could—” She drew a deep breath. “I just want to go home.”

  Caleb nodded. It was an excellent idea—until he thought of shoving through the crowd outside.

  “Is there a back entrance?”

  “Yes. That door, behind you... It leads to a delivery bay.”

  In his rage, he hadn’t noticed the door but he saw it now, in the rear wall.

  “I’m going to put my arm around your shoulders,” he said. “Just to play it safe. Oka
y?”

  She looked up at him. Her face was streaked with mascara. Her mouth was trembling, and he thought he had never seen a more beautiful woman in his life.

  “Okay?” he repeated.

  “Yes.”

  Caleb put his arm around her. She stiffened but she didn’t pull free. They walked to the door; he pulled it open.

  The street outside was dark and deserted. He’d stepped into enough streets like it, back in his Agency days, to feel every sense come alive.

  “Stay close,” he said softly.

  She burrowed against him as the door clicked shut. She felt delicate, almost fragile in the curve of his arm.

  He wanted to go back into the club and pound his fist into the face of the bastard who’d hurt her again.

  But he couldn’t.

  She needed him.

  And he needed wheels. He’d come here by taxi but from the looks of things, it might take a long time for one to cruise by.

  They walked to the corner. Caleb took out his cell phone and hit the pre-programmed number for the private car service he used when he was in New York. He was in luck. One of their limousines had just dropped off somebody only a couple of blocks away.

  He held her close while they waited. A couple of minutes was all it took before a long black car pulled to the curb. The driver sprang out and opened the rear door.

  The girl turned toward Caleb.

  “Thank you.”

  He smiled. “You’re welcome.”

  “I don’t even know your name.”

  He was tempted to say he’d introduced himself earlier but she obviously didn’t remember the incident. Besides, he wasn’t proud of it.

  “Caleb,” he said. “And you’re...?”

  “Sage.”

  The name suited her. Sage grew wild on El Sueño. It was strong and enduring. And beautiful. Like her. Why had he ever thought her only pretty? Even now, with black gunk under her eyes, she was lovely.

  “Well,” she said again, “thank you for...” She paused. Her face took on color. “Oh.”

  “What is it?”

  “How much will the ride cost?” She patted a tiny sequined wristlet that he’d assumed was a bracelet. “I keep my money and my keys with me. Nobody trusts the lockers so—so, the thing is, I have money but I don’t think it’s enough to pay for—”

  “Why would I let you pay?”

  “No. I mean, I couldn’t permit you to—”

  “I was going to call for a car anyway,” he said, lying through his teeth. “Seeing you home will just be a slight detour.”

  “Seeing me...?” She shook her head. “Going with me, you mean?”

  Caleb nodded.

  “Oh no,” she said quickly. “Really, that isn’t—”

  “It is,” he said, softly but with steely determination. “I’ll take you to your door, make sure you’re safely inside, and then I’ll leave.”

  She nibbled at her lip. He could almost see what she was thinking. Was he going to turn into her worst nightmare, too?

  “Scout’s honor,” he said, holding up his hand in the time-honored Boy Scout signal because he couldn’t come up with any real way to convince her that his intentions were honorable.

  Besides, giving things a light touch was better than giving in to the anger still boiling inside him.

  Finally, she nodded. “Thank you again.” She turned, started to step into the limo. At the last second, she swung toward him. “I should tell you... I live in Brooklyn.”

  From the way she said it, she could have been talking about Outer Mongolia.

  “That’s okay,” he said as somberly as possible. “My inoculations are all up to date.”

  She stared at him for a couple of seconds. Then she laughed. It was a wobbly laugh, still, hearing it made him feel good.

  “You’re a nice man,” she said softly.

  Him? Nice? Caleb Wilde, ex-spy? Caleb Wilde, corporate attorney? He’d been called smart, even brilliant. Daring. Hell, ruthless...

  “Thank you,” he said, and meant it.

  “You’re welcome.”

  They smiled at each other. She cleared her throat.

  “I don’t—I don’t like to think what would have happened if you hadn’t—”

  “Then don’t,” he said quickly. “Don’t think about it, and we won’t even talk about it. Deal?”

  He held out his hand.

  Sage looked at it. Then, slowly, she put her hand in his.

  His fingers and palm swallowed hers.

  * * *

  No surprise, Sage thought as she got into the limo. Her rescuer was big. Not just tall but big in the way of men who were physically fit.

  She was tall, too. And she was wearing spiked heels. Still, she had to tilt her head back to look at his face.

  And what a face it was.

  He was incredibly handsome, not in the pretty-boy way of far too many men in this city but in a way that was ruggedly masculine.

  Not that any of that mattered.

  Big. Brave. Fearless.

  And he’d come to her rescue when nobody else had even tried. Loads of people had seen what had happened, that a man had half dragged, half carried her into that storage room.

  She’d fought and kicked and pounded her fists against her attacker but the people watching had either decided it was just part of some kinky sex game or they hadn’t wanted to get involved.

  Someone had even opened the door, laughed and said “Hey, sorry to intrude!”

  If this stranger hadn’t come along...

  “Sage?”

  She blinked and looked at him.

  “Your address,” he said gently.

  For a heartbeat, despite all the things she’d been thinking, she hesitated.

  Caleb put his hand over hers on the smooth leather seat.

  “I promise,” he said. “You can trust me.”

  And Sage, who had been on this earth long enough to know better, smiled tremulously at her knight in shining armor and decided that she could.

  CHAPTER TWO

  TRAFFIC built as they traveled through Manhattan but it thinned again once they crossed over the Brooklyn Bridge.

  Now the limo moved swiftly through the dark streets.

  Sage was silent. That little laugh Caleb had managed to win from her was long gone. She sat huddled in the corner of the wide leather seat, her face turned to the window. All he could see of her was the back of her head and the rigidity of her shoulders beneath his jacket.

  And her long, very long legs.

  Hell.

  He had no business thinking about her legs. Not at a time like this.

  She’d had a terrifying experience. Somehow, thinking of her as a woman was wrong right now.

  What she needed was...what?

  He felt helpless.

  She hadn’t wanted to call the cops and he understood that, but surely she needed...something.

  Hot tea? Brandy? Someone to talk to? Someone to hold her? She’d let him do that but only for a minute.

  He was a stranger. A male stranger. The last thing she’d want was to be in his arms. The trouble was that his every instinct told him to reach for her, draw her close, stroke her hair, let some of his strength leach into her.

  She was too quiet. Too withdrawn. After that one little laugh at his pathetic attempt at humor, she’d told the driver her address and she hadn’t spoken a word since.

  If only he could draw her out. Get her talking about something. Anything. He’d searched his brain for a way to start a conversation but “What do you think of the weather?” seemed woefully inadequate.

  Besides, she wasn’t in the mood for small talk.

  The trut
h was, neither was he.

  His jaw tightened. He was still angry as hell.

  He’d let the piece of crap who’d attacked her get off easy. A man who’d force himself on a woman deserved to be beaten within an inch of his life.

  Caleb let out a long breath.

  Except, wiping up the floor with the bastard would only have upset her more. The best thing had been to get her out of there ASAP, and that was what he’d done.

  He looked at her again. She’d drawn her legs up under her. And she was trembling.

  He leaned forward.

  “Driver? Turn off the AC, please.”

  Sage turned quickly toward him.

  “No, please. Not on my account.”

  Caleb forced a quick smile.

  “Heck,” he said, trying to sound casual, “I’m doin’ it for me. I’m freezin’ my tail off. You northerners must have a thing for goose bumps.”

  Her eyes, wide and almost luminous in the shadowed interior of the limo, searched his face.

  “Really?”

  “Hey,” he said, doing his good-ol’-boy imitation for the second time that night, doing whatever it took to keep her talking, “Ah’m from Tex-ass.”

  The gambit didn’t work. She nodded, said “Oh,” and went back to staring out the window.

  Caleb gave it a couple of minutes. Then he tried again.

  “So,” he said with enough false cheer to make him wince, “we’re in Brooklyn now, huh?”

  It was a stupid question. It deserved a stupid answer. But she was too polite for that. Instead, she swung toward him.

  “Yes.”

  He nodded wisely. “What part do you live in?”

  “It’s called East New York.”

  “Interesting name.”

  That won him the tiniest twitch of her lips.

  “It’s an interesting neighborhood.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Have you ever been in Brooklyn before?”

  “Does a housewarming party in Park Slope maybe seven, eight years back, count?” That won him a faint smile. He wanted to pump his fist in the air but he settled for smiling at her in return. “No, huh?”