by Tina Duncan
Royce had an odd look on his face. ‘OK. Let’s leave that for a moment. You were about to add something else a minute ago when I interrupted you. What was it?’
Shara frowned. ‘You threatened him. How on earth do you think that will help the situation?’
‘If he has any sense he’ll listen to my advice and forget about you, and the situation will be over.’
She barked out a harsh laugh. ‘And if he doesn’t—and I’m betting he won’t—you’ll have just made him angry.’
‘So?’
So.
One word. Two letters. Simple.
Only it wasn’t simple.
Royce had used the word in the context of So what? a term normally given in answer to an unimportant or irrelevant statement, indicating indifference on the part of the speaker.
Well, that was all well and good for Royce.
But he hadn’t lived in her world.
If he had he’d know that there was nothing indifferent about making Steve angry. If anything, the exact opposite was true—which was precisely why she was so concerned.
Shara wrapped her arms around herself, chilled to the bone.
‘It doesn’t pay to make him angry,’ she whispered.
His expression shifted. It was a subtle thing. It was as if all the muscles in his face had hardened. ‘What happens when you make him angry?’
Shara shook her head, tremors making their way up and down her spine. ‘He retaliates.’
‘He hit you?’
Shara hugged herself even more tightly. ‘Once.’ She paused for a heartbeat. ‘But there are other ways of making someone suffer.’
Although she didn’t think it was possible, his face hardened even more.
‘I know there are,’ he said grimly. ‘I’m sorry you had to go through that.’
Shara wasn’t sure whether it was the unexpected sympathy or the memories that got to her, but suddenly tears were stinging the backs of her eyes and clogging her throat.
Royce muttered a curse under his breath, pulled her against his chest and wrapped his arms around her.
And suddenly a few tears became a flood.
A flood she couldn’t seem to stop.
Her arms slid around his waist as she buried her nose against his chest and cried for all she was worth.
Royce spoke softly to her. She didn’t hear a single word. Not one. But the sound of his voice and the rumble in his chest when he spoke was soothing.
Finally she pulled back with a loud sniff. She stared at his shirt and the large patch of damp fabric in the middle. ‘Sorry about that. I’ve made your shirt all wet.’
‘Don’t worry about it. It will dry.’ He looked around. Cars were whizzing by them. ‘Let’s get out of here.’
She nodded.
But neither of them moved.
They stood staring at each other.
The atmosphere changed. Deepened.
His head began to descend towards hers. Of its own volition her mouth lifted.
And then, suddenly, they were more than a foot apart.
Shara wasn’t sure who moved first. Royce or her. Either way, it didn’t matter.
Didn’t matter because what had almost happened shouldn’t have happened.
Royce cleared his throat. ‘We need to talk—but not on the side of a road.’
She sniffed again. ‘There’s nothing to talk about.’
Not about the near-miss kiss. Not about her crying jag. Or anything else for that matter. Her position hadn’t changed. Just because Royce had rescued her from a potentially sticky situation it didn’t mean she’d changed her mind. She still didn’t want him interfering.
Royce frowned. ‘Yes, there is. We need to talk about our strategy for handling your case going forward.’
Your case.
Those two words were a harsh reminder that his concern wasn’t personal. He was just doing his job.
She knew that.
Of course she did.
So why was there a distinct pang in the centre of her chest?
Shara moved away from the heat and the smell of him. She wiped a hand across her eyes, removing the last traces of tears. ‘I repeat: there’s nothing to talk about. You’re just making the situation worse. Don’t you understand that?’
‘That’s why you didn’t want a bodyguard?’
She nodded. ‘I want you to butt out. I can’t make it any clearer than that.’
Royce folded his arms across his chest and stared her directly in the eye. ‘Oh, you’re being crystal-clear. Have no doubt about that. But that is precisely the reason we need to talk.’
Shara frowned. ‘I don’t understand.’
Royce sighed and reached out, fleetingly touched her cheek with his fingertips. It was the lightest of touches, and lasted for barely a second, and yet it had a rippling effect right through her system.
‘I know you don’t.’ His tone was odd. ‘And therein lies the problem.’
‘Stop talking in riddles,’ she ordered.
‘OK. You don’t like my approach to handling your ex?’
Shara shook her head. ‘No, I don’t. It’s too confrontational. You’re just going to escalate the situation. And I won’t have that. I won’t.’
‘You may just have to, because—’
Shara stamped her foot. ‘Because nothing. I don’t care whether my father hired you. I don’t care what his instructions are. This is my life, and I’m done with everyone interfering.’
Royce stared at her long and hard. His chocolate-brown eyes were veiled but at the same time penetrating. Finally he said quietly, ‘No, you’d rather continue to play the victim.’
He might as well have hit her. Her head went back. Her heart leapt into the back of her throat. A shudder so deep and penetrating that it rocked the lining of her soul ripped through her.
She staggered back from him. ‘You take that back. You take that back right this minute,’ she gasped, barely able to get the words out through numb lips. ‘I’m not playing at anything. I am the victim.’
Royce inclined his head. ‘You were a victim. It’s your choice whether you continue to be one or not.’
Her hands clenched and unclenched. ‘If I were a man I’d hit you into the middle of next week for saying that. I made a choice not to be a victim the day I left Steve.’
‘Then why aren’t you fighting back?’
He asked the question softly. Somehow that had far more impact than if he’d shouted.
‘I am fighting back,’ she said, but her voice was little more than a whisper.
His eyes didn’t waver from hers. ‘How? Tell me that.’
The words were blunt and to the point. They attacked without mercy.
Shara blinked, an unsettled feeling attacked the base of her spine. ‘I left him.’
Royce waved a dismissive hand. ‘I’m not denying that, but what have you done since then?’
‘I—’ She snapped her mouth closed. ‘Well, I—’
What had she done?
Her mind sifted through the catalogue of her actions since Steve’s harassment had begun and she didn’t like what she was seeing. Ignoring his behaviour, turning the other cheek, avoiding going anywhere she was likely to run into him. Not exactly fighting actions, were they?
‘Everything you say and everything you do regarding your ex-husband is submissive. It’s as if you’ve chosen a course of passive resistance where he’s concerned.’ His eyes bored into hers, serious and determined. ‘You don’t want to be confrontational because it will make him angry and if you make him angry, then he’ll retaliate. You’re feeding his power over you. Can’t you see that? You’re letting him keep control. If you don’t break that pattern of behaviour nothing will ever change. He’ll always have a hold over you.’
Shara stared at him and kept on staring.
The breath was locked in her lungs so tightly they felt as if they were going to burst. Her heart was beating so fast and so hard she was sure her ribs would crack at any moment.
He was right.
She didn’t want to admit it, but he was.
It was as if Royce had stripped away an invisible veil that had prevented her from seeing her own actions clearly.
‘God, I’m such a fool,’ she said, burying her face in her hands.
Royce grasped her wrists and pulled her hands away from her face. ‘No, you’re scared. I understand that. Fear does strange things to people. No doubt you’ve become conditioned to react the way you have.’
She released a bitter laugh. ‘You’re right. I thought I was being tough and strong by ignoring Steve’s harassment. But I can see now that all I’ve been doing is what I learned to do during my marriage.’
‘Which is?’
‘Keep the peace. Don’t provoke. Play it safe. The only difference between now and then is that I’ve been doing it long-distance.’
‘Don’t beat yourself up over it. It’s perfectly understandable.’
She snorted. ‘You think?’
He nodded. ‘I know.’
‘I think you’re being overly generous, but thank you for saying it.’
‘Don’t thank me. I never say anything I don’t mean. What you need to do now is focus on the future.’
Shara hadn’t allowed herself to think too much about the future because Steve’s harassment had chained her to the past. Now, for the first time, she had a glimpse of a future in which she was free and in control of her own life.
As if reading her mind, Royce said, ‘Keep in mind that the dynamic has changed. I’m involved now. That adds an entirely new dimension to the situation. The bottom line is that you don’t have to be scared any more. I won’t let anything happen to you. I’ll keep you safe.’
Shara stared up at him, an emotion she couldn’t quite define sweeping through her. ‘I want to believe you. I really do. But you don’t know what he’s like.’
Royce shrugged. ‘I don’t need to. I’ve dealt with some pretty tough characters in my life.’
‘Still—’
‘Still nothing. I’m an expert. Brady isn’t. He doesn’t stand a chance against me. I will protect you. That’s a promise.’
Shara wanted to believe him. Wanted to believe him so badly that she could taste it.
But that meant placing her trust in a complete stranger.
Her trust and her safety.
But what choice did she have?
‘Trust me,’ Royce urged, as if he sensed all the doubts swirling around in her head.
She nodded her head jerkily.
‘Truce?’ Royce asked, holding out his hand.
‘Truce,’ Shara said, taking his hand.
A tingle of something that felt very much like electricity shot up her arm. As it did so a disturbing thought jumped to the forefront of her brain.
Royce might protect her from Steve, but who was going to protect her from Royce and the magnetism that had burst to life between them?
Royce wanted Shara to return to the house with him, but she refused.
‘If you’re worried about your car, don’t be,’ he said. ‘I can have someone come and pick it up.’
Shara shook her head. ‘Why put someone else to the trouble when I’m already here?’
Why indeed?
Royce had to admit that her attitude grated on him—but for all the right reasons.
Fiona had had little or no respect for her father’s household staff. She’d dropped clothes willy-nilly on the floor and had left towels in the bathroom in much the same way.
The fact that Shara hadn’t jumped at his suggestion hinted that she was different.
It was only a little thing, admittedly, but Royce had learned that a person’s values were reflected in everything they did—both the big and the small.
Shara’s response just didn’t gel with his initial impression of her.
But then his impression of her was changing all the time, wasn’t it?
When the household security system—a system he had personally installed—had alerted him to the fact that Shara was sneaking out of the house, he’d been furious.
Stupid and thoughtless were two of the more polite words that had sprung into his mind. So too were irresponsible and reckless.
The stunt she’d pulled had reinforced his opinion that she was spoilt and self-absorbed, but their conversation just now forced him to acknowledge that that wasn’t entirely true.
Shara had refused a bodyguard out of a misdirected sense of self-preservation. Scraping back the surface had revealed a woman who was strong and courageous.
Because it took courage to admit when you were wrong.
And it took courage and strength to face your fears.
And that was exactly what Shara was doing.
She might have gone about it the wrong way, but she was trying.
He couldn’t help but admire her for that.
‘Coffee, I think,’ Royce said when they entered the house. ‘Unless you’d prefer something stronger?’
Shara shook her head, sending her hair swirling around her shoulders. ‘I don’t need anything stronger. I’m not going to fall apart on you again.’ She smiled a twisted kind of smile. ‘One meltdown a day is my limit.’
He laughed, pleased that she wasn’t taking herself too seriously. ‘You didn’t have a meltdown. You just—’
‘Had a meltdown,’ she said dryly.
Whatever it was she’d had, she’d regrouped marvellously.
He shrugged. ‘Everyone has a release valve that goes off occasionally. That’s what keeps us sane.’
‘I can’t see you bawling your eyes out.’
Royce grimaced. ‘I must admit I prefer hitting the gym.’
‘Maybe I’ll think about doing the same thing next time.’ She picked up the kettle. ‘How do you take your coffee?’
Royce told her, and watched as she bustled around the kitchen.
She moved with an easy grace that obviously came naturally. It was a pleasure watching her move about.
‘So, if you don’t hit the gym, what do you do to relax when the pressure is on?’ he asked.
‘Listen to music,’ she replied promptly.
‘What kind?’
She shrugged. ‘Nothing too heavy. I like pop and light classical music. If I close my eyes I can lose myself in a song. It’s a great way to escape—if only for a little while.’
Royce remembered the way Shara had been swaying and twirling to the music the previous evening. He cocked an eyebrow. ‘Is that what you were doing in the club last night? Trying to escape?’
She grimaced. ‘Trying being the operative word. Except I kept getting interrupted. First by Tony and then by you.’
‘Tony is the guy you gave short shrift to?’
She plonked a mug down in front of him with more force than necessary. The coffee rolled around the edge of the cup but somehow managed not to spill.
‘That’s a rather cutting remark,’ she said, taking a seat opposite him.
‘I’m just calling it as I saw it,’ he returned unapologetically.
He’d been on the receiving end of that kind of dismissal once before and he knew how it felt. Fiona had laughed in his face for thinking she’d ever been serious about him. That laugh had cut him to the quick.
‘Well, for your information, Tony has been making a nuisance of himself. He won’t take no for an answer. Last night I had to tell him straight to leave me alone.’
‘I see,’ he said, digesting this new piece of information and realising that it put a different slant on the scene he’d witnessed.
‘Or are you one of those guys who thinks that no means yes?’ Shara asked, breaking in on his thoughts. ‘Because if you are then we’re not going to get on at all.’
Royce held up his hands. ‘Not me. No means no in any language. I have a strong sense of right and wrong. It’s one of the things that led me to starting my business.’
‘Good.’ She tapped her fingertips on the tabletop. ‘If Tony had two brain c
ells to rub together he would have backed off earlier. The ink is barely dry on my divorce papers. My ex is still harassing me. The last thing I want is to get involved with someone else. Is that so hard to understand?’
Royce shook his head. ‘Not at all. In fact it’s perfectly understandable.’
Royce remembered how he’d felt when he’d discovered Fiona had betrayed him. He’d been sure he’d never get involved with a woman again.
He had, of course.
Sex was a powerful motivator. He had no intention of living the rest of his life like a monk.
There was, however, one major difference.
Since Fiona he had always maintained a cool distance emotionally in all of his relationships.
If he’d been using his head back then he would have known that something wasn’t quite right about their relationship. In fact, he’d have known there was something downright fishy about the whole situation.
If he’d had his wits about him he’d have seen through the web of lies and deceit and seen Fiona for exactly what she was—someone who was using him for her own ends.
At the time he’d thought her interest in him—and the case—was sweet. Instead all she’d been doing was pumping him for information—both literally and figuratively.
‘You say that as if you’re speaking from personal experience,’ Shara commented, breaking in on his thoughts.
‘I am. I doubt that any man—or woman, for that matter—reaches the grand old age of thirty-four without having been burned once or twice.’
She raised one neatly plucked eyebrow. ‘Once or twice?’
Royce stared back. ‘Once. I always learn from my mistakes.’
CHAPTER FOUR
SHARA was staring at him, a mixture of sympathy and sadness in her eyes.
Royce ignored the former, but the latter made his heart constrict.
Such a young and beautiful woman shouldn’t have so much sadness in her eyes.
Royce wanted to take her hand in his and say something—anything—to banish that unhappy look.
To make her smile.
Or laugh.
It wasn’t an appropriate reaction—just as almost kissing her by the side of the road earlier hadn’t been appropriate.
He stared deeper into her eyes and saw a question burning there. It was clear she wanted to ask him more about what had happened, but he had no intention of trading war stories.