Playing His Dangerous Game

by Tina Duncan

  The images were so vivid that Shara scrunched up her eyes, but it didn’t help.

  ‘You can turn around now,’ Royce said dryly.

  If anything the heat in her cheeks burned even more hotly. Slowly—reluctantly—she turned to face him.

  ‘Let’s get straight to the point, shall we?’ Royce spoke as calmly as if he were discussing the weather or the price of a loaf of bread. ‘What just happened shouldn’t have happened. Right?’

  Relief poured through her. So too did an entirely unexpected pang of disappointment.

  Hands clasped tightly together in front of her, Shara nodded. ‘No. I mean yes. It shouldn’t have happened. I just don’t want to get involved again. I … I don’t think I can handle it.’

  It wasn’t just about sex.

  It was about the exchange of power.

  With men it was always a one way street—with the woman on the losing end.

  Well, she’d been there, done that. She wasn’t going there again.

  Straightening her spine and squaring her shoulders, Shara stared him straight in the eye.

  Royce nodded.

  Her heart plummeted to her toes and stayed there.

  There was a sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach.

  Both were quite patently ridiculous reactions.

  She wasn’t disappointed by his agreement. She wasn’t.

  This was what she wanted.

  Wasn’t it?

  ‘I understand,’ Royce said with another nod.

  He sounded calm and in control, but inside he was a seething mass of emotions.

  He didn’t understand it.

  He should be applauding.

  Shara was saying everything he wanted to hear.

  She wasn’t clinging.

  She wasn’t trying to turn the situation to her advantage.

  So why was he so displeased with her response?

  Royce wasn’t sure, and that made him even more displeased.

  He was an analytical kind of guy.

  Logical.

  He knew that one plus one equalled two—not twenty.

  So why did nothing about this situation make sense?

  He knew that getting involved with Shara was wrong—and not just because he couldn’t afford a distraction on the job.

  It was more than that.

  Alarm bells had started ringing almost from the beginning.

  There was something about Shara that had got under his skin from day one.

  Her hoity-toity tone had got his back up when normally such an attitude would have bounced straight off him.

  His reaction to what she’d endured at the hands of Brady had been …

  Well, it had been emotional, damn it!

  Not professional. Not detached. Not anything it should have been.

  It was as if his sympathy for her had sucked him over a line he hadn’t crossed since the day he’d learned the truth about Fiona—and that was more than enough to make him wary.

  ‘Good,’ Shara said.

  Her voice sounded flat.

  Royce searched her face.

  Did she feel the same way he did? That what they’d shared had blown his mind and just about everything else?

  No, he had to forget about that or he was a goner. He had to concentrate on the reasons they shouldn’t get involved.

  ‘You’ve just gone through a marriage break up. You’re being stalked by your ex-husband. The last thing you need is another man in your life,’ he said, repeating her words back at her. ‘That makes perfect sense. I completely understand.’

  Shara was nodding. ‘That’s right. I don’t.’

  ‘And I’m here to do a job,’ Royce said. ‘I can’t do that properly if I get involved. I need to stay objective.’

  ‘Of course you do,’ she said. ‘This makes no sense for either of us.’

  She was being helpful.

  And co-operative.

  But he wanted neither of those things.

  It didn’t matter how many ‘t’s he crossed or how many ‘i’s he dotted, he wanted her. It went against every rational thought he possessed but that didn’t change anything.

  Thankfully, before he did anything stupid, like kiss her again, his mobile phone started ringing. Extracting the phone from his pocket, he glanced at the screen and frowned.

  He looked up. ‘I’m sorry but I’m going to have to take this. It’s the Los Angeles office.’

  Shara inclined her head, her face expressionless. ‘No problem. We’ve said all we needed to say.’

  As Royce watched her walk out of the room he couldn’t help feeling she was wrong about that.

  What was he going to do?

  Royce rubbed his jaw.

  Damn. What was the matter with him? The answer was simple. He had to bring in one of his people to finish this job while he concentrated on the high-profile case he’d just received.

  Gerard Atwood would understand, he was sure. There were a number of points in his favour.

  One, the AVO was in place and would no doubt be upheld by the courts in a fortnight’s time.

  And, two, he only hired the best people. Shara would be more than safe with any of his operatives.

  He just had to figure out who he could use.

  That new girl Kelly Walker had impressed him with her work so far. He’d even been thinking of giving her a promotion.

  He frowned.

  But, no, Kelly was working the Reynolds case.

  Bob Brisket, then. If his memory served him correctly Bob was the only operative available at the moment. But even as the idea formed Royce dismissed it. Bob wasn’t the right person. He was a good investigator, but too abrasive for bodyguard duty.

  Well, there had to be a solution.

  He snapped his fingers in the air and smiled. He had it. His friend Travis Knight could help him. Travis had worked with him before. He knew the ropes. In fact, Travis was one of the best—despite the fact that he preferred trading on the stockmarket for a living.

  Picking up his mobile, Royce rapidly punched in the number.

  ‘Travis, old buddy. Long time no speak,’ Royce said when Travis finally picked up the phone.

  ‘Royce, where have you been? I was beginning to think you’d fallen off the face of the earth.’

  ‘Not quite.’ Royce laughed. ‘I’ve been busy, as usual. What about you? Still playing around with that computer of yours?’

  ‘I’ll have you know I work very hard on that computer of mine,’ Travis replied, mock-indignantly.

  ‘Sure,’ Royce joked. ‘For all of three hours a day.’

  ‘Sometimes I push myself and make it four,’ Travis joked in return. ‘How’s business with you?’

  ‘Fine. Fine. Couldn’t be better,’ Royce murmured quietly. ‘But I’m in a bit of a bind at the moment. I need to ask you a favour.’

  ‘Done,’ Travis replied promptly. ‘You name it.’

  ‘Do you mean that?’

  ‘Of course I do. Do you really think I’m likely to say no? You, Jackson and I may not be the Three Musketeers, but we come damn close. One for all and all for one. You know that.’

  Royce did know. Which was precisely why he didn’t want to take advantage of Travis.

  ‘Thanks. I’m involved in a case at the moment and the Los Angeles office has just booked me in to protect a visiting celebrity without bothering to check my schedule,’ Royce said with frustration. ‘Not that I want to miss out on this one. It’s high-profile and comes with a fantastic fee. That’s why I need you to take on the assignment.’

  As soon as the words were out of his mouth Royce stopped, hardly able to believe what he’d just said.

  Had he really just asked Travis to take over the Taylor Zane case?

  Royce replayed his words back in his head.

  Yes, that was exactly what he’d said.

  It was the exact opposite of what he’d intended to ask, which was for Travis to look after Shara while he took care of Taylor Zane.


  How had that happened?

  Royce wasn’t really sure, and really didn’t care.

  Because the minute he’d said them the words had felt right.

  Although it sounded ridiculous even to his own ears, he didn’t trust anyone else to protect Shara.

  He shook his head. He must be going crazy.

  Travis obviously thought so too, because he said, very doubtfully, ‘Royce, I haven’t done anything like that for a while. Surely you have someone else on your team who could take over?’

  ‘Not for this particular client. I need someone I can really trust. And that’s you,’ Royce answered emphatically. ‘I’d do it myself, except I’m needed here.’

  And he was needed here. The almost daily phone calls from Brady were proof of that. So too was that brief glimpse he’d had of what he was sure was the other man in disguise.

  Gut instinct was telling him to stay on Shara’s case. And if there was one thing he’d learned it was to listen to his instincts.

  Staying on the case had nothing to do with the incredible sex they’d shared.

  He was just doing his job.

  Shara stayed in her room for the rest of the day.

  She tried to pretend she wasn’t hiding, but the way she tensed every time she heard a noise somewhere in the house forced her to admit that that was exactly what she was doing.

  Rightly or wrongly, she didn’t want to face Royce.

  They’d had sex in the middle of her father’s expensive Aubusson rug, for goodness’ sake.

  Mind-blowing, nerve-twisting, gut-wrenching sex.

  Sex that had been so explosive it had torn her entire thought processes to shreds.

  How could she have done something so stupid?

  It was another poor decision in the long line of poor decisions she just seemed to keep on making.

  Another snake’s head she’d jumped on all by herself.

  Finally hunger drove her from her bedroom in search of food.

  Slipping a peach-coloured bathrobe over the top of her nightdress, she carefully opened her door, trying to make as little noise as possible.

  The last thing she wanted to do was wake Royce.

  She wasn’t ready to face him yet.

  She was too scared.

  Scared …?

  The word made Shara stop dead in her tracks halfway down the stairs.

  She wasn’t scared.

  Was she …?

  The breath caught in her throat and her heart did a strange kerthump in her chest. The question cut through the web of chaotic thoughts that had besieged her since she’d taken refuge in her room.

  Yes, she was scared.

  But she wasn’t scared of Royce.

  She was scared of herself.

  Afraid of how she’d react.

  Because there was one fact she couldn’t escape.

  Regardless of why she shouldn’t get involved with Royce, she already was—whether she wanted to be or not.

  Royce was lying on his back with his arms folded beneath his head, staring at the ceiling, when he heard the creak of a floorboard. Almost simultaneously his laptop began beeping, indicating movement in the house.

  Either they had an intruder, or Shara was up and about.

  Given that none of the downstairs motion detectors had gone off, Royce could only presume it was Shara.

  Which left him with a decision to make.

  Stay where he was … or get up and follow her.

  Royce knew exactly what he should do.

  Stay in bed.

  It wasn’t as if Shara could go anywhere without him knowing about it. The household security system would alert him if she tried to leave the house—although where she would go in the middle of the night he didn’t have a clue.

  So he should stay in bed where it was safe.

  Safe …?

  The word made Royce jack-knife into a sitting position, his body growing rigid, muscles locking.

  Safety played a large part in his life. The security business could be rough, and it could be tough. He’d been in dangerous situations, life-threatening situations, more than once and no doubt would be again.

  But did he really see Shara as dangerous?

  Beautiful? Yes.

  Sexy? Yes.

  But dangerous …?

  The breath locked tight in his lungs, and his heart did a massive leap in his chest as the answer seared into his brain.

  Yes, Shara was dangerous.

  She was getting under his skin.

  Making him think things he didn’t want to think.

  Making him do things he didn’t want to do.

  Like making love to her in the middle of her father’s Aubusson rug.

  Like making him turn over Taylor Zane’s case to Travis so that he could stay and protect her.

  Like making him follow her in the middle of the night when he should really stay in bed.

  Because, whether it made sense or not, that was exactly what he was going to do.

  He couldn’t explain it. He didn’t even begin to try.

  He simply dragged in a breath, swung his legs over the edge of the bed and rose to his feet.

  Then, pulling on a pair of worn denims, he went after her.

  A sound in the doorway made Shara jump ten feet in the air. Her heart pounded, her hand going to the base of her throat.

  She looked towards the source of the sound—and froze.

  Royce was lounging in the doorway, watching her.

  Her heart stopped and then kick-started again. Her mouth was parchment-dry. A slow burn started deep in her belly.

  He looked absolutely mouthwateringly gorgeous. Like a sexy advertisement for denim jeans.

  Because that was all he was wearing.

  His jeans had obviously been slung on in a hurry. They sat low on his hips, the zip only half done up and the button hanging open.

  His chest was broad and deep, the skin smooth and golden-brown. Her eyes drifted lower to the rippling display of muscle on his belly before dropping lower still, to the tantalisingly undone button and the zipper just beneath.

  A deep shuddering breath escaped her constricted throat as her eyes travelled back upwards.

  His hair was tousled and the shadow of a beard was beginning to darken his strong, square jaw.

  Her eyes met his.

  Desire sizzled along her nerve-endings.

  He was looking at her as if …

  As if …

  As if he wanted to strip her naked and take her where she was standing!

  The knife she was holding clattered to the benchtop. ‘Don’t sneak up on me like that,’ she said, dragging her eyes away from him.

  ‘I didn’t sneak. I walked.’ He levered himself away from the doorjamb and walked further into the room.

  Shara couldn’t look away, her eyes captured by the ripple of his muscles as he walked.

  ‘You obviously didn’t hear me.’

  Shara wasn’t surprised. She’d been deep in thought. Not about the sandwich she was making. Not about whether to have mustard or pickle.

  No, she’d been thinking about that taboo subject.

  Royce.

  And then suddenly he was here, as if her thinking about him had somehow conjured him up.

  Swallowing, she picked up the knife and gestured to the sandwich. ‘Are you hungry?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Her eyes shot to his face. There was something in the way he’d said that one word and something in the glitter of his eyes that suggested they weren’t just talking about food.

  Her already frantically beating heart took off at a gallop. She licked her lips. ‘I meant do you want a sandwich?’

  ‘No.’

  His monosyllabic answer sent hormones hurtling through her system, setting off one vibration after another against her nerve-endings.

  ‘Then what do you want?’

  The words burst out of her mouth at the exact same time the thought popped into her head. She hadn’t meant to
say them out loud. She would have stopped them if she could, but it was too late.

  It was still a good question.

  Because she couldn’t shake the feeling that their conversation was operating on two levels.

  Royce stared at her without speaking. His eyes were still glittering, and the angles and planes of his face seemed to be standing out more sharply.

  Shara swallowed. And swallowed again.

  She dropped the knife for a second time and wrapped her arms around herself. ‘I mean why are you here?’

  There was any number of answers Royce could give to that question.

  He was hungry. Or he couldn’t sleep. Or he’d come downstairs for a book.

  But Shara hoped it was none of those things.

  Rightly or wrongly, she hoped that he’d heard her come downstairs and had followed her.

  It was a damned good question. In fact both of them were.

  It wasn’t the first time Shara had put him on the spot. She seemed to be making quite a habit out of it.

  And each time the questions made the truth jump up and smack him in the face.

  Because, if only to himself, he had to answer them honestly.

  Question: What do you want?

  Answer: You.

  Question: Why are you here?

  Answer: You.

  That was why he’d got out of bed and followed her.

  That was why he was standing here like a dumb jerk, with his insides so twisted in knots he could hardly think straight.

  Royce wasn’t sure when he’d decided he was going to make love to her again.

  Had it been a split-second decision made when he’d heard the creaking floorboard? Or had he made it when he’d walked into the room and seen Shara standing there looking so beautiful?

  Or was it the fact that she was asking the difficult questions while he was hiding from the truth?

  And he was hiding from the truth.

  Because the truth was that he wanted her.

  ‘This is why I’m here,’ he said, and reached across the distance separating them and hauled her into his arms.

  Shara leapt into the kiss with a hunger that left her shaking inside.

  How could she want Royce so much?

  So much that she ached for him?

  She didn’t know and didn’t care.

  By the time Royce lifted his head they were both breathing heavily.