His Touch

by Mary Lynn Baxter

“I’ll tell him later,” Jessica said in an unsteady voice.

  Tony hesitated. “What about Zurich? Do you think you should still go?”

  She gave him an incredulous look. “Of course. I’ll be out of harm’s way for sure, at least for a while.”

  “He is going with you, right?”

  “It appears I have no choice,” she said with mixed emotions.

  “I’ll check on room arrangements ASAP.”

  “Thanks,” she murmured.

  “Anything come up in the meeting that I need to know about?” Tony asked, changing the subject, as if sensing her mood.

  “Nothing’s changed. Some still support me and some don’t. So I guess we’ll see how it all comes out in the next big meeting.”

  “Okay, then,” he said, turning and waving his hand behind him. “See you in the morning.”

  He shut the door, which blocked out Brant, though she was conscious he was there. Always. Now it appeared she wasn’t going to get any reprieve from him at all. She’d pinned her hopes on the European trip to do just that, but in light of his ultimatum, she’d changed her mind.

  When he’d issued it, she’d been too taken aback to respond right off. Then, when she’d regrouped, she’d been tempted to call his bluff.

  “I mean it, Jessica,” he’d stressed, his grating voice shattering the silence.

  Her chin had jutted. “I still think I’ll be fine on my own.”

  He hadn’t responded. He’d simply stared at her, his features set in stone.

  “Oh, all right. Have it your own way.”

  Later, she didn’t know why she’d capitulated. Maybe it was a niggling fear for her own safety or maybe it was something much more basic, the fear of him actually walking out of her life, the most lethal fear of all.

  Pulling her thoughts off him, Jessica made preparations to shut down for the day. She had grabbed her purse when Brant appeared in the doorway.

  “I heard your cell,” he said without preamble, his gaze unwavering on her.

  “It was him,” she admitted, that unsteady note back in her voice.

  Brant let an expletive fly. “I hope you’re finally convinced you shouldn’t leave home without me.”

  His attempt at dark humor fell on deaf ears. “What choice do I have?”

  Twenty-nine

  The Alps were magnificent. Gazing at them from the plane and now on the ground, Jessica was in awe of the never-ending beauty that surrounded her. In her travels with Porter, somehow they had missed Switzerland. She had always regretted that, thinking she might not get the chance to travel again.

  Now she was here, though she still couldn’t believe it. Not with Porter, though, and not alone, as she’d intended. Brant, looking altogether irresistible in a pair of slacks and a sports jacket that called attention to his lean, muscular frame, seemed completely at ease. But then, he’d been a world traveler and could seemingly adapt to anything.

  Even baby-sitting her.

  Jessica tried not to dwell on the indisputable fact that he would be with her throughout the duration of the conference. Why, she still didn’t know. There had been no problems thus far. The flight had taken off and arrived on time, and no suspicious-looking characters had been seen lurking about.

  A week had passed since that meeting in her office, followed by the latest call. Since then, Brant had seemed to shadow her even more closely, if that were possible. He had spoken to Thurmon several times, clearly frustrated because the pervert was still unknown and at large.

  Jessica remained convinced it wasn’t anyone she knew, certainly not any of the men at the top of Brant’s list. Yet a stranger harassing her to such a degree didn’t make any sense, either.

  So here she was, in Switzerland, hoping to be free of her tormenter for a little while, and instead she was being subjected to torment of a different sort: Brant.

  Every time he got near her, his cologne surrounded her like an aphrodisiac, bringing to mind their shared night of heady passion. Even though she’d noticed his hooded gaze filled with suppressed desire, he hadn’t touched her again. She sensed his mind was filled with thoughts of Elliot and what to do about him.

  Since the kid had appeared on her doorstep, Brant hadn’t mentioned him again. She’d wanted to ask, but she hadn’t wanted to intrude. Still, she worried about Elliot, knowing the agony he was most likely going through, having had an absentee father herself.

  “You’re awfully quiet,” Brant said, after supervising the unloading of their baggage. They were now making their way to the registration desk of a small but gloriously renovated hotel with all of its old, unique features still intact.

  “I guess I’m in awe, first that I’m here,” Jessica said, quelling the urge to pinch herself. “And second, at the beauty of this country. Not only the snow on the mountains, even though it’s summer, but the flowers. They’re breathtaking. And everything is so clean.”

  “I know. This is my second trip here, and I’m just as impressed now as I was the first time.”

  Brant’s gaze was indulgent, which heightened the flush already heating her cheeks. That was when it hit her that he seemed much looser, less uptight, more human. Not such a good thing.

  Caring was foolish, crazy, risky.

  Thank goodness Tony had been able to get them adjoining rooms. If not… Jessica shut down that thought, because they had arrived at the front desk, where an attractive young attendant greeted them with a smile.

  Jessica gave the woman her credit card. While that was being processed, she gazed about, trying to ignore what Brant was doing to her pulse rate, standing as he was within touching distance of her.

  Once again, the smell of him made her nerves sizzle. She shifted positions. When she did, she accidentally caught his eye. He was staring at her with discomforting intensity.

  “Ma’am?”

  The clerk’s soft voice claimed her attention. A frown marred her face. “I’m afraid there’s a problem. Actually, two.”

  Jessica answered her frown. “I don’t understand.”

  The young lady was clearly embarrassed. “Your credit card registers as invalid.”

  “What?” Jessica was appalled. “But that can’t be. I mean, I haven’t used it…” Her voice played out, and she turned to Brant, whose eyes were narrowed on the woman.

  “Check again, won’t you?” he said. “I’m sure it’s a computer error.”

  “No, sir, there’s been no error. The card has been canceled.”

  “That’s impossible,” Jessica stressed, her voice pitched higher than normal. “I didn’t cancel my card.”

  “What was the other problem?” Brant put in, his tone polite but hard.

  “The rooms. We only have the one. An adjoining room was never available.”

  Jessica sucked in her breath as shock pumped through her.

  Brant muttered a curse, then said, “Maybe we should just go to another hotel.”

  “I’m sorry, sir, but you won’t fare any better elsewhere, I’m afraid. With several conventions in town, all the luxury hotels are booked.”

  Jessica’s heart thudded. They couldn’t share a room. That just wasn’t possible. She didn’t dare look at Brant for fear of what she would see mirrored in his eyes. She hoped she camouflaged the shiver that went through her. What she had thought would be a dream trip was fast turning into another nightmare.

  “Let’s deal with the credit card foul-up first,” Brant said, his voice crisp as a chilly fall morning.

  “Please run it through again,” Jessica insisted. “I’m positive there’s been a mistake.” She couldn’t believe this was happening. Her credit card canceled? No way. She had paid it off in full last month and hadn’t used it since.

  As far as the room went—well, she wouldn’t stand for that, either. Somewhere in this hotel, there had to be another room for Brant. If it wasn’t near her, then so be it.

  As she’d told him all along, she didn’t need a bodyguard in Switzerland.

 
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Kincaid, but there’s been no mistake.” The clerk shifted her gaze. “I’d be happy to take another card.”

  “But—” Flabbergasted, Jessica didn’t know quite what to say.

  “Does anyone else have access to your card?” Brant asked, his eyes piercing.

  Jessica shook her head. “No, absolutely not.”

  “Well, someone’s managed to get it,” Brant said, not bothering to mask the fury in his tone. “And I bet I know who that someone is.”

  “You mean—” Her throat closed, robbing her of speech.

  “That’s right.”

  “Oh, my God.” She felt suddenly light-headed, as if the rug had been yanked out from under her. “Is that really possible?” Of course it was. Hadn’t she seen countless horror stories on TV and read in the paper about others who had been victims of illegal computer tampering? Lives had been shattered by such a vindictive act.

  What about her bank account? Jessica’s light-headedness increased, and if she hadn’t clutched the desk, her knees might have buckled. As if he sensed her distress, Brant’s features softened. “Hey, it’s going to be okay. I have my credit card. Once we get settled, I’ll call Thurmon.”

  Swallowing hard, Jessica nodded, feeling a wave of relief wash through her. At that particular moment she was glad Brant was there, although if she’d had to, she was perfectly capable of handling this dilemma on her own.

  Still, in a strange country, it was nice to have him around to take charge, especially under the circumstances.

  But only temporarily, Jessica cautioned herself, suddenly regaining her focus.

  “About the room situation?” Brant asked, his outrage visibly lined in his face.

  “I told you, sir, there’s only one available, and that’s Mrs. Kincaid’s.”

  Though the young lady was obviously troubled and uneasy, she wasn’t about to budge on her position. “That’s totally unacceptable,” Jessica said in a firm but polite tone.

  “I’m sorry, ma’am, but—”

  “Call the manager,” Brant demanded in a low, even voice.

  Jessica knew he was seething as she watched the muscle tick overtime in his jaw.

  Following a shuddering breath, she waited while the manager approached, only to learn that his position was just as staunch as the clerk’s.

  Brant turned to her. “It’s your choice. We can leave and take a chance on finding someplace else, or we can—” He paused deliberately. “Or we can tough it out,” he added in a terse voice.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the curiosity burning in both the clerk’s and the manager’s eyes. Her anger almost got the better of her. If Tony was responsible for this mistake, she would fire him.

  A stiff silence followed while Brant’s eyes continued to drill her, the tension in him hard to miss. That was when she realized he wasn’t overjoyed with the situation either. But what choice did they have? She was dead tired, having been unable to sleep on the plane. Tomorrow she was due to preside at a reception. The following day was her keynote speech, followed by the series of workshops.

  She had to rest in order to function and do what she had come here to do. Yet the idea of sharing a room with him was overwhelming. Her blood chilled. She would have to shower, then parade around in her gown and robe in front of him.

  “Jessica?”

  Brant’s impatient voice forced her to face him. “Fine.” She swallowed her rage. “We’ll make the best of it.”

  Brant didn’t know how much longer he could take this “togetherness.” Only one more night, he reminded himself. At the moment, that seemed an eternity.

  The days hadn’t been a problem. Jessica’s schedule had been grueling, and it had started soon after they had been shown to the room.

  Forcing himself not to react when he’d seen the king-size bed had taken more willpower than he thought he had. He couldn’t possibly share that bed with her and keep his hands to himself. That was when he’d spied the alternative.

  “Not to worry,” he’d said, seeing the sick, pale look on her face. “I’ll take the love seat.”

  Her eyes had followed his. “That’s not an option. Two people can barely sit on that, and no one could possibly sleep on it, especially a man.”

  “I inquired about a cot,” Brant fired back. “None were available. If you have another suggestion I’m all ears.”

  A stone-cold silence invaded the room.

  Jessica swallowed a strangled sob. “No. I’m fresh out.”

  “The sofa it is.”

  “You won’t sleep a wink.”

  “So?”

  “That’s crazy.”

  “Well, I don’t see any other choice,” Brant pointed out flatly. “Unless I sleep out in the hall.”

  Jessica pursed her mouth, which made him suddenly ache to draw that lower, pouting lip between his teeth and suck on it. He cleared his throat and strode to the window. The view was incredible, and he tried to concentrate on that while he took long, deep breaths.

  “It’s a huge bed.”

  He swung around and stared at her, slack-jawed. “You mean—”

  “Yes,” she said in a thin voice. “Since we’re neither one a heavy weight, we can manage.” She paused. “Besides, I trust you.”

  Big mistake.

  “I trust you, too.”

  His attempt at humor hit its mark. Jessica’s features lightened considerably, and she gave him a weak smile. “Right now, I’m more worried about my credit card than you pouncing on me.”

  Another mistake.

  Brant watched color replace the paleness in her cheeks as though she were embarrassed by what she’d said.

  He let it slide, turning his back once more before she noticed the bulge in his slacks.

  On the heels of that disturbing conversation, he’d called Thurmon and brought him up-to-date.

  Thereafter, almost every minute had been taken up at the large adjacent hotel where the conference was being held, or taking in the sights of Lugano, a picturesque city an hour’s drive from Zurich, which they also explored.

  Lugano was spectacular. The city was ablaze with gorgeous flowers, snow-covered mountains, crystal clear lakes and, according to Jessica, the best shopping ever in the quaint cobblestoned market jam-packed with avant-garde shops and restaurants featuring wonderful cuisine.

  Back at work, Jessica had continued to dazzle them with her speeches and workshops. No doubt about it, she had found her calling. She definitely had the right stuff.

  That was why the nights had been intolerable.

  Neither of them had gotten any sleep to speak of, especially him. Although he hadn’t been able to see through her gown and robe, it hadn’t mattered. Hell, he was already aware of the curves hidden beneath the flimsy material. He’d touched and tongued every square inch of that succulent flesh.

  Every time she moved, which was almost never, as if fearful of disturbing him, he’d gotten an erection. Her smell had enveloped him, making not only his dick ache, but every bone and muscle in his body, because he had to hold it so rigid.

  Before he’d married Marsha, he’d had a lot of women. But never, Marsha included, had he craved one the way he craved Jessica Kincaid.

  He couldn’t define the reason, nor did he want to, knowing he would be wasting his time. When this assignment was over, he would never see her again.

  Now, as he waited for her to return from the gift shop, Brant felt at loose ends. He hadn’t wanted her to go alone, but she’d insisted.

  “For heaven’s sake, Brant, you know I’m safe. I’ll be right back. I just need to get some toothpaste.”

  “You can use mine.”

  “I’d rather not,” she’d said in a husky voice, swerving her gaze.

  He’d conceded then, though he wasn’t happy about it. She wasn’t in any danger; his instinct told him that. So why was he pacing the floor when she’d only been gone for fifteen minutes? How bloody long could it take to buy a tube of toothpaste?
/>   Cool it, Harding. You’re making something out of nothing.

  That was when he heard the knock on the door. With his heart thudding, he crossed to it and jerked it open. It was hotel security.

  “I’m afraid we have a problem, sir.”

  His gut clenched, his worst fears staring him in the face. “Has something happened to Mrs. Kincaid?”

  “Uh, yes, sir,” the man said, stepping back as though to distance himself from Brant’s looming presence and fierce expression.

  “Where is she? If anything’s happened to her, there’s going to be hell to pay.”

  “Her elevator stalled, sir. She’s trapped between floors.”

  Thirty

  Brant tore out of the room as if the hotel was on fire, his heart lodged in his throat. What the hell else was going to happen? Trapped in an elevator. He could imagine how frightened Jessica must be about now, how helpless she must feel.

  Dammit, he shouldn’t have let her go out alone. At least he would have been with her. But how did you overcome a hardheaded female who was used to doing things her own way and in her own time?

  Thank God his bum leg wasn’t hampering his mobility. “Which elevator?” he demanded, feeling his adrenaline kick in, becoming the agent of old. On high alert. Ready for battle, regardless of the situation or the odds.

  “The one at the end of this hall,” the guard said, huffing and puffing. Once there, the man added, “She’s halfway up, as you can see.”

  Brant paused long enough to notice the light indicating where the elevator had stopped. Swallowing a curse, he turned to the man and said, “Take me to the basement.”

  “Yes, sir. Follow me.”

  Brant practically flew down the stairs until he reached a huddled crew of electricians and several hotel employees, all of whom began immediately apologizing. He ignored the apologies, immediately firing questions at the electricians.

  At least they appeared to know what they were doing, Brant told himself, though that didn’t lessen his building anxiety. The problem seemed to lie with the switch.

  Although the old hotel had been refurbished, it hadn’t been entirely updated, despite its five star rating. The elevators, or lifts, as the Swiss referred to them, remained as they’d been, antiquated by American standards, yet perfectly serviceable. Until now.