“I will,” he lied. He wouldn’t, because it wouldn’t do any good. No one could protect them. They’d never be safe again and it was all his fault. His sweet girls, his dear wife... Their names—their fates, even—leaving the lips of mad men, of sociopaths, of perverts.
He tossed the phone down and retched.
“Curtis?” his wife’s disembodied voice said from the phone. “Curtis, are you all right?”
No, and neither were they—they just didn’t
know it.
He wiped his mouth on his sleeve and picked up the phone once more. “Sorry,” he said. “I think I’m coming down with something.”
She made a sound of regret. “That’s too bad. Mom called and wanted us to come to dinner tonight. She’s bought the girls something for Christmas and wants to let them have it early, says she can’t wait another week.”
“They’ll be thrilled.” It felt odd to talk about something as ordinary as Christmas. Surreal, even. When had this happened? When had the ordinary stopped being ordinary?
“Dad won’t be there,” she continued. “He’s got a meeting in Jackson tonight with some old Peace Corps buddies. I know it’s a lot of estrogen to your testosterone, but it would be nice if you could go. You’ve been so busy lately.”
Yes, busy trying to kill Noelle Montgomery. Whom his father-in-law had put firmly out of reach. If only he knew who the old man had hired to protect her, Curtis thought. If only he—
A thought struck. Ed gone, his office free, his computer with access to his email right there... And if that didn’t reveal anything, then his internet history might, provided he hadn’t cleared the cache recently. Hope bloomed.
Maybe all wasn’t lost after all.
“I’d love to come with you,” he said. “I’ve missed you and the girls. Have I told you that recently?” he asked her. “Have I mentioned that I love you, Carla?”
A little stutter of happiness echoed in his ear. “Not recently,” she said. “I know it, of course, but it’s nice to hear.”
“I’m going to come home right now and do more than tell you, baby,” he said. “I’m going to show you.”
“Curtis.” Another titter of laughter. “Goodness, what’s gotten into you?”
“Nothing,” he lied. “It’s just been too long since I’ve gotten into you. Put that red nightie on, the one with all the lace. I’ll be there in five minutes.”
“I—”
“And unplug the phone and close the blinds, would you? No distractions.” Or onlookers.
It was time for Curtis to rediscover what color his wife’s nipples were—gallingly, he couldn’t remember—and the rest of the world could just fuck off for a while.
Most especially Tubby Winchester.
9
THOUGH SHE WOULDN’T have imagined it possible in such a small space with very limited choices available for entertainment, somehow Judd had managed to avoid her for the past two days. Oh, they’d shared meals, of course, but only because they both were conditioned to eating around the same time. And really, had he refused to put his feet under the table when she did, it would have been only too obvious that he was deliberately trying to stay away from her.
She knew why, of course. Saw it every time he looked at her, every time that black as sin gaze collided with hers or slipped scorchingly over her body.
Nevertheless, irrationally, his strictly professional behavior had hurt her feelings.
Which was ridiculous, she knew, but she couldn’t seem to help herself. The portion of her brain responsible for logical thought was aware that his pulling back was more than likely a blessing in disguise—even if it didn’t feel like one-and that she should congratulate herself on having a bodyguard who could hold fast to his resolve. She knew all of that, even secretly applauded his self-control because, admittedly, it was far more powerful than hers.
So why, then, had she been deliberately trying to sabotage him? To push him so far past the breaking point that he ultimately snapped? Why was she so hell-bent and determined to bend that iron will?
Because it infuriated her, Noelle ultimately concluded. She’d never cared about being irresistible before, but now suddenly—because of him—she did. She knew that everything about this impossible situation had gotten all twisted up in her head, knew she wasn’t thinking rationally. She knew. And yet...
She wanted.
And, more importantly, she wanted him to want her so much that he jumped the chain and wanted her more.
The morning following their arrival, she’d awoken to no evidence of the honeymoon theme at all, other than the rose petals that had been left from inside her door to her bed. The ones leading up to it had been painstakingly picked up—it must have taken him hours to do it without the aid of a vacuum cleaner and, though she was a deep sleeper, she was relatively certain she would have heard that.
The banner had been taken down from the balcony railing, the basket and champagne gone from the bar. She would have liked to have had a little of that chocolate, Noelle thought, mildly perturbed, but she didn’t dare ask about it because to do so would acknowledge that she’d noticed he’d made the changes. She was particularly concerned about the whereabouts of that feather—she’d spent entirely too much time picturing it against his skin—and hoped that he hadn’t thrown it away. Ultimately, though, since he’d decided to pretend as if they weren’t attracted to one another, pride prevented her from bringing it up.
But it didn’t prevent her from going downstairs in her towel.
Often, with varying amounts of water on her skin.
She couldn’t believe she was behaving so shamefully, but then she’d never met anyone like him before either. Anyone who tripped every single trigger, who made her thighs go weak with a single half-quirk of his lips—not even a full smile.
She’d probably collapse if he ever aimed one of those at her.
Of course, if he’d fall down on top of her, then it would be worth it.
Whistling tunelessly she padded through the living room, where he sat reading a book, and made her way into the kitchen to get a snack. Thankfully, Bud and Lucinda—the thoughtful owners of the chalet—had stocked several goodies for them. She was especially fond of the cheese straws.
She knew the exact moment when his gaze landed on her, could feel the prickly tightening of her skin, the quiver low in her belly. She swallowed as need welled up inside of her, filled her from the tips of her toes to the top of her head. Her breasts pebbled behind the fabric, went heavy with want and her mouth practically ached it was so desperate for the taste of his skin. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut, summoning patience from a nearly tapped-out well, then pinned a smile on her face and turned to look at him.
“Can I get you anything while I’m in here?” she asked, gesturing to the fridge.
His face was a stone cold mask free of expression, almost as if he’d willed it into paralysis.
His eyes, on the other hand, were not.
Mercy... They were darker even than usual—which she would have imagined would be impossible had she not been paying such close attention to them—and they burned with torment, blistered with hellish, feverish need.
“No, thank you,” he said, the words clipped in a low growl. He arched a brow, his smile knowing. “Taking another bath, are you?”
She lifted one shoulder in a lazy shrug, purposely allowing the towel to droop a little. “What can I say? I’m fond of that heart-shaped tub. It’s roomy and the jets are nice.”
His nostrils flared marginally. “Perhaps I should give it a try.”
Her imagination obligingly called up that image. Him. Hot, naked, wet, his massive muscular shoulders glimmering in candlelight... Dark hair slicked back off his hauntingly beautiful masculine face.
She blinked, swayed a little, trying to draw him back into focus. “You should.”
“Are you all right?” he asked innocently. “You look a little flushed.”
“Other than being bored to te
ars, I’m fine,” she told him, struggling to find her train of thought. It hadn’t just derailed, it had vanished altogether. “I’ve read all the books your coworkers’ wives sent, worked every crossword puzzle in the book and, though I’ve seen most of the movies, I suppose I’ll go ahead and start on them.”
“They added some clothes into that bag as well,” he told her, glancing significantly at her towel. “You know,” he said, “in case you wanted to put some on.”
She bit her lip to hide her smile. “I found them, thanks. That was very thoughtful. Please pass along my thanks until I can give them in person.”
She had appreciated the care package. Because she’d literally left her house with only the clothes on her back, she’d had very little to wear over the past couple of weeks and what she’d been wearing had been picked up by Les, who’d been pretending to shop for his wife. Evidently Les’s wife had been fond of floral patterns and since he’d not been certain of her size—even though she’d told him—he’d decided to err on the side of caution and the bulk of what he’d picked up for her was One Size Fits All. As a result, Noelle had dubbed her new wardrobe “Shower Curtain Chic.”
The Ranger Security wives had done a much better job. They’d packed comfortable jeans and sweaters, pretty bras and panties, warm pajamas and a variety of high-end toiletries. They’d also included a sexy gown and a little box of condoms, along with a little note that said, “Just in case...”
Smart women, Noelle had concluded. But considering she was on birth control and Judd Anderson seemed to find her annoyingly resistible, they were a thoughtful but moot point. Did he know they’d put the condoms in there? Noelle wondered. Along with the cotton swabs, first aid kit and manicure set? Somehow she doubted it. The thought made her grin.
“I’ll be sure to let them know. Does everything fit?” he asked, referencing the clothes once more, seemingly determined to make his point.
“Everything fits,” she said. And that was all.
A muscle jumped in his jaw. “Right. Excellent.”
“I don’t suppose we could go for a walk later, could we? Just to get out of here for a little while?” She was going stir crazy, needed to breathe some un-recycled air.
His gaze had dropped to her legs, seemed particularly drawn to the skin just above her knee. “Perhaps,” he said, his voice gratifyingly unsteady. “You’re not planning on wearing the towel, are you?”
Noelle grinned, bit the inside of her cheek. “Probably not. Too chilly. Much like the atmosphere around here recently,” she remarked pointedly. She knew what he was doing and she knew why. Better that he should know that, she decided. She jerked her chin toward the bedroom. “I’ll go back upstairs,” she said with a dramatic little wince. “Try to stay out of your way.”
He shifted uncomfortably. “You’re not in my way,” he said, but he didn’t meet her gaze and they both knew it wasn’t true.
“Liar,” she said with good humor. “That’s all right, though. I enjoy my own company.” And she did—she’d had to learn how, especially without siblings and having parents who were more confused by her than anything else—but she’d be the liar if she said she didn’t want to spend time with him. If she said she didn’t want him with every cell in her body. If she said that the attraction was purely a physical one, because she had sense enough to know that wasn’t true. Did she want him?
God, yes.
But it was more than that and she knew it. There was something about him that called to her on more than a physical level, an elusive “it” factor that made her want to know him better. That same little inexplicable nugget of insight told her he was a man worth knowing, that given the chance, he could be more than a potential bed mate, more than a fleeting friend.
He could be special.
To complicate matters, she was still rabidly curious about what made him tick, what had made him leave the military. She still hadn’t forgotten the little cryptic comment he’d made the first night of their arrival. Something to the effect of he was going to have to kill someone and he’d changed careers to avoid doing just that.
Had that been it, truly? Noelle wondered. Had he lost his stomach for war? The death and destruction? Because, while she appreciated every last man and woman who was currently serving or had ever served, she damned sure didn’t envy them their job. There was comfort, she was sure, in knowing that one was nobly serving one’s country, contributing to a greater good.
But walking into the line of fire, aiming one’s own weapon and taking a life, not to mention the long months away from loved ones...
Eek. Give her a good old natural disaster any day.
She looked at him once more, tracing the lines of his unbelievably handsome face, appreciating the contrast between his flawless skin and dark, sleek hair. He was almost too beautiful to look at, Noelle thought. Too...everything to be real and not just a figment of her imagination. An odd ache suddenly tightened in her chest and she sucked in a tiny breath, alarmed at the emotion tensing there.
“I enjoy it,” he said, a question forming in his eyes as she continued to stare at him.
She blinked. “Sorry, what?”
“Your company,” he said. His gaze tangled significantly with hers, dropped to her lips and then bounced up once more. “Too much,” he admitted, with an endearingly rueful smile, one that shared that adorable dimple. “Which is the problem.”
Well, at least he’d admitted it, Noelle thought, marginally mollified. She’d known, of course, but having him confess it made her all the more aware of him, all the more aware of...everything. Recent events, for obvious reasons, had forced her to look at life differently, with a more temporal eye. She was now more afraid of missed opportunities than making mistakes, of saying no when she should say yes, of standing still instead of leaping into the fray.
This was a Leap Moment.
Had she met him prior to the multiple attempts on her life, Noelle knew she wouldn’t have been so bold. She would have been more cautious, weighing every possible outcome to every possible scenario. She would have wanted him, sure—the attraction was simply too potent to deny—but acting on that attraction? Rolling the dice? Who knew?
But she knew now. And she’d been adding more and more things to her newly formed Life’s Too Short List.
Most recently, him.
Whether she came out of this alive, whether she ever saw him again beyond the trial, she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she’d never—never—feel this sort of desire again. This mindless, desperate, achy bone-melting need was a direct result of him. He was the key.
And oh, how she wanted to pull him into her lock.
Her lips curved with perceptive humor and she shrugged negligently again, then started toward the stairs. “Pity,” she said. “It’s not for me.”
* * *
SHE WAS TOO damned clever by half, Judd thought, watching Noelle saunter up the stairs, her delicious bare-beneath-the-towel rump swaying fetchingly with every step.
Of course, it wouldn’t be a problem for her, he thought, resisting the urge to tear his hair out. What did she have to lose, ultimately?
Nothing. Nada. Zilch.
Whereas, he, on the other hand could potentially lose... He frowned, his mouth watering as she sent him another almost pitying smile. You poor, ignorant fool, it taunted. His brow furrowed in confusion. What was it again he stood to lose? He was certain he’d had good reasons for avoiding her for the past two days.
He must have, otherwise he’d been torturing himself for nothing. Putting himself through this self-
sentenced hell for nothing. Denying himself for nothing. So why had he done it? It couldn’t have been his job, because each and every one of the Ranger Security men had found their significant others on an assignment for the company.
Not a single one of them—his brother, in particular—could cast a stone.
Self-preservation, maybe? He felt his expression fall. Oh, yeah. Definitely self-preservation, he decide
d remembering their first encounter and the subsequent car ride here. The off-the-charts sexual attraction, the way his balls had drawn up and his dick had instantly moved into the launch position the instant he’d seen her, not to mention the whole planets-colliding-in-space-thing when she’d looked at him. His new intergalactic princess. His new gravity, because heaven knew he was uncontrollably drawn to her. Drawn to her light, drawn to her energy, drawn to her goodness. He’d spied the tattoo on the inside of her right wrist last night over dinner—which she hadn’t eaten in her towel, thank God—and the message she’d chosen to put there haunted him. It was a tree, very well drawn and well defined, the word “Hope” written in the carefully arranged branches.
He’d wanted to ask her if it was a reminder to always have hope, or to share it with others. Had there been any particular inspiration or had she simply had a little too much to drink and drunk-inked. Somehow he doubted it. Hope, he thought again. Was there hope for him, really? he wondered. Because after losing his nerve at the trigger, after tallying all those kill shots for God and country, he had to wonder.
She, he knew, didn’t have to wonder. She was the angel in the darkness, not the Angel of Death. Add in that kind, unfailing, hardworking and generous nature along with that fiendishly clever little mind and World’s Best Ass and she was the total package.
Hell, he’d known the first instant he’d clapped eyes on her that she was different—an “other” who defied a category—and, better still, that he was in trouble. He’d just been too damned arrogant to admit it.
But protecting his own sanity from certain corruption was smart, right? And denying himself, when she clearly wanted him as much as he wanted her, was noble, wasn’t it? Self-sacrificing, even. He gritted his teeth.
Particularly when she’d been parading around the place in a damned towel and little else for the past couple of days, her fiery hair pulled into a messy ball on top of her head, revealing the sleek column of her throat, the silky skin beneath her jaw.
He’d mentally taken her in every room in this cabin, in every possible sexually depraved position—some of which he was fairly certain weren’t even physically possible. Had even imagined bending her fine ass over the front porch rail, plunging into her from behind while enjoying the majestic mountain view, the scent of crisp air and freshly brewed coffee in the breeze.
His First Noelle Page 9