“There are a blue million banks in Charlotte. We can't possibly visit all of them. I have to get back to my shop.” Maybe voicing her fears would help. It would certainly drive him as crazy as her, at least.
He opened his eyes again, and she wished he hadn't. The “lean and hungry” look that Shakespeare wrote about couldn't compare to what she saw in this man's eyes. Large and dark, shadowed by indecently long lashes, they narrowed as they focused on her, forcing her into awareness of how she lay sprawled across a bed big enough for two.
She breathed a sigh of relief as he turned off the lamp.
It didn't help. In the darkness she was even more intensely aware of the vibrations. He'd been in prison for four years. She'd been on remote control longer than that. It was just human nature, she told herself.
She could escape. All she had to do was seduce him.
“Don't,” he warned.
She didn't even have to be told what he meant. She understood from the tautness of his voice and the dangerous depths from which it emerged.
She didn't know which she wanted more, escape or the seduction.
“I can't trust a man who kidnaps me,” she whispered into the darkness, more for her own benefit than his.
“And I'm not about to trust a woman who holds my life in her hands,” he retorted with just enough anger to be convincing.
“Then I suppose you'd better find a way to resolve that problem.” Snapping the words, Faith rolled over to face the wall and closed her eyes.
In the blinking light of the hotel sign through the thin curtains, Adrian stared at the tempting silhouette of rounded hip and slender waist lying on the sagging bed, and only years of control prevented him from doing something he shouldn't.
A package of dynamite would be safer.
He'd been on the edge of arousal since he'd first seen her on that stage. He ached so fiercely with it now, he'd never go to sleep. And if he didn't go to sleep, he'd sit here all night imagining all the ways he could get her under him.
He didn't think it would be difficult. He'd seen the sexual awareness in her look. He knew women like her were tempted by the dark and forbidden. He'd taken advantage of their kind once or twice in the past. It was pure animal curiosity, nothing more. But this time he had a feeling it could be a hell of a lot more for him and three times as dangerous.
Convincing his mind was one thing. Telling his body was quite another.
He could do this a lot easier when angry. He needed to summon that anger boiling within him, stir the cauldron that seethed in his soul, spice it with the hot pepper of indignation. But she looked more like a bewildered child than a cold-blooded villain, and he couldn't even kindle the coals—not of anger, anyway. Lust would have him bursting into flames any minute now.
She wanted trust. How the hell could he give her that? It wasn't in him. Tony—her husband—had burned what little bit of trust he'd once possessed. For all that mattered, it looked as if she'd never trust him for the same reason.
Finally, her breathing evened, and he relaxed enough to contemplate tomorrow. His eyes had scarcely closed before they jerked open again to the sound of running water and the glaring light of dawn blazing through the curtains. He'd never curse another Carolina dawn as long as he lived. The freedom to walk out into the cool morning air was a blessing he'd never really appreciated until he'd lost it.
His gaze swung from the rumpled, empty bed to the closed door of the bathroom. At least she hadn't stabbed him in his sleep, so maybe violence wasn't on her agenda.
The door swung open and Faith emerged, all shiny and bright-eyed like a brand new toy under his Christmas tree, and he almost swallowed his tongue in longing. She'd let her hair down and it swirled around her shoulders like thick white-gold silk. In this light, her eyes were almost blue, and as crystal clear as a mountain lake. If he started investigating the way the tailored silk of her blouse clung to her breasts or the thin cloth of her skirt emphasized the sexy curve of her hips, he'd be salivating. Her legs were definitely out of bounds.
“I'm hungry,” she announced with a challenge in her eyes.
Well, so was he, but he didn't think they had the same hunger in mind. He couldn't keep from wondering what she would do if he stood up and started kissing that pouty pink mouth of hers. His imagination had her blouse unbuttoned and bra unfastened and his hands full of soft warm flesh before he could rein in his fantasies.
He groaned and shut his eyes. He'd made some big mistakes in his life, but this was one of the most agonizing.
“The minute I go in there and wash, you'll run for help, won't you?”
“Thought about it,” she agreed.
Shit. They'd send him back to the slammer before he could taste a woman's mouth again. His mother would curl up and die and his family would go straight to hell.
“But I'm not about to fish the car keys out of your pocket, and I'm not in the mood for police before breakfast. I don't suppose this joint has a café?”
Oh, God, thank you. Whatever he'd done to deserve this, he would repeat twice over. He opened his eyes to narrow slits to see if she was laughing.
She tossed her hair and gave him one of those mouth-watering smiles she bestowed on the bar crowd. He didn't trust it for an instant.
“You're waiting for me to feed you and then you'll call the cops.” He surged from the chair and stalked toward her, feeling every ache and pain from a night in his awkward bed.
She stood her ground. “Touch me and I'll feed you to the cops,” she warned, “in bite-size pieces.”
Warily, Adrian waited. If he touched her, he'd have her on the bed and rolling under him before she had a chance to utter another syllable, aching muscles or not. He'd best wait to see if she'd discovered a more reasonable alternative.
“We can use my cell phone to call the banks on the way to the storage unit. I don't know if they'll even give out safe deposit box information without a death certificate, but we can find out that much. You can sort through my junk until you're satisfied Tony left nothing in there. Then I can leave you with your family and I can go home.” She waited a moment, and when he didn't immediately reply, she added, “You'll have to trust me with the phone.”
He had a feeling it wouldn't be as simple as that, but if that's what it took to make her happy for the moment, he wouldn't disagree. “That's a plan.” Gathering up the reins of his control, he marched past her into the bathroom and slammed the door.
He would have short-circuited on frazzled wires of frustration as soon as the door closed, but his gaze caught the shower, and with determination he jerked on the cold faucet. He'd survive this, somehow.
Faith checked off another phone number from the list she'd copied from the hotel's directory. “Death certificate, identification, and/or the key before they'll even bother looking. Damned banks charge more and more and do less and less. It's a good thing I don't have enough money to worry over which one of the monsters to give it to.”
Adrian steered through the morning rush hour traffic on I-85 into Charlotte. He had the windows rolled down, and even the smell of exhaust fumes was perfume to his nose. He was free. He was home again. He could almost hear his mother's joy and the clamor of the kids as he walked through the front door. What was he doing chasing down a ghost?
Looking for his life, he reminded himself. Otherwise, he'd be bagging groceries or flipping hamburgers. “All right. We'll track down how to get that death certificate. And we'll search the storage unit for a key. I'll assume identification isn't a problem for you?”
He turned his attention away from the road just enough to catch her sticking her tongue out at him. Grinning, he turned back to the road in time to prevent the Mercedes in the next lane from ripping off the VW's bumper in its hurry to cut in front of them.
“You wouldn't do that if you had any idea what it does to a starving man's hormones,” he warned without a trace of delicacy. She might as well understand where things stood here. They'd fenced around it lon
g enough.
“As if I give a damn about your hormones,” she retorted calmly enough. “Obviously, deprivation has given you testosterone poisoning. I'm not hanging around here. I'm going home.”
“I'll follow you. If you have any care for my family, you'll avoid that.”
Silence. He could almost hear her simmer. He had her number, finally. She might think he was scum of the earth, but she had a heart as mushy as warm cream cheese.
“Annie will pick up my deliveries, but she can't sell anything. My clerk won't work full-time. I can't afford to lose more than a day's worth of sales,” she protested.
“We're talking about lives here.” He used his best sincere voice. He hadn't become captain of the debating team without knowing all the answers. “Is a few dollars worth the futures of seven kids?”
“I thought there were eight,” she answered suspiciously.
“I've already put Belinda through nursing school. She's married and on her own. I should have talked her into becoming a doctor, but she had marriage on the mind at the time.”
She sighed dramatically. “Just give me one good reason why I should care.”
Telling her she had a heart like cream cheese probably wouldn't do it. Adrian grinned anyway. It was a beautiful Carolina-blue morning. The heat of the sun poured through the windshield. Puffy white clouds flitted above and willow oaks flashed past as he gunned the engine and eased into an opening in the next lane. He was free. He was sitting beside the most beautiful woman he could ever remember meeting. He could do anything.
He debated all the possible answers he could give her. He could lie and promise to love and cherish her forever. Women loved hearing that even if they didn't believe it. And this one wouldn't believe it for an instant, not after what Tony put her through. She probably didn't even want to hear it.
He could tell her about each of his siblings, about the athletic twins, about Cesar's genius, about Hernando's crippled leg and Ines's adorable grin. He could tell her about the loving mother who had literally worked her arthritic fingers to the bone trying to keep them all fed and healthy.
But he'd bared his heart enough. He wouldn't give her more. Looking straight ahead, he offered the only reason he could afford. “Because you're the kind of woman who wants the right thing done, no matter what it takes.”
She didn't reply, and he knew he had her.
“I told you the storage unit was on South Boulevard. You just turned uptown.” Faith figured even if he hadn't given her the car keys yet, she still had the phone. She could always call 911.
She could see tension bunching the muscles beneath Adrian's shirtsleeves. His earlier easy laughter had disappeared behind a grim mask as he negotiated the heavy traffic. She didn't think it was the traffic bothering him. She tried to put herself in his shoes and wondered why he didn't go straight home to his family. She would.
“I have a friend who used to work at Nations. Hit the number for them and ask for David Wilkins.”
She hit the requested phone number. “They're called Bank of America now,” she reminded him. “A lot of people have moved on.”
He nodded curtly in acceptance of that. From this angle, she thought she detected Native American origins in his coloring, but the blade of his nose and the sharp jut of his cheekbone was pure Castilian Spanish. She suspected his height came from some redneck side of his family. She grinned at that and asked the operator for David Wilkins. Never let it be said that she was afraid of a man with a ring in his ear.
She handed the phone to him as his friend's secretary came on the line.
He scowled, eased the car to the side of the road and stopped, letting traffic flash by in the sunlight. Well, that was interesting. A lawyer who couldn't do two things at once.
She heard the wariness in his voice relax as he made an appointment. He handed the phone back without comment and watched for an opening in the traffic.
“Well, you didn't promise him your firstborn child, so I assume he's still speaking to you.”
“I saved his butt once. He owes me.”
She'd heard that before. Men had a peculiar way of keeping score. If she did someone a favor, she didn't count it as a point on her scorecard to be called in whenever she liked. Admittedly, it might be advantageous at times like this if she could.
Autumn didn't touch Charlotte this early in the season. The magnolias still gleamed emerald, the willow oaks had paled a little from their summer color, but they weren't brown yet. The decorative flower beds decorating every office and shopping center still contained the crimson red of summer geraniums and salvia. After the first frost they'd be replaced by pansies, but the sun beamed warm as they descended the ramp into the shadows of the high-rise office buildings of uptown.
“Concrete jungle,” Adrian muttered as he turned toward the financial district. “This town used to have shopping and sidewalks and parking. Now it's all concrete.”
“So is every city in the country. Get used to it.”
He found a parking place in the Seventh Street Station garage.
“Why not the bank's garage?” she complained. “We'll have to walk blocks.”
“Because I'm assuming they still give ninety minutes free here. My pocket money is limited, unless you're offering to pay.”
He opened the door and unfolded from the low seat with a groan, giving away the discomfort of last night's sleeping arrangement.
She wouldn't feel guilty. She wouldn't even like the man for coming around the car and opening the door for her. He was just being polite to get what he wanted.
“We don't look exactly impressive in wrinkled clothes.” She tugged at her rumpled skirt with distaste.
“Want to go to the airport and have the valet press them?” he joked, pressing a hand to the small of her back and practically pushing her toward the exit.
“No, I want to play the wall.” Refusing to be pushed, she halted and examined the mosaic artwork decorating the parking garage wall. The artist responsible for it had built a riddle into the pictures. The correct answer punched into lights outside the garage produced a computerized reward of chimes and flashing lights. She'd always wanted to try her hand at it.
Adrian looked at her as if she were crazy. Then glancing around, it slowly dawned on him. “The riddle. Haven't they solved it yet?”
“Yeah, but there's a new one. I never had a chance to solve the old one.” She knew she was wasting time. Tony had never let her come in here because he'd known she'd dally over the painted clues, but she thought it would be wildly satisfying to solve the puzzle and make a building chime.
“It could take hours. We'll stop on each floor and you can look, and then when we come back, you can try it out.”
Faith stared at him incredulously as he grabbed her arm and steered her toward the wall. He seemed to be as fascinated with the puzzle as she was. His eyes lit with interest and intelligence as he avidly scanned the mural. He'd probably solve it faster than she would. She was just amazed that he'd bother with something so useless.
“Come on, next floor.” He pushed her toward the exit, and they raced for the stairs.
Laughing, she shoved past him and hit the stairs running, emerging into the bright light on the next floor and hurrying to scan the clues in the mosaic before he could.
There was something freeing in just enjoying the moment, in forgetting the world and its problems and behaving like a child. She couldn't remember when she'd last laughed like this.
By the time they'd raced to the bottom floor, punched the chiming lights, and hurried up the block, they were breathless and almost late for the appointment. Adrian grabbed her hand and together they dodged traffic and ran into the imposing office tower.
It seemed perfectly natural to be holding his hand. It shouldn't. She tugged it away as soon as the stone cold quiet of the imposing foyer hit her. She brushed at her wrinkled skirt again, wished she'd powdered her nose, and tried not to look too intimidated by her surroundings as they rushed past
men in Armani and women in business-tailored suits. Tony had always been at home in marble surroundings. She'd always thought wistfully of the small-town banks of her childhood where the clerks offered her lollipops and asked about school.
“You have a smudge on your nose,” Adrian whispered wickedly as the elevator door closed behind them.
“I look like last night's leftover mashed potatoes,” she grumbled, reaching for a clean-wipe.
He licked his finger and rubbed the smudge off. “More like tousled silk sheets.”
She melted clear down to her toes. How did he do this to her? She looked into solemn dark eyes and almost believed every word they promised. She never let anyone this close to her. Then the elevator door clanged open and they stepped back into the real world.
Adrian's friend greeted him with a wariness that relaxed slightly upon sight of Faith. She didn't recognize the banker, but she recognized his readiness to accept her as helpless, witless blonde, ready to flirt. In Tony's time she would have smiled and batted her lashes and oozed honey. She didn't owe Adrian that kind of aid.
She nodded curtly, ignored the banker's hand, and took a seat without asking.
Adrian didn't even notice.
Sitting back in amazement, she watched as Adrian concentrated on spinning his tale, delivering appropriate facts judiciously and leaving out everything in between. Not once did he glance in her direction or appeal for her help. She might as well not be there for all it mattered to him.
Tony had always used her as a social icebreaker and a shield he could throw up when he felt threatened. She'd never fully understood how he'd used her until she watched Adrian step in front of her, protect her from questions, and act for her. She wasn't certain she ought to like being sheltered, but she appreciated a man prepared to assume full responsibility.
She could tell from the way Adrian's knuckles whitened as he leaned forward that he didn't like the answers the banker was giving him, but he didn't explode in a temper or throw out impatient threats of lawsuits as Tony would have done. Adrian's future lay in finding those safe deposit boxes, but he remained as calm and civil as he had from the first greeting. His tough exterior concealed a wealth of willpower. Considering she'd seen the wrong side of Adrian's temper, she thought his control nothing short of remarkable.
Nobody's Angel Page 9