Standing in the Shadows (15 page)

But then again, wasn't that what frigid literally meant? Frozen. No matter what the cause, the end result was the same. Maybe they would both be in for a painful disappointment.

The sight of her organizer sticking out of her purse gave her an unpleasant shock. She'd gotten so carried away thinking about sex, she'd forgotten the purpose of her trip. She should take advantage of this moment alone to conduct some damage control. She flipped open her organizer, dialed the Silver Fork Resort and asked for Nigel Dobbs.

"Hello?" came Dobbs's clipped, snooty voice.

"Mr. Dobbs? This is Erin Riggs."

"Ms. Riggs! At last! We were quite worried about you."

"I appreciate your concern, and I'm so sorry I didn't have a chance to call and…" Her voice trailed off. Connor slid the glass door open with a resounding thud and stalked in, leaving it wide open. He stood inches in front of her, glaring. Cold, wet salt air swirled around him.

"Hello? Hello? Ms. Riggs, are you still there?"

"Ah, yes, I am. Excuse me. It must be a bad connection," she said hastily. "Ah, I'm so sorry. I'm, ah…"

"Are you all right? Are you in some kind of trouble?"

Oh, you have no idea
. "Not at all," she assured him. "I'm fine."

"Do you need someone to come and pick you up?"

"No, thank you. That's why I called. I wanted to apologize for not notifying you in time to stop the driver from going to the airport in Portland. I had a change of plans and—"

"Tell them your boyfriend came along," Connor said.

She stared up at him, mouth working uselessly.

Dobbs's impatient sigh was audible. "Ms. Riggs? Do you intend to inform me of the nature of your change of plans at some point?"

She swallowed hard. "My… my boyfriend came along."

There was a long silence. "I see."

"He met up with me in Portland, and gave me a ride, and we've already checked into another hotel, so I—"

"Then I take it you will be unable to dine with Mr. Mueller. He will be very disappointed. Mr. Mueller's time is in extremely high demand."

"But I didn't know Mr. Mueller was going to be at the hotel this evening," she faltered. "I thought he was arriving very late tonight!"

"He changed his plans when he received your e-mail." Dobbs's voice was gelid. "He is arriving this afternoon. What a pity, hmm?"

Erin closed her eyes and mouthed a silent curse. "Well, urn… maybe I can—"

"No." Connor's voice was hard and carrying. "No way. No dinner with that guy tonight. Forget it."

Nigel Dobbs coughed. "Ahem. Perhaps it would be for the best if you resolved your personal problems at a safe distance. I will inform Mr. Mueller of your change of plans when he arrives."

"Thank you," she said miserably.

"And should Mr. Mueller risk using your professional services another time, I would consider it a tremendous favor if you would give us prior notice of these changes. Mr. Mueller took an earlier flight from Paris expressly for the purpose of dining with you. If you had called to tell us of your change of plans, I would have advised you of this."

"Oh, God," she murmured. "I'm so sorry."

"I will send the car for you tomorrow. What is your address?"

She groped for the notepad by the phone. "Just a moment. It's on the stationery—"

She squeaked as Connor wrenched the phone out of her hand and blocked the receiver. "Don't give him the address," he said.

"Connor!" She lunged for the phone.

He held it out of her reach. "I will drive you to the resort tomorrow. Start to give him the address, and I rip the phone out of the wall." He wrapped his fingers around the cord and narrowed his eyes. "Nod, Erin. Show me that we understand each other."

She nodded. He handed the phone back. "Mr. Dobbs? I'd rather not put your driver to the trouble—"

"It's no trouble, Ms. Riggs."

"Really, it's fine. We'll drive ourselves to the resort."

"If you insist. When shall we expect you? Would eleven be acceptable? That way Mr. Mueller can rest."

"Eleven would be fine," she said. "And please give my apologies to Mr. Mueller. I truly didn't mean to—"

"Yes, yes, of course," Dobbs snapped. "Good evening."

Erin hung up the phone. She felt sick. Her stomach was clenched up tight with dismay. She pressed her shaking hand against it.

She took a deep, shuddering breath and stood up, facing him down. "Connor," she said. "That was beyond paranoid. That was my most valuable client. Are you deliberately trying to sabotage me?"

He shrugged. "You were about to tell that guy the address. Which cancels out any advantage that coming here might have given you."

She stalked over to the window and slid it violently shut. "And what possessed you to make me say that you were my boyfriend?"

"It draws less attention than saying I'm your bodyguard. It explains why I stick to you like a burr and give dirty looks to any man who gets near you. It's the standard jealous boyfriend act. Most women have dumped at least one of those losers and then put out a restraining order on him."

"I never have," she snapped.

"Don't worry, Erin. I was an undercover cop for nine years. I'm a good actor. You're not required to fuck me to make it convincing."

Her jaw dropped at his crude words. "Oh! Thank you, Connor! I am so comforted and reassured by that thoughtful remark!"

"I'm not aiming to reassure you," he retorted.

"That's pretty damn obvious!" she yelled back. "Do you have any idea how bad this makes me look? Mueller took an earlier flight from Paris specifically to meet with me tonight!"

"Oh, God, no." His face was a caricature of dismay. "The disappointed billionaire, eating his caviar all alone in the flickering candlelight Poor Claude. You're breaking my heart."

She lifted her chin. "That's it." She grabbed her suitcase. "I was wrong to humor you. You have no respect for my work, and you are completely out of your mind. I am leaving—oof!"

He spun her around. "You're not going anywhere."

"Yes, I am." She backed away, but he was gripping her shoulders. "I've had enough of your—Connor!" The world tipped and spun, and she landed on the bed, bouncing. The bouncing stopped when he landed on top of her, pinning her down with his big, hard body.

"No," he said calmly, as if lying on top of her were no big deal. "You're not going anywhere, Erin."

She forced herself to close her mouth. Her heart thudded so hard, she was sure he could feel it against his chest. She struggled beneath his solid weight, and the movement felt… sensual.

She went motionless. "Connor. Don't," she whispered.

He cupped her face in his big hands. "Novak should've been taken out back when we had a chance. Same with Georg. I should've finished him off, but I let the system take care of him. Which was stupid, because the system is rotten with holes. Jesse fell through one of them and died. I fell through another one. I'm alive out of sheer, dumb luck. Novak and Georg escaped out of another hole. Are you following me?"

She gave him a tiny nod.

"I'm not going to let you fall through one of those holes, Erin. I won't leave you alone. I won't disappear. Is that understood?"

She dragged in another tiny breath. "Can't breathe."

He lifted himself up onto his elbows, still pinning her. "Let me tell you something about Kurt Novak."

She shook her head. "Please, don't. I don't want to think about—"

"Tough shit. Look at me."

She winced, and slowly, reluctantly met his gaze.

"His dad is a big guy in the Eastern European
mafiya
. Hungarian. Probably one of the richest men in the world. He arranged to send his boy to college in the States. I imagine the plan was to groom him to go legit, to broaden the power base, but Kurt, well, he was kind of a funny guy. Weird things started to happen at the dorm. It culminated in a girl getting strangled to death during sex."

Erin squeezed her eyes shut. "Connor, I don't—"

"Lucky for our boy Kurt, this girl wasn't rich, or the daughter of a politician or a general. Her mom was a widowed research librarian who didn't have the resources to fight the big fight. Or maybe it wasn't luck, maybe Kurt thought it through, at the tender age of nineteen. The thing was hushed up and paid off, and Kurt gets whisked back to Europe, to recover from the unpleasantness on the ski slopes of the Alps."

She turned her face away, but his hand forced it back until she met his eyes again. "Look at me when I talk to you, Erin."

How dare he order her. She wanted to say something sharp to put him in his place, but the intensity of his eyes wiped her mind blank.

"Do you know, if a normal, well-behaved dog starts to chase sheep and brings one down, he'll never stop. He can't forget the thrill, the taste of blood in his mouth."

"No. I didn't know that," she whispered.

"Well, why would you? You're a city girl. But anyhow, the dog has an excuse. He's just reverting back to what nature originally programmed him to do. But Novak, he discovered his true passion in life that night. Murdering young women is an expensive vice for him, like fine cocaine. Or collecting priceless Celtic artifacts."

She shook her head. "It's not possible, Connor. Mueller is—"

"Do you see why I'm freaked out by this? Please, Erin. Tell me that at least one person gets it. I'm dangling all alone out here. There's a guy loose who gets off on snuffing beautiful girls, and he knows your name. Tell me I have a right to be nervous for you!"

The desperate appeal in his voice made her want to put her arms around him and agree to anything, if only it would make him feel better. She stopped herself just in time. A nervous giggle escaped her. "I'm not such a prize. Novak could do better than me in the beauty department."

He looked incredulous. "Huh?"

"Cindy's the beauty, Erin's the brain," she babbled. "That's what my mother always says. It never occurs to her that it makes Cindy feel stupid and me feel ugly. But she means well. She always means well."

He frowned. "You are kidding, right? Tell me you're kidding."

She bit her lip. Her eyes slid away from his.

"Jesus," he said. "You are gorgeous. You must know that."

Color flooded into her face. "Please don't be ridiculous."

"I'm not the ridiculous one." He shifted so that his leg lay between hers. Her skirt was shoved up practically to her bottom.

"Connor." She stopped, and tried to calm the quiver in her voice. "Don't tell me any more about Novak. I don't want to dwell on violence and evil. I'm trying to think positively. I don't want to know."

"You can't run away from the truth."

She shoved at his chest. "I've faced enough ugly truths!"

"You don't get to decide when it's enough," he said. "None of us gets to decide. You can't control it. Ever."

"I can try," she snapped.

"Sure, you can try. But you'll just hurt yourself."

The bleak look in his eyes made the words she had wanted to say evaporate. Her chest was heaving, as if she'd been running.

"Please, Erin." His voice was low, impassioned. "I'll try to behave. I won't ruin your life. Just play along with me. Let me do my thing."

All this protective intensity, all for her. Yearning twisted her heart.

Connor had faced a lot of harsh truths, and he was still fighting. Still trying heroically to do the right thing. She wanted to grab him and say,
Oh yes. Save me from the big bad world. And while you're at it, kiss me senseless. And for God's sake, don't stop there
.

She gathered up every last scrap of her self-control. "Um, maybe I could be more lucid and reasonable about all this if you weren't lying on top of me, squashing me flat and ruining my suit. Do you mind?"

His face tightened. He lifted himself off of her instantly.

She kicked off the shoe that still clung to her foot, sat up, and curled her legs up beneath her. Connor hunched on the edge of the bed with his back to her. Silently waiting.

Her dream flashed through her mind: the way he followed her with such stubborn patience. Never losing sight of her, never giving up. She wanted to drape herself across his broad shoulders and hug him.

The decision made itself, sudden and irrevocable. "OK," she said.

He turned his head, his eyes wary. "OK, what?"

"OK, you can do your thing. If you're serious about trying not to ruin my life, that is. And, urn… thank you for caring."

He stared at her for a moment. "You're welcome."

His eyes flicked down over her body. Heat bloomed between her legs again, and she squeezed her thighs together and tried to smooth her hair back. Her blouse was disheveled. He watched her straighten and button and tuck with intense fascination. The longer the silence stretched, the more fraught with meaning it became.

"So?" She shot for a cheerful, let's-move-on sort of smile, but had no idea if she hit anywhere close to the mark. "Now what?"

He glanced down at his watch. "You hungry?"

She had been too worked up to think food, but all she'd eaten all day was a pecan sticky bun. "I could eat something," she admitted.

"Let's go to the restaurant downstairs. It's got excellent seafood."

"OK. I'll, urn, just pop into the bathroom and freshen up."

She was too flustered to pick out what she needed while he watched. She just grabbed the whole suitcase and lugged it into the bathroom. She closed the lid on the toilet, sat down and doubled over, shaking with a silent combination of laughter and tears.

It was impossible, planning a seduction under these conditions.