One Night At A Time Read online

  She amazed him.

  And if he hadn’t kissed her before, he knew, he would have succumbed to the urge in that instant.

  “He wants revenge?” she asked.

  “For the years he lost, the career I ended, and for what he probably sees as a betrayal of loyalty. Semper fi. Always faithful.”

  “You were loyal to the right cause.”

  “Not everyone sees it that way.”

  “But you do. And that’s all that’s important, Doug.”

  Their honesty bred an intimacy unlike anything he had experienced before.

  “It’s not always easy to do the right thing.”

  “No,” he agreed. “It’s not.”

  “But it’s always the right thing to do.”

  Retreating from the intimacy, like the coward he tried not to be, he did what any sane male would do. He changed the subject. “Earlier you were in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

  “I usually am,” Arielle admitted. “In the middle of spitball wars, struggles between parents and administrators, budgets and taxes. I don’t look for trouble. It finds me.”

  He believed that.

  As if aware of the tenderness with which she still held him, she removed her hand, dropping it to her side. With its absence, Doug noticed a chill in the air. Only a moment ago, he’d thought it was warm.

  “I should have been able to foresee something like this.”

  “Just like I should have been able to prevent my brother’s accident.”

  “It’s not the same thing. You weren’t there when your brother was injured.”

  “Is that why you’re hiding from the world?”

  A second slingshot to his solar plexus. The woman showed no mercy. She did it so well, hitting his weakest spot when he was the most vulnerable. What was it about her? His eyes narrowed. “Is this that shrink thing again?”

  “No.” She shook her head. “It’s not that at all.”

  “I’m not running, Arielle, and I’m sure as hell not hiding.” His words emerged with the sharpened edges of a Chinese throwing star.

  “I’m not trying to make you into a case study.”

  “Good thing. I don’t make an interesting study.”

  “I wouldn’t necessarily agree with that.”

  It was back. That unwelcome flare of something that made him open up, tell things he had no business repeating. Too bad for her that she wasn’t a mind doc. She’d make a good one. He’d even hand out business cards for her. God knew there were enough people who could benefit from her services. Trouble was, they were all his friends. Absently he wondered what that said about him.

  “If you ever want to talk...”

  “I don’t.” He could think of a dozen ways to pass the time with her. Talking didn’t make the list.

  Seeming to accept his curt dismissal, Arielle crossed back to the couch. He stoked the gasping fire, and when he returned to his chair, he caught Arielle in a. yawn. Which brought him to another problem: their sleeping arrangements.

  “The master bedroom’s at the top of the stairs,” he said.

  “Is that where I’ll be sleeping?”

  He nodded. “It connects to a bathroom, and has a fireplace.”

  “Thanks.” She stood and gathered their cups.

  He figured he could tell her now or wait till she got back. Rationalizing that it’d be best if she didn’t drop the dishes, he waited.

  Then wished he hadn’t.

  When she returned to the living room, the rubber band drooped from her index finger, leaving her hair to float around her face in silky disarray. Shadows of exhaustion darkened her eyes, and she’d removed her shoes.

  “Good night,” she said. “I appreciate everything you’ve done for me.”

  But he’d done those things with great reluctance, he realized.

  She turned and started up the stairs, her hand cupped around the banister.

  “Arielle.”

  Stopping, she glanced over her shoulder.

  “There’s something you need to know.”

  He saw the breath she sucked in. Her eyes opened wide, as if fear once again replaced tiredness.

  “Your bedroom....”

  “Yes?”

  “That’s where I’ll be sleeping, too.”

  Her mouth opened a fraction of an inch. “You can’t be serious.”

  “You’re paying me to be your protector.”

  “I’m not paying you to sleep with me.”

  His fist clenched at his side. “You’ve got to trust me on this.”

  “How many bedrooms does this house have?”

  He knew he was being led into a trap. “Four.”

  “Then I’ll take one of those.”

  He waited until she reached the top of the stairs. “I Pickins or your assassin comes gunning, do you want me near you?”

  “That’s unfair,” she said.

  “So’s life.” Even from a distance, he saw the slight tremor in her body. She’d reacted to him earlier, opening her mouth and responding to his kiss. She’d led the dance of initiation, and he suspected she didn’t know what to do with the taste of her own sensual nature.

  But none of that changed the facts. And the fact was, she was living with a death sentence poised like a guillotine. He just hoped she believed him to be less of a threat than her assassin. “Let me do my job, Arielle.”

  She sighed. “Will you sleep on the floor?”

  “Bad back.”

  “Shannen told me you’d slept in the jungle.”

  “That’s where I got the bad back.”

  “Do you know the meaning of defeat?”

  “Yeah.” Across the expanse of night, their eyes met, and he read weariness in her gaze. “But only when I claim it from others.”

  “You’ll argue until you win.”

  He nodded.

  “Uncle,” she whispered, her shoulders dropping a fraction of an inch.

  “I’ll be up in ten minutes.”

  Her steps dragging, she turned and went into the bedroom, closing the door behind her.

  He’d wanted to win. So why did the victory lack satisfaction?

  Doug switched off the coffeepot and loaded their cups into the dishwasher, aware of her motions above him. He’d guarded plenty of people before, so why did this seem different? He was no stranger to the intimacy of isolation. Arielle’s undressing shouldn’t bother him.

  But it did.

  He was losing the edge. There’d been a reason he planned a one-way voyage from shadows to sunshine. He’d been a fool to let emotion stand in the way.

  And if he didn’t put it aside now, he’d be an even bigger fool.

  Grabbing a flashlight from the pantry, he headed outside. Crisp Colorado air assaulted him, cleared his senses. Tuning in to the sounds of night and looking for signs of human predators cleared his mind.

  Ten minutes later, confident that they hadn’t had any two-legged visitors, he returned to the house. Inside, he locked the door, set the alarm and started up the stairs.

  He knocked on the door. When he heard no sounds, he entered the room. The dim glow from the hall light cast her in a dark silhouette. Her chest rose and fell, but the uneven pattern meant she was feigning sleep.

  Suited him fine. One woman, one man, one bed... His earlier thoughts returned to haunt him; he could think of a dozen ways to pass the time with her, and talking didn’t make the list. But he’d get through it, the same way he always did—one night at a time.

  Doug pulled his shirt from his waistband and tossed the cotton on the end of the bed. When he sat down to take off his shoes, she sucked in a shallow breath.

  He unsnapped his jeans, leaving the zipper high and tight. Then he pulled back the covers and slipped beneath the sheet. Heat from her body whooshed onto his side of the bed. While the width might have been perfect for Shannen and Rhone, the bed was a third smaller than what Doug was normally accustomed to. And he was used to having the whole mattress to himself.
/>   Almost imperceptibly, she scooted away, momentarily curving her derriere toward him when she did.

  He glanced at the darkened ceiling, silently saying that there was no need for him to be led into temptation.

  He could find it all by himself.

  Chapter 8

  Arielle’s heart pounded, and her eyes burned. She hadn’t gotten much rest last night, and that made it about three weeks since she’d slept more than a couple of hours at a time. Exhaustion had exacted a toll from her, physically, as well as emotionally.

  She had little left to give. And the small part that still remained needed to be funneled to her parents.

  “Ready?” Doug asked.

  She met his gaze, drawing strength from him.

  Last night had been difficult, more difficult than she might have imagined. Doug had slipped beneath the sheets, the coolness of his outdoor-fresh body seeping, over her. She’d scooted away from him and been rewarded with the sound of a triumphant male chuckle. He’d known she was awake. Mercifully, he’d said nothing.

  Even though she lay awake until a grandfather clock chimed midnight, she hadn’t heard him fall into a restful sleep, either. So how did he manage to look so refreshed and alert?

  “Arielle?”

  Her throat went suddenly dry. She wanted to talk to her parents, reassure them that she was okay, but was she, really? She’d been shot at by the man she’d hired to kill her, then again by Samuel Pickins.

  She was secluded in a mountain hideaway with a man who offered more danger to her, mentally and emotionally, than either of the assassins. Arielle searched for something to say to her parents. How could she offer them reassurance, when she had none inside herself?

  “You don’t have to do this,” Doug said, his tone devoid of its customary teasing.

  “Yes, I do,” she said.

  He cocked his head in understanding, then dialed the number, offering her the receiver. “Keep it short.”

  She nodded woodenly, nearly dropping the phone because her fingers trembled so badly. The sound of the first ring shattered through her senses. Doug didn’t leave the room. Instead, he sat in a wooden chair and tipped it back on two legs, crossing his booted feet on top of the desk.

  The second ring made her heart jump, and then the sound of Rhone’s voice made her composure start to crumble. She tried to say something, only to have the words lodge in her throat

  “Arielle?” Rhone demanded.

  “I’m...here.” She glanced over at Doug, and he gave her a thumbs-up. Taking courage from his action, she cleared her throat.

  “I’ve got your mother here,” Rhone said.

  “Put her on,” Arielle whispered. She wound the phone cord around her finger while rehearsing the few lines she’d composed this morning.

  The few seconds between Rhone handing over the phone and her mother saying Arielle’s name seemed like minutes.

  “Ari, honey, are you okay?” Frantic appeal raced through Mona’s words, the sentence shifting into a solid mass.

  “I’m fine, really,” Arielle said, choking on the lie.

  “Where are you?” Mona Hale asked. “They won’t tell me where you are.”

  Arielle squeezed her eyes shut, trying to keep the tears from falling. Her mother had been crying, and her voice was rubbed raw by emotion. Arielle had heard that tone before, when Mona lost her son.

  Doug had coached her before picking up the phone, and she’d agreed to his dictates. “The mountains,” she said, the half-truth formed in words as dry and bitter as ash.

  “I need to see you, honey. Daddy’s worried about you. When...when are you coming home?”

  “I don’t know,” Arielle admitted. Silence slid down the line after her pause, echoing back at her. The answer obviously wasn’t enough for Mona. “When this is all over. Soon.”

  “Now, Ari, don’t be telling me lies.”

  As always, Mona possessed a mother’s infallible instincts. “Mom, I just needed you to know that I’m okay. There’s no need to worry.”

  “And that’s supposed to make your mother feel better?”

  A headache built behind Arielle’s eyes. Mona knew exactly what line of work Rhone and Doug were in. “I’m in safe hands, Mom.”

  “Ari, please. Please come home.”

  Arielle heard her mother struggle for a breath, and she knew her actions were hurting her, even though nearly two thousand miles separated them.

  “Whatever it is, your father and I can help you with it.”

  There had been a time when she believed that, a time she believed everything could be healed with a piece of Mother’s apple pie and a loving hug.

  But that had been a long time ago, before Danny’s death crumbled the foundation of their lives, before her own life spun dizzily beneath her, destroying all the values she held dear.

  “Come home, darling. We need you.”

  The desperation in her mother’s voice tore at Arielle, ripping her heart into a hundred shreds. What had she done? How could wanting to spare her parents have resulted in so much hurt? Never in her life had she wanted anything more than to reach out to her mother, offering comfort and promises. Yet, if she did that, her parents would become targets, as surely as she was.

  That was the only risk she was unwilling to take.

  Despite her most valiant efforts, a tear trickled from between her lashes and traced her cheek. She heard Doug’s boots thump onto the floor and quickly opened her eyes. He offered her a box of tissue along with a wry grin.

  Arielle reached inside herself for a measure of strength. Her reserves severely tapped, she knew it was Doug’s nearness that supplied what she needed. She closed her hand around the faded soft material and clutched it against her. Taking a deep breath, she fought for control. But it was too late. The last of her composure crumpled. “I’ll call you again, Mom, when I can.”

  Doug moved instantly, taking the phone from her nerveless fingers. He propped the phone between his shoulder and ear, and moved behind her, placing his hands on her shoulders. Gently, but with undeniable force, he guided her into the chair he’d just vacated.

  She wasn’t aware of what he was saying, she only knew that he was using his gift of words to soothe her mother. And at the same time, he worked his magic on Arielle, too. He moved his fingers in gentle massaging motions, working out the knots.

  Her head fell forward as he glided over the tightness in her neck, settling near her nape. Grateful for him taking charge and caring for her, Arielle allowed the rest of the tears to fall.

  Seconds later, he left her while he hung up the phone. Then she heard nothing but the anguished sounds of her own heart breaking. Fully expecting that he’d given her privacy, she pulled her legs onto the chair, wrapping her arms around her legs.

  But he hadn’t left. She heard his footfalls, inhaled the scent of determined masculinity.

  Arielle froze.

  She opened her eyes to see him crouched in front of her. Then, tenderly, he swept a finger beneath her eyes.

  “We’ll get you through this,” he said.

  Her breath coming in labored bursts, she blinked and wiped her eyes. Doug reached for one of her hands, but it was his gaze, full of compassion, a gaze that she was certain saw into the depths of her soul, that made her heart skip a beat.

  “Your parents have the best surveillance around.”

  Gulping at the pain of having harmed the only people she truly loved, she confessed, “It hurts.”

  “Yeah.” He nodded. “And it would have hurt them a hell of a lot worse if they lost you.”

  “But—”

  “You’ll be back in the safety of their arms soon enough. It’ll be a nightmare, and nothing more.”

  “Thank you. Thank you for letting me call them.” Doug’s words did more than offer her hope, they promised peace. Holding on to both emotions like the lifeline they were, Arielle blinked away the last of the tears. “I’m sorry for being so weak.”

  “Sweetheart, y
ou don’t have a weak bone in your body.”

  She met his gaze through her watery one.

  “Everyone’s entitled to cry.”

  She saw the anguish that lurked in the depths of his own eyes. Through her own ache, she recognized his. “Even you?” As soon as she asked the question, she recognized her error. She’d already pushed at that invisible barrier he had erected. Just because she’d exposed her emotions, that didn’t mean he would.

  Without answering her question, he said, “You can use the upstairs shower.”

  “Doug, I didn’t—”

  “I’m going into town in twenty minutes. Does that give you long enough to get ready?”

  His eyes had turned cold, like snow in January. He’d said she didn’t have a weak bone in her body, and now he was expecting her to prove it. Tamping down everything but the fire of determination, she stood, forcing her legs to support her weight. “I’ll be ready.”

  She started toward the door, only to be halted by the stunning surprise and sweetness of his approval.

  “You did good.”

  “Thanks,” she said, not looking back. He wanted her at a distance, and Arielle heeded the warning. She shivered, afraid of what she might see if she looked at him again, if she saw what resided inside him.

  Doug carried his wounds out of casual reach, but she recognized that they lay close enough to the surface to hurt everyone in his path.

  Arielle pitied the woman who dared to unlock them. As for her, she didn’t have the strength.

  She suspected he’d seen enough devastation for two or three ordinary men. But Doug was no ordinary man. What he lived with would consume most people.

  Maybe that was why he never cried.

  Doug released a deep sigh. She’d rushed in where angels feared to tread. And then she’d apologized for her weakness.

  Weak? He rolled the word around in his thoughts. The woman didn’t know the meaning of the word. Compared to her, a tiger could easily be tamed. But Doug didn’t care much for being clawed.

  He thought he’d made it quite clear his personal life was off-limits. She didn’t respect his No Trespassing signs. Hell, she probably skied out of bounds, too.