Closing the suitcase, she shoved it beneath the bed, out of sight. “I’m getting ready to turn in.”
“I need to talk to you, Amber. Open the door.”
Sara threw a quick glance around to check that there was nothing to give her plans away, and then resigned herself to the inevitable. Moving swiftly, she went to the door, unlocked it. He hadn’t changed his clothes; he’d come directly from the police station. For the first time it occurred to her that before they’d been caught in the storm, she’d never seen him look less than immaculate. His obviously custom-tailored clothes were wrinkled now, his expensive shoes probably ruined. But it didn’t lessen the impact of his appearance. Didn’t detract from the aura of latent power that surrounded him.
He pressed the flat of his hand against the door, as if expecting her to try to keep it closed against him. The idea had merit, but she knew it would be futile to try. Letting him push it open, she stepped back, and he followed her in. Immediately he shrank the apartment with his presence, and she knew that if she hadn’t been leaving, she would have been reminded of him in this space each time she was in it.
“You haven’t changed.” His gaze raked her soggy clothes, then made a quick survey of the apartment, before returning to her. “Have you eaten?”
“I…no. I’m not hungry.”
He let the door latch behind him, came farther into the room. “So if you haven’t been eating or standing under a hot shower, what have you been doing?”
Because she didn’t want to answer the question, she asked one of her own. “Why are you here, Nick?”
He slipped his hands in his pockets. “I’m not sure you should be left alone tonight.”
She deliberately misunderstood his words. “I’m not alone. The officer who brought me home said there would be a car out front.” She was counting on that, in fact, when she slipped out the back. “It’s been a long day, and I’m exhausted.”
He paid no attention to her words. “This room is freezing.” Crossing the room, he went to close the window near her bed she routinely kept open. When his hands went to the sash she blurted, “Don’t shut that!”
The alarm in her voice was unmistakable, so she swallowed, forced a calmer tone. “I like it open.” She didn’t miss the assessing look in his eyes as he stepped away from it slowly, nor the shift in his attention when he saw the flipped-up comforter that she’d forgotten to smooth back into place.
With a feeling of inevitability, she watched him go down on one knee, look at the edge of the suitcase partially revealed. Glancing at her again, he cocked an eyebrow. “Going somewhere?”
“Where would I be going?” Her shrug was deliberately casual. “I keep some of my clothes in that, because the space in here is limited…Nick!” He was pulling the suitcase out, popping its lid. He surveyed its full contents for a moment before rising, turning to her.
His voice was soft, almost inaudible. “Where are you going, Amber?”
She’d always had the ability to recognize when to cut her losses. Her chin tipped upward. “I’m not sticking around to be used as target practice in some crazy man’s six-year-old vendetta.”
He seemed to choose his words carefully. “If they find the guy they’ll need you to identify him.”
“They have to find him first, though, don’t they?” She wasn’t acting now. The words, the situation, was all too real. “Excuse me for not being a dutiful citizen. I have no intention of being used as live bait for a killer.”
“And you were expecting to sneak by the NOPD with suitcase in hand?”
“There’s a back door,” she snapped.
“And another car posted there.”
His words struck her hard in the chest. Stunned, she could only stare at him.
“They’ve got three officers posted around this building. You aren’t going to be allowed to go anywhere. The department is taking this very seriously, especially while they think the gunman might have been related to a high profile case in Chicago.”
Reaction set in, and she began to shake. There had to be a way out of here. She’d been in tighter spots than this and had always found an escape. But rarely had she already been this shaken, this stressed. “I won’t stay, wondering when he’s going to find me again. I can’t.”
“All right.”
His words made no sense to her, especially with her mind already whirling with plans. “What? What do you mean?”
“I mean,” he said calmly, bending to pick up the suitcase, “that if you really want to leave, I’ll take you.”
“You’ll take me?” Distrust filtered through her panic. “You’ll take me where?”
He regarded her patiently. “I’ll get you out of the city. That’s what you want, isn’t it?”
Of course it was. And at the moment Sara was unable to think of a way to accomplish that on her own. A measure of cool reason returned. It would be easy enough to slip away from Nick once he’d gotten her out of New Orleans. Her choices right now were depressingly limited.
“All right.” If her agreement surprised him there was no sign of it on his face. He merely turned and headed toward the door, leaving her to follow. And as she trailed after him, she tried to quiet the inner alarm that warned her she was only exchanging one kind of danger for another.
Chapter 3
Nick sat in a plush armchair in his private jet and studied Sara as she slept on the couch opposite him. To watch the even rise and fall of her chest, the softness that came over features usually kept in an expressionless mask, seemed curiously intimate, even intrusive.
Since he wasn’t a man to grow fascinated by a woman, he excused his interest by telling himself there could be quite a bit to learn from the act. A person with no fears and nothing to hide might well sleep spread out, arms flung wide. It was telling that Amber slept curled up in a ball, burrowed into the softness of the couch.
And it was disturbing to him to feel this primal surge of protectiveness just watching her.
Frowning slightly, he considered the unfamiliar emotion. With the exception of his grandmother, people didn’t get close enough to him to touch him in any way. The one time he’d relaxed his guard had resulted in tragedy. It was a lesson he’d never forgotten. He didn’t even know this woman, and it was maddening to have to keep reminding himself of that. Maddening to know just how much he wanted to.
He shifted a bit, strangely uncomfortable with the fact. However, he wasn’t one to dodge the truth, even when it was pointed straight at him. He didn’t make the mistake of thinking it would be easy to gain her trust. She’d accepted his help only because she’d had no other options. He realized that. But he was a man who knew women—knew how to strip away the layers of complexities and defenses to bare the essential woman beneath.
Nature had given him one gift toward that end, and birth had determined another. Women were attracted to his looks and intrigued by his money. But if Nick was interested, they gained far more from him than the superficial. He truly enjoyed females—their minds, their softness, the little quirks that made each an individual. Despite their differences, all wanted the same thing, and he gave it freely—his attention, his respect, if not his heart. He enjoyed watching a woman warm under his care. Perhaps it was overcompensation for feeling little or nothing himself. It didn’t matter. Because as he watched Amber sleep he thought he had never seen a woman more in need of a man’s attention. Nor one more determined to fight it.
She