Renee Simons Special Edition (5 page)

"Maybe we should take the pooch," another voice said. "If anyone's here that shouldn't be, he'll sniff 'em out."

"I'll have to come with you," Lucas said. "He won't mind no one else."

Ethan heard Lucas summon Smokey. The door to the trailer closed and the footsteps and voices moved away. He followed upwind of the small party at what he hoped was a safe distance. The trek would be worthwhile only if he heard something useful and if his presence remained undiscovered. Quite a trick, if he could pull it off.

Chapter 3

At
Jordan
’s hotel the next morning, nine o'clock came and went without Ethan, as did the following three hours. Finally, she got Kevin's phone number from directory assistance and called him.

"Could he have overslept?"

"I doubt it. He has a clock in his head. Damn! I told him to stay away from there." He softened his tone. "Don't worry,
Jordan
. There's a logical reason for this."

She sighed. "I hope so."

"I'd know if he were in trouble."

"How can you be sure?"

"We're mates, love. Pure and simple, we're mates."

They hung up, agreeing to touch base again when Ethan surfaced. For the rest of the afternoon, she tried to keep busy, going over her notes, writing outlines, reading and rereading photocopies of articles she'd gathered.

Nothing distracted her from the concern she felt or helped her deny that concern existed. Least effective of all? Grappling with the question of how her previous acquaintance with Terence Conlon would affect her assignment with Drew. A brief mental debate convinced her she could help Drew nail the man without conflict. After all, wasn’t that why she’d come?

At a little after three, she heard a knock. Ethan stood in the doorway - filthy, his windbreaker ripped at the shoulder, but otherwise apparently in one piece.

"Sorry I'm late." He stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. His loopy grin caused a flutter in the pit of her stomach. "I can explain."

She held up a hand to cut off his next words. "Are there any new bruises beneath that grime?"

"No."

"Good. Then I won't feel guilty about giving an injured man a black eye."

"You've wanted to do that since we first met."

"You're right."

He looked disappointed. "Then nothing's changed?"

"I wouldn't say that."

"Were you worried about me, love?"

"Yes, damn it. Where have you been?"

"I'll explain after I've had a wash."

She wrinkled her nose and smiled in spite of her irritation. "New cologne?”

He laughed. "Yeah, eau de dumpster."

She led him toward the bathroom and put on the light. "Care to explain?"

He stepped past her into the marble tiled room. "After the shower. I'm having trouble being around myself just now." He winked. "Twenty minutes and I'm all yours."

"Okay. For now, I'll settle for your clothes." She pulled out a muslin bag from a vanity drawer and handed it to him. "In here."

He looked at the bag, saw the valet service label and frowned in mock disappointment. "And here I thought you were putting the hard word on me."

"Translation, please?"

He dropped his jacket into the bag and handed it back to her, pulled his shirt over his head and dumped it in after. Her gaze dropped to a muscular chest covered with blond hair, then shot away as his hands gripped the snap fastening his jeans against his flat stomach.

"What do you think it means," he asked in a serious tone, "to a man wearing nothing but his skin?"

The message was clear, setting her cheeks on fire. She needed some way to control the situation. Things were getting too friendly, too personal, too...scary. She stepped backward and closed the door, leaving only her hand in the opening. "Just the clothes, please, Ethan, without any indecent proposals."

"Nothing indecent about it. Perfectly natural," he insisted, "considering the company."

"Ethan!"

The bag grew heavier as he added the rest of his clothing. With the water running in the shower, she turned the bag over to a valet. His expression confirmed that only his impeccable training kept him from asking about the odorous contents.

"Have these back to you in two hours," he said with a smile. "I hope!"

She closed the door, listening to Ethan's watery solo. It wasn't "Waltzing Matilda," but it would do. She opened the bathroom door an inch or so to make sure he'd hear her over the din.

"Have you eaten anything?"

"Not since dinner with you," he responded, and returned to his recital.

She called room service, ordering steak and eggs and tea for him, a salad and coffee for herself.

The water stopped and moments later, the door opened, letting out a cloud of steam.

"Did you run across a razor in here?"

Already disturbed by his presence in her room, she forced herself to ignore the fact that the man leaning out of the bathroom wore only a towel draped around his hips.

"In that wicker basket with all the complimentary toiletries." Her normal tone of voice pleased her. For the moment, at least, she had achieved the control she'd wanted, had put some distance between them. "Why are you shaving off your beard?"

He shrugged. "I grew it as a disguise, but they know this look, so it's got to go."

"I don't understand."

"Those blokes turned up again - at the building site."

"Did they see you?"

"Not this time. If I get rid of the facial hair, maybe it'll throw them off should our paths cross again."

"Want to tell me about the dumpster?"

He raked his fingers through his hair. "Nothing much to tell. I just got to the site when they showed up.  Between them and the security man and his dog I needed a place to hide. It worked before, with the car, you remember. Eventually, I fell asleep."

"It must have been really warm and cozy."

"Smelly or no, that trash bin was a lifesaver I may need again."

“You shouldn’t be there. How many times can you risk not getting caught?" She frowned. "What did you learn?"

"Nothing."

"Stay away, Ethan. It isn't safe."

"That's the least of my troubles."

A knock at the door brought room service with their food. Now swathed in a white terry cloth robe decorated with the hotel's monogram, Ethan ate with the relish of one who’d built up a lordly appetite in almost 24 hours.

She wasn't hungry. She was, however, observant enough to notice that without his beard, Ethan resembled his brother - square jawed, with a strong chin and thin but well-formed lips that turned up at the corners as if he smiled often - a nice looking man, with the kind of face one would never tire of seeing across the breakfast table. Her stomach flipped. Another breach in the wall?

The phone rang, saving her from the need to deal with that last errant thought. At the second ring,
Jordan
remembered her promise to call Kevin and made a dash for it. A worried voice sounded in her ear.

"I'm sorry, Kevin." She glanced over at Ethan, who watched her with curiosity. "He got here about forty minutes ago, smelling like the town dump, but okay."

"Damn it, woman..." Kevin began, then chuckled. "The town dump, eh? I'll wager that's a story. Put him on."

She handed the receiver to Ethan. "He wants to hear your adventure first hand."

At the window, she looked out at the street, where darkness had begun its first tentative invasion. Why had she spent nearly an entire day worrying about a man who'd been a stranger less than a week earlier?

She wasn't interested in him romantically, any more than she was his brother, or the boss she’d just left behind, or any others she'd met over the years. Too much stood between her and a permanent relationship with anyone.

Yet, the more time they spent together, the more difficult it became to ignore her body's reactions to him. Even at this moment, she struggled to bring a wildly beating heart back to its normal, steady pace - all because he now stood beside her.

"Why’d you call Kevin?" he asked.    

"I was worried about you. I hoped he could tell me something that would help."

"Did he?"

"He said he felt you were okay, that he'd know if you weren’t. Trusting his instincts, I guess."

"They've been sharply honed after years of saving my bacon from potential disaster."

When the valet returned his clothes, Ethan went into the bathroom to dress, then lay down on the bed with one long leg dangling negligently off the side.

Donning a sweat suit and running shoes,
Jordan
ran five miles in the darkened, almost deserted city streets. By the time she returned to shower and get some sleep, he'd made himself comfortable on the king-size bed. Taking pity on him after his experience of the previous night, she removed the extra pillow and blanket from the closet and lay down on a mauve silk chaise. Sometime during the night she felt herself being lifted and carried to the bed.

"What are you doing?" she mumbled hoarsely. "Let me go, please." With her eyes still closed, she struggled against the arms holding her, pushing against them in an effort to get loose. "Please."

   Ethan heard the rising panic in her voice and felt her fear as she fought to get free. "Hush, love, hush. It's all right." He spoke in a tone he hoped would soothe. "It's just Ethan. I'm only giving you back half of your bed." He placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. "Don't be afraid. You're safe with me."

She responded to his tone, or his words, maybe, and her frantic movements subsided. Still more asleep than awake, she murmured, "Not putting the hard word on me?"

He grinned in spite of the tense moment. "Wouldn't think of it, love."

He lowered her onto the bed, smoothing her hair back from her cheek. He listened until her breathing settled into a steady rhythm. Before long, she turned on her side and with a sigh, drifted off again.

The momentary panic his actions had triggered didn't square with her image as a strong, confident woman. Behind the face she showed the world, and not too far beneath the surface, hid a frightened girl. That vulnerability surprised him, and aroused a protective instinct he never would have associated with either of them - not her need for it or his wish to offer it. He pulled up the covers and tucked them around her, then lay on top of the spread with his arms folded beneath his head.

Waiting for sleep to return, he stared up at the shadows crisscrossing the ceiling and remembered the conversation in Kevin's pub. She’d talked about unfinished business, but how did a bloke tie up the loose ends when guilt was the bottom line? How was he supposed to work out his responsibility for his parents' death? For not being where he should’ve been. And how did he balance the ledger on the guys who might still be alive if the job had gone as it should have?

He glanced over at her. What unfinished business haunted her? She looked relaxed now, peaceful, as she'd been before he'd interrupted her sleep. Beautiful, he thought, in a way that went beyond her face and figure. Her beauty came from a fiery spirit, from her humor, tart though it might be, and a courage that had overcome some dark threat to her safety.

Having seen her in an unguarded moment, he knew that whatever had caused the fear also turned her sea-green eyes sad when she thought no one was watching. She was young, not quite thirty, he guessed, but whatever she’d suffered had brought her pain and taught her kindness and the ability to empathize. He'd seen those emotions in her eyes also.

Something about this woman tugged at him, but he would fight his need to get close to her. Experience provided a constant reminder that the only way to protect others from danger and himself from loss was to keep his distance.  At least where she was concerned, he would suffer no guilt.

* * *

Jordan
woke early, showered, dressed and left Ethan still asleep. He'd earned the rest after his gentle treatment of her during the night. She needed some distance from the man who could touch her fear and soothe it away in nearly the same motion. Out of courtesy, she left a note telling him where she'd be. After a hearty breakfast in the hotel coffee shop, she drove to
Cambridge
and the campus at MIT.

By four o'clock she began to feel like a mole. Craving light and fresh air, like a creature too long in hibernation, she packed up and went outside where a marble ledge made an ideal perch. She glanced at the Alexander Calder sculpture in the courtyard behind her, then leaned against the wall with her legs stretched out before her.

Content to absorb the last slanting rays of sunlight and the mild late afternoon air, she resumed her note taking. When a cool breeze came off the
Charles River
, signaling the day's end, she lifted her face appreciatively and saw Ethan sitting on the steps.