Rescuing Diana (5 page)

Adam smiled at her, then turned to the hostess, who was dressed in a velvet gown and wimple.

“Table for two, please,” he requested, then added, “Could you give us a few minutes, though?”

The hostess looked at Diana and smiled. “No problem, sir.”

The hostess bustled away, and Adam glanced around with a new appreciation at the restaurant’s familiar decor. He’d had more than one meal here since establishing his architecture firm in Oakland three years before. Grinning, he wondered if he’d unconsciously been in training for the role of Sir Morbid all that time.

“Adam!” Diana suddenly whispered from behind him.

He turned to discover her holding the armor’s left gauntlet in her hand, a look of panic on her face.

“How did that happen?” he whispered back, striding over to her.

“I don’t know!” she replied in a low tone as he took the gauntlet from her. “I just touched it and it came off.”

Trying to fit the metal glove back onto the armored sleeve, he muttered, “You must have twisted it or something.”

“But I didn’t!” she whispered. “Here, let me hold this still for you.”

She grasped the sleeve just above the wrist to
steady it. Adam’s jaw dropped in astonishment as the whole sleeve instantly came free in her hands. She stared at the sleeve for a moment, then looked up at him.

“I’m sorry, Adam. I guess you can dress me up, but you can’t take me anywhere,” she said in a small voice.

Fighting laughter, he shook his head. “If all the ladies needed as much rescuing as you, Diana, knighthood never would have gone out of business. Gimme that thing!”

She shoved the sleeve into his hands. He bent down and very gently placed it and the gauntlet on the pedestal base, directly between the statue’s armored feet.

Straightening, he looked at her. “I don’t suppose you want to stay for dinner now, do you?” he asked dryly.

She looked around in embarrassment. “No, not really.”

As they were walking across the parking lot toward his car, she sighed. “Honestly, Adam, I have no idea how that arm came off.”

“I do,” he said as they reached his car. He unlocked the passenger door and opened it. When she was seated in the gray velour seat, he added, “As I said before, it’s a good thing princesses are naturally klutzy. Otherwise we Knights of the Oblong Table would be out of business.”

He shut the door before she could answer. Striding around the car, he thought with amusement that he was giving not just his face, but his whole body to the role of Sir Morbid. He wondered if Diana had always been in such need of rescuing—and who had been rescuing her before him.

After he’d climbed into the driver’s seat and started the Trans Am, she swiveled to face him.

“I am not a klutz,” she said. “But I think you’re a jinx.”

“Me!” he exclaimed. “That armor came apart in
your
hands, not mine. And I wasn’t the one sitting in shrimp mold making a spectacle out of myself. And I certainly wasn’t the one who had to be rescued from the reporters.”

She pushed her glasses back up her nose. “That was the first time anything like that happened to me, and it was also the day I met you. In fact, whenever something happens, I’m with you. Now, how do you explain that?”

“I don’t,” he muttered.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see her stony expression. “Look, Diana,” he said in a gentle voice, “let’s just forget about the armor and everything else, okay?” He tucked a strand of silken hair behind her ear. “After all, we were together this afternoon without experiencing a single unexplained phenomenon. No disasters with the camera, no getting stuck in the helmet, no exploding computers.”

Diana swallowed as his fingers tenderly brushed against her cheek. It wasn’t fair, she thought. Of all the men in the world to suddenly have this sizzling reaction to, it had to be Adam. Why him? He was the
wrong
man, plain and simple. Adam Roberts was dangerous. And it had nothing to do with his connection to Starlight Software. He was just dangerous as a man.

Somehow, too, she always managed to look like a female Barney Fife around him. Hardly the cool professional that she was. That armor coming off
had been embarrassing enough, but then she had made things worse by accusing him of being a jinx because she had done something dumb. She groaned silently. In less than five minutes she had completely shredded the in-control-woman image of the afternoon. She should have said no to dinner, but she had really thought she could handle it. Dumb Diana, she berated herself. She’d been lulled into a false sense of security, and she should have known better.

“Peace, Diana?” he asked, his deep voice rumbling over the racy whine of the car’s engine.

“Peace,” she agreed. It was easy to say, she thought. She wouldn’t be seeing him again after tonight. There was no reason to. Her curiosity was dead concerning his probable mission for his brother’s company. And her curiosity about him in other ways was too aroused.

“Now let’s find a
decent
restaurant,” he said, smiling at her.

“Fine,” she replied, telling herself that to refuse would only be ridiculous at this point. Mentally crossing her fingers, she vowed not to touch a thing.

It wasn’t until after their dinner at another restaurant that Diana realized Adam had never brought up business at all. In the relaxed atmosphere, without a single piece of medieval memorabilia in sight, she’d again forgotten the real purpose of his pursuing her acquaintance. Instead, she had just enjoyed his company, enjoyed being with Adam the man. They’d even laughed and teased each other about the Tapestry Room incident.

Now, as he parked his car in her darkened drive, she wondered when he would get around to dropping
the proverbial other shoe. Maybe he’d been trying to catch her off guard with all this friendly companionship. Maybe, by some miracle, he actually thought she wouldn’t be quite as easy to persuade as her nerdy-hermit image indicated. No, she was reaching for a dream on that one, she admitted. Fortunately, her amnesia had only been temporary. Good thing she was in the programming business, because she would have made a lousy James Bond.

“Time for all good princesses to be back in their castles,” Adam said as he helped her out of the car.

She smiled at him. “Thank you for dinner. The lasagna was delicious. And thank you, too, for playing Sir Morbid, Adam. I know I took up a good deal of your time, so let me pay you for it.”

“You don’t owe me anything. It was an experience I wouldn’t have missed.” He chuckled dryly.

“But I insist.”

Without answering, he took her elbow and guided her across the drive and up the steps of the deck. Diana grinned at herself, thinking that Adam had all the instincts of a chivalrous knight. She hadn’t had so many doors opened for her in her life. Still, she would pay him for his time. She didn’t like the idea of owing anybody for anything. And in Adam’s case, not owing him was imperative. She certainly couldn’t leave herself open to any machinations he might try on Starlight’s behalf. If the Starlight people wanted her games, they’d have to play fair and go through Angelica.

When they reached her front door, she started to fish in her purse for her keys. Adam laid his hand over hers, stilling it.

“There is one payment I want for services rendered,” he said softly.

She lifted her head and stared at him as his voice sent warning tingles up her spine. She forced herself to stay cool and collected.

“Oh?” she asked, hating the telltale squeak in her voice.

“I only want one kiss from the princess.”

Before she could put a safe distance between them, his mouth settled firmly on hers. In desperation she jerked her head back. He only smiled and, threading his fingers through her dark hair, pulled her to him again.

His lips were warm and gentle, creating similar feelings inside her. Diana slowly relaxed, and her eyelids fluttered closed of their own accord. His mouth fitted itself to hers and exerted more pressure, parting her lips. His tongue rubbed against hers, boldly persuading her to submit to his possession. Almost timidly, she stroked back. The sensations running through her veins suddenly intensified, becoming hot, fierce waves pounding against her skin. She clutched at his shoulders as if for an anchor, her fingers digging into them. His mouth slanted hungrily across hers, his arms becoming iron bands around her back as he pressed her against the length of his hard body.

She felt her whole being jolt in response, and, as she helplessly kissed him back, she knew she never wanted the spinning and swirling to stop. But they did.

She blinked in confusion when slowly, almost reluctantly, he lifted his lips from hers. He didn’t let her out of his embrace, though. Instead he
tucked her cheek against his chest and rested his chin on the crown of her head.

“Obviously the Brothers Grimm left out the good parts of their fairy tales,” he said in an amused voice. “Or else they never passed the censorship committee.”

“What censorship committee?” she asked, snuggling closer to the heat of his chest. She could hear his heart beating under her ear.

“The guys who cut the pow out of the princesses’ kisses in the fairy tales.”

“Oh.” Diana didn’t know what else to say. She was astonished that he’d evidently been as affected by the kiss as she had.

“This is getting too … comfortable,” he said. “Get your keys out, princess, and unlock the drawbridge.”

“Please don’t call me that,” she said while fumbling through her purse again for her keys.

“Seems to me you’ve been qualifying for the role lately.”

Her face heated in embarrassment as she finally pulled her keys from the purse. They instantly slipped through her fingers to the deck. Diana calmly looked around for the nearest rabbit hole to climb into. Adam certainly seemed to bring out the klutz in her, she thought.

He bent and picked up the keys. Handing them back to her, he quipped, “Looks like I’m on a rescuing roll.”

“I just didn’t want you to lose your touch,” she replied, refusing to allow her mortification to show.

He took her right hand, gently spread her fingers back, and dropped the cool metal keys into her open palm. Then he closed her fingers around
them but didn’t release her, and she looked up at him in puzzlement. Even in the dark shadows she could see the smile playing across his mouth.

“Some princesses never know when to stop,” he said.

She resisted the urge to ask him what he meant, sensing she was better off not knowing. She pressed the shut-off sequence for her burglar-alarm system, then unlocked the front door.

Turning back to face him, she said, “Thank you for your help, Adam, and for a lovely evening. Good night.”

He leaned forward and kissed her swiftly. “That was a bonus for overtime.”

“Good night, Adam,” she said firmly, and stepped inside.

Leaning back against the oak door, she breathed a sigh of relief. Adam Roberts was too contradictory and confusing, she decided. He’d hypnotized her, too. Somehow he’d managed to keep her relaxed and make her like him more and more. He’d soothed all her inner qualms about him with his no-pressure companionship. And he had practically drugged her with that kiss. He certainly was taking his time before he moved in for the kill.

Her contrary heart protested that she was condemning the man on only a rumor in Jim Griegson’s column. She wondered for a moment if she could be wrong about him. He had never once attempted to make a deal for his brother or Starlight Software. In fact, he hadn’t mentioned them at all that night.

Maybe he wasn’t involved in his brother’s company, she thought. Maybe their first meeting had been coincidental, and not deliberate, as she’d
suspected. Maybe he was just a man with a chivalrous soul, willing to help out a woman in need. That, at least, made more sense than his participating in some elaborate plan to get her games for his brother’s company.

She sighed again and rubbed her temples, willing away all thoughts of computer skullduggery. It didn’t matter whether Jim’s rumor was true or false anyway. Adam hadn’t asked to see her again. Services had been rendered in full, and that was all she’d wanted from him in the first place.

She ignored the little voice inside her that said he had rendered them very well.

Exhausted, Diana leaned back in her padded swivel chair to ease her cramped, aching muscles. She was dimly aware that her clothes—the sweater she’d worn to dinner with Adam and the jeans she’d changed into after she got home—felt a bit grubby. She pushed her glasses up on the top of her head and rubbed her bleary eyes, then surveyed the picture of Adam on her computer’s monitor screen.

She smiled. Although it had taken hours to repaint his face carefully with the computer’s electronic paint program, the results were exactly as she’d hoped. Adam’s face was still Adam’s face. Well, sort of. At least it didn’t look like Richard Nixon.

She rubbed her eyes again, wondering what time it was. She realized she must have worked through the night, since sunlight was filtering through the heavy curtains on the glass doors. She
knew from past experience, though, that it could be any time of day.