shoved his hand away as she repressed her shuddering reaction. “I have responsibilities. A job. And you have other bodyguards.” Her eyes narrowed. “Speaking of which, where are they?”
“Omar is sick, the others are with Ibrahim. The driver is driving.”
“That’s no good. You should have at least one other guard with you at all times.”
Rudi’s smile glistened in the car’s dim light. “You are with me.”
“I’m not your bodyguard.”
“Why not? Come with me. I have cleared it with your company. I have cleared it with my family. All is prepared.” He paused and gave her a little-boy-pleading-for-a-treat look. “That is, if you agree.”
“What if I don’t?” Ellen fought against the temptation. If she wanted something this much, it had to be bad for her. But what if this was the new job Campanello wanted her on?
“I will have the driver drop you wherever you want to go.” The teasing grin was back. “Preferably after lunch. Grant me at least that much.”
She eyed him, all her suspicion sensors on alert. “What about you? If I don’t go, who will you take on your trip?”
“Myself.”
Scowling, Ellen decided not to argue with him. He was just contrary enough to do what he threatened. If she didn’t go, he’d go alone, and that was absolutely out of the question. “I want to call my office, make sure this is okay with my boss.”
Rudi’s expression didn’t change, didn’t even flicker as he gave a nonchalant shrug. Either he really had cleared it with everyone, or he was a consummate actor. “Of course. Whatever you think you need to do.” He handed her a cell phone from somewhere inside those voluminous robes.
“Thanks. I have my own.” Ellen pulled her phone from the bag she’d somehow hung on to when Rudi snatched her up on the horse. She had to think a minute to remember the office number. How could this man interfere so with her thought process?
“Swainson Security.” The phone was answered on the first ring.
“Hey, Marco. Is Campanello in?”
“Oh, hey, Ms. Sheffield. No, he’s out meeting with those guys about that string concert in October.”
“String?” Ellen racked her brain trying to recall any violinists the company had contracted with. “Do you mean Sting?”
“Maybe that’s what he said. I just know it was some old guy. But he did tell me to tell you those sheikhs wanted you to head up the detail for—uh—” The rustle of paper shuffling came through the phone. “For one of them. I can’t find the paper with the guy’s name on it. It was here just a minute ago.” Marco sounded stressed.
Ellen glanced at Rudi. She hated being pushed into things. But he was the client, and clients had the right to do a limited amount of pushing. “Tell Campanello I know about it, and I’m on the job.”
It had to be Rudi they wanted her with. Campanello had been bugging her about it ever since she’d found the man. Ellen didn’t do guard details anymore if she could help it, but it didn’t look as if she could help this one. Rudi had boxed her in.
“Got it, Ms. Sheffield.”
“I’m going to try to reach the boss on his cell phone, but if I can’t, tell him I’ll check in again as soon as I can. Everything’s under control. I’ve got Rudi with me.”
“I’ll be sure to tell him. Rudi.”
“Thanks.” Ellen flipped the phone shut and tucked it away.
“Marco—another hulking brute like Frank or George?” Rudi’s eyes twinkled at her. “Or someone more interesting?”
“Definitely more interesting.” Ellen chuckled. “He’s sixteen. A friend of one of Campanello’s kids. It’s his first summer job. He might be hulking someday, after he gains a hundred pounds. He’s a good kid. And he only answers the phones during lunch.”
“Ah.” Rudi leaned forward and gave the driver an address. Ellen didn’t hear it clearly. “Speaking of lunch, do you mind if we eat on the way? It will save some time.”
“Sure, why not? What’s a few crumbs on the upholstery?”
The driver let them off at an uptown building Ellen wasn’t familiar with. She got on the elevator with Rudi, forcing herself to go into bodyguard mode. She hadn’t done this kind of work in a while, but it had been even longer since she’d been in date mode. Besides, this wasn’t a date.
As they traveled upward, Rudi excused himself and stepped away to make a few calls. He was still talking when the elevator stopped at the top floor, and Ellen stepped out first, like a good bodyguard, into the small, glass-walled enclosure.
Correction. This wasn’t the top floor. They were on the roof, in the lobby area of a heliport. Ellen had been in most of New York’s heliports, but not this one. Rudi shut off his phone and strode to the desk, Ellen at his elbow.
“Your helicopter is waiting, Mr. Ibn Saqr,” the clerk said, gesturing out the window.
There it was, a shiny white helicopter just settling to the pad as if conjured up by a genie’s magic.
“Shall we?” Rudi bowed slightly, offering his arm.
Ellen ignored it, striding to the door. “Don’t waste your gallantry on me,” she said, pushing the door open.
The roar of helicopter blades vibrated through the little lobby until Rudi pulled the door shut again. Ellen let him. Let him have his say without shouting.
“Gallantry is never wasted on a beautiful woman,” he said with a little bow.
Ellen rolled her eyes and shoved at the door again. She was sick of being beautiful, sick of people who could see nothing else. Agreeing to come on this trip was a mistake. She should have known Rudi would be just like all the other men she’d ever met. She stalked out the door and climbed into the helicopter. Just do the job. Ignore the charm. It wasn’t for her, but for the mask she wore.
Three
Wind whipped Rudi’s djellaba into a tangle as he hurried behind Ellen to the helicopter. He almost shivered in the sudden chill emanating from her. What had he said, what could he possibly have done to plunge her into this icy mood?
He had called her beautiful. What woman could object to that? She was beautiful. Stunningly so. She was also clever, responsible and determined. But beyond that, Rudi thought he had seen a vulnerability in her. A softness beneath the polished surface waiting for someone—the right man—to find it. He wanted to be that man.
The helicopter landed at the airport outside the city where he kept his private plane. Ellen balked as he led her across the tarmac to where the plane waited, engines thrumming.
“Just exactly how far is this place we’re going?” she demanded.
“Not far.
