the point where she knew he wouldn’t hurt her, she could let rip without fear of the consequences.
But holding on had its dangers too. Her body was pressed beneath him and he was practically drowning in the deep, dangerous currents of her eyes, in the scent that came from her hair, her skin. And her full red mouth was lifted towards him, unconsciously seductive, but seductive nonetheless.
‘This isn’t a contest, lady,’ he said, more harshly than he had intended, and released her so suddenly that she fell back, her dress halfway to her waist where the buttons had parted. He wanted to look away. He really needed to look away. But he knew the minute he did she would fly at him again. So he swallowed hard and tried not to think about the glimpse of black lace and thighs that would give a monk disturbing dreams. ‘For your information I just saved you from being kidnapped.’
‘Kidnapped?’ Impossibly, her eyes widened further.
‘You don’t think that the projector fell over all by itself, do you? Or that the guy who grabbed you just wanted to dance?’ He didn’t elaborate; he was sure she was quite capable of working it all out for herself.
Kidnapped? Everything had happened so quickly. Disruption she could understand. The threat of it was always there. But what would be the point of kidnapping her? After a long pause, when all that could be heard inside the car was the sound of ragged breathing being brought under control—his as well as hers—she said, ‘You were at the back of the hall.’ He was the man she’d known on sight wasn’t just some small-town news hound. ‘You must have moved very fast…’ She eased up in the seat, aware that he was watching her carefully, as if expecting her to bolt at any moment, and began to rub absently at her wrists. ‘Unless, of course, you knew what was about to happen.’ Which begged the question…if he wasn’t a journalist, what was he? Exactly? ‘Who are you? What do you want?’
Her eyes narrowed. They did that pretty spectacularly too, Matt thought. She should be shouting, yelling, screaming for the police. It was what any normal girl would do under the circumstances. Her control was slightly unnerving. He sensed she knew that, was using it to her advantage, waiting for an opportunity to flee the moment his guard was down. That was something he could not allow. Not until he was sure she was out of danger. Her reputation was one thing…but that she might be hurt—or worse—he could not allow.
‘I’m a freelance journalist—’ it depressed him how easily he said the lie ‘—and I was hoping for an interview.’
She continued to regard him steadily, as if deciding whether to believe him. ‘Couldn’t it have waited until after the presentation?’ she asked finally, then managed a slightly shaky laugh. ‘You didn’t have to hijack me, you know. If you’d left your number, I’d have called you.’
He managed a grin. This was one cool lady. ‘Maybe I have a tight deadline,’ he offered. ‘Perhaps now, over a brandy, might be a good time.’ He needed one even if she didn’t. The feeling was beginning to come back to his knuckles with a vengeance.
She regarded him coolly. ‘You think that saving me from being kidnapped entitles you to jump the queue?’
‘It seems only fair,’ he countered. ‘After all, I was in the front of the queue when that thug grabbed you.’
‘Maybe you do have a point,’ she admitted. ‘Shall we retire to the bar of the Delvering Arms?’
He hadn’t anticipated such instant agreement; it made him suspicious. And shouldn’t she be demanding he take her back to the television cameras so that she could tell the world what had happened?
Needing time to think, he turned his head away, looking back to where a noisy crowd had gathered in front of the Assembly Rooms, with people carrying placards demanding the jobs a supermarket would bring to the town and indicating rather graphically that the protesters should get lost.
‘They weren’t there ten minutes ago,’ he said. ‘Where have they come from?’
‘Mobs-R-Us?’ she suggested, with disdain. ‘Does it matter? They’ve done what they were paid for.’ Clearly it was the payment that had earned her disdain, not their methods of protesting.
‘At least you’re certain of making the evening news,’ Matt agreed, and even as he spoke the television cameras were being trained on the angry crowd. ‘That’ll be good for business.’
Her expression suggested otherwise. ‘I’d hoped to put our case in a reasoned and thoughtful manner.’
‘Do you want to go back and try again?’
‘There’s no point. I’ve lost control of the situation. If I go back they’ll just shout me down, drown me out. Besides, I’m not dressed for a scuffle.’ She smiled a little. At close quarters the blue eyes were lethal. ‘Isn’t that why you grabbed me? To keep me out of the way? Give them a free run at this?’
He’d thought he’d convinced her. Clearly he had been kidding himself. ‘Weren’t you listening?’ he demanded, just a little angry that his good deed was not being fully appreciated for the altruistic gesture it was. Considering he was supposed to be on the other side. Was on the other side. Except that when he’d said no dirty business he’d meant it. ‘I’m not the one who did the grabbing.’ He said it slowly and carefully, just to be certain that she understood. ‘Someone else had that dubious pleasure. I simply got you out of there, and precious little thanks I’ve had for my pains.’
‘Thanks he wants,’ she murmured sarcastically. ‘It’s a nice story, Mr…’ she glanced at the lapel badge clipped to his collar ‘…Mr Crosby, but really—’
‘It’s no story, lady,’ he said, flexing his stinging hand and holding it up for her to see. ‘I’ve got the wounds to prove it.’
For a moment she stared at his battered and bloody knuckles. Then frowned. ‘You’re hurt.’
‘That’s what happens when you hit someone with your fist, or hadn’t you noticed?’ He took her hand and looked at it. There was a little bruising on one of the knuckles, nothing worse, but even so when he rubbed the pad of his thumb across them she winced and pulled away. ‘You see? Maybe next time I should take a leaf out of your book and use my feet,’ he said sardonically. Then he realised that she was shaking. ‘Oh, look. It’s not that bad, really. It was worth a little pain.’
‘I hate violence,’ she said, with a long shudder. She could have fooled him, but as the trembling reached her voice he put his arm about her and held her close, absorbing the shudders into his own body.
‘To tell you the truth, Miss Blake, I’m not all that keen on it myself,’ he said, but with her cheek soft against his neck, her slender body fragile as a bird in his arms, he knew just how easy it would be to seriously damage anyone who would hurt her.
As if sensing some change in him, she looked up. ‘Who are you really?’ she asked. Then she groaned. ‘Oh, wait, I get it. You’re one of Gil’s tame bodyguards, right?’ And she pulled back a little. ‘I should have known when he left this evening without making a fuss that he’d covered all possibilities…’
Matt didn’t say anything. He’d read the files; he knew well enough that the Gil in question had to be her brother-in-law, or more accurately her stepbrother-in-law, Gil Paton. Invalided out of the army after he had taken a sniper’s bullet in the Balkans, he now led a consortium of ex-soldiers in a business covering all kinds of security and protection. It was reasonable
