click into place. Terry had gotten herself in trouble with the Brazilian law.
And had she indeed been framed, as her sister clearly believed, or had the wild older sister bitten off more than she could chew?
He’d have to check that out.
In the meantime, there was really no harm in letting Nina in on a few details, especially if it would ease her mind and loosen her tongue a little. “I’m not with the police. I was hired by Finders Keepers, a private investigation service, to find your sister.” He wouldn’t say more now, not until he figured out what the hell was going on.
It seemed unlikely that this wide and wild-eyed innocent beauty could be tangled up in anything that would hurt Terry Monteverde, but Rick knew better than to blindly believe in anyone.
Proving that, Nina took advantage of his lax hold on her and rolled free of not only him, but the bed. When she tumbled to the floor, he dived after her, but she evaded him with a surprising agility and came to stand on the far side of the room, chest heaving, hair in her face.
They faced off like that for one split second, before she whirled and vanished out the door and down the hallway.
Damn it. With a sigh at her ignorance in thinking she could outrun him, he went after her, slamming his shin against a chest in her bedroom, then walking straight into the door, which she’d cleverly shut behind her.
Swearing, hopping on one foot, he started down the hallway after her, stopping only to pull a flashlight out of his pocket in order to avoid more injuries.
He had no idea how a little slip of a woman had gotten the best of him, but she definitely had, and it annoyed him. He’d gone easy on her—it had been those dark, mesmerizing eyes—but it wouldn’t happen again.
Her white T-shirt glimmered up ahead and he went after that. The hallway opened up into a huge, open living room. One entire wall was glass, overlooking the mountain vista. Light from the moon and stars filtered in, aiding him in the chase.
Nina’s shirt whipped up about her thighs, her bare feet flashing as they pumped, but he let her stay just ahead, hoping she’d exhaust herself. He couldn’t see tumbling her down to the hardwood floor, and since there was no way she was getting away from him again, he began to enjoy both the chase and the view she unwittingly gave him.
Oh, yeah, he was definitely going to be a fan of plain white underwear in the future.
Then she vanished behind a door.
He burst through it and found himself blinking in the bright glare of the kitchen, staring down a wild-looking Nina wielding...a can of juice?
“Stay back!” she commanded.
He couldn’t help it, he laughed. “Yeah, that’ll protect you.”
She looked so fierce holding her can. That T-shirt she wore was plain, white and stark. With her free hand she tugged on the hem, modestly pulling it tight across her chest in order to cover herself to midthigh.
He wondered what she’d say if he told her she’d made the shirt nice and sheer.
Oh, and that she was cold.
Somehow that damn shirt was the sexiest thing he’d seen, and yet innocence shimmered off her in waves.
He wanted to believe it was an act. After all, at work she’d been all suited up and reserved. But here, in bed and right now, she was rumpled and warm and absolutely, heart-joltingly beautiful.
“Why on earth,” he said, talking before thinking, a dangerous condition at the best of times, “do you go to all the trouble it must take to hide yourself in those uptight clothes during the day?”
It obviously wasn’t what she expected him to say. She went still as a rabbit for one heartbeat, before dropping the can and whirling toward the back door.
* * *
NINA DIDN’T get it opened; she didn’t have a chance before he was there, his chest to her back, his arms reaching past hers to hold the door firmly closed.
“I’m guessing you don’t want to talk about your dressing habits,” he said in her ear.
Sagging, she put her forehead against the wood, but all that did was sandwich her between the hard door and the even harder body of her pursuer.
“How about we talk about your sister, then?” he asked calmly.
Enraged, terrified, she fought.
He let her. She knew he thought it funny, both her pathetic struggles and the can of juice she’d nearly lobbed at his head, and she couldn’t stop picturing his wide, mocking grin.
All her life she’d been humored, and she resented it with every bit of her being. As a result, she continued to fight him like a wild cat.
He had no trouble keeping her pinned. When she tried to kick back, he simply pressed in closer, so close she could feel the power in his thighs, his belly, his chest. When she reached back instead, attempting to push him away, he ran his hands down her arms, manacling her wrists, holding them on either side of her head.
It infuriated her, both his superior strength and the way he used it against her. Refusing to give up, she kept fighting until finally she didn’t have a breath left in her body.
“Ready to talk?”
“Let go, you are hurting me.”
“If I let go, you’ll hurt me.”
As if she could! Making her feel even more insignificant, he didn’t loosen his hold, but somehow gentled it so that his hands no longer hurt her, and her body, quivering with indignation and exhaustion, was supported by his.
She felt weak and vulnerable, and she resented that more than anything. “I hate you.”
“Nothing personal, senhorita, but I’m not real fond of you myself.”
“Then go away!”
“I can’t. I’ve been hired to find your sister.”
“You have already said. And as I have already said, she is dead. Are you short on memory?”
He let out one bark of laughter. “You’re not much in a position to annoy me, Nina.”
But she thought maybe she was. If he’d been planning to hurt her, he’d have done so by now. She was banking on it. All she had to do was wait until he lowered his guard and she’d... She’d figure that out when the time came.
Hopefully.
In the meantime she tried to block out the feeling of his entire body against hers like a layer of paint. It should have disgusted her, should have continued to stoke her temper, but something odd was happening, as it had in her bedroom. She felt warm, from the inside out, sort of itchy and tingly, and she didn’t like it.
“Are you going to run again?” he asked.
“No.”
“Are
