Читать книгу The Billionaire Bodyguard - Шэрон Кендрик, Sharon Kendrick - Страница 9

JAY narrowed his eyes and gave her a quick, assessing look. How like a woman! The Canadians had at least five different descriptions for snow; the Icelanders countless more—and so it was with women and their tears. They cried at the drop of a hat, for all kind of reasons, and it rarely meant anything serious. And these, he surmised, were simply tears of relief.

He ignored them.

‘There’s nobody home,’ he said, half to himself. If indeed it was somebody’s home.

The tears had taken her off guard. She couldn’t remember the last time she had cried, for that was one thing her job had given her, in spades—the ability to hide her feelings behind a bright, professional smile. She supposed she should be grateful that he hadn’t drawn attention to them, yet perversely she felt short-changed because he hadn’t attempted to comfort her—even in a small way—and she scrubbed at the corners of her eyes rather defensively, with a frozen fist. ‘How can you tell?’ she sniffed.

Explaining would take longer than going through the motions, and so he began to pound at the door with a loud fist. He waited, but, as he had known, the place was empty.

‘Stand back,’ he said tersely.

‘Why?’

‘Because I’m going to have to get us inside.’

Keri eyed the door, which was made of strong, heavy oak. ‘You’re planning to kick the door in, are you?’ she asked disbelievingly.

He shook his head, half tempted to give a macho display of strength just to show her. ‘No, I’ll jimmy the lock instead.’

‘J-jimmy the lock?’ It wasn’t an expression she was familiar with, but she could work out what he meant. Alarmed, Keri took a step back and very nearly lost her balance, but he didn’t appear to have noticed that either. ‘You can’t do that! That’s called breaking and entering!’

He shot her one impatient glance. ‘And what do you suggest?’ he questioned coolly. ‘That we stand here all night and freeze to death just to have our good citizen medals awarded to us?

‘No, of course I—’

‘Then just shut up for a minute and let me concentrate, will you?’

This was an order verging on the simply rude, but Keri didn’t have time to be indignant, because, to her astonishment, he produced what looked like a screwdriver from the pocket of his flying jacket, leaving her wondering slightly hysterically if it was a necessary job requirement for all drivers to have house-breaking skills. She dug her gloved hands deep into the pockets of her coat, and with chattering teeth prepared for a long wait.

But with astonishing speed he was soon opening the front door, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth as he saw her look of horror.

‘You look surprised,’ he commented.

‘Surprise isn’t quite the right word—how the hell did you manage to do it so quickly?’ she demanded as she stepped inside and he shut the door firmly behind her.

‘You don’t want to know,’ he drawled. ‘Just put it down as one of many skills I have.’

Oh, great! What kind of a maniac had she found herself marooned with? A thief? Or worse?

She eyed him with apprehension, but he was looking around him, his face raised slightly, almost like an animal which had found itself in a new and potentially hostile terrain, his hard body tensed and watchful.

Jay was enjoying himself, he realised. He had forgotten what it was like to live on his wits, to cope with the unexpected, to use his instincts and his strength again. It had been a long time. Too long. ‘Nobody lives here,’ he said softly. ‘At least, not all the time.’

‘How can you tell?’

‘Because it’s cold—really cold. And there’s no smell—when a place is inhabited people always leave a scent around.’ He stared down at the floor, where the shadowed outline of untouched post lay. ‘But it’s more than that—it’s a feeling. A place that isn’t lived in feels lonely.’

Lonely…yes—quite apart from its geographical isolation, the house had a lonely feel. And Keri knew exactly what that meant—you could have the busiest life in the world, but inside you could sometimes feel achingly lonely.

‘So here we are,’ he said softly. Alone and stranded in a beautiful house with a beautiful woman. An unexpected perk.

His voice had dipped, and deepened, and Keri stared at him, the reality of their situation suddenly hitting her for the first time. It was just her and him. As her eyes became more accustomed to the gloom she started to become aware of him in a way which was too vivid and confusing. Not as someone employed by the company who had commissioned the photo-shoot, but as something quite different.

As a man.

The first impression she had had in the car had been the correct one—he was spectacular. Very tall—taller than she was, and that didn’t happen too often either, because Keri was tall for a woman—models usually were. But it wasn’t just his height which she was inexplicably finding so intimidating, it was something much more subtle, more dangerous, and it was all to do with the almost tangible masculinity radiating off him, and the raw, feral heat which seemed to make a mockery of the weather outside.

Keri swallowed, and inside her gloves the palms of her hands began to grow clammy, and maybe the place had just telescoped in on itself, because right now it felt small and claustrophobic, even though the hall was high and spacious. And perhaps he felt it too, because he reached out a hand towards the light switch.

‘Let’s see if we can throw a little light on the…damn!’

‘What’s the matter?’

‘Should have guessed. No power.’ He swore quietly underneath his breath and pulled a lighter out of his pocket, flicking the lid off and sliding his thumb down over the wheel. His face was startlingly illuminated by the bright flare.

‘You don’t happen to have a white rabbit in your pocket, too?’ she questioned, but she noticed that her voice sounded high and rather wobbly.

He looked her up and down. ‘You okay?’

Well, up until he had produced the lighter she had been fine, under the circumstances. Tearstained, cold and slightly shell-shocked, true, but more than a little relieved to be inside—if not exactly in the warm, then at least in the dry. But the more she saw of him, the more she realised that the first impression she had got of him in the shadowed recess of the car wasn’t strictly accurate.

She had thought that he was good-looking, but she had been wrong. Good-looking implied something that was attractive on the surface but with little real depth to it, like lots of the male models she knew. Whereas this man…

Her breath suddenly caught in her throat.

The flare from the lighter threw deep shadows beneath the high cheekbones and his eyes glittered with a cold, intelligent gleam. She became aware of a strength that came from within, as well as from the deeply defined muscular build. He looked confident and unshakable, while she, on the other hand, was left feeling slightly dazed.

‘I’m…I’m fine,’ she managed, thinking that she had to pull herself together. It looked as if they might be here for some time—and if that were the case then she quickly needed to establish some kind of neutral relationship between them. So that they both knew where they were. They needed boundaries so that they wouldn’t step over them. She mustn’t think of him as a man. He’s the driver of your car, for heaven’s sake, Keri! And a burly security guard who has been employed to…to…

‘Oh, my God!’ she exclaimed.

He frowned. ‘What is it?’

‘The necklace! You’re supposed to be guarding the necklace!’

His mouth curved into a disapproving line. ‘Well, isn’t that just like a woman? Save them from the extremes, find them shelter and safety, and all they can think of is damned diamonds!’

He dug his other hand in his pocket and indolently pulled out the gems so that they fell sinuously over his hand, where they glittered and sparkled with pure ice-fire against the tanned dark skin of his hand. ‘There?’ He sent her a mocking look. ‘Happy now?’

Keri felt anything but. She was used to deference and adoration—she certainly wasn’t used to men who behaved with such unashamed masculine swagger. Who clipped out orders and broke into strange houses with ease and didn’t seem a bit bothered by it. ‘You must be the happy one,’ she observed. ‘Happy you didn’t lose them—after all, it’s more than your job’s worth!’

Jay smiled. It was a remark designed to put him firmly in his place, but Miss Beauty would soon discover that he was a man who did not fit into traditional slots. He slid the gems back negligently into his pocket. ‘That’s right,’ he agreed innocently. ‘Can’t have them thinking I’ve skipped to pawn them on the black market, can we? Now, let’s see if we can find a candle somewhere. We need to get a fire lit, but first I guess we’d better check out the rest of the house.’

Her teeth were chattering. ‘With a view to finding—what, exactly?’

A dark sense of humour made him consider making a joke about corpses, but in view of the tears he thought he’d better not try. The trouble with women was that they always let their imaginations run away with them.

‘With a view, sweetheart, to seeing what luxuries this place has to offer.’

There—he was doing it again. ‘I am not your sweetheart.’

Touchy. ‘Well, then, I guess we’d better introduce ourselves,’ he drawled. ‘Since I don’t even know your name.’

How bizarre it seemed, to be introducing themselves like this. As if all the normal rules of social intercourse had been turned upside down and re-invented. Into what? ‘Keri.’ She hesitated. ‘And I, er, I don’t know yours either.’

He could hear her skating round the edges of asking him, unsure whether or not it was ‘appropriate’ to be on first-name terms with him. She didn’t know how to react to the situation, he thought with wry amusement. Or to him. Take her out of her gilded cage and she probably didn’t know how to fly properly! Maybe his first impression of a woman who would not bleed or love with vigour and passion had been the right one all along. ‘It’s Linur,’ he said sardonically. ‘Jay Linur.’

It was an unusual name, maybe that was why it suited him. Again, she felt the need to re-establish boundaries. ‘Are you…American?’

He knew exactly what she was trying to do. That vaguely interested, vaguely patronising tone. His eyes sparked. ‘Fascinating as my name must be to you,’ he drawled, ‘I’m freezing my bones off—so why don’t we postpone the discussion until we’ve had a look around? Want to go and explore?’

‘Do I have a choice?’

‘Well, I guess we could stand around here and make polite conversation.’

‘I’d hate to put you under any pressure,’ she said sweetly. ‘The strain of that might prove too much for you.’

He gave a brief smile. ‘It just might,’ he agreed silkily, but the subtle taunt set his pulse racing almost as much as the rose-petalled pout of her lips.

He seemed to show no fear, and she tried not to feel any either—yet who knew what they might find in this strange, empty place? Keri stayed as close to him as was possible without actually touching.

Illuminated only by the small flicker from the lighter, he led the way to what was obviously a kitchen—although by no stretch of the imagination did it resemble any kitchen Keri had ever seen before.

From the doorway, she surveyed the faint shape of ancient-looking appliances.

‘I’m going to hunt around for some candles,’ he said softly. ‘Wait here.’

I’m not going anywhere because I can’t, she thought rather desperately, as she watched him disappear into the gloom. He doesn’t need me at all, but I need him. She could hear him opening drawers and cupboards, and the clatter of china as he hunted around. He suddenly made a small yelp of satisfaction, and when he reappeared it was with two lit candles waxed to saucers. He handed her one, the reflection of the flame flickering in his eyes.

‘Hold it steady,’ he instructed.

‘I’m just about capable of carrying a candle!’

His mocking eyes seemed to doubt her, but he didn’t retaliate.

‘Come on—we’ll look upstairs first.’

There were three bedrooms, but they looked ghostly and unreal, for the beds were stripped bare of all linen and there was no sign that they had been slept in.

‘I feel like Goldilocks,’ whispered Keri in a hollow voice. ‘Any minute now and we’ll bump into one of the three bears.’

‘I’ve never been particularly fond of porridge,’ he murmured. ‘Come on, there’s no point hanging around here.’

There was an archaic-looking bathroom, with a huge free standing bath.

Jay went over to the cistern and flushed the lavatory, and a great whooshing sound made Keri start.

‘Well, that’s something,’ he said drily.

Thank God it was dark or he might have seen her blush—but Keri had never lived with anyone except for her family, and this was one more thing which felt too uncomfortably intimate.

They went back downstairs and moved in the opposite direction from the kitchen. Jay opened a door and looked down into pitch blackness.

‘Cellar,’ he said succinctly. ‘Want to explore?’

‘I think I’ll pass on that.’

On the other side of the hall was a heavy oak, door and Jay pushed it open, waiting for a moment while the candle flame stopped guttering.

‘Come over here, Keri,’ he said softly, his words edged with an odd, almost excited note. ‘And look at this.’

Keri went down the step and followed the direction of his gaze. ‘Oh, my word,’ she breathed. ‘I feel like Aladdin.’

‘Yeah.’ His voice was thoughtful. ‘I know what you mean.’

It was like stumbling unawares upon a treasure trove—a gloriously old and elegant room which looked as though it belonged to another age. Jay held the candle aloft and Keri could see that it was as high as four men—with a pointed raftered ceiling made out of dark, wooden beams—and the room itself was so big that she could not see the edges.

‘Where are we?’ she said. ‘What is this place?’

He was busy taking more candles from his pocket and lighting them, placing one on the mantelpiece and one on a low table in front of the empty grate. ‘I don’t know, and right at this moment I really don’t care.’

It was amazing what a little light did, and as more of it appeared so did the room, and the dark, threatening shadows were banished and forgotten as she looked around. It was beautiful.

There were high, arched windows and a mighty fireplace, with two enormously long sofas sprawled at right-angles beside it. In one corner stood a piano, and there were books crammed into shelves on one wall and pictures on the walls.

‘It looks almost like a church,’ she whispered.

‘Why are you whispering?’ he asked, in a normal voice, and the sound seemed to shatter through the air.

‘I don’t know. Anyway, you were whispering too!’ Keri’s teeth began to chatter as the icy temperature began to register on her already chilled skin. ‘B-but wh-wherever or whatever this place is, it’s even c-colder here than it is outside.’

‘Yeah.’ He crouched down beside the fireplace, an old-fashioned type he had never seen before and big enough to roast an ox in. ‘So why don’t I light this, and you go and have a scout about—see what kind of supplies there are?’ She was looking at him blankly, and he let out an impatient sigh as he began to pull some kindling towards him. ‘Sustenance,’ he explained. ‘Food, drink, coffee, a spare suckling pig—anything.’

Keri eyed the darkness warily. ‘On my own?’

He glanced up. Clearly she was a woman to whom the word ‘initiative’ was a stranger. ‘You mean you want me to come and hold your hand for you?’

‘No, of course not,’ she said stiffly.

‘There’s nothing to be afraid of.’ His voice softened by a fraction. ‘Here, take a candle with you.’

‘Well, I’m hardly going to feel my way out there in the dark!’ She lifted her hand to her head. ‘But before I do anything, I’m getting rid of this hat.’

His eyes narrowed as she pulled the snow-damp beanie off, shaking her hair out so that it fell and splayed in night-dark glossy tendrils before falling down over the soft curves of her breasts. It was a captivating movement, as elegant as a dancer, and he wondered whether it just came naturally or if she’d learnt it from her modelling career. Keep your mind on the job, he told himself.

Except that the job he had set out to do was turning into something quite different. He sat back on his haunches and his eyes travelled up the endless length of her legs. He felt a pulse beat deep in his groin—an instinctive reaction to a beautiful woman. God, it had been a long time. ‘Run along now,’ he said softly. ‘My throat is parched.’

Run along? Run along? ‘Don’t talk to me that way,’ she said in a low voice.

He looked up. ‘What way is that?’

As though he were some kind of caveman and she was the little woman, scurrying away with whatever he’d successfully hunted that day. Though when she stopped to think about it there was something pretty primitive about the deft way he seemed to be constructing the fire.

‘You know exactly what way I’m talking about!’

‘You mean you just can’t cope with a man unless he’s paying homage to you, is that it?’

‘Don’t put words into my mouth!’

If her feet hadn’t been hurting so much, and if she hadn’t been afraid that the candle might go out, then Keri might have flounced out of the room. But Jay Linur didn’t seem like the kind of man who would be impressed by any kind of flouncing, and so she made do with walking, her back perfectly straight, her head held very high.

She made her way back to the kitchen and looked around. It didn’t look very hopeful. An ancient old oven which looked as though it had seen better days. A big, scrubbed wooden table. And that was about it. A cupboard yielded little more than a couple of tins, and a box of dusty old teabags which had clearly seen better days.

She filled the kettle with water, but the kettle wouldn’t work, and she remembered why and went back into the huge room, where he had managed to coax a tiny flame from the fire.

He looked up. ‘What is it?’

‘The kettle won’t work! There’s no electricity—remember?’

He stared at her consideringly. ‘How about gas?’ He raised his eyebrows questioningly and then shook his head. ‘I don’t believe it—you haven’t even bothered to check, have you?’

She felt like telling him that she was a model, not a girl guide. And that she didn’t even want a hot drink, and that if he did then he could jolly well go and make it himself. But there was something so forbidding about the expression on his face that she decided against it. Being stuck here with him was like a nightmare come true, but Keri suspected that it would be even more of a nightmare if he wasn’t here.

‘No,’ she admitted reluctantly.

‘Then I suggest you go and try again.’

He was doing it again—dismissing her as if she was a schoolgirl. This had to be addressed some time, and maybe it was best she did it now. ‘Did anyone ever tell you that you are distinctly lacking in the charm department?’

‘Oh.’ There was a pause. ‘Is it charm you want you want from me, then, Keri?’

The question threw her as much as the smoky look of challenge in his eyes and the silky note of caress in his voice, and suddenly she became aware of a whispering of unwelcome sensation, too nebulous to define. Almost as if… She shook her head to deny it and gave him her coolest smile, the kind which could intimidate most men—a frosty and distancing kind of smile. ‘Not at all—but if you could hold back on the arrogant, macho, bossing-me-around kind of behaviour, I’d be very grateful.’

He raised his eyebrows laconically. ‘You don’t like it?’

‘Show me a woman who does!’

‘I could show you legions,’ he observed softly, thinking of two in particular.

‘Not this woman!’

He watched her wiggle out of the room in that sinful leather skirt, imagining its softness as it swished against her thighs.

In the kitchen, Keri gingerly scouted around, trying to rid herself of that strange, tingly sensation which was making her feel almost light-headed—as if her blood had suddenly come to life in her veins, making her acutely aware of the way it pulsed around her body. Here to her temple. There to her wrist. And there. There.

Her cheeks burned uncomfortably. Somehow he had done this to her—brought to life in her something unknown and unwanted, with his silky taunts and that lazy way he had of looking at her. And he was so damned blatant about it, too!

Had she perhaps imagined that he would feel almost shy in her company, the way men so often did? Dazzled and slightly bemused by the impact of her looks and the status of her job? Especially someone who drove cars for a living, no matter how blessed he had been in the looks and body department.

She held her hands up to her hot cheeks, angry with herself for a physical reaction which seemed to be beyond her control. So it was time to take control. The important thing to remember was that if she didn’t react to him then he wouldn’t behave so provocatively. If she smiled serenely at his attempts to get under her skin then he would soon grow bored and stop it.

She found a battered-looking saucepan in one of the cupboards, and broke a fingernail into the bargain, and she was fractious and flustered by the time she returned, carrying two steaming mugs of black tea. But at least he had managed to get the fire going properly, and tentative flames were licking at one of the logs, bathing the room in soft, comforting shades of scarlet and orange.

She took her coat off and crept towards the fire’s warmth. She handed him a mug, then crouched down on the floor, wishing she were wearing something warmer and more practical than a leather skirt and wondering why on earth she had, on such a cold day. Because it’s fashionable, she reminded herself, and because the designer begged you to take it as a gift.

Jay Linur had removed his rather battered flying jacket too, but, unlike her, he had obviously made no concessions to sartorial elegance. His outfit was tough and practical. Faded jeans hugged his long, lean legs and he wore a warm dark sweater which softly clung to his torso. Firelight danced flames across the ruffled black hair, which was thick and slightly too long—giving him a buccaneer air which seemed to blend in well with the ancient fireplace.

He looked, she realised, completely at home as he lounged rather indolently along the rug, watching the progress of the fire—all rugged and arrogant confidence as he gazed into the flames, his thick lashes hooding his eyes. He turned his head to study her with lazy interest.

Keri put her mug down and winced as the ragged nail scratched against the palm of her hand.

‘Hurt yourself?’ he questioned softly.

‘Not really, but I’ve broken my nail—and I can’t even file it down—I left my make-up bag in the car!’

He gave a short laugh. ‘Outside it’s sub-zero, the snow is still coming down with no sign of a let-up, we’re stranded God knows where, and all you can worry about is your damned fingernail!’

Keri was stung into defence. ‘It isn’t just vanity, if that’s what you’re implying—my job happens to depend on the state of my hands, among other things, and I was supposed to be doing a magazine-shoot for nail varnish next week!’ It was, she realised, the first time in her life that she had ever felt the need to justify her job to anyone. So why—especially now, and to him of all people?

Jay took a mug of tea, sipped it and grimaced, wondering what type of world it was where a broken fingernail could mean anything at all other than just that. Not a world he could ever inhabit, that was for sure. Different strokes for different folks, he supposed.

He put the drink down in disgust. ‘What the hell did you put in this? Arsenic?’

‘Oh, please don’t tempt me! I just used what was available,’ she said crossly. ‘Which were teabags which looked like they belonged in the Dark Ages!’

‘Don’t believe they had teabags in the Dark Ages,’ he responded drily.

Keri almost laughed. Almost. Boundaries, she reminded herself. ‘Do you have an answer for everything, Mr Linur?’

He looked at her. Oh, yes. The answer was staring him right in the face right now. Her lips were parted, so soft and so gleaming that they were practically begging to be kissed. He didn’t have to approve of an icy beauty whose whole livelihood depended on the random paintbox of looks which nature had thrown together, but it didn’t stop him wanting her.

‘Try me,’ he murmured. ‘Ask me any question you like.’

There it was again—that tingy feeling, that sense of being out of control, as if she had drunk too much champagne too quickly. Keri swallowed. ‘Okay. How’s this for starters—just how are you proposing to get us out of here?’