"I don't know about the doors and windows, but, yes, there is a security system. It isn't on right now. I often forget to turn it on. I forgot last night. Daddy's always fussing at me."

"What about some lunch?" Nick suggested.

"Are you cooking?" she asked, then walked outside into the hallway.

"How about if we order pizza?"

"No anchovies," Addy said, "and lots and lots of black olives."

Nick inspected the room, wondering if the entire house looked like this. Picking up his suitcase, he lifted it onto the bed, then looked around for a closet. There wasn't one. Instead he found a large, mahogany armoire, empty except for several ladies' straw hats lying across the single top shelf.

Within a few minutes, he heard water running. Addy was taking a bath. His mind quickly spanned the short distance between Addy's bath and her naked body. He wished he wasn't so d.a.m.ned curious about what she looked like without her clothes. Probably skinny, he thought, then remembered the glimpse of her shapely thigh. h.e.l.l, he'd been a fool to agree to Rusty's request. He had no business playing bodyguard to Dina's future stepdaughter. He should have insisted Sam Dundee send in one of his best men from Atlanta.

Nick hated admitting that he didn't want another man guarding Addy McConnell night and day for G.o.d knew how long. She was a needy woman, ripe for the picking and he couldn't bear to think of her giving herself to some other guy, some guy who would break her heart. He, on the other hand, had the willpower to stay with her and protect her without seducing her, despite what he'd led her to believe.

And a he didn't trust anyone else to keep her safe. That was the bottom line. Addy was in danger, and there was something about her that brought out all the possessive, protective instincts deep inside him. The only way anyone was going to hurt Addy was over his dead body.

Addy and Nick sat in shield-back chairs with cane bottoms. The crusty remains of a large sausage pizza, with extra black olives, covered the grease-stained box lying in the middle of an oak trestle table. Nick took a deep swallow from his beer, sprawling his long legs outward, resting his heels against a braided throw rug.

"You know, Addy, you're taking this awfully well. A lot better than I expected. You've been playing the part of the perfect hostess ever since we got here."

"I don't want you in my house." She picked up a canned cola. "I don't want anyone acting as my live-in bodyguard. But my seventy-year-old father has high blood pressure, a bad heart, and he refuses to stop smoking those awful cigars. Things are going to be difficult enough without my acting childish. I plan to cooperate with you as much as I can."

"You're being too nice to me." Nick glanced around the huge, oak-paneled kitchen. The floors boasted their original wide planks, and a chest-high brick fireplace covered a third of one wall. "Are we playing some sort of game?"

"You're the one who seems to enjoy playing games." Addy sipped her cola, then frowned at him. "My father wants you here. So be it. Despite the fact that I will not allow anyone, not even Daddy, to keep me locked up for my own safety, I know I'm in danger and I want protection, for my sake and for Daddy's. If anything happened to mea""

"Rusty told me about your brother."

"Theya"they shot him in the head. Daddy gave them a million dollars, and they killed Donnie anyway. He was only nine. I was six."

"And after that, Rusty kept you in a gilded cage?"

She nodded. He noticed the shimmering moisture glazing her eyes. She looked down at her lap, avoiding his scrutiny.

"You're right," Nick said, staring directly at her. "I do like to play games, especially with women. And I can't promise that I won't play games with you, from time to time. You jump to the bait so quickly. I can get you riled up in no time and I admit I enjoy kidding you."

"You annoy me by making s.e.xual suggestions." Addy jumped up, pouring what was left of her cola down the sink drain. "If you keep doing that, we're going to be fighting all the time. Is that what you want?"

"A little harmless flirtation is good for you, didn't you know that?" Nick picked up the pizza carton. Looking around for a garbage can, he saw none. "Where's the trash?"

"In the pantry." She pointed him in the right direction. "Save your flirtation for Dina and other women who enjoy it."

"You might enjoy it, if you'd give me half a chance. Most women think I'm irresistible." Nick tried not to laugh when he saw the anger in her eyes. Somewhere along the way, Addy McConnell had forgotten how to have a good time, how to joke and laugh and be carefree. Maybe, during their stay together, he could teach her a thing or two about enjoying life. When the image of her lying upstairs in his bed, her curly red hair spread out and covering her naked b.r.e.a.s.t.s, flashed through Nick's mind, he groaned.

"I'm not into one-night stands or brief, meaningless affairs." Addy clutched the edge of the sink.

"I said I liked flirting with women. I didn't say I bedded every woman I found attractive." In recent years, Nick's tastes had become very discriminating and he'd sought more than s.e.x from his relationships. Maybe he was getting old, but the idea of finding the right woman appealed to him more and more. Of course, she'd be curvaceous and blond. She'd have a sense of humor, enough to laugh at his jokes, anyway. Naturally, she'd be dynamite in bed and no more interested in marriage than he was.

"Since Dina pointed out that I'm not your type, why waste your time with me? Is it that important for all women to fall swooning at your feet?"

Nick laughed, picturing Addy swooning at his feet. He liked the idea, and wondered if there was any possibility that shea"

The insistent ring of the telephone interrupted Nick mid-thought. Addy reached for the wall phone.

"h.e.l.lo? Yes, he's here." She handed the red telephone to Nick.

"Nick Romero. When? a Where? a Yes, the wound would be in his right hand. A stiletto bladea Powerfully built. Young, maybe early twenties. Long brown haira Okay. We'll be there shortly."

Addy gazed at Nick, wide-eyed. "What was that all about?"

"The police think they've found your would-be kidnapper."

"What? Has he told them who hired him?" On trembly legs, Addy walked over to Nick, grabbing him by the arm.

"He couldn't tell them anything. He's dead. Been dead since early this morning." Nick put his arm around Addy to steady her. She swayed into him slightly, then righted herself immediately, pulling out of his comforting embrace.

"What do they want us to do?" she asked. "Identify him?"

"Yes." He hated seeing that pale, haunted look on her face. "I can't leave you alone here, so I'll have to take you with me. But I can identify the body. There's no need for you to see him."

"Whoever hired him, killed him."

"It looks that way."

"Hea"or shea"will try again."

"Probably." Nick wanted to pull her back in his arms and comfort her. He wanted to promise her that he'd take care of her, not let anyone hurt her. But Addy was afraid of him, scared of him as a man. And as much as he hated to admit it, maybe she had a right to be. He couldn't ever remember feeling so possessive and protective. h.e.l.l, maybe his taste in women was changing. Could it be that after all these years of chasing some bosomy blond dream, the woman destined to change his life was a skinny redhead?

Chapter 4.

The room was cool. Nick was hot. He'd sprawled his big body out on the soft cream sheet, kicking the covers to the foot of the bed. Normally he slept in the raw, but considering the possibility that he might have to rush to Addy McConnell's defense at a moment's notice he'd left on his briefs.

He wasn't sure of the time, but figured it was close to midnight. After a quick supper of cold ham sandwiches and potato salad, he and Addy had sat in her small den adjacent to the kitchen and listened to one of her favorite tapes, the musical score from Phantom of the Opera. Having been raised in Texas, Nick preferred the elemental sounds of country, but over the years he'd learned to appreciate various types of music. He found that Addy's tastes were more select. She preferred cla.s.sical and semi-cla.s.sical above all else. She was a patron of the arts, having season tickets to the symphony.

More than one luscious blonde from Nick's past had exposed him to the social world of the ultrarich. He fit in just as well with multimillionaires as he had with his Navy SEAL comrades and his fellow DEA agents. If Nick Romero was anything, he was adaptable. He had discovered early in life that the people who succeeded were those who found a way to use the system to their advantage. Even a half-breed Mexican kid with an illiterate dirt farmer for a father and a wh.o.r.e for a mother could rise above his humble beginnings if he had the guts and determination to change, to learn and grow, to a.s.similate every new experience. In other words, to adapt.

Listening to Addy move around in her room, Nick figured she was as restless as he, and was probably having a difficult time getting to sleep. Going to the police station had been far more upsetting for Addy than she'd been willing to admit. Nick was accustomed to crime, was used to being exposed to the seamier side of life where murder was a common occurrence. But Addy was not. When he'd tried to discuss the attempted kidnapping with her, she'd shied away from the subject and had downright refused to talk about the untimely death of her a.s.sailant, who had died from a fall off a steep embankment on Monsano Mountain.

Addy was scared, but was trying hard not to show it. Nick wanted to a.s.sure her that it was all right to be afraid, that it was not only normal but smart. Bravery and fear were constant companions, as inseparable as life and death. Fear could save your life, whereas fearlessness often proved fatal.

He heard the door to Addy's bedroom open, then the click-click tapping of her shoes. Suddenly, all sound ceased. He sat up in his bed, listening. The stairs creaked. Someone was walking up or down.

Easing open his own bedroom door, Nick surveyed the darkened hallway. Moonlight spread out over the wooden floor like creamy yellow-white b.u.t.ter across dark toast. Still hearing the sporadic creaking, Nick eased carefully down the hall until he reached the landing. Addy, her satin high-heel slippers dangling from her fingers, tiptoed down the stairs. Nick sucked in his breath at the sight of her retreating back. Her tall slender body, visible in the soft moonlight, was draped in a pale lavender confection of gossamer silk and lace.

What the h.e.l.l was she doing? She looked like a woman running away, trying to escape from someone or something. He'd like to go back to bed, go to sleep and forget that Addy, upset, uncertain and scared, was wandering around downstairs. But he couldn't. She was his responsibility.

He returned to his room, slipped into a pair of jeans and made his way quietly down the stairs, the faint tapping of his cane echoing in the stillness. From the foyer, he could see light under the kitchen door. He hated to intrude on her, to interrupt her privacy, but dammit, he wouldn't be doing his job if he didn't check on her.

Easing open the door, he stopped dead still when he saw her standing in profile, slowly pouring herself a gla.s.s of chilled white wine. Her red hair, deep and rich and gloriously bright like the rusty, red clay earth of Alabama, hung in curly disarray down her back and across her shoulders. The silky peignoir set she wore swept the floor. The robe, a sheer concoction edged with heavy lace at the hem and across the bottom of each long sleeve, had fallen open to reveal an empire style gown of the same diaphanous lavender material. The bodice, cut low and revealing the slight swell of Addy's b.r.e.a.s.t.s, was covered with matching lace.

Dear G.o.d, had he ever actually thought this woman, this smoldering female temptation, was plain? If Addy McConnell chose to dress circ.u.mspectly in public, she revealed her true sensuous self in her sleepwear. Nick's whole body tightened with antic.i.p.ation. He didn't think he'd ever seen anything as desirable as the vision before him, one he found difficult to believe was real.

"Addy?" Even to his own ears his voice sounded rough and hard.

She jumped, startled by his invasion. With her green eyes glaring and her pink mouth opening to a perfect oval, she stared at him. He noticed that her hand, holding the winegla.s.s, trembled ever so slightly.

"Sorry if I frightened you." He walked through the doorway and into the kitchen. "I heard you come downstairs and wanted to make sure you were all right."

"I'm fine." She set the gla.s.s on the counter. "I'm sorry if I disturbed your sleep."

"I wasn't asleep." He eyed the wine bottle. "I'm your bodyguard, remember? I don't sleep unless you do." He nodded toward the sauvignon blanc. "Pour me a gla.s.s, too, if you think it'll help us both get a good night's rest."

She looked at him with pleading eyes. "Couldn't you leave me alone? I'm not used to having someone else around, watching me, monitoring my every move."

"It can't be helped, so we'd both better try to make the best of it." Moving slowly, Nick stopped just short of touching her. His gaze traveled over her, from fiery hair to bare feet. "What did you do with your shoes?"

"I tossed them in the chair." She nodded toward her slippers. "There." Addy wished he would stop looking at her. He made her nervous staring at her as if he could see straight through her gown. But then, maybe he could. She wasn't accustomed to men seeing her in her underwear or her sleepwear, so she indulged herself in her pa.s.sion for s.e.xy, frilly and very feminine attire that she alone would see. But Nick could see her. All of her, here in the kitchen light.

She could feel a delicious warmth spreading through her, casting a delicate pink hue to her naturally golden complexion. This man had a strange effect on her, creating a desire in her to experiment with the danger she knew he offered. Nick Romero would be an exciting, demanding lover. Something she'd never known. But she was a failure at intimacy, unable to respond properly, incapable of achieving fulfillment. She didn't dare risk the utter humiliation she'd feel if she disappointed Nick. She'd been devastated by Gerald's frustration over her inadequacies, and Gerald was certainly no match for a man like Nick, a man whose every look, word and move reeked of sensuality.

Nick caressed the neck of the wine bottle absentmindedly, wishing it was Addy's soft throat. Retrieving a gla.s.s from the row of crystal goblets inside the open cupboard, he poured the clear golden liquid.

Addy watched the way his big hand moved over the wine bottle and the crystal gla.s.s. She could almost feel his touch on her. Instantly her nipples hardened.

Taking a sip of the chilled dry wine, Nick looked up at Addy, his dark eyes conveying a message of desire. She tried to look away from him, but his gaze held her spellbound. When he glanced down at her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, she sucked in a deep breath, willing herself not to sway toward him.

"Why don't we take our wine into the den," he said. "We'll be more comfortable in there, and we can talk."

For a split second she thought he was going to touch her. She was half afraid he would and half afraid he wouldn't. "I a I don't want to talk. I just want to be left alone."

"But I can't leave you alone. You know that. It's my job to guard you against danger twenty-four hours a day." He could see that she was on the verge of angry tears. He suspected that she was as upset over her reaction to him as she was over the turmoil in her life. She was a woman who seemed to pride herself on her independence and self-control, and here he was undermining both. As long as the threat of a kidnapping hung over her head, Addy would require his presence as a bodyguard. And, as long as the two of them were together, sparks were going to fly and both of them were at the mercy of their own baser instincts. He didn't doubt for a minute that Addy wanted him as much as he wanted her. He could see it in her eyes, feel it in her body's response to him.

"Nick, please a don'ta""

"Don't what, Red? I haven't done anything."

Did he honestly think he had done nothing? Addy wondered. Surely a man as experienced as Nick Romero knew only too well what effect he was having on her. Circ.u.mstances might have forced her to accept his presence in her home. Her life could be in danger, and she knew her father's health and peace of mind were at risk. If only the man her father had chosen as her bodyguard was anyone else on earth beside this devastatingly handsome man with the power to awaken her long dormant s.e.xual longings.

"Come on, Red, let's have a midnight powwow. We'll swap old war stories." He placed his hand on the small of her back, opening his palm to cover a wide expanse of her silk-clad body. She tensed immediately. "Relax." He gave her a slight nudge. "This has been a h.e.l.l of a day for you. You don't really want to be alone. You want to talk and yell and scream and maybe even cry."

"You think you're so d.a.m.ned smart, don't you?" Addy walked away from him, removing herself from his warm, caressing hand. "For your information, Mr. Romero, I seldom cry. I used up a lifetime supply of tears years ago."

He followed her into the den, not replying to her comment. Somewhere behind the security wall she'd built around herself, Addy's deepest emotions still existed, waiting to be released. Nick wanted to be the man to penetrate that wall, to tear it downa"brick by brick if necessary. He wanted to be the man to bring those buried feelings back to life.

Entering the dark den, Addy turned on a small bra.s.s table lamp decorated with china roses and covered with a parchment shade. A warm, mellow glow filled the room, revealing pale eggsh.e.l.l walls and an orderly clutter of antiques, from a painted Pennsylvania German chest to a Queen Anne curly maple chair.

Addy sat down on the old sofa which was covered with a paisley throw and held a variety of crewel, cross-st.i.tch and needlepoint pillows. She clutched the crystal goblet in her unsteady hand, her eyes focusing on the liquid shifting back and forth. Bringing the gla.s.s to her lips, she sipped the wine slowly, trying to ignore Nick Romero when he entered her cozy, private hideaway. She'd been forced to share several hours with him before bedtime, all the while wishing she were alone. She'd been able to handle both Nick and her own emotions earlier, but now she felt vulnerable, less able to protect herself.

Nick walked across the wooden floor, barely noticing the throw rugs he stepped on as he made his way toward Addy. She sat on the small sofa. There was room for him, but he could tell by her stiffly arched back, her tilted chin and her cool manner that she would prefer he didn't join her. He sat down in a st.u.r.dy flowered wingback chair to the left of the sofa, a large round end table separating them.

He watched her. He'd seen people who tried to keep everything bottled up inside. Sooner or later they exploded like a time bomb. Addy needed to release some of her pent-up emotions.

"Do you think Gerald Carlton could be behind the kidnapping attempt?" Nick asked, pleased when Addy glared at him with fiery green eyes. "Is he capable of murder?"

Taking another sip of her wine, Addy closed her eyes, knowing that images of her life with her former husband would flash through her mind. How many times, she wondered, had Gerald made her feel worthless as a woman? How many nights had she waited for him to come home from some other woman's bed? How many times had he accused her of being unattractive and frigid? But was he capable of murder?

"Gerald is capable of almost anything if there's enough money in it for him." She set her winegla.s.s down on the end table and turned to Nick. "Could he kill for money? I don't know. Possibly. Probably."

"He really did a number on you, didn't he, Red?"

"I would prefer not to talk about my marriage."

"You prefer letting all that pain fester inside you like an infected wound? That's a mistake."

"What would you have me do? Pour out my heart and soul to you so that you can comfort me? Is your male ego so enormous that you think you have to prove to me how wrong my ex-husband was about me? Is that what this is all about? You want to prove that you're man enough to make the ugly, frigid, little rich girl enjoy s.e.x for the first time in her life?"

Nick hadn't expected such a vehement reaction. Obviously, he'd struck a nerve, a s.e.xual nerve. He took a generous sip from his own winegla.s.s, then set it beside Addy's on the table. "Did you love Carlton when you married him?" Nick wasn't sure why he wanted her answer to be negative. What difference did it make if Addy had loved her ex-husband? It was apparent she despised the man now.

"What?" Dammit! How could she have allowed herself to lose control the way she had? She hadn't meant to blurt out such personal information, but Nick had angered her. Somehow this man she'd known for a little over twenty-four hours had a way of provoking her strongest emotions. Her first impression of him had been right. He was a dangerous man.

"Did you love Carlton?"

"I think so. It was no grand pa.s.sion or anything like that. I was twenty-five and I'd lived a fairly sheltered life. Men weren't exactly beating a path to my door. Gerald was charming and attentive anda"and Daddy liked him."

"But you weren't in love with him?"

"I have no idea what being in love means." Addy jumped up, her hands knotted into fists as they rested against her hips. "I don't want to talk to you about Gerald or about love or s.e.x. Daddy's paying you to be my bodyguard, not my psychiatrist, so just leave me alone."

Nick stood up, reached down, picked up her winegla.s.s and handed it to her. "I'd say you've been left alone for too log."

Hesitating briefly, she took the gla.s.s, making sure their hands didn't touch. "I like being alone. It's preferable to spending time with insufferably macho men who think a Plain Jane like me should be grateful they've shown an interest."

Nick laughed aloud at her words. Plain Jane indeed. Was it possible, really possible, that Addy had no idea how incredibly lovely she looked right this minute? Had her ex-husband totally destroyed her confidence in her s.e.xual attractiveness? d.a.m.n, what Nick would give for five minutes alone with Gerald Carlton!

Stepping away from Nick, Addy downed the remainder of her wine, then set the gla.s.s on a nearby chest. Nick set his gla.s.s beside hers, then with a swift move that alarmed Addy, he stepped behind her, grasping one shoulder.

"What are you doing?" Her voice was breathless. His big hand clutched her silk-covered shoulder as he gave her a gentle nudge forward. "Nick, stop it!"

"I want to show you something," he said, giving her another shove. "Move, woman."