Leanne Banks: Ridge: The Avenger

She took a deep breath to calm herself. “I’m sure you’ve been given all the information you need to do your job.” She fought the edge she felt creeping into her voice. “We really need to be leaving for the dinner with the Chamber of Commerce. I’ve already phoned my escort—” Unable to recall the man’s name, she frowned and reached for her calendar in her purse. “Tom,” she said finally, feeling Ridge’s eyes on her and wondering why he made her feel more nervous than when she stood in front of a crowd of thousands. “Tom Andrews. I told him we’d pick him up on the way. Is that okay?”

“Fine. Do you need your coat?”

“Yes.” She reached for the blue wool cape, but Ridge put it around her shoulders.

“You know you’re safe with me, don’t you, Dara?”

“Of course,” she murmured, but something about his velvet-and-steel voice didn’t make her feel the least bit safe.

Ridge watched the crowd, not Dara. That was his job, after all. Still, he was aware of her every move. While he watched the exits, he heard her give Harrison Montgomery a glowing recommendation. His gaze moving constantly over the crowd, he wondered how she had managed to rouse the conservative group to wild applause after her brief speech. If she was Montgomery’s secret weapon, then she was more effective than the Pied Piper. He could just hear the sounds of levers being pulled on the voting machines, all for Montgomery.

It was enough to make him puke.

Ridge kept his seething temper to himself, as he had for fourteen years. The perfect moment would come, he knew it in his bones, when he could take his vengeance against Montgomery. This consuming grudge Ridge held against the presidential candidate had the potential to destroy him, and the time had come to do something about it.

He had a plan to settle the score. The first step was gaining Montgomery’s trust. If Ridge had wanted to exact his revenge from a distance he could have called one of the rag magazines and spilled his story, but it wasn’t enough just to ruin him. He wanted Montgomery to hurt, to feel a fraction of the betrayal Ridge had felt when he watched his mother die. Maybe then, he could rid himself of the anger that had burned inside him for so long. Maybe then, he could find peace.

Mindful of the woman who would unknowingly help him accomplish his goal, Ridge looked at Dara and saw her check her watch. When she thought no one was looking, she squeezed the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes. Opening them, she glanced in his direction and nodded. That was the prearranged signal for them to leave. Ridge motioned the chauffeur to collect the limo while Dara said her goodbyes.

“It’s been lovely,” she said to the mayor. “I appreciate your including me tonight, and I’ll be sure to pass on your good wishes to Harrison.”

Her escort stood beside her. “Let me walk you to the car. Are you sure you don’t want to go out for a drink? There’s a nice lounge just around the corner.” He placed his hand at her back. “Or if you want to get away from the crowd, we-could go to my place.”

Dara shook her head and smiled, flashing her dimple. “I’d love to, but it’s been a long day. Maybe—”

Tom Andrews turned on the charm. “Aw, come on, just one little drink. I get introduced to a beautiful woman only to have to tell her goodbye three hours later.”

Walking behind the couple, Ridge decided he couldn’t fault the guy for his persistence. He could fault him for other reasons, though. Ridge would bet that Dara’s date was hoping to use her to pump up his own political prospects. Andrews was running for the state senate.

Dara pulled slightly away and folded her hands. “I’ve enjoyed meeting you, too,” Ridge heard her say. “But my schedule is just crazy for the next four weeks. Maybe after the election,” she said vaguely.

“Thirty minutes, just thirty minutes so we can get to know each other better,” Tom said in a voice Ridge thought was ten percent desperation, twenty percent seduction, and seventy percent slime.

Either Tom was being deliberately obtuse, or he had the sensitivity of an alligator. Ridge withheld a sigh. There was no way he’d let Dara alone with that guy. They still hadn’t worked out a password. He stepped forward and pointed toward the front door. “The limo’s here, Dara. Remember, you have an early start tomorrow.”

Dara glanced at Ridge in confusion. “Actually, I was planning to sleep—”

“And the doctor said to make sure you got your rest,” he interrupted. “I’m sure you understand,” he said to Tom as he ushered her toward the car.

“You’ve got my card,” Tom called to Dara. “Give me a call.”

“Thank you again, Tom.” She shot Ridge a look of disapproval as he tried to stuff her into the limo. “Will you wait one minute? I don’t want to be rude.”

“It’s part of my job to cut down on your exposure time,” Ridge explained. “We’re on a public street.”

Dara rolled her eyes and slid into the car. When Ridge started to close her door, she shook her head and crooked her finger. “I believe we need to talk.”

As soon as he joined her, she turned to him. “Don’t do that again. I won’t have you acting like some overgrown nanny. I had no intention of extending the evening with Tom, but you have no rights over my private life.”

“It’s my job to protect you no matter who you’re with,” Ridge corrected, and could see she was gearing up for a fight.

“And what if I want to go out for a date? Just where do you draw the line, Ridge? Is it part of your job to come into my bedroom, too?”

He narrowed his eyes at that last remark. At another time, in another life, he corrected himself, her insinuation might have prompted a full range of responses, some more satisfying than others. If he were in Dara Seabrook’s bedroom, he sure as hell wouldn’t just be watching her. Ridge ruthlessly stuck to the facts. “According to your file, since you’ve been campaigning, you haven’t begun a romantic relationship or brought a man back to your room to stay the night. Your file—”

Dara’s indignant gasp was more effective than a scream. “My file!” Even in the dim light of the limo, he could see the color in her cheeks deepen. “Who in hell gave you that kind of private information about me? Who—”

“It’s standard procedure.” Ridge kept his voice neutral, recalling that the file had also said Dara cursed only when extremely upset. “The information is gathered so I don’t walk in cold wondering what your habits are.” She looked like she wanted to hit him, and Ridge couldn’t decide if he was irritated or amused. “If you want to see it, I’ll show it to you.”

“You’re damn right I want to see it, but that’s just the beginning.” Her gaze met his, and Ridge felt the punch of her feminine determination clear down to his bones. “If I’ve got to be with you day-in and day-out for the next four weeks, I want to see your file, too.”

For a second, Dara wondered if she’d gone too far. The little sensation unfurling in her stomach told her she had.

Ridge stared at her with both masculine challenge and pity for her heated demands. Leaning back in the seat opposite her, he unbuttoned his suit jacket so that it slid back to reveal the stark contrast of his black leather holster and gun against his white shirt. It was enough of a mix of civilized and uncivilized to make her uneasy. His dark trousers stretched taut against muscular thighs spread wide in a typically male pose that somehow made her think of him in anything but a typical way.

“Tell me what you want to know,” he said in that velvet-and-steel voice she was becoming more and more familiar with.