Susan Kearney - Hidden Hearts

And even if Jake was her brother, how could she know if he was being honest with her? Brother or not, he could be some kind of con man with his own agenda. But what kind of swindle could anyone try to pull on her?

She wasn’t wealthy. She could think of nothing she owned that anyone would want. Which made her think that Roarke Stone might be who he said he was—someone hired by her brother to protect her. He had saved her from the man in the uniform…unless they were playing good guy/bad guy so she would trust Roarke. Now her thoughts were really flying out there.

She had to pull herself together mentally as well as physically. And she could only do that by admitting the truth to herself. Roarke Stone reminded her of her painful past. A past where another man’s good looks, easy smile and charm had betrayed her. She found Roarke’s self-confidence alarming. And even worse, she wasn’t quite as immune to him as she would have liked.

Apparently Patrick hadn’t done the number on her she’d thought. Or she’d recovered enough to once again find herself reacting to certain traits. What was wrong with her that the only men she found attractive were the ones who couldn’t be trusted?

Giving herself a good talking to had only made matters worse. Now she had not only to escape from Roarke but from her own thoughts about him.

A soft knock startled her. “You about done? We should be moving out.”

Moving out? Was that an army term?

“Almost ready.” She unlocked the door with a deep breath and faced him.

He stood so close that she had to force herself not to retreat. She hadn’t expected him almost to overwhelm her simply by occupying the space around him so completely. Nor did she expect a head-to-toe inspection as if she needed to pass muster.

He nodded slightly, and she realized he’d been holding his breath. Slowly he sniffed and the tightness around his mouth eased.

“Ah, much better. Pack some clothes and toiletries, we need to clear out.”

She should have been offended, but how could she be when she had smelled so awful? Besides, she might obtain more information if she once again pretended to cooperate. “And where are we going?”

“I’ve been thinking it over. What do you think about heading to Amelia Island?”

He’d just asked her opinion, so she decided not to point out that he still stood much too close. Maybe he hadn’t noticed that he was close enough to hear her ragged breathing and smell her fear. Only now her fear wasn’t over her own safety, so much as her reaction to him. She didn’t want to notice this man’s masculinity. But how could she not with his broad chest and tanned throat less than twelve inches from her face? She was close enough to see soft swirls of dark chest hair peeking out from beneath the V of his shirt. For the first time, she could breathe in his scent—none. He must use odorless shampoo and deodorant and no cologne.

“You look good,” he told her in his too-sexy voice.

Not as good as you. “Thanks.” She played along, pretending to accept the compliment she knew was insincere. She’d bet her blueprints that this man dated women of super-model beauty. She’d bet her bank contract the last woman in his bed had breasts that overflowed his large hands. She’d bet he was simply trying to manipulate her into doing something else she didn’t want to do. But she could handle it since she understood the game.

His five-o’clock shadow was sexy as sin, as was the way he focused all his attention on her with warm approval.

She gave herself a mental shake and recalled that he’d just asked her a question about Amelia Island, a popular resort just north of Jacksonville, and she had yet to respond. “You want to go to Amelia Island?”

“I meant the Caribbean Islands.”

He wanted to take her out of the country? “You can’t be serious.”

But that was a dumb thing to say. She could see by the upward lift of his eyebrow that he was dead serious.

“I don’t have a passport.”

“You only need a birth certificate.”

“Look, my work is at a very delicate stage. And while you think I’m in danger—”

“Your brother’s a private investigator. I don’t think he’d have hired me if you weren’t in some kind of trouble.” Roarke stepped back enough for her to exit the bathroom. His massive shoulders almost touched both walls of her narrow hall, leaving her only enough room to head toward her bedroom. “The best way for me to protect you is to hide you someplace where you would never go.”

“The Caribbean Islands are out of the question—not unless you drug me and carry me onto the plane, and then someone might be suspicious.”

“Be reasonable, Alexandra.”

“Reasonable?” She placed her hands on her hips and spun to face him. “You want reasonable? How about the fact that I signed a contract to oversee the construction of a skyscraper that is going to be the finest building south of the Mason-Dixon line? How about the fact that work will stop if I don’t show up tomorrow? How about the fact that everything I’ve worked my whole life to achieve will be ruined if I go off and hide in the islands with you?”

“And how about,” he threw her own words back at her, “that you’re risking your life to stay here?”

“There’s a major inspection of the building coming up in a few days. I have to be there—”

“I thought architects drew up plans. Why do you have to go to the site?”

“Designing the blueprints is only one part of my job. I’ve been hired to oversee the project to ensure the contractors adhere to my design specifications. And to do that, I have to be there when the city inspectors—”

“Look, that man came to your house, he likely knows where you work.”

“And if it’s your job to protect me, then it’ll be up to you to figure out a way to keep me safe,” she insisted.

“I’m not a miracle worker. The best way to keep you safe is to hide.”

“No can do. I designed that building with clean lines and graceful curves, so people would have better places to work. If I miss the inspections, some man may think the day-care center isn’t necessary and turn it into an exercise room.”

“Is the building more important than your life? Are you determined to end up dead?”

Alexandra sank onto the bed and dropped her face into her hands. Some things were worth dying for: protecting a loved one; fighting for a just cause; defending one’s homeland. But an inanimate object such as her beautiful skyscraper wasn’t worth her life.

And yet, Roarke could be blowing matters out of proportion to make her more malleable. When he couldn’t sweet-talk her into doing what he’d wanted, he’d changed tactics. He gone from charming to take-charge so fast that her thoughts spun. And he sounded so sure she was putting her life at risk that he’d almost convinced her. Almost.

Yet, the man who’d broken through her front door had only wanted the envelope Jake sent her. He’d specifically said he wouldn’t hurt her. She might not be in any danger at all.

Roarke stood quietly inside her bedroom door, allowing her time to think. While she appreciated his silence, she wondered if it was a deliberate attempt to frighten her into doing what he wanted.

His presence alone seemed to be wearing her down. An hour ago, before her shower, she’d worried that Roarke might physically assault her. Now he stood in her bedroom and she had little fear of him. Of course he’d just oh-so-sweetly, oh-so-innocently warned her that she might risk her life unless she did as he asked, and she couldn’t help wondering once again if he’d done so deliberately. Was his intention to keep her off balance? Frighten her into leaving her work?