Beverly Barton - Paladin's Woman

Addy trembled, her heartbeat accelerating. When she tried to replace the receiver, her hand shook so badly she almost dropped the telephone. Nick grabbed her by the shoulder, turning her to face him. He could tell by the glazed look in her eyes and the deadly pallor of her normally golden complexion that the caller's message had frightened her badly.

"Come on, Red, tell me what that was all about."

She stared at him, and for one split second she wanted to scream. "It—it was a man." Addy looked into Nick's black eyes, eyes filled with genuine concern. "His voice was muffled … like he was talking through cloth or something."

Nick tightened his hold on her shoulder. "What did he say?"

"He warned me that, if Daddy doesn't follow his instructions, he'll get to me somehow, even if— Oh, Nick, he said that something could happen here at the day-care center … that a bomb could explode, that—" Addy choked back tears and blinked several times in an effort not to cry, but the thought of anything happening to her precious children played havoc with her emotions.

"My God!" Nick pulled her into his arms, stroking her back with one hand. Resting his cane against the desk, he cradled her head with the palm of his other hand. "If this was no idle threat, then we're dealing with a madman."

Addy snuggled against Nick, knowing she was safe. The warm masculinity of his hairy chest sent a current of desire spiraling through her. She laid her head on his naked shoulder. She couldn't explain her reaction to this man. He was practically a stranger, a man who made no secret of the fact that he was a ladies' man, and yet she trusted him. Held within the comforting security of his strong arms, she realized that Nick Romero would indeed protect her at all costs.

He was her paladin.

"Oh, Nick." She swallowed the tears, refusing to give in to the overwhelming urge to cry. "The voice said that he'd be in touch with Daddy and give him his instructions!"

"Whatever's going on here is more complicated than any of us thought." He grabbed Addy's chin in one big hand and tilted it upward, forcing her to face him directly. "I swear that we'll catch this man, whoever he is."

Tears caught in her throat making it impossible for her to reply immediately. She simply stared at Nick, trying to convey what she felt in the expression on her face. Her eyes, moist with unshed tears, softened with tenderness, and she forced a weak smile.

"Trust me to take care of you, Red." Nothing had ever been so important to him. He wanted her trust. He wanted to make her feel safe and protected.

"I trust you, Nick. With my life if not with my heart." She reached up, placing her hand on his cheek.

He covered her hand with his own, brought it to his lips and kissed her palm. "I don't want to break your heart, Addy, but I'm beginning to think that you just might break mine."

She clung to him unashamedly, absorbing his strength, his raw masculine power. "Oh, Nick, what are we going to do?"

It hurt him deeply to see her like this, so vulnerable and unsure. With a possessiveness he knew only with this woman, he lowered his lips to hers. "I won't let anyone hurt you. No matter what I have to do, I'll protect you." He covered her mouth with his, sealing his promise with a kiss that claimed ownership.

Chapter 6

« ^ »

Addy slipped the navy blue dress over her head. Zipping it quickly, she turned face her image in the cheval mirror. She looked … presentable. Not strikingly beautiful, not sexy and desirable, but neat and well-groomed. So what difference does it make? she asked herself. Over the past seven years since her divorce, she'd learned to appreciate her ordinary appearance—her plain face and thin body. But in the five days since she'd known Nick Romero, he had undermined her contentment, making her long for the kind of beauty men appreciated.

Sitting down on the edge of her pencil-post bed, Addy picked up her sedate navy pumps off the Oriental carpet and slid her feet into them. She stretched one of her long legs out in front of her, scrutinizing the shape and length. Her legs weren't bad; they just might be her best feature. Dammit! Stop doing this to yourself. She hadn't felt so insecure about her looks since she'd been married to Gerald, who'd taken every available opportunity to remind her of how inadequate she was. But Nick had never once implied that he found her less than attractive. Indeed, his every word, his every action, had suggested the opposite.

Last Saturday night, when they'd known each other for only twenty-four hours, Nick had held her in front of the foyer mirror and practically made love to her, forcing her to face herself, to see herself as an aroused and sensuous woman. She had tried all week to erase that memory from her mind, but she couldn't forget how she'd felt or the way she'd looked. She had been beautiful in those moments of passion. Nick's praise and adoration had made her beautiful.

But Nick Romero was a temporary fixture in her life, a man who, once the kidnapping threat ended, would leave her life as quickly as he had entered it. No matter how he made her feel, she couldn't risk letting him break her heart. He'd made it perfectly clear that he wasn't averse to having an affair with her, and she'd made it equally clear that she wasn't interested. She could handle friendships with men; however, a sexual relationship was taboo unless the man in question could prove his love for her. Only a man who loved her would be patient and understanding, helping her overcome her deficiencies as a woman. Only a man who truly loved her wouldn't give a damn about her daddy's millions.

Addy glanced at the colorful flowered scarf lying on her dressing table. She'd bought the scarf in a moment of weakness, thinking it would brighten up some of her drab outfits. But she'd never worn it. It was too flashy.

Picking up her delicate gold watch out of her small jewelry case, Addy focused on the row of violets sitting atop the pine chest of drawers. She smiled, remembering how for the past three days the florist delivery boy had brought her a large container of violets, each with a small lavender and white ribbon. No card had been included, but she knew who'd sent them. Each day she'd brought the violets home with her, and Nick hadn't said a word. But she knew they were from him. Laughing, Addy fingered the velvety softness of one tiny leaf. No wonder Nick was so popular with the ladies. He was a romantic. Most men sent red roses. Roses were pretty standard, but only a man who really understood women would take the time to choose a flower that matched a woman's personality. She supposed Nick saw her as a shrinking violet. Or was there another meaning behind the flower he'd chosen for her?

She heard the rap of Nick's cane as he walked down the hallway from his bedroom to hers. Without giving any more thought to the matter, Addy grabbed the large, colorful scarf and draped it across her right shoulder.

Nick stopped in the open doorway, surveying Addy from head to toe. Damn, he wished her outer garments were half as sexy as her lingerie. At least the scarf added a touch of color to the plain navy dress. He wondered what had prompted her to act so impulsively. In the five days he'd known her, not once had Addy worn anything stylish, colorful or alluring—except her lingerie. He hadn't seen her sleeping attire every night, but on the nights that he had, she'd worn frothy concoctions that took his breath away.

"It's almost seven-thirty." He stepped just inside her open doorway. "Time to leave."

Smiling, Addy turned to face Nick. "Try to be cordial to Jim if you see him today, and at least be civil to Ron when he picks up Janice."

"I'm having a more complete check done on Glover. From what my contacts have already found out, he's more than capable of plotting your kidnapping, and he's just the type to use threats."