The Rogue And The Rich Girl
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And the man she’d hired to help her wasn’t on her side. Fear was suddenly very real and very intimidating.
She heard the crank of a car’s engine and loud oaths. After several tries, the engine caught, choked, then rushed on. A moment later, a taxi with a missing headlight and twisted fender screeched to a halt beside the plane.
Ace leaned forward, his shoulder brushing the softness of her breast.
His presence disturbed her, made her undoubtedly aware of being a woman. Made her fear she would never again recoup the control she’d lost to her enigmatic protector.
She sucked in a breath. Deeply.
When he sat back up, she saw something glimmer in his hand. Her heart missed a beat.
In his palm, Ace cradled a large pistol. Dread coiled deep inside.
“It’s your call, Nicole.”
Three
“Well?” Ace watched while a war of indecision waged on her suddenly pale face. He’d scared her. Intentionally. Cabo de Bello was beautiful. Deceptively beautiful.
The governor had managed to keep the opposition subdued...so far. But for how long was anyone’s guess.
He saw Nicole shove away the fear and force grim determination in its place. She’d set a goal and refused to be deterred. It was a noble, if stupid, trait. The same kind of na"ivet'e had gotten him into trouble. Thank God he was too old for that anymore.
“I want to stay.”
“Yeah. I expected as much,” he said. “Let’s go.”
After grabbing his small arsenal of weapons, the duffel and her suitcase, he joined her on the tarmac.
Ricardo and his brother, Poncho, glared, and Ace scowled at both men, patience at an end, and snapped, “Ricardo, put my plane in a hangar. I don’t want anyone knowing we’re here.”
“Por favor, Se~nor—”
Ace cut off protests with a wave. A lot of islanders didn’t want WorldNet’s progress. Sweatshop working conditions were good for no one, except owners.
Yet here he was, with a woman who represented each of the things Ricardo and Poncho hated.
Nicole’s appointment with Governor Rodriguez wasn’t until the morning. Since Ace and Nicole would both have rooms in the mansion, Ace planned to make use of each minute. And as he’d told her, he intended to use whatever tactics he needed. Fair. And foul.
Slyly, he grinned.
Why fly to Rosie’s when he had Nicole? After all, he’d felt a response ripple through her when he’d outlined the length of her cheekbone. She’d fought it, but her breath had caught. She was aware of him, just as he was aware of her.
“Ready?” he asked Nicole.
She nodded.
Poncho and Ricardo exchanged uneasy glances, then Ricardo shrugged as if in hopelessness. After tucking his gun into his waistband, Ace turned to see Nicole slide into the taxi gracefully. No easy trick, he knew.
“Watch the hole,” he warned. “Part of the floor on that side has rusted through.”
“Oh.” She glanced at the floor before crossing her long legs.
Poncho climbed behind the wheel and swore several times in Spanish. The car jerked and a groan tore from Nicole’s lips.
“Are you all right?”
“Just feeling a little wear and tear,” she said.
Ace leaned over the seat and tapped Poncho on the shoulder. “Take it easy, mi amigo.”
“S'i, s'i, I try, I try.”
He sat back. “It’s only a few miles to the governor’s mansion.”
She managed a brave smile.
He couldn’t summon an answering frown. She had guts and tenacity in equal measures. He’d summed her up quickly when she’d stepped onto the Southern California tarmac. Although she’d been reminiscent of Elana, there’d been several subtle differences.
Sure, Nicole had all the trappings of a spoiled rich girl, from the diamond studs in her ears all the way down to designer aerobic shoes, but there was something more. She carried herself with determination, mixed with an enchanting, exciting vulnerability. Wariness and hurt showed in her face—he’d had plenty of experience recognizing both—even though she fought to hide it. All combined to intrigue him.
An urge to protect her nearly overwhelmed him. And the only thing that stopped him from reaching for her hand was the certainty she wouldn’t welcome it.
The car hit a pothole that jarred Ace’s teeth. Yet, stoically, Nicole never uttered a word, even when he saw her top teeth sink into her lower lip.
With each mile they drew closer to the governor’s mansion, Ace’s senses sharpened. He felt as though a hundred pairs of eyes stared at him, tracking every move.
Waiting. Watching.
Unconsciously, he reached for his gun. He cut a glance out the window, seeing swaying trees and low hanging clouds.
“What’s the matter?”
Her nervous voice intruded. Never looking at her, he forced a lie. “Nothing.”
“Then why are you playing with your gun?”
“I’m not.” Even in the shrouding darkness, he knew she’d arched an auburn brow. He frowned, realizing his fingers were resting protectively on the deadly coldness of his weapon. “Nothing’s wrong,” he reasserted. “Habit.”
The disbelief of her gaze penetrated the distance.
“You make a habit of playing with your gun, Mr. Lawson?”
“Ace,” he corrected. Again. “The name’s Ace. My dad’s Mr. Lawson.” He’d said it to distract her from her line of questioning, yet, for a second, he actually wondered what his name would sound like when her tongue curled around the word.
“Ace,” she said dutifully.
The sensation of a fist landed in his stomach. Lord, she made it sound seductive, just as he’d hoped—just as he’d feared. He groaned. If his name sounded that good, how would it feel to have her tongue on his, tasting, testing, teasing?