Gentle Pirate (5 page)

"It's Simon. How many times must I tell you?" he asked softly, not moving his mouth any farther away. The deep, disturbing voice was a husky whisper. It was all Kirsten could do not to tremble in response. She must pull herself together!

"Mr. Kendrick," Kirsten insisted, tightening her muscles in preparation for pulling away from his big, hard body. "I barely know you and I have an aversion to dancing like this with someone I've met so recently! Please take me back to the table!" For a long, excruciating moment she didn't think he was going to do as she asked and then she was free and they were threading their way through the maze of tiny, intimate cocktail tables.

Without taking her seat, Kirsten sent a speaking glance toward Ben, who responded with gratifying obedience.

"I guess we'd better be on our way, huh, Kirsten?" he said quickly, rising almost at once. "It's getting late…"

"It's only a little after ten, Williamson," Simon told him silkily and turned toward Kirsten. "Surely you're not going to concede defeat so readily. Miss Mallory?" he added with all the ease of a knife slipping into butter. Or between ribs, she thought with revulsion.

"I wasn't aware we were engaged in a contest, Mr. Kendrick. I'm glad to learn exactly how you view the situation, though. I intend to withdraw at once and leave the field to you. If that gives you a sense of victory, you're welcome to enjoy it." Without waiting to see if Ben was following, she turned on her heel and walked proudly out of the lounge. Hasty excuses and quick steps behind her told Kirsten that Ben was not going to abandon his date, even if she was behaving strangely. A nice guy.

"What's gotten into you, Kirsten? That man is going to have a lot to say about our future with Silco, you know! He may be a bit of a wolf, but you're a big enough girl to handle that!" Ben took her arm as they walked through the hotel lobby. Kirsten paid no attention to the replicas of Northwest Indian carvings that lined the walls, and made straight for the wide glass doors that opened onto the darkened parking lot.

"You were right this afternoon when you said Silco gave us a wolf to do a wolf's job!" she snapped, not looking at Ben. "But I hope you don't intend to sink to Liz Wilford's level and try to make friends with him. He'll still gobble you up if the mood takes him!"

"Ah, come on, Kirsten." Ben settled her wrap over her shoulders as they came to a halt in front of his car. She had completely forgotten it in her hasty departure, not being accustomed to leaving scenes in high dudgeon. Which meant she'd led too sheltered a life, Kirsten reflected.

"Aren't you taking this a little too seriously?" Ben continued, opening the door. "All the man did was dance with you a few times…" He broke off as she glared at him. Kirsten was very, very certain she wanted only easy-going, good-natured men like Ben in her life and not the overwhelming, giant-sized ones, but there were times, she told herself, when it would be pleasant if the Ben types were a little more protective! Well, you can't have everything, she reminded herself firmly, and she didn't need a man's protection from another man! She could take care of herself.

"Let's go home, Ben," she said quietly. "It's been a long evening!"

"Kirsten, it's too early! There are other places in town. What do you say we try the lounge at the Washington Room? They've got a new disco band, Jess told me this afternoon…"

One look at the pleading expression in those brown eyes and Kirsten gave in. She didn't have the heart to spoil Ben's evening even if she was more than ready to call it a night.

"All right," she smiled, trying to lighten her mood for his sake. "Let's go."

It was nearly one o'clock in the morning when Ben finally deposited her at the front door of her apartment. He hung around hopefully for a nightcap invitation, but this time Kirsten was firm. It had been a long week and she was tired. All she craved now was her bed.

"Maybe I'll see you over the weekend?" he suggested half-heartedly as he leaned forward to give Kirsten a peck on the cheek. He had aimed for her mouth but at the last moment she evaded him. As she usually did.

"We'll see, Ben," Kirsten temporized. "I really should catch up on my housework…" Talk about a lame excuse, Kirsten thought mockingly!

"Yeah, well, maybe I'll give the new secretary a call," he commented slyly, as if waiting to see how she'd take the hint of competition. Like a small boy, Kirsten thought with a flash of humor.

"Joyce Osborne? I think that would be very nice. She hasn't had a chance to meet anyone yet," she told him cheerfully. No man, not even a nice one like Ben, was going to think Kirsten Mallory responded to threats like that! Ben sighed, apparently abandoning the effort. "All you're looking for is a friend, isn't it, Kirsten?" He smiled in a woebegone fashion, but the brown eyes didn't reflect any real hurt and Kirsten's mouth curved gently. "Yes, Ben. Just a friend."

"I was beginning to realize that." He took a deep breath and stuck out his hand. "Well, I'll say good night,
friend
!" His grin was genuine if a trifle forced.

Kirsten shook it gratefully and then waved good-bye with a sense of relief before opening her apartment door. The soft hum of the aquarium pump was the only sound in the darkened room and the fluorescent light above the tank provided the sole light source. Kirsten groped for a moment and found the hall switch.

For an instant the disaster didn't register. She had told Ben she needed to catch up with her housekeeping but this was ridiculous! Chaos reigned. From where she stood Kirsten could see turned-out drawers, upended chairs, torn cushions, and a broken lamp. She couldn't believe it! Kirsten simply stood there, staring for what seemed an eternity before she was startled out of her trance by the sound of a swift, hard knock on the door behind her.

Coming as it did after her discovery, and seldom having callers at this hour of the night, Kirsten felt she couldn't be blamed for jumping a good two inches. Her heart thumped into high gear and breathing became difficult. She wished very badly that she kept dogs-large dogs-instead of tropical fish. The knock sounded again and, feeling like an idiot, she asked who it was. "It's Simon, Kirsten. I want to talk to you." It was the final straw. The wolf was now at her door and her sanctuary had just been shown to be very insecure!

Kirsten opened the door a fraction and peered out. In the pale light of a street lamp he stood tall and solid on her doorstep. His right hand was curled into a fist, but the look on his face wasn't hostile.

"What do you want?" she whispered.

"For God's sake don't look at me like that," Simon muttered. "I came by to return this." The right hand uncurled, revealing a small golden circlet.

"My earring! I didn't know I'd lost one…" Automatically she raised one hand to her right ear, where she was suddenly conscious of a tiny, missing weight. It was a measure of her dazed condition, Kirsten thought, that she could actually pay attention to the fact that she'd lost an earring. "Thanks for returning it," she added hurriedly, reaching one hand through the narrow crack in the door to retrieve her property.

Instantly Simon's hand withdrew to the safety of a coat pocket.

"Can I come in for a few minutes? I only want to talk to you," he asked softly, hazel eyes pinning her nervous gray ones.

"I… I can't talk now! The house is a mess and I…" Good lord! Since when had she become the master of the understatement? "I have things to do…" Like call the police!

"Just for a moment, Kirsten, please!"

The wolf begging at her door now? What a night this was evolving into!

"What the hell is wrong? Has something happened?" Simon demanded suddenly, all note of pleading gone instantly from his voice. "Let me in, Kirsten! It's obvious you've got trouble and I can help."

Without further ado, Simon's right hand settled on the door and pushed inward. There was no way Kirsten could fight that strength. Helplessly, she stepped aside and let him into the small, tiled hall.

"What's the matter? Williamson didn't give you any trouble, did he? It looked to me like you got rid of him pretty easily…" His words broke off as he caught sight of the shattered room beyond. He swore swiftly and concisely and then he didn't waste any more time swearing. He turned so abruptly that Kirsten instinctively stepped backward, only to be brought up short by the door against her back.

"You just walked in to find this?" he demanded, gesturing vaguely with his right hand toward the living room.

"I realize I'm not the world's best housekeeper, but I do have slightly higher standards than this mess indicates," she managed pertly.

"You haven't had time to call the police yet, have you? No, you couldn't have. I came as soon as Williamson left." He finished his own question. "Have you touched anything, Kirsten?" he demanded, turning once more to survey the chaos. For some reason she noticed that the steel hook was out of sight in his coat pocket and had been since she'd opened the door. Kirsten knew he wasn't overly self-conscious about it normally. He wasn't the type to worry about what others thought. Had he hidden it because he thought it might bother her?

"Did you hear me, Kirsten? Have you touched anything yet?" He still wasn't looking at her and she realized he was now all business regardless of what he might have had on his mind when he knocked on her door.

"No. nothing. I haven't had a chance to do anything," she answered swiftly. "I was about to call the cops when you knocked. I can't even begin to imagine who would do something like this," she went on, drawing strength as she talked. Talking about it made it all seem so much more normal, somehow. "One of my neighbors has had trouble with obscene phone calls, but that's the extent of problems I've heard about in this complex." Slowly she moved away from the door and tried to push past his bulk in the hall. Almost absently he reached out to stop her.

"I'll call," he informed her firmly. "In the meantime, don't touch a thing, understand? I suppose we'd better make sure whoever did this is gone first. Stay right here and don't move. Scream the building down if you so much as see your own shadow. Clear?" Pausing to see if his words had sunk in, he smiled and left to make a quick foray through the small apartment.

He smiled, Kirsten thought ludicrously. Maybe he's used to this sort of thing! She stayed put while he made the rounds and then returned to her side, striding quickly through the clutter.

"Okay, honey, where's the phone?" He glanced at her inquiringly, one reddish-brown brow raised.

"The phone, Mr. Kendrick, is in the bedroom," Kirsten said austerely, reacting immediately to his casually used term of endearment.

"Back to the Mr. Kendrick, are we?" He grinned briefly and then disappeared into the hall leading to the bedroom.

Kirsten picked her way toward the couch and sat down carefully on a torn cushion. She had just barely been able to pay for it, she remembered gloomily, thankful she'd had the foresight to buy some insurance the previous month.

"The cops will be here shortly." Simon announced, coming back into the living room. Then he favored her with a quick grin. "I had a tough time telling the yellow phone apart from the yellow bedclothes around it!"

"I like yellow," Kirsten replied calmly, refusing to defend her color preference. "Did they tear up the bedroom as much as the rest of the place?" she added with concern and marveling at her own outward calm.

"No. The bedclothes were pulled off the bed, hence my difficulty in locating the phone, and the closet shelf was gone through, but that's about it. It looks like time may have been running out at that point…" He seemed to realize suddenly that she was sitting very stiffly on the couch and the hazel eyes narrowed slightly.

"It is all right if I sit here, isn't it? I mean, I wouldn't want to spoil any clues," she asked brightly, having no intention of moving anyway. It was, after all, her apartment, and she needed the support at the moment!

"Kirsten?" he said worriedly. "Are you all right? You're not about to go hysterical on me, are you?"

"Heavens, no!" she assured him feelingly. "Wouldn't think of it. You might decide to use that old remedy of slapping my face or something equally unpleasant! Besides, can't you see I'm taking this all rather well?"

He grinned again. She was amazed at what the look of pleasure did for that harsh face. "You're taking it beautifully, honey. Which doesn't surprise me in the least. I knew the second you walked through my door this afternoon that you had plenty of guts!"

"Please," she winced. "How about calling it spirit? Guts sounds so… so…" She trailed off, unable to find the right description.

"So crude?" he supplied, stepping over an overturned end table to join her on the couch. "Sorry. Sometimes my language doesn't always reflect the purity of my thoughts!" The abused furniture sagged under his weight.

Kirsten swung her gaze around to assess the sober, serious expression that masked his features and then caught the gleam in the hazel eyes. She couldn't help it; her sense of humor surfaced and she laughed.

"Tell me about the purity of the thoughts you must have had when you knocked on my door this evening!" she ordered.

"I like those gray eyes of yours when you giggle," he observed, ignoring her question.

"It's the contact lenses. They add a certain sparkle," she told him dryly.

"Some other time I'll tell you more about your certain sparkle," he remarked. "At the moment I suppose we ought to be discussing this little incident." He nodded toward Kirsten's welcome-home surprise. "Is there anything I should know before the police arrive?"

"If you're trying to ask me if I have the slightest idea who would do such a thing, forget it. I've only been in town a couple of months and I haven't had time to make many enemies!"

"And no dark secrets following you from your previous life?" he persisted with deceptive lightness.

She looked away from those gleaming eyes and shook her head.

"No secrets," she said firmly. And it was the truth. The one man who had hurt her was dead. She was safe.