In Enemy Hands (7 page)

“Nadia?”

Magically, Dante appeared behind her, looking like a Greek god himself in the moonlight. His shirt was gone again, and Nadia stared at the chiseled planes of his body for a beat with total objectivity, the way an artist appreciates a fine sculpture.

That objectivity vanished when he sat beside her. Her heart twisted when Dante withdrew a single orange rose from behind his back and presented it to her.

“Stolen flower,” he said with a smile.

Nadia took it from him and buried her nose in the soft petals. She inhaled deeply, and whispered, “Maria Stern.”

“Sorry?”

“That’s the name of the rose. Nick had them flown in from Florida because they share my mother’s first name.”

She remembered how he’d tickled her mother’s face with one and sang, “Maria Stern, for when my Maria is stern with me.”

The memory made a lump in Nadia’s throat because she wanted what they had, and it could never be hers.

“It reminded me of you. Beautiful, vibrant, surprising.”

Nadia wasn’t sure how to respond to that. He only saw the outside. He didn’t see what was cold and ugly and empty.

She broke off the thorns and tucked it behind her ear. The emotions she felt when she stared into those whiskey-colored eyes unnerved her. Her whole life, her relationships with men had been superficial. Nothing ventured, nothing gained, and that was okay. She’d had fun and she’d been in control, always the one who walked away before things got serious. She wasn’t sure she could do that with Dante.

“I couldn’t sleep, either,” he said. “I hope you don’t mind. I saw you come out here and thought I’d join you.”

His gravelly voice rolled over her like scotch over ice, causing heat to pool in her belly.

“No,” she said. “I don’t mind.”

Abruptly, she stood and turned her back to him, pretending to inspect the pink blooms of a nearby bush.

“You’re doing it again,” he said.

“What?” she asked, although she knew what he meant.

“Talk to me. Tell me about yourself.”

With a shrug, Nadia said, “There isn’t much to tell. I’m just a princess, and this is my cage.”

She winced. Why on earth had she said that? She’d meant to say castle. Panic spiked through her when she sensed him stand.

“Do you feel trapped?” he asked, walking toward her.

She shut her eyes and forced a laugh. “Yeah, right now. Can we please change the subject?”

“Why do I scare you?”

“Don’t push me, Dante,” she said quietly.

“It was only a question. I want to know.”

He was at her back, so close she felt the heat of his body and his breath on the back of her head, but he didn’t attempt to touch her.

“Why are you afraid of me?”

Taking a deep breath, she faced him. It would be better for him to find out how crazy she was now than before they got in too deep.

“Because I feel you.”

He opened his mouth, then clamped it shut again.

Nadia hugged herself, but she couldn’t stop the words that seemed to burst from her chest. “I do things … I’ve jumped out of an airplane, skied off the top of a mountain, bungee-jumped off a bridge. I do all these things, just for that moment, for those few seconds when nothing else matters and I can
feel
something. I’m cold inside, numb. I don’t feel much of anything, but when you touch me … I feel you.”

Sudden, unthinkable tears stung her eyes, horrifying her.

Nadia Branson did not act like a babbling idiot in front of some guy she’d just met and she most certainly did not cry. But she had, and she was.

The shocked look that crossed his face shamed her, and she looked away.

Silence fell over the garden. Even the crickets seemed to wait on his response.

Dante touched her shoulder, his big fingers brushing against her bare shoulder. “Nadia, I understand what you’re saying,” he said.

Was he making fun of her?

Her eyes narrowed, and she pulled away. Dante grabbed her chin and forced her to look at him.

“I … understand,” he repeated.

Nadia searched his eyes and saw the truth in their brown depths.

Oh God, he did understand. Somehow, that terrified her more than anything.

Dante folded her into his arms and she buried her face against his bare chest. “What are we getting ourselves into?” he murmured into her hair.

Nadia didn’t answer, because she didn’t know. How could she have just met him?

“Would it make you feel better to know you scare me, too?” he asked, and a helpless laugh burst from her.

“I bet I do,” she said. “Because I’m scaring myself right now. This is not me. I don’t talk like this. I don’t
cry
.”

His arms tightened around her, and she clung to him. Slowly, in the safety of his arms, with his heart pounding in her ear, Nadia began to calm down. He held her for a long time. She thought he would have probably held her all night if she’d asked.

She wanted to ask if he felt her, too, but she wasn’t feeling quite that brave. So, instead, she changed the subject.

“Okay.” She pushed away from him with a smile. “There’s only so much of this touchy feely stuff I can take in one night. Let’s start over.”

She walked to the bench and sat down, staring up at him expectantly.

Dante looked puzzled for a moment, then he grinned. “Oh, okay … let’s see here.” He cleared his throat and stuck his hands in his pockets. “Hi, there, Miss Branson. I couldn’t sleep. May I join you?”

She giggled and patted the bench beside her. “Yes, you may.”

“I love this garden. It’s a beautiful place.”

“This is the place I come to think.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes, then Dante asked, “What were you thinking about, before I so rudely interrupted you?”

“I was thinking about kissing you.”

His eyes widened and his jaw dropped a fraction. Then he laughed. “You’re a straight shooter, aren’t you, princess?”

“Does that bother you?” she asked, feeling a little defensive. She knew her personality did bother some men.

“No, it’s kind of … refreshing.”

Nadia smiled, but didn’t look up. He was sitting close, with his leg pressed against hers, and somehow even that small touch was comforting.

“There’s one thing about me, Dante. Despite all my faults—and there are many—I never lie.”

“Hmmm, that could be a good thing to know,” he teased, and finally she looked up at him, into the velvety depths of his eyes.

“What were you thinking about our kiss?” he asked, then a funny look crossed his features, as if he were surprised he’d asked that.

Nadia stared up at the bright moon and sighed. “I was thinking that I’d like to kiss you again.”

She heard Dante’s sharp intake of breath and suddenly his rough fingers skimmed her face. With a tenderness that belied his appearance, he caressed the line of her cheekbone with his thumb. Part of her was screaming “run”, but another part had already lost that battle by the time his lips brushed against hers.

He caught her lower lip between his teeth and gently sucked it. When his tongue began its hesitant exploration, Nadia parted her lips, welcoming him. She groaned when Dante’s hands grasped her hips and pulled her into his lap.

Touching him was a marvel. Hard muscles covered by warm, soft skin. She ran her hands over his head, enjoying how the faint rasp of new hair tingled against her palm.

The force of her desire stunned her. Everything in her wanted this man, and she knew little more about him than his name. She should pull away, save herself while she still could, but her body betrayed her.

Dante’s mouth hovered at the racing pulse on her throat. The feel of his labored breathing against her neck and the heat of his hands through her flimsy silk nightgown were driving her to the brink of insanity. His rough fingers glided across the material, caressing her hips.

An alarm blared, shattering the silence. Nadia jerked and nearly fell out of his lap. Dante’s hands closed around her waist, and he gently sat her aside.

“Stay here until I see what’s going on,” he commanded.

Nadia rolled her eyes.
Right
.

She jumped to her feet and followed him. Dante turned to frown at her, but then she saw the resignation cross his face.

When they went back in the house, she wasn’t surprised to find Nick already downstairs, barking into the intercom.

He barely spared them a glance as he demanded, “Somebody talk to me. What’s going on out there?”

“Sorry, boss,” Waynie’s sheepish voice crackled over the intercom. “It’s only me. I didn’t get the code punched in time.”

Nick sighed and pressed the button. “All right, Waynie. Go to bed.” His eyes narrowed when he turned to them. “What are you two doing up?”

“Insomnia,” Nadia said quickly. “I was showing Dante the garden.”

Not to mention what I might’ve shown him if Waynie hadn’t tripped the alarm
, she thought, glad the room was dark and her father couldn’t see the blush creeping up her neck.

“Go try to get some rest. You can show Dante around tomorrow.”

“Okay, goodnight, Nick.” Nadia hurried up the stairs, conscious of Dante’s gaze burning into her back while he jogged up the steps behind her. She found the courage to face him when they stepped into the hallway.

She pointed to the oak doors and forced a smile. “This is me, that one’s you.”

To her surprise and disappointment, Dante turned without another word and walked toward the guestroom.

“What, no goodnight kiss?” she blurted.

He stopped and slowly twisted around to smile at her. Something unreadable flashed in his dark eyes.

“Still afraid of me, huh?” she joked, but her heart pounded in her ears when he strolled back to her.

Her breath caught when he gently removed the flower from behind her ear. He traced the bloom along her face, down her throat and Nadia shivered, not from the whisper of the rose across her skin, but the desire burning in his eyes.

“No. I’m afraid of me. Afraid if I touch you again, I won’t be able to stop. Goodnight, princess.”

He handed her the rose and walked to his room. He slipped inside and shut the door behind him before she could even muster a reply. Not that she had any idea what to say to that anyway.

Nadia slipped inside her room and shut the door behind her. She closed her eyes and leaned against it for a moment, reliving his kiss and the feel of his hands on her body. With a sigh, she crossed back to her bed and slipped between the cool, crisp sheets.

She sniffed the rose again before laying it on the nightstand and tugging the sheets up to her chin. Closing her eyes, she willed herself to sleep, but thoughts of Dante kept intruding.

What would tomorrow be like? For the first time in a long time, she couldn’t wait to find out.

Dante slipped out of the guest bedroom and shut the door behind him. He stopped by Nadia’s door and lifted his hand to knock, but then decided against it. The emotion of the night before still had him reeling.

I feel you
.

He’d known exactly what she meant.

Ever since he’d lost Sharon, when he’d known he’d lost Lara forever, he’d felt it. The same void, the same restlessness inside that provoked him to do crazy things just for that one surge of adrenaline, that one moment he felt alive. All these things, this mindless attraction to Nadia … he finally recognized it for what it was.

He felt her too.

What kind of life had Nadia led to make her feel the way she did? What could make such a beautiful, electrifying woman feel cold and numb inside?

His mind was like a movie screen and only one feature played there. Visions of Nadia in the garden, her silver silk nightgown sliding on his bare skin, the way she tasted, the scent of her perfume. The raw, vulnerable look in her eyes.

He was in serious trouble here.

If he kept on, he would hurt her. She needed someone she could trust, and he wasn’t it. How would Nadia feel if she knew he was here to kidnap her, even if he was doing it for her protection? But no matter how many times he vowed to keep his distance, his resolve crumbled at her touch.

Troubled, Dante wandered downstairs, through the dining room and into the kitchen. Nick Branson sat with his back to him, outside on the patio. He was talking on a cell phone, and Dante guessed from his animated gestures that the conversation was an important one. He slid the door open a crack to listen.

“I want him dead! Whatever you have to do, whatever the cost. I’m sick of worrying about my family. My daughter was nearly killed yesterday. Yes, yes, I know that, but you have to find a way to get to him. No, I don’t blame you … no. It was a good plan, but it came just a little too late.”

Footsteps sounded in the foyer behind Dante. Not wanting to be caught eavesdropping, he yanked open the patio door, making sure Nick heard him.

Nick twisted around to stare at Dante, then said into the phone, “I have to go. I’ll be in touch soon.”

Clicking the phone shut, he smiled and gestured at an empty seat across from him. “Please, Dante, join me for breakfast.”

“Thanks.”