Playing His Dangerous Game (2 page)

It reminded him of the zap of static electricity that built up on your shoes on a windy day that zapped your hand the minute you touched something metallic.

Only it wasn’t that.

It also reminded him of the pins and needles you got when you accidentally fell asleep on your arm.

Only it wasn’t quite like that either.

It was just a …

Well, it was just a sensation—like an energy transfer of some kind.

No doubt there would be a scientific explanation for it if he bothered looking for one.

Shara snatched her hand out of his, her wide eyes fixed on his face. ‘So. You … you own the Royce Agency?’ she asked, showing the first crack in her composure since they’d met.

‘I’m afraid so.’

‘Well, Mr Royce, I—’

Royce shook his head. ‘It’s not Mr Royce. It’s just plain Royce.’

Shara looked back down at the driver’s licence she still held. ‘It says A. Royce right here.’ She held up the wallet and pointed with a red-varnished nail to the small print. ‘That makes you Mr Royce.’

Royce brushed aside the lock of hair that had fallen across his forehead. ‘Technically, I suppose it does. But as far as I’m concerned my father is Mr Royce. Everyone just calls me Royce.’

‘Why don’t they call you by your first name?’

‘Because I don’t like my first name,’ he explained calmly.

‘Why? What is it?’

‘That’s none of your business.’

‘I don’t suppose it is.’

Royce felt as if they’d got way off track. ‘Well, are you satisfied that I am who I say I am?’

She nodded. ‘I am, but I’m still not going with you.’

Royce held on to his temper with difficulty. The fact that she’d rather stay here partying with this shallow crowd instead of honouring her father’s request told him a lot about her.

Lack of respect. Selfishness.

He could go on, but what was the point?

It wouldn’t get the job done, and the job was the only thing that mattered.

‘Please will you reconsider?’ he said persuasively. ‘Your father was most insistent.’

For a moment she looked undecided, then she waved a hand. ‘All right. Lead the way Just Plain Royce. We can’t keep my father waiting, now, can we?’

The journey to Atwood Hall was completed in silence. Royce tried to make polite conversation several times,
but Shara’s monosyllabic answers eventually forced him to give up.

When they reached the two-storey sandstone house Shara headed straight for her father’s study. She pushed the door open without knocking.

Royce followed her in.

She stopped in the middle of the room then swung around to face him. ‘Where is he?’

Royce folded his arms. ‘On a plane to New York.’

Her mouth dropped open. ‘Then what was all that crap about my father wanting to see me?’

He stared back at her calmly. ‘I never said anything about your father wanting to see you. All I said was that he asked me to bring you home. Which he did …’ He paused for a heartbeat. ‘About thirty minutes before he left for the airport.’

The silence that filled the room prickled at the back of his neck.

Shara’s thick lashes dropped down to shield her expression.

Royce didn’t feel guilty about the minor deception. Gerard had warned him that Shara was unlikely to co-operate. You had to treat uncooperative ‘principals’—which was the industry term for the person you were protecting—in much the same way a lawyer would treat a hostile witness.

With a firm hand and any tactic you could lay your hands on.

If keeping Shara safe meant bending the rules a fraction and allowing her to jump to the wrong conclusion then so be it. He’d do what he had to do—an attitude which had contributed in no small measure to his success.

Finally Shara looked up. ‘Why? Why did my father want you to bring me home?’

‘He didn’t think going to the club was a good idea and I happen to agree with him.’

Her cheeks reddened, although he couldn’t tell whether
it was from embarrassment or anger. ‘I don’t care what you think. What I do, and when I do it, is none of your business.’

‘That’s where you’re wrong. Everything you do from now on is very much my business.’

She frowned. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘It means that while your father is overseas I will be looking after you.’

Shara blinked, frowned, and blinked again. ‘I don’t need looking after.’

‘No? That’s not the way I understand it.’

‘Well, I don’t care what you understand. I’m a little too old for a babysitter, don’t you think?’

‘I’m not a babysitter. I’m a bodyguard.’

‘Babysitter. Bodyguard.’ She waved a hand through the air. Her breasts jiggled. Royce tried not to notice but failed miserably. ‘It’s all the same to me. Either one is completely unnecessary.’

Although Royce didn’t particularly like what he was hearing, he had no objection to Shara speaking her mind. If there was one thing he couldn’t stand it was someone saying one thing to his face and then saying—or doing—the exact opposite behind his back.

‘Well, your father disagrees,’ Royce said calmly.

‘I—’

Royce cut her off. ‘You’re wasting your breath. Gerard warned me that this would be your attitude and he said to tell you that while you’re living under his roof you’ll follow his rules.’

Her humiliation was complete.

Shara stared at the tips of her red-varnished toenails as if her life depended upon it. Tears pricked at the backs of her eyes but she blinked them away.

She had no intention of bursting into tears. That would only add to her humiliation.

Right now all she wanted to do was curl up into a ball and pretend that the rest of the world didn’t exist.

It was a feeling she knew all too well. But she fought against it. If there was one thing the last twelve months had taught her it was not to give in to feelings of helplessness. She had to be strong and stand up for herself.

It didn’t matter how many times she got knocked down. She had to pick herself up, brush herself off, and try again.

So she straightened her shoulders, dragged in a breath, and instead of avoiding eye contact lifted her head and deliberately looked Just Plain Royce directly in the eye.

His face was expressionless. She had no idea what he was thinking and frankly she didn’t care.

She waved a hand through the air. ‘Well, Mr Just Plain Royce, I’m out of here.’

He folded his arms across his impressive chest. ‘And where, pray tell, are you planning on going?’

She put her hands on her hips. ‘That is none of your business!’

‘Correction. As I said, where you go and what you do
is
my business.’ His tone was determined. ‘My job is to protect you. It will help if I know where you’re going at all times.’

Her already straight shoulders straightened some more. ‘My father may have hired you, but I have no desire for a bodyguard. You can do what the hell you like, but don’t expect any help from me!’

A look that was part resignation, part irritation flashed across his face before his expression hardened. ‘Be warned. I intend doing my job, with or without your co-operation. It will be easier on both of us if you work with me, but it’s not entirely necessary. If you want to act like a rebellious teenager then go right ahead. I won’t stop you.’

Shara would have laughed except it wasn’t really funny. She’d been a well-behaved, follow-the-rules, obedient teenager. A real goody-two-shoes, in fact.

Twelve months of marriage to Steve Brady had shown her that being meek and biddable had its drawbacks—big-time!

She’d emerged from the dark tunnel of that period a very different person from the one who’d entered it.

She crossed her arms and raised one eyebrow. ‘If you’re trying reverse psychology on me then it won’t work. I’m a grown adult, able to decide when and where I go without reporting in to somebody else.’

His dark eyes glinted. ‘Are you? An adult, that is? If so, then prove it.’

She frowned. ‘And how am I supposed to do that?’

‘Don’t go back to the club.’

Shara raised an eyebrow. ‘And what will that prove?’

‘It will prove you’re adult enough to put your safety ahead of having a good time,’ Royce said calmly.

The word ‘adult’ rankled. She wasn’t a child. Her marriage had made her grow up—fast.

She knew what she was doing; she was making a stand.

She was sick and tired of the men in her life—first her father and then her husband—telling her what to do.

She didn’t need to add a bossy bodyguard to the list.

If she slunk off to her room with her tail between her legs then wasn’t she just handing over her power to Royce?

Well, she’d been there, done that, and she’d suffered because of it.

She could, and she would, make her own decisions.

Mr Just Plain Royce had better start getting used to it.

And why was she calling him that anyway?

Plain was ordinary. Easily overlooked. Royce was neither of those things. In fact just the opposite.

‘I don’t have to prove anything to you,’ she said, clasping her hands together in front of her. ‘I’m twenty-three years old. I
am
an adult. And if you think insulting me will force me to co-operate then you’re sorely mistaken.’

He held up his hands, a small smile twisting his mouth.

‘That accusation is well and truly misdirected, I can assure you. That kind of strategy would never work with you. I know that.’

She raised a brow. ‘And how do you know that?’

Royce shrugged. ‘Because I’ve seen you in action. First at the club and then again here.’

She gave him a puzzled frown. ‘Meaning?’

‘Meaning that using reverse psychology on you would have the reverse effect.’ He waved a hand, with a glint in his eyes that made her want to hit him. ‘You’re determined not to co-operate no matter what. It doesn’t matter what I say or do, you’re going to do your own thing and to hell with everyone else. If I push all it will do is make you dig your heels in even more.’

Shara gnashed her teeth.

She had a sneaking suspicion that Royce was right—although it would take someone pulling out her fingernails before she’d admit it.

‘You haven’t got a clue what you’re talking about,’ she flung at him. At that moment the old grandfather clock in the entrance hall struck the hour. Shara glanced at her watch. ‘Well, it looks like you’re going to get your way. I’m not going back to the club. Not because you say I shouldn’t, but because it’s late and I’m tired. Goodnight.’

Without another word she spun on her heel to leave the room, but his next words stopped her. ‘Before you go perhaps you’d like to tell me which bedroom is yours.’

Slowly she turned back to face him. Her heart was beating with slow, heavy thumps. ‘Why on earth do you want to know that?’

‘Because I’ll be taking up residence in the room next to yours, of course.’

A hand made its way to the base of her throat, where she could feel the beat of her pulse under her skin. For a moment she’d thought …

Well, she wasn’t sure exactly what she’d thought.

But whatever it was it had made her go hot all over.

Her hands slammed down on her hips. ‘You most certainly will not!’

Royce gestured to the corner of the room. A large black suitcase she hadn’t noticed before was sitting there. ‘I most certainly will.’

She shook her head. ‘I don’t understand.’

‘I’ll be living here for the duration. I—’

‘Living here …? You can’t do that!’

‘Why not?’

‘Well, because you just can’t.’ Shara blinked rapidly, the blinks timing perfectly with the increased rhythm of her heart.

It was out of the question.

Out of the question for any number of reasons—one of which she didn’t want to examine too closely because she suspected it had something to do with the little curl of sensation she experienced low in the pit of her belly every time she looked at him.

‘Well, I’m afraid what you want doesn’t come into it. As your father is aware, I have a policy of up close and personal at the Royce Agency.’

‘What does that mean?’ Shara asked suspiciously, her brain leapfrogging into all sorts of thoughts. Just how personal did they get at this agency of his?

‘It means I’m guarding
you
, not your house.’ He shrugged his broad shoulders. ‘I’ll be of absolutely no use to you if I’m sitting outside in my car and your ex-husband breaks in through the back door, will I?’

‘I guess not.’ The suggestion was enough to send a shiver of fear slicing down her spine. It was something that hadn’t occurred to her. The very idea of Steve breaking in filled her with dread. She swallowed, clasping her hands tightly together in front of her. ‘I just expected—’

‘That it would be just like on TV?’ he finished resignedly, sounding as though he’d heard it all a million times before. ‘Well, it’s not. You either show me where you sleep or I’ll find out for myself. Either way, I’m staying. And I’m staying where I can keep an eye on you.’

‘Have it your own way,’ Shara muttered.

If Royce intended to hang around there wasn’t much she could do about it. He was too big for her to throw out. And there was no use complaining to the police because he had her father’s permission to be here—something that one phone call would establish.

All she could do was call her father in the morning and see if she could change his mind.

If she couldn’t she’d just have to put up with the situation as best she could. She’d put up with a hell of a lot worse.

This was no big deal.

All she had to do was ignore Royce.

Just go about her business as if he wasn’t there.

Except she had the uneasy feeling Royce wasn’t going to be easy to ignore.

‘I certainly shall,’ Royce said.

He spoke with the kind of confidence Shara envied. That I’m-sure-of-my-place-in-the-world kind of confidence. The kind that made every decision he made rock-solid and unbreakable. He knew exactly where he was going—and how to get there.

By contrast, Shara didn’t have a clue where she was going.

Even though she was only twenty-three, she’d taken so many wrong turns in her life it was ridiculous. She felt like a player in a Snakes and Ladders game who always landed on the snake’s head and slid back down to the tail.