Chapter Thirteen
Jane’s hands shook as she pulled off the pale-blue t-shirt she’d been wearing and reached for a long-sleeve, black t-shirt Ashley Chen had lent her. As excited as she was at the thought of seeing Taylor again, she was also terrified. Of Ahmed. Of the possibility Taylor would reject her, and she’d be forced to drag a screaming child away from the only parent she knew. No way in hell was Jane leaving Taylor with a man who trafficked weapons and indiscriminate death. Jane took a couple of deep breaths, fighting panic, trying to steady herself.
There was a rap on the door and, without waiting for an answer, Jack Reilly strode in, then stopped short. Ignoring the fact she was in her underwear, he closed the door quietly behind him. He held a plate with a sandwich on it.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
She nodded, her insides a mix of anticipation, sickly trepidation and downright fear. She was such a coward.
“You need to eat.” There was the ever-present glass of water, which he held out to her.
Her throat felt like sandpaper, but she couldn’t face eating or drinking anything. She turned away. “I can’t.”
She awkwardly pulled the t-shirt over her head. The material was tight and clingy, and she was apparently larger than Ashley Chen in the chest department. It felt more like a compression bandage than an item of clothing. Jane rolled the stretchy fabric down over her sports bra and looked up, surprised to find Jack’s eyes on her body with a glint in their depths that was far from clinical or professional.
They’d spent a lot of time together over the last few days, and she’d enjoyed it more than she’d expected. Since he’d rejected her sexual overtures they’d just hung out. But, right now, his eyes told her he wasn’t indifferent to her as a woman. Which meant he’d been telling the truth—he didn’t mix business with pleasure.
Pity.
Now it was too late. After they got back to the States she doubted she’d see him again.
She stepped into a pair of her own black pants and zipped up. Sitting on the edge of the bed she pulled on black socks then black boots. She looked like a cat burglar, or one of the operatives outside.
“This is not what I wear. He’ll know something is up if I turn up dressed like Cat Woman.” She shook her head, disgusted with herself, and dragged the top off. She stalked to her suitcase and started rooting through her clothes.
She found a dark blue jersey dress with a beaded neckline. Her back to Reilly, she dragged off her bra and tossed it aside for a strapless one. She put the bra on, aware of Reilly’s gaze on her back though she didn’t turn around. This wasn’t a seduction and even if it was, she knew it wouldn’t work on this man. She was his client. She pulled the dress over her head, and the material draped softly over her body. She’d always liked this dress because it flattered her curves, making her waist look smaller. She kicked off her boots and dragged her pants down her legs, tossing them in the suitcase.
“Nice socks.” Reilly’s voice was low, and vibrated with more than just amusement. She glanced over her shoulder in surprise.
His jaw was clenched, and his nostrils flared.
She raised her brows. “Regretting all that time we wasted playing Crazy Eights?” she teased.
“Getting to know you wasn’t wasted time.”
She blinked. The guy was always thoughtful about the things he said. If he was trying to seduce her mind he was going the right way about it.
He drew in a deep breath, and his lips twitched. “But I’m wishing I’d thrown in a few rounds of strip poker to shake things up a little.”
She laughed as she bent over and pulled off her socks, tossing them in the case, too. “Not sure I would have been able to keep my hands to myself if you were naked, Mr. Reilly, and I seem to remember you didn’t like me touching you.”
“I’d like it just fine if I wasn’t at work. What I don’t like is being treated like a piece of meat.”
Her mouth dropped open in horror. “Oh, my goodness. That is not what I was thinking when I touched you the other day.”
“What, then?” he demanded.
Her eyes widened as she took in his disbelieving expression. She swallowed. “I was trying to get rid of you.”
“Seriously?” He sounded dubious.
She nodded. “That’s how it started out.” She retrieved a pair of low-heeled sandals and slid them onto her feet. She met his gaze. “But after I touched you I would happily have taken a few hours of sexual oblivion.”
His brow quirked. “Oblivion? Where’s the fun in that? I’d want to remember every detail.”
Her heart suddenly pounded. God, yes. She definitely wanted to have sex with this man one day.
“You need to eat and drink so you have energy to complete the op,” Reilly told her, sliding quickly back into the role of chief guardian.
Her mouth curved. “You make it sound like I’m about to compete in hand-to-hand combat.” She flinched at her own words.
That was the terrible truth about having someone you loved beat the ever-loving crap out of you. The memory could hit just as hard as the punches.
The pity in Reilly’s bright blue eyes proved what she’d already suspected. Either he’d overheard her conversation with Alex the other day or Alex had filled him in on her abuse.
She sat on the bed, hating that her secrets had been revealed. She didn’t want this man’s pity. She didn’t want anyone’s pity. “Don’t,” she said, tersely.
He came around and sat beside her. Bumped her shoulder like they were a couple of teens. “Don’t what?”
She huffed out a reluctant laugh. “Feel sorry for me.”
“I don’t feel sorry for you. I’m in awe you had the guts to leave him. That must have been terrifying. And I’m in awe you’re willing to face him again tonight.”
“It’s for my daughter. I’d do anything for her. I’d die to protect her.” Her hands tightened back into fists.
“It’s not going to come to that.” He held her gaze. “I won’t let it get that far.”
She’d attended support groups for battered women and it had helped. She knew the cycle of violence was about power and control and not about love. But deep down she always harbored a little blame—she was the one who’d been foolish enough to fall in love with an abuser. “It was my own fault. I made a bad choice.”
He thrust the plate into her one hand and the water into the other. “You fell in love with a man who didn’t deserve you. But he’s the one who made the decision to hit you. It’s on him. Always on him.”
She took a bite of the soft bread. Salt from the butter and succulent cured ham hit her tongue and she realized she was starving.
“He didn’t deserve you.”
She glanced up at Reilly’s face, stunned to realize he seemed to genuinely care about her. It had been so long since she’d allowed anyone to get close, to see her weaknesses.
“Eat,” he told her.
She bit into her sandwich. She needed fuel. She hadn’t eaten since all these people had arrived at the chateau and it had become clear Alex hadn’t told her the truth about what was going on. She’d tried to be angry with him, but had put herself in his shoes. He’d had to choose between saving one child versus containing a bioweapon.
It was a no-brainer, except when that child was yours.
“Did you know what was going on with Ahmed? About him being a suspected arms dealer?” she asked Reilly. Was she the only one who’d been kept ignorant?
Faint lines creased the corner of his eyes as he frowned, but there was an honesty in his gaze that made her breath catch.
“No, I didn’t. I don’t think Alex expected the cavalry to turn up like this today, either. My assignment was to look out for you, which is why I hate the idea of you confronting your ex now.”
She flinched. The idea of being just a job hurt.
“Hey,” he said, reading her correctly. “Didn’t mean I didn’t enjoy being your protection.” He moved a tendril of hair across her cheek and behind her ear. She shivered, and he mistook her reaction for fear. “Not all men are scumbags, you know.”
“I do know.” She hunched her shoulders and took another bite of her sandwich, wishing she didn’t have these tangled feelings for her bodyguard. How clichéd could she be? How pathetically desperate and needy to be attracted to this guy.
“I still feel like an idiot for marrying Ahmed and I don’t trust myself now not to make another colossal mistake.”
He pressed his lips together, and she couldn’t help but imagine them on her skin.
“How about when this is all over I teach you some basic self-defense moves? That way if you do ‘make a mistake,’” his voice roughened with what might have been disapproval, but she didn’t think it was aimed at her, “you can at least try to fight back.”
She took a sip of water. Wiped her mouth with the back of her trembling hand. Her eyes met and held his. “I doubt I’ll see you again once this is over.”
“What if you did?” She read more than professional interest in his gaze now. “What do you have to lose if all I do is teach you how to make someone hurt so bad they can’t even scream?”
What would it hurt? Nothing, she realized. It would feel good to know how to fight back. It was about time she built something constructive out of her fear. The real risk was spending more time with Reilly—taking a chance on being someone’s friend was much scarier than taking a lover.
If she had Taylor back, being able to defend herself and her child would be a good thing. If she didn’t…she forced that thought out of her mind.
“I’d like that.” She looked down and realized that although she’d thought she couldn’t eat a bite, she’d actually polished off the whole sandwich and most of the water. He’d got her to think about something besides confronting her ex and finding her daughter. She smiled slightly.
“That’s settled then,” he said. As if the future was guaranteed.
And the idea of seeing him again after this was all over…she didn’t like how excited that made her feel. Like a teen catching sight of her crush.
“Thank you.” She touched his hand, and he stilled for a moment. “For everything.”
Reilly took the plate and cup from her and stood. She found herself looking up his flat stomach and broad chest, all the way to those calm, intelligent eyes that were the same blue as the Aegean Sea. He reached out and slid his hand gently along her jawline. One side of his wide mouth kicked up. “Let’s go get your kid back.”