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"It may be just as well," he said, almost to himself. "For now, it's safe for
you to go home. Lopez is dead. His top lieutenants died with him. There's no longer
any threat to you or to Dad."
"Yes. What a lucky explosion it was," she added, busy with her case.
"It wasn't luck, Callie," he said shortly. "I swam out to the yacht and planted
a block of C-4 next to his propeller shaft."
She turned, gasping. Her hands shook as she fumbled the case closed and sat down
heavily on the bed.
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So that was what they'd been talking about the night before, when Micah had said
that "it might work." He could have been killed!
"It was a close call," he added, watching her. "I let myself get caught like a
rank beginner. I was too tired to make it back in a loop, so I stopped to rest. One
of Lopez's men caught me. Lopez made a lot of threats about what he planned to do
to you and Dad, and then he got stupid and had me tied up down below." He extended
his arm, showed her his watch, pressed a button, and watched her expression as a
knife blade popped out. "Pity his men weren't astute enough to check the watch.
They knew what I do for a living, too."
Her eyes were full of horror. Micah had gone after Lopez alone. He'd been
captured. If it hadn't been for that watch, he'd be dead. She stared at him as if
she couldn't get enough of just looking at him. What difference did it make if he'd
had a full-blown affair with her mother? He could be out there with Lopez, in
pieces...
She put her face in her hands to hide the tears that overflowed.
He went to the bed and knelt beside her, pulling her wet face into his throat. He
smoothed her hair while she clung to him and let the tears fall. It had been such a
traumatic week for her. It seemed that her whole life had been uprooted and
stranded. Micah could have been dead. Or, last night, she could have been dead.
Pride seemed such a petty thing all of a sudden.
"You could have died," she whispered brokenly.
"So could you." He moved, lifting her into his arms. He dropped into a wide
cushioned rattan chair
and held her close while the anguish of the night before lanced through her slender
body like a tangible thing. She clung to him, shivering.
"I wish I'd known what you were planning," she said. "I'd have stopped you,
somehow! Even if it was only to save you so you could go to my...my mother."
He wrapped her up even closer and laid his cheek against her hair with a long
sigh. "You still don't trust me, do you, honey?" he murmured absently. "I suppose
it was asking too much, considering the way I've treated you over the years." He
kissed her dark hair. "You go back home and settle into your old routine. Soon
enough, this will all seem like just a bad dream."
She rubbed her eyes with her fists, like a small child. Curled against him, she
felt safe, cherished, treasured. Odd, to feel like that with a man who was a known
playboy, a man who'd already told her that freedom was like a religion to him.
"You'll be glad to have your house to yourself again," she said huskily. "I
guess it really cramped your style having me here. With Lisse, I mean."
He chuckled. "I lied."
"Wh...what?"
"I lied about Lisse being my lover now. What was between us was over years ago."
He shrugged. "I brought her over here when you arrived as a buffer."
She sat up, staring at him like a curious cat. "A buffer?"
He smiled lazily. His fingers brushed away the tears that were wetting her
cheeks. "Bachelors are terrified of virgins," he commented.
"You don't even like me," she protested.
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His dark eyes slid down to her mouth, and even farther, over her breasts, down to
her long legs. "You have a heart like marshmallow," he said quietly. "You never
avoid trouble or turn down people in need. You take in all sorts of strays.
Children love you." He smiled. "You scared me to death."
"Past tense?" she asked softly.
"I'm getting used to you." He didn't smile. His dark eyes narrowed. "It hurt me
that Lopez got two men onto my property while I was lying in bed asleep. You could
have been kidnapped or killed, no thanks to me."
"You were tired," she replied. "You aren't superhuman, Micah."
He drew in a slow breath and toyed with the arm-hole of her tank top. His fingers
brushed against soft, warm flesh and she had to fight not to lean toward them. "I
didn't feel comfortable resting while we were in so much danger. It all caught up
with me last night."
She was remembering something he'd said. "You were almost too tired to swim back
from Lopez's yacht, you said," she recalled slowly. She frowned. "But you'd just
been asleep," she added. "How could you have been tired?"
"Oh, that's not a question you should ask yet," he said heavily. "You're not
going to like the answer."
"I'm not?"
He searched her eyes for a long moment. All at once, he stood up, taking her with
him. "You'd better finish getting your stuff together. I'll put you on a commercial
flight home."
She didn't want to go, but she didn't have an ex-
cuse to stay. She looked at him as if she were lost and alone, and his face
clenched.
"Don't do that," he said huskily. "The idea is to get you out of here as
smoothly as possible. Don't invite trouble."
She didn't understand that taut command. But then, she didn't understand him,
either. She was avoiding the one question she should be asking. She gave in and
asked it. "Why was my mother here?"
"Her husband has cancer," he said simply. "She phoned here and begged for help.
It seems the earl is penniless and she does actually seem to love him. I arranged
for him to have an unorthodox course of treatment from a native doctor here. They
both stayed with me until he got through it." He put his hands in his slacks
pockets. "As much as I hate to admit it, she's not the woman she was, Callie," he
added. "And she did one other thing that I admired. She phoned your father and told
him the truth about you."
Her heart skipped. "What father? What truth?" she asked huskily.
"Your father was going to phone you and ask you to meet him. Did he?"
She moved restlessly back to her packing. "He phoned and left a message. I didn't
have anything to say to him, so I didn't call him back."
"He knows that you're his child," he told her. "Your mother sent him your birth
certificate. That's why he's trying to contact you. I imagine he wants to
apologize. Your mother does, too, to you and Dad, but she told me she wasn't that
brave."
Her eyes met his, haunted. "I went through hell because of her and my father,"
she said in a tight
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tone. "You don't know...you can't imagine...what it was like!"
"Yes, I can," he said, and he sounded angry. "He's apparently counting his
regrets. He never remarried. He doesn't have any children, except you."
"Then he still doesn't have a child," she said through her teeth.
He didn't reply for several long seconds. "I can understand why you feel that
way, about him and your mother. I don't blame you. I just thought I'd tell you what [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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