Vows Page 7

  She felt a resurgence of confidence. “I don’t need protecting.”

  “What if what occurred in your room happens again?”

  “Why should it?” Vanessa countered.

  Joshua’s eyes paled. “Because you’re a woman traveling alone in a foreign country. You don’t know if some psychopath is following you because he likes what he sees. You are aware of what you look like?”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  A slight smile softened his sensuous mouth. “You have eyes, Vanessa. Surely you’re aware of your beauty.”

  “Whether I believe I’m beautiful or not is not a topic for debate. I admit that I was a little shaken by the simulated blood on my underwear, but I’ve gotten over that. I’m grateful to you that—”

  “I don’t need your gratitude,” he interrupted.

  “Well, that’s all I can offer you at this time,” she countered. “I’ll accept your invitation to spend the night here, but I intend to check out in the morning.”

  Joshua decided not to argue with her. The fact that she was willing to share his suite for the night was enough—for the moment.

  “Is there anything I can get for you?”

  She managed the beginnings of a smile. “Only what I’ve wanted since I got off that bus almost two hours ago. A hot bath and a clean bed.”

  Hunkering down in front of Vanessa, Joshua grasped both of her hands in a firm grip. He registered the shiver of uneasiness shaking her body, and he knew she wasn’t as unaffected by the break-in as she appeared.

  He studied her, seeing her fragile vulnerability. The need to protect her was overwhelming; the emotion nearly suffocated him with its ferocity.

  But she’s a traitor, a voice in his head shrilled, a beautiful, sexy, gutsy, brilliant traitor. He wondered whether he was attracted to her because of her beauty or in awe of her tenacity.

  “Do you want anything to eat or drink?”

  She shook her head. “No, thank you. Just the bath and a bed will do.”

  He rose to his feet, pulling her up with him. “A bath and bed coming up.”

  Vanessa gave him a warm smile. His breathing stopped, then started up again at her inviting, sensual expression. His reaction to seeing the transformation of her features when she smiled was something he knew he would never get used to.

  Releasing her hands, he made his way to the bedroom to instruct the maid to draw a bath for her.

  Vanessa sank down into a bathtub filled with warm, scented bubbles. She felt the tension and rigidity leaving her body almost immediately. She had not wanted to let Joshua know just how unnerved she had been by the break-in at La Mérida. The fact that nothing had been taken was more unsettling than an actual theft would have been. And she refused to think about what he had identified as red nail polish on her underwear, because she did not want to think the person intent on breaking into her room was not only a thief but a depraved sexual deviant.

  Joshua conferred with the two men from La Mérida’s security team before she’d checked out, and they had reassured him that no other room had been burglarized; that meant she had been a specific target. She wondered of whom, and for what purpose.

  The soft music filtering through the concealed speakers in the spacious pale blue and raspberry bathroom lulled her into a state of somnolence as she rested the back of her head on a sponge pillow and closed her eyes. Tiny droplets of water dotted her face and curled her relaxed hair around her hairline.

  She had no idea how much time had elapsed when she heard the tapping on the door. Sitting up, she realized the bubbles had disappeared and the water had cooled.

  “Yes,” she called out.

  “Are you all right?” Joshua asked.

  Vanessa smiled, picking up a bath puff and trickling water over her breasts. “I’m fine. I’ll be out in a little while.”

  It was another twenty minutes before she stepped out of the bathroom, wearing a light gray, oversized T-shirt with a pair of matching leggings. Her hair being swept on the top of her head allowed for an unobscured view of her face and neck.

  She stopped suddenly, and a small gasp of surprise escaped her. Joshua leaned against a wall, waiting for her. He’d changed from his slacks and silk shirt into a pair of black, drawstring, cotton sweatpants and tank top.

  He appeared taller in the revealing black attire as the muted overhead light shone down on his bare arms and shoulders. Lean, compact muscles flexed fluidly under his brown flesh when he crossed his arms over his chest.

  His languid gaze moved slowly over her features, lingering on her mouth before moving up to her eyes. “I didn’t mean to startle you. I made some tea and I wanted to know whether you’d want a cup.”

  Vanessa felt a shiver race through her body at his penetrating stare. Whenever he stared at her she felt as if he was looking for something from her. What it was, she didn’t know.

  Clutching the clothing she had worn earlier that day to her chest, she hoped it would serve as a barrier between them. Joshua stood more than three feet from her, yet his presence overwhelmed her with the raw power he emanated so effortlessly.

  “I would like a cup, thank you.” Her voice was breathless, as if she had run a long, grueling race. “Let me put these away, then I’ll join you.” She walked toward her bedroom, while Joshua turned and made his way to the kitchen.

  The bedroom was luxurious, and no expense had been spared with the furnishings. Massive mahogany furniture dominated the space. Its deep, rich color was offset by stark white carpeting and window and bed dressing. It was the smaller of the two bedrooms in the suite, yet it was still larger than the space she had occupied at La Mérida. She placed her jeans and T-shirt on a chair before she left the bedroom.

  Joshua had set the table in the dining area with a fragile bone-china teapot and matching cups and saucers. A serving plate in the center of the table was filled with a variety of golden butter cookies. He stood behind a chair, waiting to seat her.

  “Did you bake the cookies?” she teased, taking the seat. He leaned over her head and she felt the warmth of his body and his breath.

  “They’re from the hotel’s kitchen,” he whispered close to her ear.

  Glancing back over her shoulder, Vanessa stared up at him. “Can you cook?”

  He flashed a mysterious smile. “Yes, I can.” Straightening, he walked around the table and sat down opposite her.

  “What’s your specialty?” she questioned as he reached for her cup and filled it with a fragrant, steaming, pale green liquid.

  “Southern and Caribbean cuisine.”

  She stared at him as he filled his own cup. “Who taught you?”

  A muscle tensed and throbbed noticeably along the left side of his face before easing. All warmth in his eyes fled, leaving them cold and forbidding, and she chided herself for probing.

  “My mother,” he answered after a lengthy silence, watching as she picked up her cup and took a sip of the imported tea. “How about yourself? Do you cook?”

  “I’m learning,” she admitted softly.

  “Learning?”

  Replacing her cup gently on its saucer, Vanessa folded both hands on her hips and glared at him across the table. “If I knew how to say the word in another language for you I’d do it.” She noticed the smile curving his mouth. “You think because I’m a woman I’m supposed to know how to cook, don’t you?”

  Shrugging his bare shoulders and holding up his hands, Joshua shook his head. “That’s where you’re wrong. I’d never assume that.” His expression mirrored innocence.

  Sure, Vanessa thought. There was something in Joshua Kirkland’s bearing that silently screamed that he could be extremely sexist when he chose to be.

  “You don’t believe me, do you?” he questioned. She refused to answer him. “We’re supposed to have shared dinner out tomorrow evening, but instead I’ll cook for you.”

  She was mildly surprised by his offer. “You’d do that?”

  “I’d d
o anything for you, Vanessa,” he countered in a deep voice simmering with barely checked passion. “All you have to do is ask.”

  His declaration alternately frightened and thrilled her as a pulse throbbed erratically in her throat. Her mouth felt dry, and she took another deep swallow of tea.

  “You’re coming on to me again, Joshua.”

  Placing an elbow on the table, he rested his chin on a fisted hand. “You accused me of that before and I denied it,” he said, reminding her of her accusation during the flight to Mexico City. “But this time I’m guilty as sin. Can you handle that, Vanessa Blanchard?”

  She couldn’t handle it, and she was ready to bolt from the table. She was thirty-three years old, experienced with men, and here she was trembling like a frightened virgin before her first sexual encounter.

  Tilting her chin, she gave him a challenging look. “And if I couldn’t handle it, Joshua Kirkland, what would you do about it?”

  Leaning back on his chair, while crossing his arms over his chest, he smiled and nodded in approval. Though not one to engage in mind games, he enjoyed the sexual sparring with Vanessa.

  “I’d wait,” he replied quietly. “I’d wait for you to come to me.”

  She stood up, and he rose with her. “Wait on, Mister!” she spat out. There was no way she was going to fall into bed with a stranger. “Good night.” Pushing back her chair, she turned in the direction of her bedroom.

  Joshua stared at her departing figure, smiling. “There’s a lock on the door separating our bedrooms. If you change your mind just leave it unlocked,” he called out.

  Vanessa made it to her bedroom and closed the door softly. What she wanted to do was slam it and rid herself of some of the frustration building up in her celibate body. Joshua had become a blatant reminder of what she had once shared with a few men; what she consciously wanted to share with him.

  Stripping off her clothes, she slipped under the sheet and turned off the lamp on the bedside table. All she wanted to do was sleep, sleep so she would forget about the person or persons who had ransacked her room at La Mérida, and the man who had assumed the responsibility of becoming her protector.

  Joshua Kirkland was too attractive, confident, too sensual and virile, and much too arrogant.

  Vanessa sat up quickly and flicked on the lamp. She had forgotten to check the door separating their bedrooms. Crossing the room, she turned the lock, listening to the soft click.

  Seconds later, she returned to the bed and plunged the room into darkness. Soon the space was filled with the soft whisper of her breathing as she sank into the comforting arms of a dreamless sleep.

  Chapter 7

  Joshua sat at the table, staring at the space where Vanessa had been. Within the span of three days she read him better than anyone ever had. Not even his family knew him that well.

  He had come on to her because he wanted her with a raw, unbridled passion he had never felt for any woman, and the wanting had nothing to do with his mission. Without her saying, “take me,” “love me,” or “protect me,” it was something he wanted to do.

  He had retired once, and perhaps he shouldn’t have come back. Had he lost his edge? Had he allowed his emotions to dictate to him, so that he’d nullify his orders?

  His desire for her went beyond a simple slaking of sexual tension. And he knew enough about himself to know that if he made love to her he would not be able to walk away from her.

  Looking down into the china cup filled with tea, he recalled poignant episodes in his life as if they were frames of film. He summoned his mother’s face, a face so much like his own, a face that rarely displayed a smile. He thought about the man whose last name he claimed, who would not claim him as “son.”

  He also thought about another man who was his father, a man who had denied him even before he was born, whom he would never call “father.”

  The realization rushed through him with the force of an erupting volcano. He wanted a family! Not brothers or sisters—those he had—but a wife and his own children. A woman he could acknowledge before man and God, and children he would love, cherish, and protect with his last breath.

  And there was something about Vanessa Blanchard that elicited the strong, driving desire to marry and procreate.

  Inhaling deeply and letting out his breath in an audible sigh, Joshua Kirkland knew what he wanted to do. He did not love Vanessa, yet he wanted her. He would get the information he sought from her, then he would protect her from any legal prosecution.

  He poured out the lukewarm tea, refilled the cup from the pot, then sat staring out the window. He drank two cups before he cleared the table.

  Walking into his bedroom, he glanced at the door separating his room from Vanessa’s. He made his way over to it and turned the knob gently. A smile deepened the minute lines around his eyes. She had locked it!

  There will be another time, he told himself.

  Day Three—Vanessa would spend the night with him, but not in his bed.

  Vanessa woke to the sounds of a driving rain battering the windows and the rumble of hunger gripping her stomach. Flicking on the lamp and peering at her watch on the bedside table, she groaned. It was only four o’clock. It was another two hours before the sun came up.

  She glanced over at the door connecting the bedrooms, then fell back against the mound of pillows cradling her shoulders. She had to get up and prepare to check into another hotel.

  The thought of trying to secure lodging weighed on her like a heavy blanket. Instead of touring and shopping she would have to call hotels. Slipping out of the bed, she moved quietly across the room and opened a drawer of a chest-on-chest. She withdrew a caftan and pulled it over her naked body before selecting underwear, a pair of jeans, and a T-shirt. She would get dressed, eat breakfast, and then check out of Joshua’s suite.

  Opening the door to her bedroom, she peered out. Joshua had left a lamp on a side table in the living room on, and the glow radiating through the crystal base provided enough light for her to make her way across the living room and into the bathroom, where she managed to shower, dress, and secure her hair into a sleek French twist in twenty minutes.

  The now familiar scent of a citrus-based aftershave met her as she left the bathroom, and she knew Joshua was also up. Walking into the living room, she saw him seated at a desk in an alcove reading, and even though her bare feet made no noise on the carpeted floor his head came up alertly, as if she had made a sudden noise or motion.

  “Buenos días,” he said, rising and coming toward her. “I hope you slept well.”

  Vanessa gave him a warm smile. “Good morning. I slept quite well, thank you.”

  She took in everything about him in one glance. The smooth, brown flesh over his jaw glowed from a recent shave, and his hair, still damp from his shower, appeared burnished instead of white-gold. This morning he had selected a pair of startling white jeans, running shoes, and T-shirt. His spotless attire highlighted the deep, rich color of his skin, and the jeans riding low on his hips accentuated their slimness. The casual garments had transformed him from an erudite businessman to a laid-back tourist.

  He’s a chameleon, she thought. Just when she thought she’d categorized Joshua Kirkland, he changed before her eyes, and she wondered just who he was.

  “Do you normally get up this early?” he asked.

  Vanessa shook her head. “No, I don’t. But I must confess that hunger is one of the motivating factors this morning.”

  Crossing his arms over his chest, Joshua gave her a knowing smile. “Then I’d better order breakfast for us.”

  She folded her hands on her hips and cocked her head at an angle. “At four-thirty in the morning?”

  Reaching out, he ran a forefinger over the outline of her delicate jaw, lingering under her chin. “The hotel offers twenty-four-hour room service.”

  Vanessa felt the heat flame in her face under his touch when his smile broadened with a trace of eroticism. She wanted to pull away, but didn’t,
because each time he touched her she was reminded of his sensual attractiveness.

  “What is the other motivating factor?” he whispered, leaning in closer.

  Her eyes widened as she studied the darkening of his probing gaze. “I have to find another hotel.”

  His hand dropped abruptly, though his expression did not change. “I’ll call the front desk and have them locate one suitable for you.”

  It was obvious that he wasn’t pleased with her insistence that she leave his suite, but Vanessa knew that there was no way she could live with Joshua and not respond to his overt seduction. He’d made it quite clear over tea the night before that he wanted to sleep with her.

  “Thank you, Joshua.”

  Trapping her with his penetrating stare, Joshua saw what Vanessa tried vainly to conceal from him. She was uncomfortable with him and anxious to leave. If she was to meet her contact she wouldn’t be able to do it with him clinging to her, and he had to keep reminding himself that one of the reasons he was in Mexico was to uncover Vanessa Blanchard’s contact.

  “There’s no need to thank me, Vanessa. I told you before that there isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for you. All you have to do is ask.”

  She nodded, then watched as he made his way to one of the many telephones placed throughout the expansive suite. He picked up the receiver and dialed a number. She did not understand any of what he’d said in Spanish before he depressed the hook and dialed another number. She caught several words from this conversation—like “señorita” and “Americana” before he ended the call.

  Watching her watching him, Joshua noted the expectant expression on Vanessa’s face. He did not think she would be too pleased with the news he had to tell her.

  “I’ve just been informed that there’s a weather emergency.”

  She took several steps toward him, then stopped. “What do you mean?”

  “The desk clerk just informed me that nearly two inches of rain have fallen in the past three hours, and that most of the roads leading into or out of the city are flooded. The judicial police have issued a stern weather emergency warning that anyone caught driving will be fined or jailed for ignoring the ban.”