wooden floor like creamy yellow-white butter across dark toast. Still hearing the sporadic creaking, Nick eased carefully down the hall until he reached the landing. Addy, her satin high-heel slippers dangling from her fingers, tiptoed down the stairs. Nick sucked in his breath at the sight of her retreating back. Her tall slender body, visible in the soft moonlight, was draped in a pale lavender confection of gossamer silk and lace.
What the hell was she doing? She looked like a woman running away, trying to escape from someone or something. He'd like to go back to bed, go to sleep and forget that Addy, upset, uncertain and scared, was wandering around downstairs. But he couldn't. She was his responsibility.
He returned to his room, slipped into a pair of jeans and made his way quietly down the stairs, the faint tapping of his cane echoing in the stillness. From the foyer, he could see light under the kitchen door. He hated to intrude on her, to interrupt her privacy, but dammit, he wouldn't be doing his job if he didn't check on her.
Easing open the door, he stopped dead still when he saw her standing in profile, slowly pouring herself a glass of chilled white wine. Her red hair, deep and rich and gloriously bright like the rusty, red clay earth of Alabama, hung in curly disarray down her back and across her shoulders. The silky peignoir set she wore swept the floor. The robe, a sheer concoction edged with heavy lace at the hem and across the bottom of each long sleeve, had fallen open to reveal an empire style gown of the same diaphanous lavender material. The bodice, cut low and revealing the slight swell of Addy's breasts, was covered with matching lace.
Dear God, had he ever actually thought this woman, this smoldering female temptation, was plain? If Addy McConnell chose to dress circumspectly in public, she revealed her true sensuous self in her sleepwear. Nick's whole body tightened with anticipation. He didn't think he'd ever seen anything as desirable as the vision before him, one he found difficult to believe was real.
'Addy?' Even to his own ears his voice sounded rough and hard.
She jumped, startled by his invasion. With her green eyes glaring and her pink mouth opening to a perfect oval, she stared at him. He noticed that her hand, holding the wineglass, trembled ever so slightly.
'Sorry if I frightened you.' He walked through the doorway and into the kitchen. 'I heard you come downstairs and wanted to make sure you were all right.'
'I'm fine.' She set the glass on the counter. 'I'm sorry if I disturbed your sleep.'
'I wasn't asleep.' He eyed the wine bottle. 'I'm your bodyguard, remember? I don't sleep unless you do.' He nodded toward the sauvignon blanc. 'Pour me a glass, too, if you think it'll help us both get a good night's rest.'
She looked at him with pleading eyes. 'Couldn't you leave me alone? I'm not used to having someone else around, watching me, monitoring my every move.'
'It can't be helped, so we'd both better try to make the best of it.' Moving slowly, Nick stopped just short of touching her. His gaze traveled over her, from fiery hair to bare feet. 'What did you do with your shoes?'
'I tossed them in the chair.' She nodded toward her slippers. 'There.' Addy wished he would stop looking at her. He made her nervous staring at her as if he could see straight through her gown. But then, maybe he could. She wasn't accustomed to men seeing her in her underwear or her sleepwear, so she indulged herself in her passion for sexy, frilly and very feminine attire that she alone would see. But Nick could see her. All of her, here in the kitchen light.
She could feel a delicious warmth spreading through her, casting a delicate pink hue to her naturally golden complexion. This man had a strange effect on her, creating a desire in her to experiment with the danger she knew he offered. Nick Romero would be an exciting, demanding lover. Something she'd never known. But she was a failure at intimacy, unable to respond properly, incapable of achieving fulfillment. She didn't dare risk the utter humiliation she'd feel if she disappointed Nick. She'd been devastated by Gerald's frustration over her inadequacies, and Gerald was certainly no match for a man like Nick, a man whose every look, word and move reeked of sensuality.
Nick caressed the neck of the wine bottle absentmindedly, wishing it was Addy's soft throat. Retrieving a glass from the row of crystal goblets inside the open cupboard, he poured the clear golden liquid.
Addy watched the way his big hand moved over the wine bottle and the crystal glass. She could almost feel his touch on her. Instantly her nipples hardened.
Taking a sip of the chilled dry wine, Nick looked up at Addy, his dark eyes conveying a message of desire. She tried to look away from him, but his gaze held her spellbound. When he glanced down at her breasts, she sucked in a deep breath, willing herself not to sway toward him.
'Why don't we take our wine into the den,' he said. 'We'll be more comfortable in there, and we can talk.'
For a split second she thought he was going to touch her. She was half afraid he would and half afraid he wouldn't. 'I … I don't want to talk. I just want to be left alone.'
'But I can't leave you alone. You know that. It's my job to guard you against danger twenty-four hours a day.' He could see that she was on the verge of angry tears. He suspected that she was as upset over her reaction to him as she was over the turmoil in her life. She was a woman who seemed to pride herself on her independence and self-control, and here he was undermining both. As long as the threat of a kidnapping hung over her head, Addy would require his presence as a bodyguard. And, as long as the two of them were together, sparks were going to fly and both of them were at the mercy of their own baser instincts. He didn't doubt for a minute that Addy wanted him as much as he wanted her. He could see it in her eyes, feel it in her body's response to him.
'Nick, please … don't—'
'Don't what, Red? I haven't done anything.'
Did he honestly think he had done nothing? Addy wondered. Surely a man as experienced as Nick Romero knew only too well what effect he was having on her. Circumstances might have forced her to accept his presence in her home. Her life could be in danger, and she knew her father's health and peace of mind were at risk. If only the man her father had chosen as her bodyguard was anyone else on earth beside this devastatingly handsome man with the power to awaken her long dormant sexual longings.
'Come on, Red, let's have a midnight powwow. We'll swap old war stories.' He placed his hand on the small of her back, opening his palm to cover a wide expanse of her silk-clad body. She tensed immediately. 'Relax.' He gave her a slight nudge. 'This has been a hell of a day for you. You don't really want to be alone. You want to talk and yell and scream and maybe even cry.'
'You think you're so damned smart, don't you?' Addy walked away from him, removing herself from his warm, caressing hand. 'For your information, Mr. Romero, I seldom cry. I used up a lifetime supply of tears years ago.'
He followed her into the den, not replying to her comment. Somewhere behind the security wall she'd built around herself, Addy's deepest emotions still existed, waiting to be released. Nick wanted to be the man to penetrate that wall, to tear it down—brick by brick if necessary. He wanted to be the man to bring those buried feelings back to life.
Entering the dark den, Addy turned on a small brass table lamp decorated with china roses and covered with a parchment shade. A warm, mellow glow filled the room, revealing pale eggshell walls and an orderly clutter of antiques, from a painted Pennsylvania German chest to a Queen Anne curly maple chair.
Addy sat down on the old sofa which was covered with a paisley throw and held a variety of crewel, cross- stitch and needlepoint pillows. She clutched the crystal goblet in her unsteady hand, her eyes focusing on the liquid shifting back and forth. Bringing the glass to her lips, she sipped the wine slowly, trying to ignore Nick Romero when he entered her cozy, private hideaway. She'd been forced to share several hours with him before bedtime, all the while wishing she were alone. She'd been able to handle both Nick and her own emotions earlier, but now she felt vulnerable, less able to protect herself.
Nick walked across the wooden floor, barely noticing the throw rugs he stepped on as he made his way toward Addy. She sat on the small sofa. There was room for him, but he could tell by her stiffly arched back, her tilted chin and her cool manner that she would prefer he didn't join her. He sat down in a sturdy flowered wingback chair to the left of the sofa, a large round end table separating them.
He watched her. He'd seen people who tried to keep everything bottled up inside. Sooner or later they exploded like a time bomb. Addy needed to release some of her pent-up emotions.
'Do you think Gerald Carlton could be behind the kidnapping attempt?' Nick asked, pleased when Addy glared at him with fiery green eyes. 'Is he capable of murder?'
Taking another sip of her wine, Addy closed her eyes, knowing that images of her life with her former
