Entrapment

Setting the plate down on the tray she hurried in his wake and nearly bumped into him as he ducked back out of the first bathroom he’d come to. “This isn’t acceptable.” She made her voice as implacable as his had been. “You’d better get used to the fact that you aren’t going to have everything your way. You can’t…”

He turned around so suddenly that this time she did run into him. Placing both hands on her shoulders, he lowered his face to hers. “I am going to have everything my way, Juliette.” There was a hint of a drawl in the way he pronounced her name that sent an involuntary shiver down her spine. “I’m in charge. Do you understand that? You are going to do exactly what I say, when I say it. And in return you get your life back eventually. You’re in no position to bargain, or to make demands. The sooner you learn that the better for both of us.”

Their gazes did battle, but if he thought she was going to agree with his outrageous statements, he was doomed to disappointment. He released her and turned, heading down the hallway. When he ducked into her bedroom, she was compelled to follow. “No, not that one…”

“A whirlpool.” His tone was practically reverent. By the time she entered the adjoining bathroom behind him he’d already started the jets.

“Absolutely not. You aren’t using my bathroom. There have to be some boundaries, Tremaine. And this is…what are you doing?”

He already had his shirt half-unbuttoned. “This is really your fault, you know.”

Try as she might, Juliette couldn’t tear her eyes away from the wedge of broad chest he was baring. “How do you figure that?”

“Your kick on the roof caught me in a bad spot.” His voice was sardonic as he dropped the shirt on the floor. “But I kinda figure you knew that at the time.”

Dammit, he wasn’t going to make her feel guilty. She forced her gaze off his heavily muscled torso, wide shoulders, impressive biceps. She’d known the night they met on the dance floor that he was favoring one leg. It had been instinct that had driven her to strike at his vulnerability, and she wouldn’t apologize for it now. As a matter of fact, given a chance, she’d kick him again.

Her gaze fell to his dark shirt on the floor, with the necklace spilling out of the inner pocket. The temptation to grab it and run, fast and far, was nearly dizzying. She was familiar with the layout of the hotel. It was possible she could outrun him. But it wouldn’t change anything. Even if she could get away from Tremaine, get a new identity, start a new life, her grandmother would remain behind.

And there was no way she would abandon the only person in the world who loved her.

The sound of his zipper shattered her thoughts. Her gaze bounced back to him incredulously. He’d already kicked off his shoes and socks and his loosened dark pants were clinging precariously to his narrow hips. “This is a little more togetherness than I have in mind.”

“Really? There’s plenty of room for two in that tub.” There was a devilish look in his eyes. He knew exactly how uncomfortable he was making her. That realization alone forced her to stay her ground, school her expression to polite boredom.

“I know exactly how much room there is in that tub.” She manufactured a throaty laugh. “As a matter of fact, I can also tell you how long the hot water holds out. In case you’re interested.”

“I’m interested in anything you have to say, Juliette.” The pants slid down long hard legs. He was left wearing only form-fitting black boxers, the sort that left little—very little—to the imagination. Something told her that after this scene her imagination was going to be very active indeed.

He grabbed the towel bar with one hand and stepped into the tub. Her gaze went to his injured leg and she nearly gasped aloud. She didn’t know what she’d expected, but it wasn’t the jagged angry-looking scar that traced down his thigh. It started just beneath his hip and was at least eight inches long. Still red, it looked to be fairly recent. And as close as it was to a major artery, it had to have been a life-threatening injury.

Throat dry, she could only stare as he stepped the rest of the way into the tub, hissing out a breath at the temperature, before easing himself down to a sitting position. Then he leaned his head back and closed his eyes, the picture of a healthy, blissful male animal.

“You know what would make this perfect?”

Somehow, she managed to swallow. Not trusting her voice, she merely shook her head.

“If you’d refill that glass of Scotch and bring it in here to me.” He opened his eyes long enough to aim a coaxing look at her.

Without a word, she turned and went to fetch his glass, using the opportunity to draw a deep breath. She’d always prided herself on her ability to think on her feet. Instinct had driven her for so long, it was the primary sense she relied on. But right now she felt like she were standing on quicksand, with the earth constantly shifting and moving beneath her.

Her hand was not quite steady as she poured the Scotch. Crossing to the freezer, she withdrew some ice cubes and dropped them into the glass. Had it not been for her grandmother, she’d take her chances and make her escape right now. But Tremaine held the trump card, and he knew it. Her head was whirling, but try as she might, she couldn’t think of one other way out of the surreal situation she found herself in.

She stood in the kitchen a moment longer, her hand clasping and releasing around the glass. When cornered, her instincts were to evade, bluff or parry. She didn’t capitulate to trouble, she punched her way out. There were options here; there had to be. And once she had more information, those options would become apparent to her.

She took a breath. Right now, however, much as she hated to admit it, her choices were depressingly limited. The realization, dismal as it was, was unavoidable. With reluctance weighing every muscle, she squared her shoulders, turned and retraced her steps, returning with the freshened drink to the half-naked man lounging in her whirlpool.

Chapter 4

“Juliette.” Pauline rose from the table at the outdoor cafe and gave her granddaughter a hug. The gracefulness of her movements were in contrast to the fierceness with which she gripped the younger woman. “Are you all right?”

“Of course, Grandmama.” Juliette returned her grandmother’s hug and whispered, “I’ll make this go away. Just give me time.”

“Ms. Fontaine, I trust your accommodations have been comfortable.” At Sam’s smooth voice, the two women reluctantly broke apart and looked at him.

Pauline’s brows arched. “Not as comfortable as my own home, no.”

He inclined his head lazily, and held out a chair for Juliette. Once she’d sat, he waited for Pauline to reseat herself before sliding into his own chair. “You’ll have to forgive my tactics. Juliette can be a bit…stubborn.”

Pauline eyed him with an expression that Juliette knew all too well. “You mean because she didn’t fall all over herself to cooperate with you? We’re both well aware of the lengths some men will go to get what they want. Your actions are despicable, but hardly surprising.”

If Sam was bothered by the censure in Pauline Fontaine’s voice, it didn’t show. His tone was respectful when he answered. “I think you are a practical woman, as well as a very beautiful one, Ms. Fontaine. One does what one must, wouldn’t you say?”

Juliette looked sharply at him. Her grandmother frequently said that very thing, and she wondered if his words were coincidence or if they stemmed from the research he’d claimed to have done. At any rate, he had her grandmother pegged. Pauline was pragmatic to a fault. If he’d thought to be treated to hysterics and demands, he’d be sorely mistaken. The older woman was regarding him with a cool steady gaze.

“What I would say is that you’re a man sorely lacking in breeding. Hardly surprising for an American.”

“My own grandmother would wince to hear you say so. Honesty forces me to admit she did her best to teach me manners. Her lessons didn’t always take.” He lifted the plate of assorted cheeses and fruits from the table and began loading some on the plate in front of Juliette. When she made a protest, he sent her a narrowed look. “You didn’t touch a thing room service brought, which means you haven’t had a meal since yesterday. You’ll eat. Or, if you like, I can feed you.”

The glare she threw him would have withered most men. It had no noticeable effect on him. With ill grace, she picked up a piece of cheese, laid it on a cracker and lifted it to her mouth, biting it with restrained ferocity. Listening to his orders had quickly worn thin. That, if nothing else, should motivate her to think of a way out of this mess. And quickly.

She looked up then and caught her grandmother eyeing her and Sam speculatively. “Have you been treated well, Grandmama?”

Pauline raised a hand dismissively. “Don’t spend your time worrying about me. I can take care of myself, I assure you. It would appear that you have enough to concern yourself about with…” She raised a brow in Sam’s direction.

He filled in the pause smoothly. “Sam Tremaine, ma’am.”

“Your name doesn’t interest me as much as who you represent.”

As Juliette opened her mouth to answer, he said, “Let’s just agree that I’m Juliette’s partner for the time being, and leave it at that.” He leaned forward to pick up the bottle of wine the waiter had left for them and tipped some more into the older woman’s glass.

Next he picked up the flute before Juliette and filled it as he continued to address Pauline. “Your granddaughter was worried about you. I promised her this meeting to assure her of your well-being. After this there will be no contact between the two of you until our association has come to an end.”

Juliette raised the glass before her and noted wryly, “Given our separation I’m beginning to believe you’ve gotten the better end of the deal, Grandmama. Mr. Tremaine has an annoying habit of issuing orders and expecting immediate obedience.” She was surprised to see a tiny smile curve her grandmother’s mouth.

“Oh dear, how trying for you, darling.”

“She doesn’t appear too experienced at taking direction,” Sam observed, sipping some water. “But I think we’ll be able to work out a mutually beneficial arrangement.” With a deliberate shift of topic he inquired about the other woman’s accommodations. Were they to her liking? Was there anything she needed? Was she being treated courteously?

Juliette flicked a glance at him as he made the inquiries. Were they really supposed to believe he cared one way or another about the answers? But there was a note of sincerity in his voice, and he gave every impression of being interested in her grandmother’s replies. His head was inclined toward the older woman, and he was listening intently.

The umbrella over their table shielded them from the worst of the afternoon’s brightness, but his position as he leaned forward placed him in a direct ray of sunlight, turning his hair a blinding shade of gold. It highlighted his hard profile, with its slash of cheekbones, hard lean jaw and straight blade of a nose.

Her gaze lingered for a moment longer. There was a slight bump on this side of his nose, below the bridge, hinting at an old break. Abruptly she remembered the jagged, barely healed wound on his leg, and knew both injuries were only two on a long list. There had been an assortment of faded scars patterning his muscled body, and she’d been treated to a fine view of them before she’d left him to soak. Separately, each of the injuries would tell a fascinating story. Together they hinted at a life of violence she didn’t want to consider. There was too much she didn’t know about Sam Tremaine. But it was rapidly becoming clear that he was more—much more—than he claimed to be.

She did know he worked fast. They hadn’t been in her apartment an hour that morning before his luggage had arrived, implying a sense of permanence that even now stung. She guessed he was smart, mercenary and more than a little fierce when provoked. And she knew that despite his injury, he was in prime physical condition.

Her throat suddenly dry, Juliette tipped her glass to her lips, and forced her attention back to the couple at the table. Sam was writing something on a card and handing it to her grandmother. “If you need anything at all you can contact me at this number, day or night. One of my associates will dial it for you.”

Pauline slowly took the card. “So I’m to enjoy my gilded cage for the duration, hmm?”

“As much as possible, ma’am.”

The older woman tucked the card in the small bag she carried. “Perhaps a few of your grandmother’s lessons were not in vain, after all.”

Sam’s hard mouth curved. “Mostly the ones she accentuated with willow switches, ma’am, but she’d be proud to hear you say so.”

“Willow switches?” Juliette sipped at her wine, her interest piqued despite herself. “I think she should have tried something longer and stouter if she wanted to make more of an impression.”

“Bloodthirsty little thing, aren’t you?” His gaze met hers over the top of his glass, a glimmer of amusement evident.

“Not at all. I’ve just noted a certain single-mindedness that may be the result of lack of discipline as a child.”

He touched his glass to hers, surprising her. “Something we have in common, then.”

Deliberately, she placed her wineglass back on the table. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of drinking to that remark. He couldn’t possibly realize the experiences that had shaped her, and she was beginning to resent his insinuations. From the little he’d said, he’d been on Oppenheimer’s trail for a long time, as well. They had that in common, and regardless of his motivation, she doubted her goals were any less noble than his.

A capricious breeze sent a strand of hair dancing, and her hand rose to smooth it back from her face. Her fingers met Sam’s as he reached out at that moment to do the same. She froze, her gaze jerking to his. The act was curiously intimate, and from the expression on his face, he was as surprised by the impulse as she was.

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