end of it.
She had escaped unscathed from a potentially dangerous situation. She should be congratulating herself. She ought to be delighted, even ecstatic, that nothing whatever had come of her brush with this Rent-A-Gent.
Why, then, was she suddenly sick with disappointment?
:: Chapter Two ::
Race Bannister stood with his hand on the bathroom door and his head tipped forward as he listened. He winced as he heard the outer door of the suite close behind Gina Madison.
Second thoughts, he suspected, and who could blame her? He must have scared her off. How? He had played his part as smoothly as he could manage and really thought he’d convinced her. Well, nothing was ever as easy as it seemed.
No, wait. There had been the murmur of her voice just after he turned off the shower. She’d phoned somebody. Whoever she spoke to must have spooked her. That was it.
Should he go after her, or let it be and see what happened? She would probably come back with a cop in tow, but that didn’t worry him. He hadn’t even bent a law, much less broken one.
He might have to come clean, of course. Could be he would prefer it that way; playing tricks on this particular woman was a raw deal. The way she watched him with those deep brown eyes made him feel as if she could see right through him.
Turning from the door, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. Slicking back his wet hair with the splayed fingers of one hand, he grimaced in disgust. His opinion of the man reflected there wasn’t especially high right now.
Gina hadn’t been what he expected, not by a long shot. Oh, she had her defenses, her cool, well-glazed outer shell, but there was something fine and sweet and entrancingly soft underneath. Something that brought out his protective instincts. Which was probably just as well under the circumstances.
Or dumb. She was probably nothing like that.
It wasn’t like him to be influenced by a pretty face. All right, a beautiful face. But still.
Women didn’t faze him; he’d been fending them off for years. No credit was due on that score since he couldn’t help the way he looked and most women only cared about what was on the surface. It wasn’t often he came across a female person who could see past the outside wrapping to what he was inside. When he did, they were usually attached already. It had been his experience that the best were already taken.
Gina Madison had almost been removed from the market. Almost, but not quite, and that was what intrigued him. That was why he was here.
It was possible she could come back to the suite alone, if only from curiosity. Or maybe from fairness, because she seemed that kind of person and had no proof that he was anything other than he’d said. She might also return for the sake of revenge against Bradley Dillman. She did seem to have special dislike for the man.
Maybe the best thing he could do was shave, get dressed, then wait for developments. If she didn’t come back, he could always leave. If she did, he would play it by ear.
But first there was a little task that needed doing, he thought as he set his lips in a resolute line and reached for the suite’s bathroom phone. He had a good idea who Gina might have called. That interference had to be blocked before it made a mess of everything.
: : :
“How may I be of service, ma’am?”
Gina bit down on the inside of her lower lip as she studied the concierge who had posed the question. Identified as Tyrone by the name plate on his mezzanine-level desk, he was wearing a perfectly tailored suit with a stripe that matched his silver hair. He appeared polished and capable, discreet and unflappable; it seemed he might well be the person to handle the peculiar situation in which she found herself.
At the same time, she was struck by sudden doubt. What if Race was exactly what he said, a rancher who modeled part-time? What if he was an
She had escaped unscathed from a potentially dangerous situation. She should be congratulating herself. She ought to be delighted, even ecstatic, that nothing whatever had come of her brush with this Rent-A-Gent.
Why, then, was she suddenly sick with disappointment?
:: Chapter Two ::
Race Bannister stood with his hand on the bathroom door and his head tipped forward as he listened. He winced as he heard the outer door of the suite close behind Gina Madison.
Second thoughts, he suspected, and who could blame her? He must have scared her off. How? He had played his part as smoothly as he could manage and really thought he’d convinced her. Well, nothing was ever as easy as it seemed.
No, wait. There had been the murmur of her voice just after he turned off the shower. She’d phoned somebody. Whoever she spoke to must have spooked her. That was it.
Should he go after her, or let it be and see what happened? She would probably come back with a cop in tow, but that didn’t worry him. He hadn’t even bent a law, much less broken one.
He might have to come clean, of course. Could be he would prefer it that way; playing tricks on this particular woman was a raw deal. The way she watched him with those deep brown eyes made him feel as if she could see right through him.
Turning from the door, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. Slicking back his wet hair with the splayed fingers of one hand, he grimaced in disgust. His opinion of the man reflected there wasn’t especially high right now.
Gina hadn’t been what he expected, not by a long shot. Oh, she had her defenses, her cool, well-glazed outer shell, but there was something fine and sweet and entrancingly soft underneath. Something that brought out his protective instincts. Which was probably just as well under the circumstances.
Or dumb. She was probably nothing like that.
It wasn’t like him to be influenced by a pretty face. All right, a beautiful face. But still.
Women didn’t faze him; he’d been fending them off for years. No credit was due on that score since he couldn’t help the way he looked and most women only cared about what was on the surface. It wasn’t often he came across a female person who could see past the outside wrapping to what he was inside. When he did, they were usually attached already. It had been his experience that the best were already taken.
Gina Madison had almost been removed from the market. Almost, but not quite, and that was what intrigued him. That was why he was here.
It was possible she could come back to the suite alone, if only from curiosity. Or maybe from fairness, because she seemed that kind of person and had no proof that he was anything other than he’d said. She might also return for the sake of revenge against Bradley Dillman. She did seem to have special dislike for the man.
Maybe the best thing he could do was shave, get dressed, then wait for developments. If she didn’t come back, he could always leave. If she did, he would play it by ear.
But first there was a little task that needed doing, he thought as he set his lips in a resolute line and reached for the suite’s bathroom phone. He had a good idea who Gina might have called. That interference had to be blocked before it made a mess of everything.
: : :
“How may I be of service, ma’am?”
Gina bit down on the inside of her lower lip as she studied the concierge who had posed the question. Identified as Tyrone by the name plate on his mezzanine-level desk, he was wearing a perfectly tailored suit with a stripe that matched his silver hair. He appeared polished and capable, discreet and unflappable; it seemed he might well be the person to handle the peculiar situation in which she found herself.
At the same time, she was struck by sudden doubt. What if Race was exactly what he said, a rancher who modeled part-time? What if he was an
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