Roarke's Kingdom

He stared at her, and then he puffed out his breath. “I’m sorry,” he said, and she knew from the way he’d said it that apologies were foreign to him. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

She smiled a little as she took the cloth from her brow. “You didn’t.”

A muscle twitched in his jaw. “Yeah, I did. You kept asking me not to hurt you.”

A flush rose in her cheeks. “Did I?” He nodded, and she shrugged her shoulders. “Well, you’re—you’re very intimidating.”

He looked at her for another few seconds, and then he rose to his feet.

“Listen.” His voice was flat. “This is San Juan, not the Midwest.”

Jennifer stared at him. “How did you know I…?”

He smiled, this time without malice, and the smile transformed him. The harshness in his face fled, and for the first time Jennifer realized how very good-looking he really was.

“You sound like somewhere around the Great Lakes,” he said. “Wisconsin, maybe?”

She let out her breath. “Oh. My accent.”

He laughed softly. “Your accent.” Jennifer sat up. He reached out and touched her shoulder. “Look, let me call a taxi.”

“No.” She shook her head again. “Thank you, but I—I feel like walking. I just need to get some air.”

His hand slipped away from her. She stood up and started toward the door. Each step felt like a dozen. What a mess she’d made of things! First the guard, now this plainclothes security man—they would never forget her face. Slipping past them again to find Campbell’s office would be impossible. She’d have to stand in the street, hide behind the trees that lined the avenue, watch for Campbell and watch for these two at the same time.

“Hey.”

She was almost at the door when his voice, low-pitched but hard as steel, stopped her. She drew in her breath and turned and faced him.

“Remember what I told you,” he said. “This is the Caribbean, not the States. Things happen here.”

“I don’t understand.”

“There are all kinds of crazies in these islands.”

She frowned. “What has that to do with me?”

“American corporations have been targets in the past. People—innocent-looking people—walk in off the streets and do some weird things.”

She was stunned. “Is that what you thought? That I was—”

He shrugged. “Anything is possible.”

A new fear clutched at her. “Is that why your boss—Mr. Campbell—is that why he’s so secretive? Is he—is his chi…his family in danger?”

“No, of course not. I’m just trying to make you see why—” He fell silent, and his eyes turned cold again.

“Why all this interest in Campbell, anyway?”

Her heart skipped a beat. “I just—it’s not right that anyone live in fear, that’s all.”

He looked at her for a long moment, and then his lips drew back from his teeth in a tight smile.

“We all fear something. Anyone who doesn’t is a damned fool.”

He turned, strode to the elevator, and jabbed the control button. There was tension in his shoulders; for some indefinable reason, it made her throat tighten.

Suddenly, he swung toward her. Their eyes met, held, and for an instant that same dizzying whirlpool opened before her. Jennifer spun on her heel and stepped quickly toward the doors that led to the street. They slid open and without a backward glance, she moved out into the sunlight.