Heartless Rebel (5 page)

 
          
His
employees would no doubt disagree with that statement. “No, because people are
more important than money. You were in trouble.”

 
          
“I
really didn’t need rescuing, Jack. You gave up fifteen million for nothing.”

 
          
“If
you weren’t in trouble, why are we speeding out of town?”

 
          
Before
she could acknowledge the truth of that statement, they hit a bump and Jack
groaned. Dear God, it felt like there was an alien trying to burst out of his
abdomen.

 
          
“We
need to get you to a doctor,” she said worriedly.

 
          
Jack
swallowed the pain. “No. Because Gold probably
is
looking for us, and it would take too long for my men to arrive.
Keep driving.”

 
          
Bobby
Gold had the fifteen mil, but he was the kind of man who couldn’t stand to be
made a fool of. He’d want Cara Taylor back so he could make her pay for her
disobedience. Getting as far from Nice as possible wasn’t a bad idea.

 
          
Since
there were no flights this late, and his private plane was in a hangar in
London, they had no choice but to drive. Even if he called his pilot, it would
be several hours yet before the plane would arrive.

 
          
He’d
originally planned a leisurely drive across France on his way to Nathaniel’s
wedding, anyway. He could have flown, but he knew he needed the time to think.
This would be the first time in nearly twenty years that all the Wolfes would
be gathered under the same roof—and he wasn’t sure how he felt about that. He
especially wasn’t sure how he felt about seeing Jacob again.

 
          
Jacob,
who’d betrayed them all when he’d left them without any explanation. Jack had
looked up to Jacob, admired him—until the night Jacob had abandoned them.

 
          
“You’re
in no shape to spend the night in a car,” Cara said. “A hospital—”

 
          
“Just
do it,” Jack ordered.

 
          
He
expected an argument, but she flexed her hands on the steering wheel and didn’t
say anything for several seconds.

 
          
“Fine.
Where do you want to go?”

 
          
Not
where he wanted to go. Where he had to go. “England.”

 
          
IT
WAS nearly two in the morning when they reached the outskirts of Lyon. Cara
found a hotel off the expressway and pulled the car into a parking slot. It had
taken her a few minutes back in Nice to figure out how to drive Jack’s sports
car, but once she had, the silver beast was a dream. She knew without asking
that it was the most expensive car she’d ever been in, much less driven.

 
          
Jack
dozed in the passenger seat and she took a moment to study him. Bobby’s thugs
had beaten him up pretty badly, though they’d hardly touched his face. If he
hadn’t groaned from time to time, she’d have thought he felt perfectly fine. As
it was, she had no idea how badly he was hurt. He said he was only bruised, but
she wasn’t certain. And it was that uncertainty that had kept her behind the
wheel for the past four hours. The farther they got from Bobby, the better.

 
          
And
then she could talk Jack into going to a hospital.

 
          
The
skin under his left eye was purpling, but even bruised, he was still
devastatingly handsome.

 
          
Her
pulse kicked up, and she chided herself for reacting to him. Jack Wolfe might
be pretty to look at, but he was arrogant and irresponsible—and she had no time
for men like that in her life, no matter how his flirtation earlier had made
her want to melt in his arms.

 
          
She
was here because it had seemed the best course to keep driving—especially since
he’d been in no shape to do so—but now that they’d arrived in Lyon, she was
determined to part ways with the enigmatic Jack Wolfe. Once she got him to a
doctor, of course.

 
          
The
thought of leaving discomfited her, but she shoved it down deep. Why on earth
should she care if she ever saw this man again?

 
          
“Jack,”
she said softly.

 
          
Surprisingly,
he came instantly awake. “Where are we?”

 
          
“Lyon.
I’m too tired to keep driving. I thought we could get a couple of rooms for the
night. If you can loan me the money, I’ll pay you back as soon as I can.”

 
          
It
was disconcerting to be here without her purse or passport, but those things
had been left behind in the casino when they’d fled. She simply hadn’t had time
to retrieve them.

 
          
“One
room,” he said. “I said I’d pay you back.”

 
          
“It’s
safer. If Bobby really is looking for us, it’s better to be together.”

 
          
As
much as she wanted to, she couldn’t argue with that logic. But when she went
inside to make the arrangements, she asked for a twin-bedded room. The clerk
gave her a key and she returned to fetch Jack. He was taller than she was, and
far heavier, but somehow they managed to make it to the room with him leaning
against her for support.

 
          
The
contact sizzled into her. She was conscious of his raw heat, conscious of every
single inch of his body where it touched hers. He made her heart pound with his
nearness.

 
          
“Sorry,”
he said, his mouth against her hair as he leaned into her while she fitted the
key to the door. “You smell delicious,” he added.

 
          
“Thanks,
but compliments will get you nowhere.”

 
          
“Sweetheart,
you have nothing to worry about, I assure you. As much as I might like to have
sex with you tonight, I believe the contact would kill me.”

 
          
The
word
sex
, said with that wonderful
accent of his, caressed across her senses and lit a flame inside her belly.

 
          
Cara
swung the door open. There was only one bed. She hesitated. She could go back
down to the clerk and tell him he’d made a mistake, but then she’d have to
leave Jack here before returning and helping him to another room. But she
couldn’t do that to him, not when he was like this.

 
          
With
a sigh, she guided him over to the bed and sat him down on it. It wasn’t a very
big bed. She would simply have to sleep on the floor.

 
          
“A
hot bath would probably do you good,” she said, frowning at him as he winced.

 
          
One
corner of his mouth crooked in a grin. “Do you plan to help me wash, then?”

 
          
The
heat of a blush rippled over her skin.
Oh,
yes
. “No.”

 
          
“Too
bad.”

 
          
“I’ll
run the bath for you.”

 
          
His
expression was a mixture of devilishness and gravity. “I’m not going to be able
to get into it without help.”

 
          
Cara’s
insides went hot and liquid all at once. She hadn’t thought of that, but of
course he was right. She wanted to refuse, and yet she couldn’t. If it would
help him to feel better at all, she had to get him into the tub.

 
          
“Fine.”

 
          
He’d
already loosened his bow tie earlier and undid the first few studs of his
shirt. Cara resolutely slipped the jacket from his shoulders, her heart
thudding at his nearness and heat. She had to stand so close to him, her thighs
touching his as she stood between his legs. She was conscious of the deep V of
her blouse, conscious of his eyes on the slope of her breast. Her skin tingled,
her insides tightening.

 
          
“You
really do smell wonderful,” he said.

 
          
“It’s
just soap.” She felt self-conscious standing so close to him, felt as if her
skin was too tight, as if she would splinter apart if she let this be anything
more than a routine task she had to perform.

 
          
“Wonderful
soap.”

 
          
“You’re
a smooth talker, Jack Wolfe,” she said as she undid his studs. “But I’ve heard
it all, believe me.”

 
          
She
pulled his shirttails from his trousers. Slipping the shirt off, she tried not
to react to the sight of his bare shoulders. They were muscled, not too much,
but lean and hard and strong. It shouldn’t surprise her that he had the body of
an athlete, but it was a bit disconcerting to find that what was underneath the
clothes was every bit as enticing as the man in the tuxedo had been.

 
          
Focus, Cara
.

 
          
Pulling
the undershirt from his waistband, she lifted it very carefully over his head.
Cara had to bite her lip at the broad expanse of bare, toned chest. He was
tanned, with the kind of defined pecs and abs that made her giddy—but there was
some light bruising over his rib cage where Bobby’s thugs had hit him. It would
darken over the next few days.

 
          
“If
I felt better, I might take the way you’re looking at me as an invitation.”

 
          
Cara’s
gaze snapped up. “Don’t flatter yourself. I was looking at your bruises,” she
said, though she imagined the blush blooming across her cheeks gave away the
lie.

 
          
He
looked down. “It could be worse.”

 
          
Her
chest felt tight. He’d gotten those bruises because of her. Because he’d gone
after Bobby when Bobby had hit her. Even if it had been unnecessary, even if
she hadn’t needed his help, she had to acknowledge that he’d gotten hurt
because he’d tried to help. It made her angry and sad at the same time.

 
          
“I
don’t see how it could be worse.”

 
          
“Trust
me, it could.”

 
          
“Are
you accustomed to getting beaten up, then?” She was trying to inject a bit of
humor into the conversation, but his expression said that she’d failed
miserably. His jaw looked as if it had been carved out of granite. His eyes
were flat, bleak. She sensed she’d stumbled into quicksand. “Don’t answer
that—”

 
          
He
lifted a hand, traced his fingers over her bottom lip. Her heart raced like the
powerful engine in his car, but she didn’t move to stop him.

 
          
She
couldn’t. His touch felt too good, too raw and honest.

 
          
“Are
you afraid for me, Cara? Afraid of what I might tell you?”

 
          
“I—”
She didn’t know what to say. Her heart was a painful knot in her chest. She
sensed they’d crossed some sort of demarcation line, that there would be no
going back now. Ever. “I should run the bath,” she blurted.

 
          
Because
standing here while this man touched her wasn’t the best idea she’d ever had.
He evoked sensations she’d never experienced, sensations she wanted desperately
to explore. But he was all wrong for her.
This
was wrong.

 
          
He
was a gambler, a card shark—he wasn’t the sort of man a girl could rely on. And
she didn’t need a man in her life, anyway. It never turned out well. She needed
to go, needed to run the bath—and she needed to get away from him as soon as
possible, before her silly heart decided she liked his touch, his attention.
Before she decided she wanted more.