Intimate Strangers (2 page)

His hard voice reminded her of a slab of granite. Suddenly chilled, Hannah rubbed her hands together. Her gaze strayed to the bank of tinted windows on her left, and she experienced a sudden certainty that she was visible to the man on the other end of the intercom.

Hannah lifted her chin, an indication of her determination not to be swayed from the purpose of her trip. Not ever. "Who are you?"

He ignored her question. "State your business and then be on your way."

Frustrated by his attitude, she silently questioned the wisdom of revealing the reason for her visit to anyone besides Nicholas Benteen. Seeing no way around the truth, Hannah admitted, "I’m searching for my brother, Sean Cassidy. He may be known to Mr. Benteen as Sean O’Neill or Neill Cassidy."

"There’s no one here by that name. Please leave."

"Look, I’ve driven halfway across the country in order to speak with Mr. Benteen. Sean is my brother, and it’s imperative that I get in touch with him."

"I can’t help you."

Hannah insisted, "I am not leaving here until I speak to Nicholas Benteen."

"You’re trespassing." The edge in his voice was as sharp as a carefully honed blade.

She deliberately softened her voice, although the tension flowing through her body made the pretense of calm difficult. "I heard you the first time. I apologize for trespassing, but it was necessary. I’m still not leaving. I must make contact with Sean, and I’m absolutely certain Mr. Benteen can help me to locate him. They’re friends. At least, they were several years ago."

"Mr. Benteen is not available."

Her patience bottomed out, but she kept her tone even. "That’s the third time you’ve said that. I must speak with Mr. Benteen, so I’ll wait. When he is available, please let me know."

She turned away from the intercom, unwilling to continue their verbal wrestling match. She hesitated when she heard his voice.

"You’re wasting your time. He won’t be available to you."

Slowly turning back to the front door, Hannah promised, "I refuse to give up, and I refuse to leave until I speak with him. When he’s ready to talk to me, I’ll be in my van."

"The authorities will be summoned if you do not leave within the next five minutes."

Hannah shrugged. "Knock yourself out."

The man cursed. The word, exceedingly vivid, reflected Hannah’s own frustration. She grinned in spite of his rudeness. Ditto, she thought. Right back atcha!

Then, Hannah relented. "Look, this is the very last place I want to be, but I’m here. I don’t want to bother the man, but I really must speak with him. I only need a few minutes of his time, and then I’ll be on my way, never to darken his doorstep again."

No response.

She huffed out a gust of air. "If you need proof of the connection between Mr. Benteen and my brother, I have letters with me from Sean. In them, he describes Mr. Benteen as his friend."

More silence. It lasted for several long minutes.

Nonetheless, Hannah prayed she’d made at least a minor dent in the man’s surly nature. "Please, this is an urgent situation," she said, her tone somber.

"You sound very sincere, Miss… "

"Hannah Elaine Cassidy," she said, hurrying to fill in the gap. "Sean’s youngest sister. First grade teacher from St. Louis, Missouri. Totally harmless person." She extended her arms, displayed her open palms, and very slowly pivoted full circle for his inspection. "No weapons. No magazine subscription order pads. No cookies. Nada. Just me. Five feet, three inches, one hundred and ten pounds of female who skipped judo in favor of ballet. I can prove my identity. If you want to check me out, be my guest, but please don’t turn me away. I must find Sean. I’m here on an urgent family matter."

"I cannot help you," he muttered through what sounded to Hannah like gritted teeth.

She articulated the next thought, which sounded ludicrous even to her, that popped into her head. "You could blindfold me before I speak to Mr. Benteen. I promise not to tell anyone I’ve spoken to either one of you. In fact, I won’t tell a soul that I’ve even been here. I’m more than willing to protect your privacy, which is obviously very important to you."

A heavy masculine sigh echoed through the intercom.

Hannah heard exasperation in the sound, which she knew she routinely inspired in people. She also heard something more. She couldn’t define the something more, but she hoped it meant that she was wearing down his resistance.

Grasping at straws, she said, "You needn’t be embarrassed if you’re… damaged in a physical sense. I work as a volunteer with battered children at my local hospital, and I’ve seen…" She cleared her throat. "… I’ve seen very difficult sights. I don’t frighten easily, if that’s what you’re worried about."

"Please leave, Miss Cassidy," he urged in a voice that seemed to resonate with sadness. "The answers you seek will not be found here."

She heard the finality in his voice. "What’s your name?"

"My name isn’t important."

"Of course, it is." Her voice reflected the same kind of patience she exercised with her first grade students whenever they grew irritable from boredom or fatigue. "I want to be able to tell Mr. Benteen of your vigilance when I meet him. Spell your name for me, won’t you?"

"Miss…"

"Call me Hannah, please. And I should warn you, I can be as stubborn as the day is long."

A grudging chuckle escaped him. "That’s quite evident."

She seized on his unexpected, albeit wry, humor. "I’m not dangerous, I’m not lying, and I’m not crazy. The Chief of Police in St. Louis knows me. His daughter is one of my students, and I know he’ll vouch for me if you’d just call him. I can also give you the phone numbers of my parish priest, my hairdresser, my accountant, and the veterinarian who takes care of my dog. Set whatever conditions you like, but please tell Mr. Benteen that I need to speak to him."

"You’re very persistent, but you’re wasting your time."

Her temper ignited. "My brother is not a waste of time!"

"That’s not what I said."

"It’s obviously what you meant."

"Do you routinely endow people you don’t know with unattractive motives whenever they aren’t willing to give you what you want?"

"Only when they’re being bullheaded and obtuse."

He laughed, the sound low, warm, and stunningly sensual.

Hannah felt the vibration of that sensuality sing across her senses. Wide–eyed, she said, "You sound almost human when you laugh. You should do it more often."

"Please leave, Miss Cassidy. As charming as you probably are when you’re not behaving like a pit bull, you’re still not welcome here."

"I am not leaving. I’ll wait you out. Eventually, you’ll have to come up for air or food or exercise at some point in the not too distant future. Finding Sean is more important than the inconvenience of sleeping in my van. Now, please do me the courtesy of giving my message to Mr. Benteen. And tell him one more thing for me. I don’t believe my brother would have given his friendship or respect to a man incapable of recognizing an honest plea for assistance."

Spine stiff, head high, Hannah marched back to her van, yanked open the door, and crawled inside. She did all this under the watchful gaze of a man who placed a high value on his privacy, but not nearly as high a value as he placed on the survival of his few living friends.

** ** **

The temperature plunged to a single digit reading as the afternoon spent itself. The forecasted snow flurries lasted only minutes, to be eclipsed by a steady onslaught of plump snowflakes that coated the landscape like a dense layer of white icing.

Nicholas absently listened to the powerful gusts of wind that whistled through the eaves of the house, made the already heavy branches of the fir trees tremble with tension, and created haphazard snowdrifts. Accustomed to the unpredictable nature of the weather, Nicholas didn’t give the outdoor conditions a second thought. Neither did he assume that the weather would act as a catalyst to hasten the departure of the unwelcome guest parked in his driveway.

Darkness arrived with the usual suddenness of a dropped curtain. It consumed the surrounding terrain and silenced the wild creatures that roamed the area by day.

Nicholas Benteen, employing the discipline and precision he invariably demanded of himself, returned to the contents of the file on his desk. He worked far into the evening to accomplish the goals he’d set for himself at the start of the day.

Although the woman who claimed to be Sean’s sister flirted with his consciousness, he devoted little time to planning their next encounter. He knew what needed to be done, and he intended to do it. After confirming her continued presence in the van, he indulged in a late supper and a hot shower to ease the tight muscles in his shoulders and neck.

Nicholas set out on his mission shortly after midnight. Clad in black trousers and turtleneck sweater, leather boots, and a knit cap, he carried a flashlight and a tool of persuasion that had never failed him. He disliked using terror tactics on women, but he decided to make an exception in Hannah Cassidy’s case.

Having experienced her stubborn nature, he sensed that fear was the obvious weapon of choice in order to achieve the results he desired. He also reminded himself that once Hannah Cassidy departed, he would regain the serenity and solitude he desired. When his conscience called him a liar and taunted him with the unceasing loneliness that haunted him, he muttered a lethal word and forced himself to concentrate on the task at hand. He exited his home and blended into the ink–dark night.

Nicholas didn’t intend to harm Sean’s little sister, but he felt justified in raising sufficient doubt in her mind about her safety if she remained on his land. He hadn’t taken a life or fired a weapon in several years. Although still more proficient than most with the tools of death, he savored too completely the life and the peace he’d found in northern Nevada to revert to the violence of his past.

Amazed that she’d left her van unlocked, he eased open the rear door and crawled inside. Nicholas found her sprawled on her back, encased in a sleeping bag, the top edge tucked beneath her chin, and sleeping soundly. He crouched over her, his knees positioned on either side of her hips.

Nicholas flicked on the flashlight, positioning it for a clear view of her face. He hesitated, the opportunity to study her features in repose more of a temptation than he intended to resist. His gaze swept over the tousled cloud of black hair that framed her heart–shaped face. Unwilling to fight the impulse, he reached out and ran his fingertip across the wayward lock of hair curled against her cheek. He inhaled, shaken by the silken softness of her dark hair and the honeysuckle fragrance of her skin.

He froze when she turned her face toward his hand. A soft sigh whispered past her parted lips. Her warm breath grazed his palm. Desire, immediate and incendiary, spiked within his large, muscular frame. Nicholas pulled back, damning himself for a fool as his sex hardened.

His hand shook as he withdrew it. He held very still, listening to the slow, even cadence of her breathing as he brought himself under control. A hint of a smile lifted the edges of her lips. He stared down at her, amazed by the depth and innocence of her sleep. Nicholas briefly wondered if she was the kind of woman who dreamed happy dreams. If so, he envied her.

He also recalled a comment he’d once heard about the sleep of angels and innocents. His conscience suggested that she was a heady combination of both, and he felt a momentary urge to absolve her of any negative motives. Even though a part of him wanted to believe that she really was Sean Cassidy’s little sister, Nicholas recalled the duplicity of those who populated his past, and he discarded the charitable impulse.

He marveled yet again at the peaceful depths of her sleep. Watching her through narrowed eyes, his thoughts shifted with resentment to the insomnia and nightmares that had plagued him for years; haunting by–products, Nicholas supposed, of the life he’d lived and the choices he’d made so long ago.

Forcing himself past his memories, he refocused on her delicately constructed facial features. The graceful arch of her eyebrows, the mink–thickness of her eyelashes, and the flush in her cheeks fascinated him, but not nearly as much as the shape of her lips—ripe fruit.

A shudder ran through him. Air gusted free of his lungs, and he felt compelled to sample that mouth in order to discover if she tasted even half as delectable as she looked. Nicholas froze. One taste of this woman would not suffice.

He reluctantly acknowledged the wisdom of erring on the side of caution and avoiding the temptation she posed. Instead, he leaned forward, and he permitted himself the singular luxury of stroking the side of her face with the blunt tips of his fingers.

Her skin reminded him of warm satin, and he felt his body respond to the image of her that flashed in his mind—naked, vulnerable, and writhing beneath his hands and mouth. She reached out to him in his thoughts, welcoming his sensual campaign.

Hannah groaned, the sound like an invitation to a solitary man starved for true emotional and physical intimacy. His heartbeat accelerated, and he trembled as his blood rushed hotly through his veins. Hunger assaulted him like the fiercest adversary, making him ache, filling him with a soul–deep need that stunned him. He’d lost his damned mind, he thought as he stared down at this woman.

His thigh muscles strained, and his sex pulsed with heat and hunger. He sucked in enough air to fill his lungs before exhaling raggedly. Then, he closed his eyes, his struggle for control etched into his hard features as he slowed his respiration.

Determined to exercise his legendary control, forty year old Nicholas Benteen remained still. He very reluctantly acknowledged far too many years spent in a state of self–imposed emotional isolation—his penance for dispensing death to those who preyed on the weak and vulnerable across the globe. His penance for survival.

Finally and quite deliberately, Nicholas settled atop her, his loins lodged in the cradle of her thighs, his knees bracketing her lower torso. He felt her shift against the press of his weight, and he knew exactly what would happen next.