Lost in Italy (6 page)

That pitiful wobble shook her voice again, but this time he ignored it.  “Listen to me, and listen good, sweetheart.  This thing goes deeper than you could ever imagine.  If the men who were chasing us find out where you are, you’ll be as dead as my friend is right now.”   The reference to Lorenzo roughened his voice.

Her face blanched white, but he cleared his throat and kept talking.  “I have to see what the hell you’ve got on that video before I can even begin to think about who I can trust.  Your life
and mine
depend on at least one of us being smart about this whole thing.”

She took a shaky breath.  “How do I know you’re not just acting again?”

“Acting?” he asked in disbelief.

“When the bullets were flying, you had me convinced this was all real, but then you turned around and played those military guys like you were walking the red carpet.”

“That’s because I’ve played the movie star to death.  It’s so second nature I could do it in my sleep.  This—” he gestured to the shot-up car and her “—I’ve never played before.  Believe me,
Halli
, I couldn’t fake
this
if I tried.”

She didn’t look convinced.  When she fumbled behind her back for the door handle, he lost what was left of his patience.  Grasping one of her elbows, he stepped aside and thrust her in front of him, toward the house.  Anticipating immediate resistance, he took hold of both her arms, clamping them against her sides before moving close to murmur softly in her ear.  “Had this been some sort of elaborate scheme to take advantage of a gullible tourist, I’d have had you inside already.”

Her back stiffened against his chest.

“Relax,
sweetie
, I’ve never been that hard-up.”

He reached around her to key in his four digit security code for the house alarm.  Once inside, he reactivated the alarm and steered her through the foyer, across the living room overlooking the lake, and to the bar.  He pushed her butt into a plush burgundy chair his decorator had picked out a few years ago.

“Sit.  Stay.”

Her chin took on a mutinous tilt.  He waggled a finger in front of her face.  “Uh-uh.  Be a good little girl and this’ll go so much easier.”  He turned his head, searching, until he noted the sash holding the curtains back.  One of those would work perfectly.  When her gaze followed his, he raised an eyebrow.  “Do I need to take it a step further?”

She sat back in the chair and crossed her arms.  Her breasts pushed up, separated by the strap of her travel purse, causing Trent a moment of distraction.  Those hidden curves were intriguing.

Abruptly, he spun around to the bar.  He took a moment to empty his pockets of Lorenzo’s recording device, cell phone, and his wallet, then reached for the full bottle of Glen Grant Single Malt Scotch Whiskey.

“I always suspected you’d be a jerk,” she said in a calm, matter-of-fact tone.

Trent downed one shot and poured a second.  “Don’t you read the tabloids?  This is me, sugar.”

“I’ve got better things to do with my time than read about a bunch of spoiled rich people who have everything they could ever want and yet they continually throw it all away.”

Considering her condescending tone, he faced her so he could lean back against the bar.  She stared out the nearest window, as if the lake were infinitely more interesting.  So, Ms. My-Name-Is-Halli thought she was better than him, did she?

He drank the shot and poured another.  Well, maybe she was.  Bet she didn’t have the whole world stroking her ego while at the same time watching, waiting, salivating over any little mistake she made so they could feel better about their own sorry-ass lives.  Bet she didn’t have a father who never bothered to hide his disappointment no matter how much money her last movie made at the box office.

Bet she didn’t have her brother’s death on her hands.

He lifted the shot to his mouth, then paused.  “Ever think what they have isn’t what they want?”

“The grass isn’t always greener on the other side.”

“Sometimes it is.” 
Sometimes it’s a hell of a lot greener
.

“You all have the world served up on a platter and you still lie and cheat and do drugs and
drink
.”

He got that she referred to Hollywood in general, but with her use of
you
, he took personal offense.  Holding her gaze, Trent tossed back the whiskey and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand before lowering the shot glass.  At least his hand was steady now.

“I’ve never cheated and I definitely don’t do drugs.”  He let his mouth curve into a smirk and infused as much derision as possible into his next words.  “I suppose you don’t even drink.”

She sniffed her judgmental little nose and he laughed.

Her gaze narrowed to an even deadlier glare.  “I’m not a prude.”

He poured again, taking measured steps until he stood in front of the chair, whiskey bottle in one hand, shot glass in the other.  He lifted one brow in silent challenge and waited for her to chicken out.

She reached up.  His initial surprise doubled when she snatched the bottle instead of the shot.

Holding his gaze, she lifted the Glen Grant to her lips and tipped the bottle skyward.  He counted three deep swallows before her eyes widened.  A second later, her next mouthful spewed all over him and her lap as she doubled over and braced the bottle on the floor.  Hacking coughs shook her whole body and turned her face beet red.

Trent shook his head as he leaned down to remove the bottle from her unresisting fingers.  He ran a glass of water at the bar and returned to squat in front of her.  She guzzled the water as fast as she had the whiskey, only this time her expression reflected relief.

“Thanks,” she whispered.

He braced a hand on either side of the chair to look her straight in the face.  “Like I said, one of us has to be smart about this.”

The red hue tingeing her cheeks deepened and her eyes blazed.  Damn, they were something else, framed by those thick, sable lashes.

“I thought we were going to switch cars and then go get a new battery.”  Her hoarse voice caught on another cough.  “Unless you have a computer the memory card might fit?  The sooner this is over, the better.”

He wholeheartedly agreed, and averted his gaze to his watch.  It was a little after two. “Unfortunately, I fried my laptop last week with a cup of coffee.  And no, I don’t have a desktop,” he added, anticipating her next question.  “As for the battery, we’ve got about an hour before the shops open again.”

“Lucky me.”

He smiled at her sarcasm and let his gaze roam over her face, taking in her windblown, knotted brown hair and the dark circles under her striking eyes.  She might have a nice pair of lips, but it was hard to tell for sure with them stretched in a permanent frown above her small, stubborn chin.

“Much as I’d enjoy your cheerful company for the next hour, you look like hell.”

“No thanks to you,” she retorted.

“No thanks necessary, sugar pie.”  He patted her thigh and stood.  The flash of lightning in those eyes was worth the stinging slap she gave his hand.  He grinned.  “Didn’t you say earlier that you haven’t been to your hotel since getting off the plane?”

“You mean you actually heard something that didn’t directly concern you?”

“Shocking, I know.  And yet, I bet you’d love a shower right now.”  When she didn’t offer a smart-ass refusal right away, he looked over to see pride warring with the thought of washing away the travel grime after a long flight and the added stress of being shot at and abducted.

Abducted?
  Crap, she was starting to wear off on him.  He’d
saved
her, not kidnapped her.

“A smart woman would just say yes,” he pointed out.

Pride took over, but a second later her expression smoothed out and she offered him a sweet smile.  Her face transformed and yes, she did have a nice mouth.

A kissable mouth.

“You’re right,” she said.  “A shower sounds great.”

Trent hesitated, and then swept his hand in invitation toward the stairs.  At the top, he directed her down the hall to the guest room that connected to his master suite, both of them overlooking the lake.  All the while, he couldn’t help thinking he’d goaded her into accepting his offer, so why did he get the feeling that she’d pulled one over on him?

At the bedroom door, she turned and blocked the entrance.  “I can find the bathroom from here.”

She was actually kind of cute, thinking he’d just let her go in there all by herself.  “I’m sure you can, but first I need to make sure there’s no window for you to climb out of.”

Consternation crossed her features, and he bit back a grin at her predictability.

She spun around to enter the room.  “It’s your house, shouldn’t you already know that?”

“I don’t use the guestroom bathrooms.”

“No, you wouldn’t.  I suppose your women all come to you, don’t they?”

He choked on a laugh.  “My women?  You make it sound like I have a harem or something.”

She avoided the large bed and went to stand next to an antique vanity and chair.  “Don’t act like you don’t crook your finger and women come running.  Heck, I bet that door right there connects to your bedroom.”

Trent’s mouth curved in a slow smile as he crossed the floor to glance into the windowless bathroom.  “Careful, sweetheart, you sound curious.”

“And you sound conceited,” she shot back.

But he noticed a flush working its way across her cheeks.  She quickly indicated the tall windows flanking either side of the bed.

“So what about these?  You going to sit guard in here while I shower?”

He cast a sweeping glance down her petite length.  “You tell me, do I have to?”

With a disgusted huff, she stripped the travel purse from around her neck and threw it at him.  “There.  My passport and my money.  Now quit breathing down my neck and leave me alone.”

Trent caught the purse one handed.  He focused on the small item in his hands in an attempt to dispel the mental image of her naked body under the hot spray.  Halli, meanwhile, grabbed the delicate straight back chair in front of the vanity and dragged it into the bathroom with her.  The door slammed, and he heard her wedge the chair under the handle.

He was amused, yet oddly insulted.  As if he’d force himself on her.  True, he’d noticed a few positive things since pulling up to her on the sidewalk and thinking she was plain, but if he compared her to the women he usually dated, she was the definition of opposite.  Picturing her naked in the shower meant nothing more than he was a guy.

He heard the shower door slide open.  A second later the sound of water hitting the marble tiles reposted the erotic image in his mind, and reminded him he was a guy who hadn’t had sex in awhile.  This fact also, thankfully, explained his reaction in the garage, when he’d pressed her against the door from head to toe, his forearms cushioned against her breasts, his hips pinning hers.  Who’d have guessed those ugly clothes of hers could hide so much?

Another slide of the shower door, then the subtle change in the sound of the water told him she’d stepped inside.  With a low groan, he headed for the hall before his imagination completely took over.

See, she could trust him, damn it.  He slapped her purse against his palm in frustration, only to pull up short with the memory of her unexpected meek smile when she’d accepted his offer of a shower.  Not to mention the fact she’d handed her purse over a little too willingly.

He unzipped the top and dug out the items inside.  Passport, traveler’s checks and cash, lip moisturizer and a couple folded pieces of paper.  She hadn’t lied.

And you know what else?  She might not want him to think she trusted him, but handing over her personal stuff told a whole other story.  Tension eased from his shoulders, allowing him to relax for the first time in the past couple hours.

****

Wrapped in a luxuriant, navy, terry-cloth robe she’d found hanging on the back of the door, Halli moved the chair aside and opened the bathroom door to peek into the silent room beyond.  She blew out a heavy sigh of relief when she saw her famous kidnapper had not set up camp on the bed.  The other emotion tickling her stomach she staunchly refused to identify.

Time to get dressed and set her plan in motion.  As long as she had a plan to execute, orderly steps to focus on in her head, she could keep from dissolving into a mindless idiot.

Just before the door clicked shut again, she noticed some items on the bed that hadn’t been there before.  A single sheet of white paper rested on top.  Curiosity got the better of her and she hurried across the floor, her toes sinking into the plush carpeting.

Thought you’d appreciate some clean clothes.

“What, no honey?”  She crumpled the neatly printed note in her fist.  “Sweetheart? 
Sugar Pie
?”

Laid out front and center were skimpy bikini underwear and two satin bras; one black, one white.  Heat rose in her face at the thought of Trent Tomlin picking out underwear for her.  She didn’t even want to know where any of them came from.