Chapter Two #2
Liam was instantly struck by the polished cadence of her speech and the elegant manner of her movement as she reached for his hand.
It was so straightforward, so matter-of-fact, and not at all the dance of coy flirtation he’d been expecting from her.
Liam reached out and grasped her offered hand, simply holding it as he studied her contradictory signals slowly and carefully, trying to figure her out.
She was incredibly warm, the heat of her body radiating notably against his palm.
He had expected her hands to be perfectly soft, as soft and smooth as the rest of her skin appeared to be, but as he absently stroked his thumb over the range of her knuckles, and his fingers against her palm, he noted the characteristic toughness of calluses.
“Good afternoon, Ms. Candler,” he greeted her cordially, using the politesse as a way to keep himself from assessing her body for its physical fitness.
He would wait a minute, wait until he was back on solid footing before he indulged in that potentially risky curiosity.
“The pleasure is reciprocated,” he assured her.
Her smile bloomed, displaying a pearly white collection of straight teeth.
Brilliant reflections of light flashed in her eyes with her expressed approval.
“I have heard a great many things about you and your organization, Mr. Nash. Long before I found myself in need of you, I had heard of the rescue of Jonathan Greening from his kidnappers. And the failed assassination attempts on Minister Michelle two years ago, and the renowned Joseph Florin this past June. They owe their lives to you. In a time when assassinations, kidnappings, and murder have become par for the course for anyone in the public spotlight, there is some measure of reassurance to be found in you.”
She closed her opposite hand over the back of his, the gesture strangely intimate for a first encounter, yet it was obviously natural for her.
He knew instantly that this was no ploy or affectation for the sake of flirtation.
He would have felt that difference quite keenly.
It left him a bit stunned and bemused. Liam was very rarely caught off guard by anything anymore, it being his business to expect the unexpected, but she was already nothing of what he had anticipated.
He had built up too much expectation on too little information and the deliberate misrepresentation of one Carter Spencer.
Then he had jumped to on-sight conclusions based on how she was clothed.
Devon Candler’s audacious presentation of herself and her warmth of personality were in contradiction with what one would expect of a recluse.
“I, on the other hand, have heard nothing about you, Ms. Candler. But this is by your design, so you would expect that,” he returned, finding his tone as warm and companionable as hers was.
She’d made a damn easy conquest of him if she could make him forget a whole morning’s worth of aggravation with a pleasant greeting.
He gave himself a mental shake and withdrew his hand from hers.
He absently rubbed at his palm as it cooled quickly in the room’s air.
“I’m sure we both have very busy schedules, so we should cut to the chase. ”
“Yes. Carter told me you’re very direct when it comes to business and you don’t appreciate delays or dancing around significant issues.
” Her eyes narrowed on him slightly. Liam realized he was frowning darkly in response to her use of Spencer’s given name.
Damn it, he knew better than to show reactions like that.
What in hell was the matter with him? Was he trying to blow this deal for NHK?
“You don’t care for my Carter?” she asked, sounding very amused.
“He is something of an acquired taste,” she said with a chuckle as she glided toward a serving tray set on a table.
“Is that what you call it?” Frankly, the man left nothing but a bitter taste in Liam’s mouth.
He wasn’t exactly thrilled with her phrasing for that matter.
What did she mean ‘my Carter’? If there was something sexual …
something intimate between them, that could alter the whole dynamic of the situation and make things far more difficult than they needed to be.
Devon laughed in a rough, sexy rasp of delight that erupted from deep in her lungs. She had a low voice for a woman, though not mannish. Voice and laugh both belonged on the opposite end of a phone-sex number. She would have made a fortune at it, Liam thought.
“Just look at him like a trained monkey,” Devon urged, this time making him grin in spite of himself as she filled glasses from a pitcher and then turned to serve one to him.
“He does everything I ask, even the things I find distasteful, but he can be a surly little bastard sometimes. Here. Peppermint iced tea.”
Liam accepted the glass and took a seat beside her on a large sofa after she had glided onto it. She crossed her legs, giving him a fine idea of how long they were in spite of the light fabric draped over her.
“Thank you,” he said, immediately setting the glass aside, “but ma’am, if you don’t mind, I’d like it if we could talk about you and why you feel you need NHK.”
“Carter didn’t explain that my life is in danger?”
“That was all he said. That sentence and no more. It doesn’t tell me what I need to know.”
She frowned, a soft line tugging down between her dark brows. “I’m sorry. He’s trying to protect me. However, he does a poor job of it, being too cautious at the wrong times and not cautious enough at others.”
Liam had to bite off a query about why she associated herself with someone whose incompetence and shortcomings she clearly recognized.
It made no sense that she would allow such faults in her private secretary.
Something wasn’t copasetic about that entire relationship, Liam thought quickly. He would have to remain observant.
And alert, he reminded himself. It was easy to feel relaxed around her, with her surprisingly easygoing humor and personality, something he absolutely should not be.
She was so at ease and so tranquil, not at all the vision of a woman in fear for her life.
The realization sparked suspicion into the back of his brain again and he sat up a little straighter.
“What’s going on, Ms. Candler?” he asked her directly, adding some sharpness to his tone in an attempt to bring them both to the point.
“Devon,” she corrected easily, “if that’s not too awkward for you.
And it’s simple, really. My enemies have made a target of me, putting a price on my head.
A very large price. Enough of a reward so that when they themselves rest from trying to harm me, others jump readily into their place.
There have been six attempts so far, two that were extremely close.
” Devon reached to lift a folder from the near table and handed it to him.
The first photograph was an eight-by-ten of a sandstone and terra cotta mansion engulfed in flames, the second photo showed only stone, burned black, remaining.
Liam could tell that nothing would have survived a blaze of such proportions.
The next two were burned-out cars, the destruction looking like bomb work.
It was the fourth that took his breath away.
It was an undated photo of a bedroom in an undisclosed hotel.
The bed was covered in blood and it had been violently shot to shreds’.
His eyes swept up to hers, then burned over every inch of her body in search of scars or telltale markings that would identify that blood as her own.
She graciously complied with his silent investigation and lifted the hem of her gown all the way up to her thigh.
There, still rather freshly healed, was the pocked marking of a gunshot wound that sliced through the rear thigh muscles.
It wasn’t going to be much of a scar, he could tell, but her remarkable healing abilities didn’t make the injury any less dangerous or compelling.
“Why have you waited so long to get protection?” he demanded through tense vocal chords, his blood seething with an inexplicable rage when he thought of her sleeping like that, ignorant of an approaching danger that had nearly succeeded in ending her life.
“Because I thought the house and the first car fire were accidents. Afterward, when I became more aware, I thought knowledge and caution would see me through.” She stood up and paced a thoughtful circuit before him, the shadows of her body dancing in transparent white silk playing merry hell with his concentration.
The thin straps of that damned thong drew his attention every single time to the curve of her bottom as she turned or passed.
“Unlike many women, Mr. Nash, I am capable of protecting myself.” Now that he was looking for it, Liam could see the limp that hampered her pace.
It was the faintest thing. She was too proud to show an obvious weakness.
He could see that in the straightness of her spine and the rigidity of her statement.
“No one was in that bedroom but me and the assailant. I assure you, he’s come to regret that. ”
Polished and refined she might be, but Liam didn’t doubt her for a heartbeat.
In order for her to have survived, there had to be something as tough as steel running through her.
Add her fierce pride to it and it probably irked the hell out of her that she had to go to others for help.
Yet, she did it with dignity and aplomb.
“You could get any number of people to guard you,” he stated at last, studying her stoic features very carefully. “There are some fine firms out there. Why did you pick NHK, Ms. Candler?”
“Devon,” she persisted gently. Then more directly, “I prefer your … umm … style.”