shiver down her spine. “I’m in charge. Do you understand that? You are going to do exactly what I say, when I say it. And in return you get your life back eventually. You’re in no position to bargain, or to make demands. The sooner you learn that the better for both of us.”
Their gazes did battle, but if he thought she was going to agree with his outrageous statements, he was doomed to disappointment. He released her and turned, heading down the hallway. When he ducked into her bedroom, she was compelled to follow. “No, not that one…”
“A whirlpool.” His tone was practically reverent. By the time she entered the adjoining bathroom behind him he’d already started the jets.
“Absolutely not. You aren’t using my bathroom. There have to be some boundaries, Tremaine. And this is…what are you doing?”
He already had his shirt half-unbuttoned. “This is really your fault, you know.”
Try as she might, Juliette couldn’t tear her eyes away from the wedge of broad chest he was baring. “How do you figure that?”
“Your kick on the roof caught me in a bad spot.” His voice was sardonic as he dropped the shirt on the floor. “But I kinda figure you knew that at the time.”
Dammit, he wasn’t going to make her feel guilty. She forced her gaze off his heavily muscled torso, wide shoulders, impressive biceps. She’d known the night they met on the dance floor that he was favoring one leg. It had been instinct that had driven her to strike at his vulnerability, and she wouldn’t apologize for it now. As a matter of fact, given a chance, she’d kick him again.
Her gaze fell to his dark shirt on the floor, with the necklace spilling out of the inner pocket. The temptation to grab it and run, fast and far, was nearly dizzying. She was familiar with the layout of the hotel. It was possible she could outrun him. But it wouldn’t change anything. Even if she could get away from Tremaine, get a new identity, start a new life, her grandmother would remain behind.
And there was no way she would abandon the only person in the world who loved her.
The sound of his zipper shattered her thoughts. Her gaze bounced back to him incredulously. He’d already kicked off his shoes and socks and his loosened dark pants were clinging precariously to his narrow hips. “This is a little more togetherness than I have in mind.”
“Really? There’s plenty of room for two in that tub.” There was a devilish look in his eyes. He knew exactly how uncomfortable he was making her. That realization alone forced her to stay her ground, school her expression to polite boredom.
“I know exactly how much room there is in that tub.” She manufactured a throaty laugh. “As a matter of fact, I can also tell you how long the hot water holds out. In case you’re interested.”
“I’m interested in anything you have to say, Juliette.” The pants slid down long hard legs. He was left wearing only form-fitting black boxers, the sort that left little—very little—to the imagination. Something told her that after this scene her imagination was going to be very active indeed.
He grabbed the towel bar with one hand and stepped into the tub. Her gaze went to his injured leg and she nearly gasped aloud. She didn’t know what she’d expected, but it wasn’t the jagged angry-looking scar that traced down his thigh. It started just beneath his hip and was at least eight inches long. Still red, it looked to be fairly recent. And as close as it was to a major artery, it had to have been a life-threatening injury.
Throat dry, she could only stare as he stepped the rest of the way into the tub, hissing out a breath at the temperature, before easing himself down to a sitting position. Then he leaned his head back and closed his eyes, the picture of a healthy, blissful male animal.
“You know what would make this perfect?”
Somehow, she managed to swallow. Not trusting her voice, she merely shook her head.
“If you’d refill that glass of Scotch and bring it in here to me.” He opened his eyes long enough to aim a coaxing look at her.
Without a word, she turned and went to fetch his glass, using the opportunity to draw a deep breath. She’d always prided herself on her ability to think on her feet. Instinct had driven her for so long, it was the primary sense she relied on. But right now she felt like she were standing on quicksand, with the earth constantly shifting and moving beneath her.
Her hand was not quite steady as she poured the Scotch. Crossing to the freezer, she withdrew some ice cubes and dropped them into the glass. Had it not been for her grandmother, she’d take her chances and make her escape right now. But Tremaine held the trump card, and he knew it. Her head was whirling, but try as she might, she couldn’t think of one other way out of the surreal situation she found herself in.
She stood in the kitchen a moment longer, her hand clasping and releasing around the glass. When cornered, her instincts were to evade, bluff or parry. She didn’t capitulate to trouble, she punched her way out. There were options here; there had to be. And once she had more information, those options would become apparent to her.
She took a breath. Right now, however, much as she hated to admit it, her choices were depressingly limited. The realization, dismal as it was, was unavoidable. With reluctance weighing every muscle, she squared her shoulders, turned and retraced her steps, returning with the freshened drink to the half-naked man lounging in her whirlpool.
Chapter 4
“Juliette.” Pauline rose from the table at the outdoor cafe and gave her granddaughter a hug. The gracefulness of her movements were in contrast to the fierceness with which she gripped the younger woman. “Are you all right?”
“Of course, Grandmama.” Juliette returned her grandmother’s hug and whispered, “I’ll make this go away. Just give me time.”
“Ms. Fontaine, I trust your accommodations have been comfortable.” At Sam’s smooth voice, the two women reluctantly broke apart and looked at him.
Pauline’s brows arched. “Not as comfortable as my own home, no.”
He inclined his head lazily, and held out a chair for Juliette. Once she’d sat, he waited for Pauline to reseat herself before sliding into his own chair. “You’ll have to forgive my tactics. Juliette can be a bit…stubborn.”
Pauline eyed him with an expression that Juliette knew all too well. “You mean because she didn’t fall all over herself to cooperate with you? We’re both well aware of the lengths some men will go to get what they want. Your actions are despicable, but hardly surprising.”
If Sam was bothered by the censure in Pauline Fontaine’s voice, it didn’t show. His tone was respectful when he answered. “I think you are a practical woman, as well as a very beautiful one, Ms. Fontaine. One does what one must, wouldn’t you say?”
Juliette looked sharply at him. Her grandmother frequently said that very thing, and she wondered if his words were coincidence or if they stemmed from the research he’d claimed to have done. At any rate, he had her grandmother pegged. Pauline was pragmatic to a fault. If he’d thought to be treated to hysterics and demands, he’d be sorely mistaken. The older woman was regarding him with a cool steady gaze.
“What I would say is that you’re a man sorely lacking in breeding. Hardly surprising for an American.”
“My own grandmother would wince to hear you say so. Honesty forces me to admit she did her best to teach me manners. Her lessons didn’t always take.” He lifted the plate of assorted cheeses and fruits from the table and began loading some on the plate in front of Juliette. When she made a protest, he sent her a narrowed look. “You didn’t touch a thing room service brought, which means you haven’t had a meal since yesterday. You’ll eat. Or, if you like, I can feed you.”
The glare she threw him would have withered most men. It had no noticeable effect on him. With ill grace, she picked up a piece of cheese, laid it on a cracker and lifted it to her mouth, biting it with