Dangerous Attraction Romantic Suspense Boxed Set (254 page)

“As I said before, then why are you in my bedroom? Did Richard think it would be fun to send you here?”

She understood his logic, yet she still protested. Maybe because she thought she should.

When she started to pull away, he clasped his fingers around her upper arm.

“You responded to me.”

“Yes,” she whispered. Emotions warred inside her.

Sensing that he had won the argument, even if she hadn’t answered in words, he gathered her closer. “Don’t lie to me—or to yourself.”

He had been confused and hostile when she came in. Now he had taken charge of this encounter, and she understood that this was the real Jordan Campbell, a man who never let a situation spin out of control.

He eased far enough away to move his hand between them, touching her breasts through the silky fabric of her gown. She must not be wearing a bra, because she felt his fingers through the silk, making her nipples poke out against the material. Heat surged through her as he circled the crests with his index finger. His knowing touch was turning her brain to mush, but in some deep recess of logic, she knew she couldn’t let this continue.

The ethics of her profession warred with the ethics of this encounter. What if this really was the way to bring him back to the real world?

“You like that.” It was a statement, not a question. A smug statement.

While she was deciding what to do about that, the sound of footsteps invaded the scene, and Hannah stiffened. Someone else was in the room with them. Well, maybe not
this
room.

“Do you hear that?” she asked.

“No,” he answered, yet his hand dropped back to his side as though he’d been caught snitching a Christmas cookie from a plate on the sideboard.

Chapter Seven

Hannah took a quick step away, reaching for the buttons at the front of her gown. But all at once she was back in the bedroom. The real bedroom, not the fantasy place where Jordan had kissed and caressed her.

She had just lurched up and gotten to her feet when someone walked toward her from the other side of the screen. Snatching up the blood pressure cuff, Hannah reached toward Jordan, whose eyes were closed. A moment ago she’d been talking to him, kissing him. Now he was the unresponsive patient in the bed again.

Glancing at the clock, she was astonished to see that it was already seven in the morning. Obviously the trip through the hotel had taken some time.

Rounding the screen, Stephanie scrutinized her through narrowed eyes, then swept toward the bed. Looking down at her brother, she demanded, “What did you do to Jordan?”

“What … what do you mean?” Hannah asked, struggling to keep her voice steady. Was there some evidence of what they’d been doing only moments ago?

“He looks better.”

She breathed out a little sigh. “I gave him a shave earlier. Then I checked his vital signs,” she said, wishing she could process what had happened. “And I’ve been talking to him,” she added, leaving out the rest. Her mind had joined with Jordan’s. She’d stepped into his dream. She’d done that before with other patients, but never with quite the same degree of intimacy.

“I came to invite you to breakfast,” Stephanie said.

Hannah blinked, disconcerted. “Thanks, but I really shouldn’t leave my patient.”

“Mrs. Fahrenhold will be here soon. She’ll take over.”

Hannah nodded. She wanted to stay with Jordan and connect with him again, but she couldn’t be on shift 24-7.

Just then, the other nurse bustled in and gave Hannah a long look. “How is he?”

“I didn’t get a chance to make any notes. But he seems a little better.”

“How?”

“His color’s better.” She glanced at Jordan, wanting to determine if their encounter had made him more responsive, but she couldn’t do that now.

And Stephanie was speaking to her again. “Take a few minutes to freshen up. Then come down to the dining room.”

It was more like an order than an invitation.

Hannah followed her around the screen and glanced toward the table by the fireplace. It was empty. The gun Jordan had put there had existed only in the dream. Or was it around here somewhere?

As she stepped into the hall, she stopped short. “Uh, I haven’t seen my room yet. Where is it?”

“Right. Come with me.”

She followed the other woman down the hall to a room about fifty feet from Jordan’s. It was also nicely furnished, and her bags were sitting on luggage racks along one wall. The chest that the handyman had dropped in the hall was between the windows and looked out of place, like it had been stuck there as an afterthought.

Stephanie eyed it with curiosity. “What’s that doing here?”

“A man named Carl Padilla brought it.”

“I thought you said you hadn’t been here earlier.”

“I hadn’t. Mr. Padilla dropped the chest in the hall when he was delivering it. I heard him and came out to see what had happened.”

Stephanie stared at her as though she were crazy. “You don’t need new furniture in your bedroom. It’s already fully furnished.”

“I’m sorry. It wasn’t my idea. I have no idea who wanted it moved there.”

“All right.” Stephanie turned and left, closing the door behind her.

When Hannah was alone, she opened her suitcase and started shuffling through her clothing. She stopped short when she found something was missing.

The gun Frank Decorah had given her. She knew exactly where she had put it, and now it wasn’t here. She reached farther into the suitcase, feeling through her clothing, but the Glock was definitely missing.

Someone had taken it.

That Padilla guy? Or someone else?

She closed her eyes for a moment, wanting to contact Frank right away and tell him. But that was impossible. And what good would it do her to report the gun missing? She was stuck here on her own. And she knew someone had gone through her possessions and knew she had brought a weapon.

There was nothing she could do about that now. Instead she found clean clothing, a soft knit navy shirt and gray slacks. After the fastest shower in the history of humanity, she got dressed again and brushed her hair back into the bun that had come undone.

Wishing she had more time to get ready to face the family, she descended the stairs. When she reached the front hall, she almost turned back. On some deep, primitive level, she knew she wasn’t going to like this breakfast. Yet she was here to figure out who had hit Jordan over the head, and observing the family was a good way to start.

Hannah jumped when someone moved into her path from the shadows beside the staircase.

“I’m sorry to startle you.” It was Mrs. Estes, the housekeeper.”

“I’m fine,” Hannah said.

“How are you settling in?” the woman asked in a more friendly tone than she’d exhibited earlier.

“Fine,” she answered again, wondering if the housekeeper was the one who had taken the gun out of the suitcase.

Mrs. Estes looked over her shoulder, then lowered her voice. “They came in and took over the house. It’s not right. You need to help me.”

Hannah looked at her helplessly. “What do you mean?”

“Take care of him. Make him well again.”

She nodded slowly, startled and puzzled by the obvious anxiety displayed by Jordan’s housekeeper. It sounded like she really cared about him.

“I’ll do my best.”

Before the woman could say any more, a door opened, and Stephanie stepped into the foyer.

“Oh, there you are,” she said. “Come in. Everybody’s waiting for you.”

Mrs. Estes hurried away, and Hannah followed Jordan’s sister into the dining room. The rest of his family was there. Some had plates of food in front of them. Others were helping themselves from a buffet spread along an enormous sideboard where a length of holiday greenery and small Christmas balls added a festive touch.

Hannah poured herself coffee and set the cup at an empty place, then took eggs, bacon, some hashed brown potatoes and sliced fruit. Bringing the plate to the table, she sat down and looked around. Everybody was dressed in casually elegant clothing that made Hannah feel frumpy. And from their expressions, she guessed they had probably been talking about her.

“We haven’t met yet. I’m June Brighton, Jordan’s younger sister,” a slim blond in her early thirties said.

“Nice to meet you.”

“How are you settling in?” June asked.

Hannah fingered her coffee cup. “Well, I had to get right to work last night. But I expect I’ll be able to unpack today.” She took a bite of egg, chewed and swallowed before asking, “You and Stephanie were here when Jordan had his accident?”

“Yes.”

“That was lucky for him.”

“Yes,” June answered.

“Tell us what you think about Jordan’s condition,” Stephanie said.

Glad to be able to focus on her patient, Hannah quickly she gave them a rough assessment.

Stephanie leaned forward. “When is he going to wake up?”

“That’s hard to say,” she answered carefully. “He’s shown some signs of reaching a higher level of consciousness.”

Richard’s eyes narrowed, as though he thought she was making it up. “I hope that’s not just wishful thinking. Exactly what did he do?”

“His facial expression changed,” she answered, amazed at how easily the lie came to her lips. She wasn’t going to tell them about her dream. Well, not a dream. She’d been in the world that Jordan was inhabiting now. In that world, he thought he was in danger. It was undoubtedly true here, too. And he wasn’t the only one. Someone had searched her luggage and taken her weapon. If not the staff, then someone in this room.

“He always did love risky behavior,” Richard muttered. “It’s his own fault that he’s in this fix.”

“How?” Hannah asked.

“It was too rough to be out in the motorboat—especially by himself.”

No one disagreed.

Hannah wanted to retort that it was a pretty hard assessment, considering it wasn’t true. She didn’t think he would have gone out if the conditions had been bad.

“I’ve done some reading on coma,” Stephanie said. “The longer he’s unconscious, the more likely it is there will be permanent damage.”

Hannah flicked a glance at her. “Yes.”

“So that would mean he wouldn’t be competent to make business decisions,” June said.

Was that what this was about? They all wanted to get Jordan declared incompetent, so they could get control of his money?

“I’m not able to comment on that,” she said, struggling to keep the irritation out of her voice.

They left the topic alone, moving on to more mundane aspects of Jordan’s treatment—his physical therapy regime and the like. Hannah fielded the questions with studied care, acutely conscious of not wanting to say anything that might affect the status quo. Her best approach was to have another talk with Jordan and find out what the devil was going on around here.

Maybe if she prompted him with what she’d found out, he’d get a better handle on the situation.

Chapter Eight

Jordan woke up. Well, he didn’t think he was actually awake in the true sense of the word, but he was aware in a way he hadn’t been before. He was in the room where the woman named Hannah had come to him, a room that he thought was his bedroom at Campbell’s Reach. She’d told him he was in a coma. He didn’t want to believe it, but he was starting to think she might be right.

He looked down at the clothes he was wearing. He had the feeling he’d been in this room for a long time, dressed in the same slacks, sports coat, white dress shirt and loafers. And even though he’d been here a long time, he didn’t remember eating anything. That argued that he really wasn’t in the known universe.

He hadn’t left the room, and that made him angry at himself. If he could get out of here—he should.

Hannah had gotten out. Well, not in the usual way. He’d been touching her breast, and she’d simply vanished like an assistant in a magician’s act. Not exactly a real-world exit.

Quickly he walked to the door, reached out and turned the knob. He’d been afraid that he was locked in, but it opened easily, and he was free to step into the hall. Not the hall he expected to see outside his bedroom door at Campbell’s Reach. Instead he was staring into a corridor in an upscale hotel, it looked like. Maybe the Four Seasons or the Ritz-Carlton, hotels he frequented when he was on business trips.

He laughed. If he was making this place up, he’d apparently decided to be comfortable. He peered at the numbers on the doors, turning to see which one he’d come out of so he could find his way back. His breath caught when he saw it was this year.

The hallway was empty, and the place gave him an eerie feeling as he walked toward the elevators. The rooms on this side were all twenty something. On the other side of the elevators, they were nineteen something, which was strange. He’d never seen a hotel arranged that way.

He started back, then heard holiday music and sounds coming from room nineteen ninety-three.

Holiday music?

Yes, he remembered that it was mid-December. And that seemed to be true here, too.

Above the music, it sounded like a battle was going on in nineteen ninety-three. He raised his hand to knock, then changed his mind. Why alert whoever was in there?

Feeling like a spy in his own dream, he slowly eased the door open. He saw a boy sitting on a sofa with two little girls, one younger and one older.

He recognized the trio. It was himself and his sisters—Stephanie and June. They were all facing an old-fashioned clunky television set. He was playing a video game that sat on the coffee table, and the girls were watching.

The boy who was his younger self paid him no attention as he concentrated on slaying alien invaders intent on raining death down on the earth’s population.

Jordan remembered getting the video game for Christmas years ago. And his sisters were holding the expensive dolls they’d gotten. They wanted to play his game, but he wasn’t letting them.

June was angry, and Stephanie was resigned.

June looked up and saw him in the doorway, and she went very still.

“What are you doing here?” she challenged.

“I’m not sure,” he answered honestly.

“Go away.”