Her Enemy Protector (6 page)

In their meetings so far, he’d been a total gentleman with her. Not once had she caught him checking her out on the sly, and he’d been unfailingly polite with her. Her father might be eating it up, but she’d about had it with the squeaky-clean routine.

Sure, he’d leaned close and thrown her the occasional heated look, but those were purely for the benefit of her bodyguards and the whole cover story of their falling madly in love. He always apologized under his breath after the fact.
Apologized,
for goodness’ sake!

No more apologies tonight, buster.

They were supposed to be having a steamy whirlwind romance, for crying out loud. The idea was for people to witness them hanging all over each other so her father would buy the story when they told him they’d eloped.

Besides, her gut said Joe was capable of more real passion than he was showing. Much more. Right now, she needed more than nice from him. She needed fire.
Sizzle.
Enough to convince her father not to kill him out of hand. Enough to reassure her that she hadn’t completely lost her feminine allure. And most of all, enough to satisfy the desire rolling restlessly in her stomach.

It was
definitely
time to shake up Mr. Joe Smith.

Freddie and Neddie had split up as they always did when she came to this particular disco. One covered the front entrance, and the other took the back door so she couldn’t sneak out on them. Which was perfect for her purposes tonight. It put both men clearly in sight of the dance floor but not close enough to interfere when she went after Joe.

The song changed. A slow ballad that paired up the sweaty bodies hemming her in. Finally, an escape path opened up for her. She’d almost reached the edge of the dance floor when a warm hand touched her bare shoulder. Pleasure raced through her. Ah, she knew that touch. Craved it.

She smiled and turned around to greet Joe. As usual, her breath stuck in her throat at the sight of him. Tonight, he wore a casual navy silk shirt and crisply pressed, white linen trousers. He blended in perfectly with the Gavronese playboy set that frequented this exclusive club.

With a smile that would melt rock into quivering lava, he drew her politely into his arms and swayed to the music of the ballad blasting around them.

Enough already with the careful dance-class distance between them! Carina plastered herself against him from shoulder to knee. And sucked in a sharp breath.
Oh, my.
His body was flexible steel against hers, and his shirt clung to muscular shoulders and a set of pecs her father’s goons would kill for.

He stared down at her in surprise, and she stared back in challenge. Then a slow smile came across his features and he relaxed into the dance with her. Why did she get the distinct feeling she’d just unlocked a door with something dangerous behind it?

The song changed tempo and a driving Cuban beat pounded through Joe’s body into hers. But instead of letting her go, he pulled her even closer against him. It was a good thing his powerful arm circled her waist or she’d have been in real danger of her legs failing as delicious sensations shot through her entire body. She gasped as he spun her around in a fast jive step. Now where in the world did he learn to dance like that? In their previous meetings, he’d never given any hint of knowing how to do this. A man of many talents. She’d
definitely
lay odds some of those talents extended to the bedroom.

He whirled her around, spinning her out to the end of his fingertips and then flicking her back in like a yo-yo on a string. As quickly as his body heat had disappeared, it was back. His hand on the small of her back pressed her so close against him that she practically rode his rock-hard thigh. He lifted her against him as he spun around the room, her feet barely skimming the floor.

“Dizzy?” he murmured into her ear, his breath a hot caress against her neck.

“Yes. No. Not from the dancing,” she managed to get out.

He laughed and twirled her away from him again, then gathered her close once more. His thigh rubbed against her intimately, igniting fireworks low in her belly. Flames of desire licked at her, threatening to consume her completely.
Not fair.
He looked completely in control, totally unaffected by their spicy dance.

She ran her fingernails across the back of his neck and she might as well have ruffled a tiger’s fur. Abruptly, his eyes blazed and sexual vibes poured off of him, hot and thick and possessive. Now
that
was more like it! Women around them on the dance floor ogled him even more blatantly. All but purring herself, she leaned into him until his silk shirt caressed her breasts through the flimsy fabric of her dress.

The music blared and the rhythm pounded through her in time with her body’s sudden pulsing need. The drums beat low in her belly, while the Cuban horns blared across her skin and the singer’s voice shivered down her spine. Faster and faster the music played, driving her higher and higher with a need to be naked and sweaty with this man.

The music finally ended and Joe’s arm loosened enough for her to slide down his muscular leg to the floor once more. He led her to the bar on the far side of the dance floor, away from both her bodyguards. She wobbled alongside him, hardly able to walk.
Oh. My. God.
What had just happened to her? She’d never experienced anything remotely like that— in public or private—with any man.

“Good thing I’m already planning to marry you,” he growled as he handed her one of two glasses of ice water he snagged from a bartender. “After a dance like that, I’d feel obligated as a gentleman to marry you.”

Her face heated abruptly. Busted. She’d set out to get his attention and, apparently, she’d succeeded.

“In case I forgot to mention it, you look spectacular tonight,” he murmured to her under the din.

“Thank you,” she answered, strangely shy of the compliment from him. “You look pretty good yourself.”

He reached out to tuck a strand of her hair back from her face. “I got our marriage license today,” he said casually. “There’s a judge standing by day or night to hear our vows.”

Wow. He had a
judge
on call? How did he pull that off in this town? She thought her father owned all the judges in St. George. In all of Gavarone, for that matter.

He continued, interrupting her speculation. “So whenever you’re ready, we can get married.”

She blinked. The words were a bizarre and wonderful fantasy coming out of this gorgeous man’s mouth. He was the kind of guy she might like hearing those words from for real. “Uh, when did you have in mind?” she asked.

His answer was brisk. “The sooner the better. I don’t like you being in that house all alone with your father. The faster I can get in there to protect you, the better.”

“I’m hardly alone in the house,” she replied. “My father has a half-dozen full-time house servants, and wads of his…employees hang around all the time.”

“His armed, dangerous and not-too-bright henchmen, you mean?”

She laughed at the description. “Exactly.”

“Like I said, the sooner the better,” he ground out. His jaw rippled as he stared down into his glass of water.

Warmth bubbled up inside her. Joe sounded genuinely worried about her. That was so sweet. If only the idea of walking into her father’s office and saying, “Guess what, Daddy? I got married today” didn’t scare her half to death, she’d be feeling a lot better about this whole scheme.

“What’s got you frowning, princess?” Joe murmured. “You look worried.”

She sighed. “I was just thinking about how my father will react to all this.”

Joe shrugged. “He’ll be pissed off and suspicious as hell. But I’m telling you, I think he’ll secretly be relieved. We just have to watch our step. One slipup is all it’ll take.”

Yeah, to land them both in her bed with slit throats.

She put her hand on his forearm, which rested on the bar beside her. She leaned forward, speaking urgently. “That’s what worries me, Joe. You have no idea how violent my father is.”

His dark eyes blazed, pinning her against the bar. “Yes, I do. I know exactly how violent Eduardo Ferrare is.”

His sudden intensity startled her. Usually Joe was so calm and unruffled. Where had all that abrupt anger come from? A frisson of doubt raced through her. There was more going on here than Joe simply wanting to rescue her. If he was, in fact, with Charlie Squad, then there was some serious bad blood between him and her father. Eduardo had killed a member of Charlie Squad years ago and they’d never forgiven him for it.

What was Joe’s hidden agenda? Did he mean to physically hurt her father in some way? Kill him, even? Did she dare go ahead with this whole eloping thing and put Eduardo at risk? He might be a criminal, but he was her father, after all. The only parent she’d ever known. She didn’t want to see him
die
just so she could live her own life in peace.

She sighed. How could she not go ahead with the plan? No matter what risk Joe posed to her or her father, she had to pay the price and jump at the chance he had offered her. She’d act as his cover inside her father’s house while he accomplished his secret goal and, in turn, he’d help her accomplish hers— to escape. She wanted out. And he… What
did
he want?

Her intuition again screamed that it involved hurting her father in some way. But could she live with setting him up to be harmed? Was her freedom worth that guilt?

As her thoughts whirled, Joe’s arm slid around her waist once more. “Can I interest you in another dance?”

Like he had to ask that twice! Her lips curved into a smile. “Let’s go, Mr. Astaire.”

Joe grinned. “After you, Ginger.”

She felt him watching her hips as she sashayed toward the floor in front of him.
Finally.
At last, the guy was showing normal male interest in her!

As Joe steered her back out onto the dance floor, Cari noticed people all over the room staring at them. Including her bodyguards. Abject relief flooded over her, to the point that she actually felt tears burn at the back of her eyes. Was she really that worried about Joe’s safety?

She blinked away the weepy sensation that didn’t go at all with her devil-may-care, little-rich-girl act. Her mask firmly in place once more, she looked around the club to gauge the crowd’s reaction to the hot vignette playing out between her and Joe.
Ah, all the world’s a stage.
At least, in her world it was.

Gavarone’s superrich social set was actually quite small.
Inbred,
she snorted derisively. Everybody knew everyone else. So when a new face—especially one as spectacularly handsome as Joe’s—showed up on the scene and staked out a woman as notorious as her for himself, it got noticed in a big way.

And then, of course, there were Freddie and Neddie. Hopefully, as long as Joe’s attention stayed firmly glued to her, he’d be safe from the loving attention of their fists. She seriously didn’t want to find out what her father’s orders to the thugs were if Joe happened to show interest in some other woman after showing such intense and public interest in her.

Joe’s fingers trailed up her arm, and then he looked at her with sharp concern. “You okay?”

“Why do you ask?” she replied.

“You have goose bumps. You can’t possibly be cold in this gaudy sweat pit.”

She grinned at the description of the posh club. She’d always thought the place’s neon decor was a little garish, too. “It’s nothing,” she assured him.

He gave her a speculative look. And then dropped her jaw with his next words. “Let’s get married tonight.”

“Tonight?” she squeaked.

“Sure. Why not?”

Her mind went completely blank. Fear crowded forward in her head until it all but choked her. It was one thing to toy around with her father, but the reality of it was another thing entirely. Was she truly prepared to go through with Joe’s scheme? To face down her father’s wrath? To make the break for real?

It hit her like a sledgehammer that she’d known all along on some level that the plan with Tony wouldn’t work. Somehow, she’d
known
her father would find out and foil it. She hadn’t anticipated how violently he’d do it, but she’d known subliminally that Eduardo would stop her.

Joe, on the other hand…

This guy might actually be able to deliver on his promises. He could get her out once and for all. For the first time
ever,
she truly faced the prospect of making the break with her father.

But as violent and cruel a man as he was, he was still the man who’d raised her. She frowned.

Joe swore quietly beside her. She looked up, surprised. “What?” she asked.

“I know that look. It’s cold feet if I ever saw it. Don’t lose your nerve on me now, princess. We’re in too deep to back out.”

“No, we’re not,” she argued. “You can just walk away and you’ll be safe. My father will never know a thing.”

“Oh, yeah?” Joe growled. He turned her around, his hands encircling her waist, and nodded toward the front door.

Cari looked in the direction he indicated. And gulped. Freddie and Neddie had their heads together and were staring straight at her and Joe. Both men’s faces were thunderous. As she looked on, Freddie pulled out a cell phone and pressed it to his ear.

Oh, God.

He said quietly, “That last dance of ours crossed the line. We have no choice but to go forward now.”

“Joe, get out of here right now. They’re calling my father. If you’re lucky, they’ll just put you in the hospital for a few weeks, but if you’re not…”

Joe chuckled.

She stopped midsentence. And stared at him in shock.

“You’re laughing about this?” she demanded incredulously. “They’re telling my father right now that we’ve been pawing all over each other in public. He’s going to tell them to kick your teeth into last month. This is serious!”

Joe smiled down at her gently. “Thanks for worrying about me, sweetheart, but those two jerks couldn’t lay a hand on me if they tried. I’d put them flat on their backs in ten, maybe twenty, seconds.”

Cari rolled her eyes. “Don’t you go all macho on me, Joe Smith. Those guys are both street fighters.”