Diamond Bay

She felt the animal quiver as if he’d been struck, and blood-chilling snarls worked up from his throat as he stared at the man, every muscle in his big body quivering as if he longed to launch himself at his enemy but was chained to Rachel’s side. Before she thought of the danger she went down on one knee and put her arm around his neck, talking softly to him in reassurance. "It’s allright," she crooned. "He won’t hurt you, I promise. Everything’s all right."

When Joe was calmer Rachel went up on the porch and deliberately stroked Sabin’s arm, letting the dog see her. Sabin watched Joe, unafraid of the dog, but not pushing him, either. He needed to have Joe accept him, at least enough to let him leave the house without attacking.

"He was probably abused by his owner," he said. "You’re lucky he didn’t have you for breakfast the first time you walked out of the house."

"I think you’re wrong. It’s a possibility that he was a guard dog, but I don’t think he was trained to attack. You owe him a lot. If it hadn’t been for him, I couldn’t have gotten you up from the beach." Suddenly she realized that her hand was still on his arm, slowly moving up and down, and she let her arm fall to her side. "Are you ready to go back inside? You must be tired by now."

"In a minute." He slowly surveyed the pine thicket to the right and the road that curved away to the left, committing distances and details to memory for future use. "How far are we from a main road?"

"About five or six miles, I guess. This is a private road. It joins the road from Rafferty’s ranch before it runs into U.S. 19."

"Which way is the beach?"

She pointed to the pine thicket. "Down through the pines."

"Do you have a boat?"

Rachel looked at him, her gray eyes very clear. "No. The only means of escape are on foot or driving."

The faintest smile lifted one corner of his mouth. "I wasn’t going to steal your car."

"Weren’t you? I still don’t know what’s going on, why you were shot, or even if you’re a good guy."

"With those doubts, why haven’t you called the police?" he returned, his voice cool. "I obviously wasn’t wearing a white hat when you found me."

He was going to stonewall it to the end, the ultimate professional, alone and unemotional. Rachel accepted that she wasn’t entitled to full knowledge of his situation, even though she had saved his life, but she would very much like to know that she had done the right thing. Though she had acted on her instincts, the uncertainty was gnawing at her. Had she saved a rogue agent? An enemy of her country? What would she do if it turned out to be that way? The worst part of it was the undeniable and growing attraction she felt for him, even against her own better judgment.

He didn’t say anything else, and she didn’t respond to his provoking mention of his lack of clothing when she’d found him. She glanced at Joe and turned to open the screen door. "I’m getting out of this heat. You can take your chances with Joe if you want to stay out here."

Sabin followed her inside, measuring the unyielding straightness of her back. She was angry, but she was also disturbed. He would have liked to reassure her, but the hard truth was that the less she knew, the safer she was. He had no way of protecting her in his present condition and circumstances. The fact that she was protecting him, willingly endangering herself even though her guesses ranged uncomfortably close to the truth, did something unwanted to his insides. Hell, he thought in disgust at himself, everything about her did something to his insides. He was already familiar with the scent of her flesh and the tender, startlingly intimate touch of her hands. His body still felt the press of hers against him, making him want to reach out and pull her back. He had never needed another human being’s closeness, except for the physical closeness required for sex. He eyed her bare, slender legs and softly rounded buttocks; the sexual urge was there, all right, and damned strong, considering his general physical condition. The dangerous part of it was that the thought of lying in the darkness with her and simply holding her was at least as attractive as the thought of taking her.

He leaned in the doorway and watched as she efficiently finished cleaning the dishes. There was a brisk, economical grace to her movements, even while she was doing such a mundane task. Everything was organized and logical. She wasn’t a fussy woman. Even her clothing was plain and unadorned, though her beige shorts and simple blue cotton shirt didn’t need any adornment other than the soft feminine curves beneath them. Again he was aware of the tantalizing image of those curves, just as if he knew how she looked naked, had already had his hands on her.

"Why are you staring?" she asked without looking at him. She had been as aware of his gaze as she would have been of his touch.

"Sorry." He didn’t explain, but, then, he doubted that she would really want to know. "I’m going back to bed. Will you help me with the shirt?"

"Of course." She wiped her hands on a towel and went ahead of him to the bedroom. "Let me change the sheets first."

Fatigue pulled at him as he leaned against the dresser to ease the strain of his weight on his left leg. His shoulder and leg throbbed, but the pain was to be expected, so he ignored it. The real problem was his lack of strength; he wouldn’t be able to protect Rachel or himself if anything happened. Did he dare remain here while he healed? His brooding gaze remained fixed on her as she put fresh linens on the bed, his available options running through his mind. Those options were severely limited. He had no money, no identification, and he didn’t dare call to be picked up, because he had no idea of the extent to which the agency had been compromised, or who he could trust. He wasn’t in any shape to do anything anyway; he had to recuperate, so it might as well be here. The small house had its advantages: the dog outside was a damned good defense; the locks were strong; he had food and medical care.