Because a Husband Is Forever (9 page)

She stopped hurrying. Suddenly there no longer was a need to. “I need to unwind.”

“I won't get in your way.”

He already was in her way. He was
constantly
in her way. And he was the reason she needed to unwind in the first place.

“The hell you won't.”

But even as she said it, she knew there was no way around it. Apparently no matter what she said, her dark warrior was coming along.

 

The wall of noise intensified the moment they walked inside the darkened nightclub. The swirling lights emitted a rainbow of color that moved about the area like a hurricane.

Dakota felt his grasp on her arm as she tried to make her way through the crowd, searching for MacKenzie.

Her friend spotted them first. Standing up at the tiny table she'd secured for herself and Dakota, she waved madly until Dakota saw her. She sat back down, amuse
ment in her eyes as she watched her friend and Ian work their way toward her.

In Dakota's estimation, Zee looked happier to see Ian than her. “Hey, I see you brought your shadow. Hi, Ian.” MacKenzie's voice was the last word in cheer. “I'm sorry, there were only two chairs.”

“No problem,” he told her. After issuing a strong, nonverbal warning as he glanced at Dakota, Ian went in search of a third chair.

Dakota sank down opposite MacKenzie. She leaned into the other woman and said between semiclenched teeth, “This is getting very old.”

MacKenzie hadn't stopped looking at the man who'd come in with Dakota since his arrival. “I don't care what you say, I still think he's cute. Coming
and
going,” she added wickedly.

“That has nothing to do with it, although I have no use for good-looking men—”

“I do,” MacKenzie sighed.

Dakota didn't hear her. “The man is entirely too overbearing.”

“He's supposed to be. It's the deluxe package, remember?”

Dakota shifted on the small chair, trying to get comfortable. She shed her coat, letting it fall back onto the back of the chair.

“One person's deluxe is another person's torture.” Slowly taking in the surrounding area, she became aware that a handsome thirtyish man stood at her elbow.

The next moment, he leaned his hands on the back of her chair, his face close to hers. “Hi, beautiful, want to dance?”

“She doesn't,” Ian informed him firmly. Having returned with his prize, Ian deposited the chair right next to where the other man stood.

The man jumped back. Half a head shorter, he looked properly intimidated by Ian. “Hey, sorry, didn't know you were together.” His hands raised in surrender, he backed away.

Dakota felt a burst of fury go off inside her chest. Not that she was interested in the man's advances, but she resented Ian thinking he had the right to chase anyone away from her. What if she had been interested?

She turned on Ian. “Do you know why people go club hopping?”

Clubbing had never been his idea of fun. This club had particularly loud music. Any kind of prolonged contact was enough to jar his teeth loose. “Because they want to lose their hearing at an early age?”

She ignored the flippant remark. “To connect with other people.”

He slid onto his chair. “So connect.”

Dakota pressed her lips together. “With people they didn't know before they arrived.”

He shook his head. “Bad idea.”

Of course he'd say that. She ignored the amused expression on MacKenzie's face. “Do you ever have any fun?” Dakota asked.

His eyes held hers for a moment, and if her life had depended on it, she couldn't have read what was going on in his mind. “I'm having it now.”

Dakota sighed, shaking her head. She made eye contact with MacKenzie. “Note to self—kill Alan in the morning.”

“Alan didn't put him there, your fans did,” MacKenzie reminded her.

“Alan's the one who got the studio to pay double.”

MacKenzie rested her head on her upturned palm and fluttered her lashes at Ian. It was evident by the expression on the man's face, he didn't know what to make of her. “I'd say he was worth every penny.”

“If I was paying for the privilege of being annoyed, yes.” Rising to her feet, Dakota declared, “I'm going to get us something to drink.” She glanced at Ian, “A can of oil for you, I presume.”

“Just water.” He was on his feet, too.

“No, stay,” she ordered. Hand on his chest, she pressed him back down into his chair. “Stay here with MacKenzie and guard her for a minute.” She pointed over to the bar which was a large fifteen-foot rectangle. “You can watch me walk all of twenty feet to the bar,” she told him. “Close enough for you to leap into action if you have to.” And with that she walked away.

MacKenzie beckoned Ian to lean forward. When he did, she said, “I've never seen her this edgy before. I don't know if you bring out the best in her or the worst.”

He never took his eyes off the woman as she made her way to the bar. Even with so many bodies between them, Dakota still stood out. Ian sighed inwardly. He had his work cut out for him.

“Probably a little of both.”

Dakota absorbed the noise and the crowd around the long, sleek bar. The electric-blue overhead lighting added a surreal glow to the immediate area. What she'd told Ian earlier was true. She just wanted to unwind, and he wasn't letting her.

Raising her hand, she managed to catch the bartender's eye after a moment. The man, chosen for his skill as well as his overt good looks, lost no time in coming over to take her order.

“Two strawberry daiquiris and a beer,” she said. Maybe a beer would help loosen Ian up, she thought. Something had to. She didn't think she could bear another week and a half of this.

She moved as someone wedged his way in on her right. “I'll pay for what the lady's having,” a deep voice said. Surprised and about to demur, Dakota turned to see a tall, attractive, blond-haired man in his early thirties giving her the once-over. He had nice brown eyes, she thought. “I know this sounds like a line, but you look awfully familiar.”

“I'm on television.”

“No kidding.” Leaning an elbow on the bar, he seemed properly impressed. His eyes swept over her. “Would I have seen you?”

Natural inbred modesty made her laugh. “Only if you watch daytime television.”

He shook his head. “I'm afraid my boss frowns on that kind of thing. I work on Wall Street, and watching TV cuts into profits.” Smiling genially, he put his hand out. “Eric Simon.”

She slipped her hand into his. “Dakota Delany.”

She watched him for a sign of recognition, but there was none.

“Nice name.” He made himself comfortable around her. “So, what are you doing for the rest of the evening, Dakota Delany?” The man took out his wallet and paid for the drinks as the bartender placed them on the bar.

Despite what she'd said to Ian, she didn't come to the bar with the idea of meeting men. Certainly not with the idea of abandoning her companions for one. “I'm with friends.”

He reached behind her, and after a beat she felt his hand lightly on her waist. Friendly yet not too familiar. “I can be a friend.”

Maybe he could at that, but not while she was with the chaperon from hell. She moved to the side. “No, I don't think that I—”

And then suddenly Ian was there between them. The next thing happened so fast, it only registered after the fact.

Ian punched Eric out.

S
hock and disbelief raced through Dakota as she watched Eric Simon sink like a stone to the floor. Anger at Ian flared immediately. To add to the confusion, camera flashes went off all around her. As with every popular hot spot in New York, paparazzi hid in the woodwork, waiting for opportunities just like this. A picture was still worth a thousand words, and these days, sometimes an equal amount in hard cash.

And Ian had presented them with one golden opportunity on a silver platter.

Dakota grabbed hold of Ian's arm in case he was going to take another swing at the incapacitated man.
Like an avenging angel, she placed herself in between Ian and the fallen Eric.

“Are you out of your mind?” she demanded hotly. “He was just talking to me.”

Unruffled by her anger, Ian looked down at the man he'd just hit. The latter, still on the floor, was groggy but conscious. “He was doing more than that.”

“Okay, he had his hand around my waist, that didn't mean he was going to have his way with me.” Dakota knelt down to see what kind of damage her obviously deranged pretend bodyguard had done. By her estimation, Eric Simon was going to have some shiner by tomorrow. She felt a stab of guilt. In a way this was her fault. “I'm a big girl.” She looked up at Ian, fury in her eyes. He had no right to act like some Neanderthal protector. “I can take care of myself.”

“Not when you're drugged.”

The stark words hung in the air between them. He offered her a hand and she rose to her feet. “What are you talking about?”

Ian nodded toward the man he'd just hit. “I saw him slip something into your drink.” Ian indicated the daiquiri that was closest to her on the bar, then glared at the other man. “What was it, punk?”

Rubbing his jaw, Eric Simon slowly gained his feet. He watched Ian warily, real fear in his eyes. “Just a little ‘E' to enhance the lady's ultimate pleasure, that's all.”

Dakota even abstained from aspirin unless absolutely necessary. Her eyes widened in shock as she swung
around to look at Eric. “You tried to drug me?” The look of helplessness on Eric's face was all she needed to confirm Ian's accusation.

Without thinking, she let loose with a punch, connecting with Eric's chin. He went down as quickly as he'd come up. More flashes went off. The crowd that had gathered around them closed in a little more, eating away at the semicircle of space they'd allotted the central trio in this drama.

Ian nodded his approval, effectively masking any surprise that he might have felt. Looked like Dakota Delany could take care of herself after all.

Their eyes locked. “Not bad,” Ian said. He took out his cell phone and pressed a single digit.

Dakota rubbed her knuckles, seething at what Eric had presumed to do. And shaking inwardly at what might have happened had Ian not been looking out for her.

Great, she thought, this is going to make the man impossible. She realized that he was on the phone. Now what? “Who are you calling?”

Faced with a crime, the cop in him had been quick to surface. “Last time I heard, trying to drug someone, especially with an illegal substance, was against the law.” Instantly some of the crowd melted away from them and into the background, taking whatever substance they might have been abusing with them.

Panic marred Eric Simon's near perfect features. “Hey, there's no call for that,” he protested, attempting to scramble to his feet a second time. “It was all just in fun.”

Dakota saw red. She took a step toward him, unconsciously fisting her hand again. “You want fun? I'll show you fun.”

Ian shifted so that his body was partially between the two. “I'd stay down if I were you,” he advised Eric. “The lady looks like she means business.”

And then a voice came on the other end of the line. Ian turned away from them to give the policeman, someone with whom he'd once worked the streets, the particulars of the incident.

MacKenzie put her arm around Dakota's shoulder. Suddenly remembering that she was there, Dakota glanced at her and saw concern in the woman's face.

“Are you okay?” MacKenzie asked.

“Yeah.” She was a lot better than she could have been, Dakota thought humbly. Nothing like this had ever happened to her before. “Just a little thrown, that's all.”

MacKenzie took her hand in both of hers and examined her knuckles. “That's going to bruise,” she predicted.

“It'll give Albert someplace new to apply makeup,” Dakota quipped.

Looking over MacKenzie's head, she frowned at the gathering. Camera flashes kept popping, coming from all directions. Exasperated, she covered her face, but there seemed to be no place to turn in order to get away from the persistent photographers.

MacKenzie's expression told her that her best friend knew exactly what was going through her mind. “Look
at the bright side, at least you'll have something to tell the audience tomorrow.”

“Yeah, right. They'll probably read it in the entertainment section of the
Times
first,” Dakota muttered.

As she sunk her head in her hands, she thought she heard something. Listening, she detected the wail of sirens in the background, cutting through the noise at the club. The music had stopped, but the lights continued to swirl, casting wild rainbows into every darkened corner of the place. The sirens grew louder. She looked at Ian and guessed he'd been the one to call the police.

Ian placed his body between her and some of the more eager photographers. “You want to wait in the car?” he suggested to her.

“No,” she countered, “I want to go home.” And she did. As much as she'd wanted to get out before, that was how much she wanted to leave now. But she knew it was impossible.

She thought she saw a hint of compassion on Ian's face, but that could have been a trick of the lighting. “Right after the police take your statement.”

Restless, edgy, she didn't know what to do with all the different emotions running through her, struggling for domination. In an unbridled moment she looked at Ian accusingly. “You know, this never happened to me before I went out with you.”

“You two dating now, Dakota?” A voice from somewhere behind all the flashes called out the query.

“He's my bodyguard.” The response came without
thought. God knew she didn't want to be painted as paired off with anyone.

“Lucky for you you've got one,” a girl with tinted pink hair and serious eyes said to her as she leaned back against the bar.

“Yeah,” Dakota muttered, feeling anything but that. “Lucky.”

 

It felt like a century instead of three hours since she'd left the apartment. She flipped on the light and kicked off her shoes. The policemen who had arrived in response to Ian's call had been polite and tried to hurry things along, but even so, she'd had to take a ride to the police station in order to give her full statement. Ian came along not just as her bodyguard but to add his piece of the story. Only MacKenzie had been free to go home. From her vantage point, the other woman hadn't actually witnessed anything other than the haymaker Ian had awarded the would-be rapist.

Checking the lock, Ian turned toward her. “You really should get that security system installed.”

“Right.” She sighed, not wanting to get into yet another discussion about safety. She blew out a breath. “I guess I should thank you.”

He wasn't in it for the thanks. Had he been independently wealthy, he still would have gotten into this line of work. It needed doing.

Ian shrugged carelessly. “Like you said, you can take care of yourself.” And then he looked at her knuck
les, which were slightly swollen. “You'd better get some ice on that.” Even as he said it, he began walking into the kitchen to fetch the ice. “That's a nice right cross you have.”

She flushed at the compliment as she followed him. “One of the stuntmen on Grandpa's show gave me a few pointers the summer I turned sixteen.” That had been the summer she'd suddenly blossomed—a late bloomer, her mother had called her. Her grandfather worried that boys would try to take advantage of her and insisted she learn a few moves to keep her from harm.

Sliding onto a chair, she placed her right hand on the table. Ian brought over two ice cubes wrapped in a paper towel and gently applied them to the bruised area. She tried not to wince as the wet paper came in contact with her skin.

She raised her eyes to his.

Why did this feel so intimate? It was just ice. He would have done the same thing for a wounded puppy, she thought. And yet…

“I wasn't going to let him pick me up, you know,” she heard herself saying.

“Uh-huh.”

“I wasn't,” she insisted. “I just wanted to get out for a little while, but I'm not an idiot.” His expression remained unchanged. Her voice rose a little. “I don't believe in looking across a crowded room, making eye contact and hearing violins.”

With ice leaking on one side, he flipped over and
placed that side against her knuckles. “Doubt if you could in that place.”

Dakota frowned. “You know what I mean.”

Yes, he knew what she meant and he didn't want to know anything else. The less he knew about her personally, the better chance he had of keeping this on a professional level. “You don't have to explain yourself to me.”

“I'm not explaining myself,” she snapped, then shut her mouth as she took a deep breath. “Okay, I am explaining myself, but only because I don't want you thinking—”

He headed her off before she said something that might embarrass them both. “What I think doesn't matter.”

The interruption only served to annoy her. “Will you please stop contradicting me? You are the most perverse human being—”

“You know, it's not necessary to have everyone think well of you.”

“It is if I can help it.” How had he known that about her? she wondered, irritated. “Damn, you have me all tied up in knots and confused.” A pin fell from her hairdo, and she put it on the table. “This is all your fault in a way, you know.”

“How so?”

The expression on his face was mild. He was humoring her. Dakota felt like beating on him with her fists, but that would only aggravate her bruised knuckles.

“If I hadn't been so intent on getting some space between us—”

“You would have had eyes in the back of your head?” he guessed. “That was how that creep slipped that substance into your drink, just before he put his arm around your waist. The drink was on the bar behind you.” And had there not been a mirror set at such a angle that he saw what the man was doing, Ian thought, he might not have been able to save her.

Both she and MacKenzie were to have daiquiris. There was no guarantee she would have had the one on the end. “He could have wound up drugging MacKenzie,” she realized, horrified.

Ian nodded, shifting the wrapped ice cube pack yet again. “The guy took a chance. But from his point of view, he had nothing to lose.”

She intended to be at the man's arraignment bright and early tomorrow. “He will if I can help it. Scum like that shouldn't be allowed to roam free.” Rising, she flexed her knuckles. They felt stiff and achy already.

Ian stood and tossed the partly melted ice cubes into the sink. He nodded at her hand. “That's going to feel worse tomorrow.”

She'd gotten more than one fracture as a tomboy and knew what to expect. “Not as bad as I would have felt if that creep had gotten away with what he was trying to do.” Rather than leave the room, she crossed to him and impulsively brushed a kiss against Ian's cheek. “Thank you.”

The words, softly uttered, hung between them as Ian looked at her. She'd caught him completely off guard.
Those same stirrings that had been invading and haunting him these last few days increased in magnitude, threatening to overwhelm him. He'd banked them down before, but this time they proved more difficult to hide away.

Impossible, actually.

Especially since, after kissing his cheek, Dakota didn't retreat, didn't even stop balancing on her toes, moving out of range.

Her lips were very close, very accessible to his.

The next happened as if it had been scripted somewhere. But not by him. He wasn't given to impulse, not unless he was on the job, covering his partner's back, reacting by instincts. Just the way he had while watching Dakota tonight in that nightclub, he realized. Then gut instincts had completely taken over.

Like now.

His hand spanning so that it partially framed her cheek, he cupped it ever so lightly as he brought his lips down to hers. He did it even as something inside of him ordered
Stop!

He didn't listen.

The noise from the nightclub was still partially throbbing in his ears. But not so loudly that he couldn't hear the pounding of his heart.

Or maybe he just felt the rhythm so acutely it seemed he was hearing it. All he really knew was that kissing her felt wonderful.

Blood rushed through his veins the way it did whenever he entered an area blindly, unsure of the outcome.
Every single nerve ending in his body was at attention. And absorbing the exhilarating pleasure that flooded every part of his body.

Wow. Oh, wow.

The refrain echoed through Dakota's brain as the kiss he'd started deepened, taking possession of her, sweeping her off her feet at lightning speed. Without thinking, she leaned her bottom into his. Almost sealing it to his. Heat and warm thoughts came rushing at her from all directions, making her yearn.

Making her want him to want her.

Making her want him.

Almost outside her own body, she twined her arms around his neck, letting herself go further than she would have expected. Her whole body was quickening.

Waiting.

And then, suddenly unsure of herself, afraid of what she could be getting into, Dakota drew back. She pressed her lips together, tasting him. Tasting desire and feeling fear mingle in with it. She'd been here before, in this land of lightning bolts and tidal waves. Been here and then been cast adrift.