The Rogue And The Rich Girl

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Ricardo and his brother, Poncho, glared, and Ace scowled at both men, patience at an end, and snapped, “Ricardo, put my plane in a hangar. I don’t want anyone knowing we’re here.”

“Por favor, Se?or—”

Ace cut off protests with a wave. A lot of islanders didn’t want WorldNet’s progress. Sweatshop working conditions were good for no one, except owners.

Yet here he was, with a woman who represented each of the things Ricardo and Poncho hated.

Nicole’s appointment with Governor Rodriguez wasn’t until the morning. Since Ace and Nicole would both have rooms in the mansion, Ace planned to make use of each minute. And as he’d told her, he intended to use whatever tactics he needed. Fair. And foul.

Slyly, he grinned.

Why fly to Rosie’s when he had Nicole? After all, he’d felt a response ripple through her when he’d outlined the length of her cheekbone. She’d fought it, but her breath had caught. She was aware of him, just as he was aware of her.

“Ready?” he asked Nicole.

She nodded.

Poncho and Ricardo exchanged uneasy glances, then Ricardo shrugged as if in hopelessness. After tucking his gun into his waistband, Ace turned to see Nicole slide into the taxi gracefully. No easy trick, he knew.

“Watch the hole,” he warned. “Part of the floor on that side has rusted through.”

“Oh.” She glanced at the floor before crossing her long legs.

Poncho climbed behind the wheel and swore several times in Spanish. The car jerked and a groan tore from Nicole’s lips.

“Are you all right?”

“Just feeling a little wear and tear,” she said.

Ace leaned over the seat and tapped Poncho on the shoulder. “Take it easy, mi amigo.”

“S?, s?, I try, I try.”

He sat back. “It’s only a few miles to the governor’s mansion.”

She managed a brave smile.

He couldn’t summon an answering frown. She had guts and tenacity in equal measures. He’d summed her up quickly when she’d stepped onto the Southern California tarmac. Although she’d been reminiscent of Elana, there’d been several subtle differences.

Sure, Nicole had all the trappings of a spoiled rich girl, from the diamond studs in her ears all the way down to designer aerobic shoes, but there was something more. She carried herself with determination, mixed with an enchanting, exciting vulnerability. Wariness and hurt showed in her face—he’d had plenty of experience recognizing both—even though she fought to hide it. All combined to intrigue him.

An urge to protect her nearly overwhelmed him. And the only thing that stopped him from reaching for her hand was the certainty she wouldn’t welcome it.

The car hit a pothole that jarred Ace’s teeth. Yet, stoically, Nicole never uttered a word, even when he saw her top teeth sink into her lower lip.

With each mile they drew closer to the governor’s mansion, Ace’s senses sharpened. He felt as though a hundred pairs of eyes stared at him, tracking every move.

Waiting. Watching.

Unconsciously, he reached for his gun. He cut a glance out the window, seeing swaying trees and low hanging clouds.

“What’s the matter?”

Her nervous voice intruded. Never looking at her, he forced a lie. “Nothing.”

“Then why are you playing with your gun?”

“I’m not.” Even in the shrouding darkness, he knew she’d arched an auburn brow. He frowned, realizing his fingers were resting protectively on the deadly coldness of his weapon. “Nothing’s wrong,” he reasserted. “Habit.”

The disbelief of her gaze penetrated the distance.

“You make a habit of playing with your gun, Mr. Lawson?”

“Ace,” he corrected. Again. “The name’s Ace. My dad’s Mr. Lawson.” He’d said it to distract her from her line of questioning, yet, for a second, he actually wondered what his name would sound like when her tongue curled around the word.

“Ace,” she said dutifully.

The sensation of a fist landed in his stomach. Lord, she made it sound seductive, just as he’d hoped—just as he’d feared. He groaned. If his name sounded that good, how would it feel to have her tongue on his, tasting, testing, teasing?

Shaken, he dragged a hand through the cropped length of his hair. Business, he reminded himself. Nicole was business. And he was a professional.

But his thoughts strayed to the upcoming night ahead. Business. Right. Sure. He’d sworn to do whatever it took to change her mind. Do it he would.

He shifted uncomfortably, his jeans suddenly too tight.

Poncho rounded a corner and slowed down. Ace ruthlessly shoved aside his thoughts as the governor’s unkempt lawn and gardens loomed in the taxi’s dirty headlight. In the month since Ace’s last visit, natural vegetation had choked the life out of the carefully planted gardens. There were no signs of activity.

Ace leaned forward. “What’s going on, mi amigo?”

The man shrugged several times. “No sе.”

Ace rubbed the stubble on his chin. He’d spoken to Juan Rodriguez only two weeks ago. The man was anxious to meet Nicole. So where were the lights and welcoming committee?

Poncho stomped on the brake. The car jerked to a stop, spewing pebbles and dirt in every direction.

“Ace?”

Alone, he would have gone inside. But because of Nicole, he refused to take the chance.

Hairs on the back of his neck stirred in undeniable warning. “Turn around, Poncho. Get the hell out of here.”

Tires squealed as Poncho forced the manual steering to perform a feat it wasn’t designed for.

“What’s going on?” Nicole asked in a breathless whisper, evidently confused, obviously reading his panic.

On the back of Poncho’s seat, Ace beat an impatient staccato with his fingers. Mentally, he listed possibilities and options. He was aware of the nervous looks Poncho cast in the rearview mirror. “The governor was expecting us,” Ace said finally.

“You think something’s wrong?”

He nodded tightly. “I do.”

She fell silent for a few moments, moments he needed in order to think. A cloud sauntered away from the moon, affording him the opportunity to see her fingers were tightly knotted in her lap. Yet she didn’t say anything. Again he found a reason to admire her.

Dragging his attention away from Nicole, he cataloged the things that didn’t make sense. Leaning forward, he quietly asked Poncho, “Who knew I was coming here?”

“Se?or Rodriguez.”

“Anyone else?”

The man met Ace’s gaze in the rearview mirror. “Even I did not know, until Ricardo tell me tonight.”

The answer only raised more questions. Acid churned in his stomach. The rebels were obviously more of a threat than Rodriguez or Ace had thought.

“I take you to mi casa, no?” Poncho offered.

“Gracias, mi amigo.” Ace knew they would be somewhat safe with his friends, a whole lot safer than if they strung a hammock between two palm trees.

“Is his home big enough for us?” Nicole asked quietly.

“No.” Ace wondered how she would react to an evening of camping out on the home’s dirt floor. The first time he’d stayed with the Maldanados, he’d thought of Elana. He knew the idea of spending five minutes in the house would have made her painted toes curl in her satin pumps.

Would Nicole’s reaction be any different?

“Is Poncho married?”

“With five kids.” He waited for a reaction. Lord knew, his ex had had definite problems when he’d mentioned kids. “Five noisy kids.” Ace wished he could see Nicole’s expression. Would her lips be curled in disgust at the thought of what having five kids would do to her career, not to mention her figure?

The issue of children had been the first of many to cause serious problems between him and Elana. He wanted kids—had a desperate burn in his gut to right the wrongs inflicted by his family.

But that wasn’t to be. Sometimes he felt a pang of regret, but he’d learned to live with it, by risking his life so children could live longer.

“I hope Mrs. Maldanado won’t mind the extra people.”

“She probably won’t even notice,” Ace said wryly.

Poncho jerked the car to a sudden stop in front of a small shack. Ace climbed out and went around to Nicole’s side. It was now or never.

“Let me help you,” he said, opening her door. She placed her much-smaller hand in his palm. Awareness pulsed through him. It was as shocking as it was unwelcome.

Instead of letting her go as he knew he should, he closed his fingers around her hand, holding her captive.

Her eyes opened wide, bringing her gaze back around until it locked on his face. Neither said a word. Her breathing deepened. His did the same. Her lips—soft, full, sensual—parted in silent invitation.

An invitation he resisted RSVPing to.

What was wrong with him? At thirty-seven, he’d been around the block. So why did the thought of surrendering to the strangeness of night and kissing her bother him?

He’d already said he would do what it took. So why the hesitation? Suddenly the idea of using her gave him qualms. He disliked the flash of conscience.

Poncho cleared his throat, then slammed closed the trunk lid, shattering the illusion of their near intimacy.

“Mi casa,” Poncho said apologetically to Nicole.

Ace studied Nicole in the moon’s glow. Though the Maldanados’ home was rich compared to some on the island, it was poor compared with what she likely called home. To his amazement, she was graciousness itself.

“Thank you for your hospitality, Se?or Maldanado.” She smiled dazzlingly.

Poncho’s face became a wreath of grins. “De nada, se?orita, de nada.”

She had more facets than the two-carat engagement ring Ace had given Elana. And Nicole’s smile was more intense. For a second, he allowed himself to imagine what it would feel like to experience its full effect, bestowed on him and no one else.

The shack’s door opened with a groan. He wondered if the facade would crack once she saw the five kids, two dogs, three cats and a dozen or so chickens.

But she showed no sign of faltering as a cacophony of sound surged out the door.

“Where’s my favorite lady?” Ace demanded, following Nicole inside.

A tall, slender woman, long black hair falling around her shoulders, swung around. “Ace!”

She rushed forward and was swept into Ace’s outstretched arms. A strange sensation, something akin to jealousy, snapped at Nicole. Annoyed with herself, she shoved it aside. She had no attachment to Ace and shouldn’t care how many women he smashed against his solid chest. Still, when he put down the woman, after only kissing her forehead, Nicole experienced relief.

“Living with this old man still agrees with you, Maria?”

The woman glanced over her shoulder at Poncho, then back at Ace. She winked. “S?. I have not yet found anyone better. Any suggestions, mi amigo?”

“Yeah. Me.”

Maria laughed, a sweet tinkling sound that Nicole couldn’t duplicate if she were paid.

On the fringes, Nicole marveled at the easy camaraderie between Ace and the Maldanados. She had numerous friends and acquaintances, some of them very close, yet she’d never been part of this type of genuine affection. Growing up, she was her father’s princess, a pampered child who’d eventually tired of adoration, scared that if she failed, she would no longer be liked.

“Maria, let me introduce Nicole Jackson.” The rich timbre of Ace’s voice startled her from her reverie.

Maria turned with a smile. “Welcome, Se?orita Jackson.”

“Thank you.” This kind of friendship was new. Despite the friends she had at home, a tug of isolation assailed her.

Ace cleared his throat and cocked his head to one side. “Nicole is CEO of WorldNet.”

Maria blinked, her gaze taking in her husband and Ace.

Nicole shifted, unaccustomed to the hostility the name of her company caused.

Maria found her composure and then wiped her hands on her apron. “You’ll join us for dinner?”

“And for the night, if possible.”