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She climbed out of the SUV and followed him to the front entrance, admiring the architecture and scattered palm trees along the street as she went. There wasn’t a lot of landscaping to brag about in Kuwait, but the immaculate care taken of the city was noteworthy, as was a good deal of the architecture. An art gallery across the street nudged at her curiosity. There was a time when she wouldn’t have missed a gallery of any kind, even one that catered to the really bizarre alternative art she didn’t particularly care for. She loved studying the work others did with their hands.
Did that make her a hands girl?
She glanced down at the right hand of the man next to her. She’d noticed his before. Nice hands. Big, but not rough-looking. Well-formed with long, blunt-tipped fingers. Not the artist type, but the capable kind made for touching a woman in ways she could only imagine.
Jerking her gaze front and center, she railed at herself for being so foolish. She’d gone off on a very inappropriate tangent there. Probably just her mind attempting to find ways to decompress. Distraction wasn’t a problem, as long as she didn’t obsess about any part of him she would be fine.
Right?
Right.
Okay, now she was answering herself. Not good.
Anders signed in at the reception desk in the lobby. She waited near the cluster of chairs and potted palm trees. The ceiling soared high, allowing for a wall of windows that invited the sun to pour into the lobby. She wouldn’t want the job of working the reception desk in the summer. The air conditioning might keep the room at a tolerable temperature, but there was no way to escape the harsh glare of the summer sun in this part of the world. It could be brutal.
As Anders approached her, she decided making a quick trip to the ladies’ room before the real-estate agent arrived might be in order.
The sign for the restrooms as well as the elevators held a prominent position on the wall well behind and beyond the reception desk that dominated the front of the lobby.
“I’m going to the ladies’ room. I’ll be right back.”
He glanced around the deserted lobby. “I’d feel better seeing you to the door.”
There was no need to be embarrassed. He was right.
“Whatever you think is best.” She headed for the designated corridor.
He stayed in step right beside her. When she reached the door, he hesitated. “Maybe I should check it out first.”
“Anders, I’ll be fine.” She looked back in the direction they’d come. “You should wait for your appointment. You’ll still be able to see this door from the waiting area.”
He glanced back to confirm her assertion. “All right.” That intense gaze landed back on hers. “But make it fast. I won’t relax until you’re back in my line of vision.”
She pushed through the door, leaving him staring after her.
For a couple of moments she stood on the other side of the door wondering if he’d walked back to the waiting area or if he’d opted to hang around until she emerged once more.
She didn’t remember the last time anyone had worried so about her. That he did it with such care made her feel warm inside.
Shaking her head at just how pathetic she was, Willow moved toward the stalls. The restroom was pretty much like one found back home. The American influence in Kuwait couldn’t be ignored even when it came to toilets.
When she’d relieved herself and washed up, she considered her reflection a moment. At twenty-eight she still looked young, but she felt old inside. She’d stopped feeling young and vibrant ages ago.
Willow tugged the scarf from her hair and ran her fingers through the long, blond length. She’d thought about cutting it several times, but something always got in the way. Or maybe she was afraid to change much of anything for fear her baby wouldn’t recognize her.
Would he even remember her?
Pain arced sharply inside her. What would she do if he didn’t? He would cry for his father… people would notice. How could they hope to get through customs and back on a plane if her child screamed the entire time?
What if attempting to steal him was a mistake?
Willow closed her eyes and fought back the emotions churning wildly inside her.
She was doing the right thing.
She knew it. She believed it with her whole heart.
Faith. Where was her faith?
Anders was waiting for her. The real-estate agent might have arrived already. She shouldn’t be in here worrying about an issue that hadn’t come up yet.
Taking extra care, she wrapped the khimar around her hair and neck. A few blond strands peeked past the scarf, a vivid contrast to the black silk. Her cheeks were flushed and her lips red from biting and licking them repeatedly. She needed Chap Stick.
No, what she needed was to relax.
Stay calm.
Get this done.
Summoning her wayward courage she moved to the door and pulled it open. Anders still waited near the potted palms and seating area. Evidently the other man hadn’t arrived yet.
With a deep breath she emerged into the lobby and headed straight for Anders. He watched her from the moment she stepped beyond the door. That he continued to look directly at her when she stopped in front of him made her a little giddy.
Dumb. So dumb.
What was wrong with her?
She was going way overboard with this whole big-strong-protector thing. Yes, he was supposed to protect her, but that was his job. It wasn’t like he was doing it because he was attracted to her or had some vested personal interest in her. Other than the case.
“He should be here any minute now.”
The moment felt oddly awkward. “Good.”
He looked away then, as if he felt the awkwardness too.
She stared at the floor, the plants, pretty much anything but him. Then she busied herself watching the man behind the reception desk answer the phone.
No matter that she wasn’t looking at Anders. No matter that he probably wasn’t even looking at her, she could feel him. It wasn’t that general awareness of someone’s presence… this was a pull of some sort. A feeling of nearness that overwhelmed all else.
She closed her eyes and fought the vertigo effect the unexpected sensations had on her. Jet lag, she told herself. Her emotions were oversensitive. That was all it could be. Sleep deprivation played tricks on one’s mind. She knew this firsthand.
There was no reason to let this silly reaction get out of hand. She opened her eyes and surveyed the lobby in every direction except the one in which he stood. She wished the real estate man would hurry.
“You seem nervous.”
The deep, husky quality of his voice shouldn’t have made her shiver, but it did. Dammit.
Frustration surged. “I’m fine.” She flashed him a glance that relayed that frustration. “I just want this part over with.”
“I understand.”
The empathy in his eyes backed up his words. Why did he have to do that? She needed him to be that unyielding, distant man she’d met that first night.
“How could you?”
He flinched as if the words had stung somehow.
She refused to feel bad about it.
“You’re right. I can’t imagine how this must feel.”
Why hadn’t he stopped at You’re right?
Movement at the front entrance dragged her attention there in hopes that the real-estate agent had arrived and they could get past this strained moment.
“Is that him?” she asked, hoping to avert his focus from her.
Anders turned to look at the man who’d walked up to the reception desk.
She watched as well. Something about the way the man signed the guest registry was vaguely and strangely familiar to her.
Willow stared hard at the man as he placed the pen on the desk and chatted with the clerk. The way he handled his briefcase… his mannerisms as he spoke… Somehow she recognized his body language.
She studied his profile as he produced identification for the clerk as Anders had been required to do. Then he withdrew a cell phone from his jacket pocket as if he’d received a call. He turned his back briefly to take the call.
The way the man moved… the profile…
“Oh, God.”
Anders wheeled toward her, searched her face. “What’s wrong?”
Fear exploded in her chest.
Impossible.
She had to be wrong.
But she wasn’t.
“I know that man.”
Chapter Eight
Spencer knew his first moment of sheer panic.
It was a wholly unfamiliar sensation.
He kicked it aside.
“Go back into the ladies’ room.” He looked directly into her eyes, noted the terror there, refused to let it affect him. “I’ll make excuses for you. Stay there until I come back for you.”
She didn’t answer. Didn’t move.
“Do you understand?”
The stridently muttered demand appeared to snap her into action.
“Okay.”
She headed for the ladies’ room without a backward glance or a second’s hesitation.
Spencer shifted his attention to the man who had just picked up his briefcase and turned to head in his direction.
In an instant Spencer had cleared his mind of all else and stepped into character. He started forward, outstretched his hand at just the right moment to meet the other man’s. “Spencer Anders.”
“Yuri Avnery.”
Spencer gave Avnery’s hand a firm shake. “I’m looking forward to seeing the space. The location is excellent. Exactly what my client is looking for.”
Avnery nodded. “Very good.” He gestured toward the bank of elevators. “Shall we?”
Spencer relaxed marginally. “How long has the space been on the market?”
Avnery provided a few details regarding the previous business tenant. Spencer put on an attentive face, but his mind was on Willow and whether or not leaving her alone in the ladies’ room was a good move.
Not that he’d had a choice.
When they’d boarded the elevator, Avnery asked, “Your wife decided not to accompany you after all?”
Spencer’s alert status moved back into the red zone. Avnery knew the answer to that question. He’d assuredly seen Willow standing near Spencer, not to mention her name had been on the register.
“I’m afraid my wife got bored and decided to visit the gallery across the street.”
He recognized that the man had in all likelihood noted her hasty retreat to the ladies’ room. That shouldn’t actually set off any warning bells.
Spencer hoped like hell he’d only gotten a look at her back. Even a glimpse of her profile might eventually trigger some kind of recollection if, in fact, Willow did know him.
Damn.
There were hundreds of real-estate agents in this city. How the hell had he managed to select one she’d run into before? If he believed in karma, he’d be worried. But there was no reason to believe there was a problem just yet.
“That’s too bad,” Avnery said. “I was looking forward to meeting her.”
The interest in his eyes was undeniable. Maybe a little too interested.
“It’s not often,” he added, “that my clients bring along their wives for input.”
Definitely too much interest. Spencer’s instincts went on point. “I’m sure my wife would love to think that she had some say in the matter, but I’m afraid she’s here for the shopping and sightseeing.”
