Ridge: The Avenger

Dara pulled slightly away and folded her hands. “I’ve enjoyed meeting you, too,” Ridge heard her say. “But my schedule is just crazy for the next four weeks. Maybe after the election,” she said vaguely.

“Thirty minutes, just thirty minutes so we can get to know each other better,” Tom said in a voice Ridge thought was ten percent desperation, twenty percent seduction, and seventy percent slime.

Either Tom was being deliberately obtuse, or he had the sensitivity of an alligator. Ridge withheld a sigh. There was no way he’d let Dara alone with that guy. They still hadn’t worked out a password. He stepped forward and pointed toward the front door. “The limo’s here, Dara. Remember, you have an early start tomorrow.”

Dara glanced at Ridge in confusion. “Actually, I was planning to sleep—”

“And the doctor said to make sure you got your rest,” he interrupted. “I’m sure you understand,” he said to Tom as he ushered her toward the car.

“You’ve got my card,” Tom called to Dara. “Give me a call.”

“Thank you again, Tom.” She shot Ridge a look of disapproval as he tried to stuff her into the limo. “Will you wait one minute? I don’t want to be rude.”

“It’s part of my job to cut down on your exposure time,” Ridge explained. “We’re on a public street.”

Dara rolled her eyes and slid into the car. When Ridge started to close her door, she shook her head and crooked her finger. “I believe we need to talk.”

As soon as he joined her, she turned to him. “Don’t do that again. I won’t have you acting like some overgrown nanny. I had no intention of extending the evening with Tom, but you have no rights over my private life.”

“It’s my job to protect you no matter who you’re with,” Ridge corrected, and could see she was gearing up for a fight.

“And what if I want to go out for a date? Just where do you draw the line, Ridge? Is it part of your job to come into my bedroom, too?”

He narrowed his eyes at that last remark. At another time, in another life, he corrected himself, her insinuation might have prompted a full range of responses, some more satisfying than others. If he were in Dara Seabrook’s bedroom, he sure as hell wouldn’t just be watching her. Ridge ruthlessly stuck to the facts. “According to your file, since you’ve been campaigning, you haven’t begun a romantic relationship or brought a man back to your room to stay the night. Your file—”

Dara’s indignant gasp was more effective than a scream. “My file!” Even in the dim light of the limo, he could see the color in her cheeks deepen. “Who in hell gave you that kind of private information about me? Who—”

“It’s standard procedure.” Ridge kept his voice neutral, recalling that the file had also said Dara cursed only when extremely upset. “The information is gathered so I don’t walk in cold wondering what your habits are.” She looked like she wanted to hit him, and Ridge couldn’t decide if he was irritated or amused. “If you want to see it, I’ll show it to you.”

“You’re damn right I want to see it, but that’s just the beginning.” Her gaze met his, and Ridge felt the punch of her feminine determination clear down to his bones. “If I’ve got to be with you day-in and day-out for the next four weeks, I want to see your file, too.”

Two (#ulink_36077fdb-c462-53eb-87be-8bdf6d5ffc76)

For a second, Dara wondered if she’d gone too far. The little sensation unfurling in her stomach told her she had.

Ridge stared at her with both masculine challenge and pity for her heated demands. Leaning back in the seat opposite her, he unbuttoned his suit jacket so that it slid back to reveal the stark contrast of his black leather holster and gun against his white shirt. It was enough of a mix of civilized and uncivilized to make her uneasy. His dark trousers stretched taut against muscular thighs spread wide in a typically male pose that somehow made her think of him in anything but a typical way.

“Tell me what you want to know,” he said in that velvet-and-steel voice she was becoming more and more familiar with.

She could imagine him using that same tone with a lover. Only then he would say, “Tell me what you want, baby.” Her stomach tightened.

Dara scolded herself for her outrageous thoughts. Playing with a man like Ridge would just get a woman like her burned. If she were prudent, she’d say forget it and fold her hand of cards with this little skirmish. More than her feminine pride, however, was on the line. She sensed that any shred of autonomy she could maintain during the next four weeks hung in the balance. Pushing back fear and another more vague emotion, Dara straightened in her seat. “Age,” she said crisply.

He lifted an eyebrow. “Thirty.”

“How long were you in the service?”

“How do you know I was in the service?”

She shrugged, gaining back her equilibrium. “Your manner, the way you walk.” She glanced at his feet then back to his face and smiled slightly. “Your well-shined shoes.”

“Ten years, a marine.”

She nodded. “I guess that means you’ve been a bodyguard for—”

“Two years as a civilian. I worked on special assignment in that capacity for four years when I was a marine.”

Dara hesitated only a second. Her natural impulse was to respect another person’s privacy. “Family?”

His gaze turned cool. “None. My mother and grandparents are dead.”

No wife. No mother. No children. No business of hers. “You don’t like answering questions about yourself, do you?”

“I’ve learned that you have to reach a meeting of the minds with your clients. It makes the job work more smoothly.” He glanced away. “Most clients aren’t interested in me, though. They just want me to do my job.”

Dara pictured Ridge’s usual client—a businessman, perhaps a rock musician, someone from a foreign country. They probably all treated him like he was part of the woodwork. She laughed at the ridiculous notion.

He looked at her curiously.

“I guess I’m not like most of your clients, am I?”

His gaze skimmed over her. “No.”

Lord, he was stingy with his answers. She sighed. “What else do you know about me?”

He cocked his head to one side.’ “The regular stats. You graduated with a Liberal Arts degree three years ago and went to work for Montgomery. I’ve been briefed on your close contacts and some of your habits—you don’t last much past midnight if you’ve gone full-speed all day. You’re not usually demanding, but you prefer to feel like you have some say over your situation. I’ll have to agree with that one,” he said, his voice dry.

“And if you were in this situation, would you be any different?”

“No,” he admitted, but he looked as if he would like to argue the point. He loosened his tie. “The file said you have a lot of friends, but you’ve put those relationships on the back burner because of the election. You stay in touch with your mother. You’ve been out with a dozen men in the last several months on outings while you campaign for your godfather, and you’ve politely turned them all down when they asked for another date.”

“And you really wonder why?” she asked. Thus far, Ridge had been incredibly perceptive. She was surprised he hadn’t figured out her reasons on his own.

Ridge shrugged. “The only lethal thing about that guy tonight was his line.”

Dara laughed and shook her head. “Oh, I don’t think so.”

“Right,” he said, his voice full of skepticism.

“I get this all the time. I’m given an escort to most of these functions. It’s part of the job, but these men are all the same. They all want the same thing—and it’s not my heart, not my soul. Or my body.”

Ridge’s gaze flicked over her, lingering on her legs, as if he seriously doubted that last statement.

Dara smoothed her hand over the hem of her dress. “They all want a closer connection with Harrison, and they’re hoping they can get it through me.”

Understanding flickered across his face. “And you want?”

Dara hesitated, wondering how the conversation had meandered back to such a personal topic. “Wasn’t that in my file?”