Page 31 of Cutter’s Lady

Cutter walked over to where she sat and went down on one knee before her. “Listen. Those guys out there, the ones following us, were watching us the whole time we were outside.”

Leslie’s cheeks turned red. “You mean, they saw us…”

“Yeah. Kissing like we wanted to devour each other. When we went into the hotel, I’m sure they were convinced we would be safely in our rooms for a while. They probably won’t be watching anything but the front door, which means that now is the best time for us to slip out the side exit. We’ll have to be on the boat a few hours more, and it won’t be as comfortable as sleeping here, but it’ll be safer.”

Leslie stared at him without speaking for a moment. The sparkling fizz of her earlier mood suddenly deflated, and she returned to reality with a thump. “You planned this. You staged that—that scene out there for their benefit, didn’t you? So they would assume we were coming up here to—to—” She jumped to her feet, swept with rage and humiliation. “Why didn’t you tell me what you were doing! Why did you let me think—”

“Leslie, wait.” Cutter followed her, reaching out to take her arm.

She jerked away from him. “Don’t touch me! There’s no need to pretend anymore.”

“I wasn’t pretending! Yes, I did think that if we kissed where they could see us, they would figure we’d stay in our hotel room for a while. So I let them see us kiss. But I wasn’t faking the kisses. I wasn’t pretending the passion. I want you. But there’ll be another time for us, a time when we’ll have hours and hours to enjoy each other, to touch, tease and explore all night long.”

Leslie whirled, her eyes flashing. “No, there won’t! I can guarantee that.” She stalked over to her suitcase and jerked it off the bed. “Come on, let’s go.”

“Damn it! Will you stop behaving like an immature teenager?” The ache in his own body had his nerves on edge, and his thwarted passion leaped to expend itself in anger.

“It suited your plans earlier for me to behave like an immature teenager—getting drunk and letting myself be ruled by hormones. You took advantage of it, in fact!”

“Took advantage? You sound like a novel from a hundred years ago.”

“What else would you call it? I got tipsy and you used that to—to put on an act for the guys tailing us! I would never have let you seduce me if I’d been in full possession of my senses.”

“It’s interesting how your level of sobriety seems to fluctuate depending on what you want. Now that it aligns with your need to be pissed off at me, you were drunk. But a few minutes ago you were arguing how sober you were because you wanted me.” Leslie’s mouth flew open but Cutter kept going. “And I’d hardly call it seducing you—you were the one who started flirting back in the restaurant.”

Leslie’s eyes widened with anger. She was seething, and it only made it worse to realize that what he said was true. She had flirted with him in the restaurant. She had melted when he touched her, and she had very much wanted him to kiss her. It was horribly humiliating to know that she had been practically panting with desire for him while he had been coolly working out a plan to fool their tail.

He had been in control of himself the whole time—and in control of her, too! It must have been quite amusing to have her all over him, after the way she had disliked him so much until tonight. The thought drove her anger, and she wanted to lash out at him, to hurt him back. “I’m glad you were only staging a scene, because if I’d slept with you tonight, I would have despised myself tomorrow morning. And it doesn’t really matter if I was tipsy or drunk, the bottom line is if I hadn’t had those drinks, the thought of you touching me would make my skin crawl.”

His eyes turned cold then, and he laughed harshly. “Let me tell you—as someone who has done my share of drinking and acting on impulses—drinking doesn’t turn you into anything you aren’t already, somewhere inside you. And it doesn’t change what you want. It just releases your inhibitions and lets that part of you out. We both know that you’ve been aching for me since the moment we met.”

Leslie glared at him. She wanted to scream or throw something, anything to release the horrible, frustrated anger inside her, an anger that was directed more at herself than at Cutter. But years of training were too strong; she couldn’t act that way. Instead she swung around, tears stinging her eyes, and marched to the door. She flung it open and almost ran down the hall. Cursing softly, Cutter grabbed his bag and followed her.

***

It took them thirty minutes to reach the boat. Leaving the hotel was easy enough. They slipped down the stairs and out the north side entrance onto a dark deserted street. Cutter looked around carefully, then motioned for Leslie to follow him, and they walked swiftly to the next street, which paralleled the main boulevard on which the hotel sat. Their problem then was finding a taxi. They trudged along together in stony silence. Once Cutter glanced over at Leslie and asked if she was tired and wanted him to carry her bag. She thrust out her chin and answered with a quick “No.” The truth was, her feet were beginning to hurt, and the throb in her head was growing with each step. She was thirsty and tired and humiliatingly close to tears. But she would have died before she complained to Cutter.

Her face told more truth than her words, however. Cutter turned at the next corner and returned to the boulevard, where they could more easily find a taxi. They were rewarded by the sight of one only moments later. Cutter flagged it down, and they rode to the docks.

It seemed to Leslie that they walked along the docks forever. When at last they reached the boat, Leslie’s spirits sank even farther, though she wouldn’t have thought that possible. The craft was small and dirty, and crates and boxes were piled all around on the deck. They crossed the small wooden walkway from the dock to the boat. It swayed slightly beneath Leslie’s feet, and for a moment she imagined herself being tossed into the dirty river below, suitcase and all. Then, holding her breath, she went on. Cutter gripped her around the waist and swung her down onto the deck. The feel of his strong hands biting into her waist shook her.

“Wait here,” he told her in a low voice, and disappeared down a small stairwell. Soon he was back, carrying two blankets in his hands. “Come on.” He motioned with his head, picked up his duffel bag and moved toward the back of the boat. There were a few narrow spaces between the crates, and here and there Leslie thought she saw a sleeping form. At the back of the boat, Cutter halted beside a pile of boxes and held out one coarse blanket to her.

“You can sleep here. I’ll be right on the other side of these boxes.”

Leslie looked down at the blanket uncomprehendingly. “Where?”

He pointed to the space between the boxes. “There.”

“On the deck?”

“I told you this trip would get uncomfortable.” He looked at her with something that seemed almost like compassion. Leslie would have expected an air of smug satisfaction, but hard as she tried to see that in his eyes, she just didn’t. He gave her a small, tight smile then finally set the blanket down on the deck. He walked around her to the other side of the boxes. Setting down his bag, he shook out his blanket, wrapped it around himself like a cloak and lay down.

Leslie set down her suitcase and cautiously picked up the blanket. She had never slept outside before, nor on the floor with only one blanket for both mattress and comforter, nor with strangers lying scattered around her. It seemed a dangerous, not to mention uncomfortable, proposition. However, this was what she had signed up for when she insisted on coming, and there was little she could do about it now. She could either sleep or sit up all night, huddled in her blanket. She spread it out and lay down on it, pulling the two sides around her. She stared up at the stars. The floor was hard, and she suspected it was dirty. It was probably just as well that it was nighttime, so that she couldn’t see precisely how dirty it was. She took her Gucci purse and stuck it under her head. It wasn’t much, but at least it kept her head from being flat on the hard floor.

Leslie closed her eyes, convinced that she would never rest. But the alcohol she had drunk earlier had its way, and in minutes she was fast asleep.

***