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She sighed again. For some reason, she found herself reluctant to dress in front of Daniel. She would rather emerge from the bathroom with her dignity intact-and herself fully clothed.
Leaving the shower running—Daniel could worry about his own hot water—she stepped into the bedroom, finding it empty and the door to the sitting room ajar. She frowned when she heard the low rumble of Daniel's voice from the other room.
Who was he talking to? Surely Drake hadn't come by even after Daniel had made it clear they didn't want to be disturbed tonight.
She didn't want to be seen by whoever it was, but she was too curious not to at least take a peek. Keeping to one side of the doorway, she moved closer, trying to see into the other room.
Daniel was alone, it turned out. He had his back to her and he was talking into a cell phone. Something about his tone told her he didn't want to be overheard—which, of course, only made her listen harder.
“I want her out of here tomorrow,” he said, sounding as if he would tolerate no argument. “First thing.”
B.J. bit her lower lip, realizing that he must be talking about her. She leaned closer to the doorway.
“No, I don't care about the details, just get her out of here before she ruins everything. The longer she stays, the more chance there is she's going to make a wrong move. We're too close to the payoff to risk that.”
It didn't sound as if he was worried about her as much as his mysterious plan. Which made her irrationally indignant.
How could he act as if she was such a liability? Hadn't she cooperated with everything he had asked? Hadn't she gone beyond what should have been expected of her to convince Drake and the others that she was exactly who Daniel had said she was?
“Yeah, she's asking questions. But I've managed to distract her. For now.”
She scowled. He had certainly kept her distracted. It devastated her to think that their lovemaking had been his way of keeping her too occupied to ask questions. He has assured her it wasn't casual—but maybe they defined the term in drastically different ways.
“Look, just take care of her, okay? I'm trusting you to handle this.”
Take care of her. There were several ways to interpret that, B.J. thought as she hurried silently back to the bathroom, closed the door without a sound, then ducked into the steamy shower.
Considering the hardness of Daniel's voice and the harshness of his words, some people might be frightened at this point. At the very least, concerned for their safety.
Perhaps it was just further evidence of B.J.'s idiocy where Daniel was concerned that she had no fear of him at all. Maybe she couldn't trust him with her heart, but she trusted him with her life. He had promised she would leave this resort safely, and she believed him.
Some people might consider her less than intelligent to place her faith in the word of an admitted con man. Or accuse her of once again confusing the past with the present.
All she could say in reply was that she believed instinctively that neither the Daniel she had known then nor the man she knew now would do anything to harm her physically. Nor would he allow anyone else to do so.
She wasn't romanticizing him, she promised herself. She didn't try to delude herself that any of his actions here were noble or selfless. He had told her he was here for the money, and she believed him. But she could never be afraid of him.
“B.J.? You okay in there?”
Realizing that the shower had been running for quite a long time, she hastily shut it off, scooping wet hair away from her face. “I'll be right out.”
Daniel woke her with a soft kiss pressed against her lips. Blinking groggily, she realized that it was barely daylight outside, with hardly enough light to filter through the sheer draperies. She didn't remember finally drifting off to sleep.
She could just see his face when she peered up at him. She noted immediately that he was fully dressed, sitting on the side of the bed, gazing down at her.
“What is it? Where are you going?”
“I have to go out. There's something I need to tell you first.”
She was suddenly completely awake. The phone call she had overheard the night before came back to her now, giving her a sick ce
rtainty that what he needed to say was goodbye.
“This is it, isn't it?”
He didn't seem surprised by her question. She'd like to think he looked a bit saddened by it. “Yes.”
She swallowed and asked simply, “What do you want me to do?”
