He stepped closer. “Did you tell the operator who you are?” She shook her head. “No, of course not. I . . . I was trying to call the paper to let them know I’m okay.”
It was then that Zach noticed she wasn’t wearing a bra. The soft fabric of her tank top clung to her breasts, accentuating her curves, the dark circles of her nipples just visible through the thin white cotton.
His mouth watered, blood rushing to his groin.
He jerked his gaze back to her face, but it was too late. He was already on the brink of embarrassing himself, the towel he’d tied around his hips not enough to hide his growing hard-on. Silently cursing his dick, he turned his back to her, walked over to the table, grabbed a pair of boxer briefs, and slid them on beneath his towel.
“I told you not to call anyone yet.” He reached for the gray Dockers he’d bought, tucking his half-hard penis inside. “We need to agree on what you can say and whom you can callbeforeyou start dialing.”
He turned to face her, determined to treat her like he would any other woman on any other case. But one look at those big aqua eyes, and he knew he was screwed.
Whatever this was between them—he could feel it from across the room.
What the hell is wrong with you? You didn’t react this way to Gisella.
Then again Gisella was half porn star, half barbed wire.
Natalie was one hundred percent woman.
He willed himself to focus. “Listen, Natalie, you weren’t taken from that bus randomly. Cárdenas wanted you for some reason. Now he wants revenge. He’s probably turning Juárez upside down to find you. If you call the State Department or the consulate, there’s a chance that word will get to Cárdenas through wiretaps, moles, dirty agents—you name it. I won’t take that risk—not when both our lives are at stake.”
“So you don’t even think it’s safe for me to tell my friends? I can assure you that none of them have ties to Cárdenas.” The arch of a graceful brow and the cool tone of her voice told him she thought he was being ridiculous.
“If you call the paper, they’ll want to write an article—”
“They won’t write anything if I tell them to keep it secret.” Then her eyes narrowed. “Do you know what I think this is really about?”
“Do tell.”This ought to be good.
“You don’t want to go anywhere near U.S. authorities or the media because you’re afraid you might be arrested.” There was defiance on her face, but beneath it was a hint of fear. “Or maybe you don’t intend to take me home at all.”
That last bit took a moment to sink in. When it did, he didn’t know whether to laugh out loud—or go ballistic.
“Last night you were afraid I was going to abandon you here, and now you think I’m—what?—kidnapping you or some shit?”
She said nothing, but her chin rose a notch.
“Please tell me—if I don’t plan on taking you home, whatdoI plan to do with you?” He closed the space between them in slow strides, then caught her chin between his finger and thumb and let his gaze travel over her. “Maybe I want to sell you and turn a profit off your sweet body and pretty face. Or maybe I’m just greedy and planning to keep you for myself.”
Watch yourself, McBride. She’s been through hell.
He let go of her, stepped back, turned away, fighting to regain control of his temper. “When did you get the impression I was kidnapping you? Was it when I saved you from dehydration? Was it when I carried you out of the bathtub? Or was it last night when I slept beside you and you were half-naked and I didn’t so much as touch you?”
“All I know is that I could be safely home tonight.” There was a slight quaver in her voice as if she were fighting tears. “But you won’t let me call any of the people who could help me get there. And then I wake up to find all kinds of pretty clothes—far more than I could possibly wear in the few hours it would take to reach the border. It seems to me that you plan on keeping me around.”
When she put it like that, he couldn’t blame her for being suspicious. What the hell had he been thinking? He’d needed to buy her practical clothing—a pair of boots, BDUs, heavy socks, a few T-shirts. Pretty skirts and a silk nightgown werenotgoing to help her escape the Zetas.
This is what happens when you let your dick do the shopping.He saw the doubt in her eyes, and once again he wished he could tell her the truth about himself, but that wasn’t an option until they were safely across the border—for her sake as well as his own. No, he couldn’t tell her what he was.
But maybe . . .
Maybe he could tell her what he wasnot.
“I bought the clothes because I was trying to make up for some of what you’ve been through and I thought you’d look pretty in them.” And he was paying the price for that now, wasn’t he? Shedidlook pretty. Next time he was stuck with a naked woman in a hotel room, he’d buy her old lady clothes—polyester pants with elastic waistbands and long-sleeved shirts with big flowers on them. “As for the rest—I’d love to explain it, but I can’t. But Icantell you that I’m not whatever you think I am.”
His stomach growled.
“Can we talk about this over breakfast?”