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Her head was spinning and she placed a hand on the cool metal door to steady herself. Th e doors silently slid open, almost knocking her off balance. A pair of strong arms came around her, guiding her inside the elevator, and the doors closed silently behind them. The elevator was moving by the time she turned to confront her rescuer. “Thank you, but I can make it the rest of the way by myself.” She spoke more curt l y than she had intended, but would not relent as she stared into Noah's deep gray eyes.
    “I don’t remember asking you,” Noah retorted, his usually sensuous lips pressed together in an uncompro mising li ne.
    " And I don't need your permission to go home, Mr. Weston. After all this time I can take care of myself."
    "Really?"
    "Really."
    Tension crackled in the air as their eyes locked and fought a silent battle of wills . D ianna lowered her lashes just as the elevator stopped and the doors opened . Instead of the expected view of the lobby, she was met by the sight of an all-too-familiar hallway—the hallway outside Noah Weston’s penthouse suite. A man in a guard uniform stood leaning against the wall, a magazine in his hand . When he spotted them , he straightened , watching Noah guide Dianne toward the apartment door.
    “Evening, Simon,” Noah muttered
    “Good evening, sir.” The man smiled his expression both respectful and curious.
    Dianna wanted to turn and run, but the pressure of Noah’s hand prevented her retreat more effectively than locks or keys could . The door opened to his touch and he led the way down the short hallway to the over- large living room . It was just as she remembered it ; plus or minus a few paintings and additional shots of color on the large sofa cushions. T wo glass wall s overlook ed Dallas, and framed the expensive furnishings and quietly elegant white, tan- and- chocolate- brown color scheme. Gently he pushed her into a chair and leaned over, holding Dianna hostage as his hands gripped the sides of the cushioned arms.
    “ Please. Sit here and keep quiet for a minute,” he ordered before walking to a paneled wall and touching a small brown button. The wall rotated , disclosing a completely mirrored bar that revolved into the room to display fine cut crystal of every shape and size. Bottles of expensive liqueurs were standing on the back shelf. He poured a pure white liquid into two small stemmed glasses and returned to stand in front of her, staring down as if not really seeing her at all. He thrust the glass into her trembling hand.
    “This will help your headache.” He said before turning to sit heavily in the chair across from hers. Dianna sipped it, barely noticing its licorice taste or the soothing way it passed down her dry throat . Her eyes were focused on Noah.
    Suddenly h e looked as tired as she felt. He star ed down in to his brandy glass as if it held an answer to a secret. But his next words blew that theory. “Why did you run away all those years ago?” he asked abruptly.
    “ I should think that was obvious,” she retorted with more bravado than she felt “What did you expect me to do, remain here indefinitely?”
    “I expected you to know that I 'd take care of you.”
    “What I didn’t need was your pity!” She couldn’t breathe. Why did he affect her like this? After what had happened in the past she should be immune to him. If she could just leave, then everything would be all right.
    “I never wanted to give you pity or charity . Ju st care, in the form of a home and a reasonable income for the rest of your life.”
    “For services rendered? And to whom? Charles or you? ” T he shakiness of her voice belied her sneering tone . “No thanks! I'v e managed on my own all these years, so please , don’t start worrying now. If that’s the reason you 're concerned now, then you have no fear.  And if your company accepted my application because you want to 'take care of me' , then you can take your position, your reasonable income,