His Hot Number

by Shannon Hollis

  The fact that her imaginary parents lived somewhere in England did not have the effect of lessening her very real fear. The only person who might conceivably understand was Kellan. He’d lived in the underworld and had probably had his family threatened more than once.

  For the first time, she was thankful that her parents were rootless nomads who sent her postcards from Tibet and Tallahassee, from Paris and Penetanguishene. Gathering material for his novel, her father always said, with a sidewise grin at her mother. Finding inspiration to paint, her mother would counter, and Linn had to admit that at least that one was valid. Gaia Tillman’s paintings had been shown in galleries as geographically scattered as her temporary addresses.

  With a sigh that was part relief and part resignation, Linn unlocked the door and set her rolling suitcase upright in the hallway. In the kitchen the message light on the answering machine blinked. She punched the button and, as if she’d conjured her up, she heard her mother.

  “Hi, sweetie, hope you’re well. Dad and I will be swinging through the old stomping grounds next week. It’s Dirk and Michelle’s twenty-fifth anniversary party and your birthday, too, so we’re cutting things short here in Santa Fe. The show was great, even if I’m not sure about the culture. Too many movie stars. Talk to you later.” She signed off with her traditional double kiss.

  Great. Maybe Arroyo would get a chance to cap her parents after all, if anything went wrong. And naturally Mom had left no callback number. More often than not she forgot to charge the cell phone, but it would be worth trying to stall them for a week or so. They could detour to Sedona or something just until she wrapped the case and Arroyo was, if not incarcerated, then severely restricted in his movements. As in permanently extradited to Colombia.

  The last message was from Kellan, obviously calling from his cell phone after she’d left the office.

  “Hey, it’s me. I know we talked everything into the ground with Bryan, but if you want to get together and go over anything else, or if you just need to talk about nonwork stuff, I’m available.” He dictated his number and hung up while she stared at the machine as if it would spontaneously translate man-speak.

  Nonwork stuff? Once they started on that, it could be days—and nights—before they finished.

  She poured two fingers of Baileys into one of the small crystal glasses she kept for just that purpose, and folded herself into a corner of the couch, resting her head on an embroidered velvet cushion her mom had brought back from Nepal.

  Any other woman would be calling Kellan and taking him up on his offer, not sitting here alone and thinking it to death. But that’s what she did, Linn mused. She got a sense of distance by sizing things up mentally, by strategizing and preparing herself.

  But did that work with relationships? She was no longer so sure. A Caroline-like character might fling herself into sex with abandon and not a lot of thought for the consequences, yet Linn knew she couldn’t do that. Could she take a page from Caroline’s book and, well, maybe not fling herself but just walk toward it? That would be a change from always backing away. What she needed to do was commit herself. What she’d been doing was trying Caroline on and then when she got in too deep, changing her mind. She couldn’t keep doing this without confusing herself, and it was not fair to Kellan.

  He’d called her fearless. In some things, she was. But could she take a risk with her heart? That was the reason she was waffling. Because it could very well be that they didn’t have much time. In law enforcement, you had no guarantee that the person you cared about would walk out the front door in the morning and come back in at night. Sometimes they didn’t.

  She hadn’t quite realized how brave Natalie Wong was, taking on that kind of relationship. And she’d told her the risks were worth it.

  But those were big, long-term risks. What about the little, day-to-day ones? If she and Kellan got involved, they would have to deal with a lot of flak at the office. Maybe one of them would have to give up a job they loved and take a transfer into a different organization. Maybe Kellan himself would decide he’d rather have a dial-a-girl after all, and she’d have invested herself in him for nothing.

  She could sit here all night and think about the downside. Or she could do something about it. Talk to him. Be fearless.

  Linn got up and put the empty glass in the sink.

  Maybe she needed to be a little bit like Caroline here, too, and act before she thought.

  KELLAN PARKED THE TRUCK in its assigned slot outside his two-story apartment building and hefted his duffel out of the back. When he let himself in, the apartment struck him the way it always did—as a barracks for a man who was hardly ever there. He’d spent more time at the temporary apartment in the past six months than he had at home. It didn’t smell or anything, since he had someone clean it twice a month whether it needed it or not, but given the choice, there were a lot of places he’d rather be.

  Someday he’d have a place like Linn’s, where you walked in and actually smelled things like plants and furniture polish and cooking. A place with a bit of land to it and a lawn.

  But Kellan hardly ever wasted time thinking about someday when there was so much to think about in the now. He could go and do something productive, like work out, or call Coop and meet him for a beer, or call somebody in his black book for some fast and furious sex.

  He didn’t want exercise or beer or sex.

  Correction. He didn’t want exercise or beer. Or sex with just anyone. He wanted it with Linn. Badly. And soon.

  More than that, he wanted to know she was all right. Undercover ops burned out an investigator faster than any other tour of duty. She was experienced, he knew that, but not at this level. Who better to talk to than he—the guy she’d been with twenty-four/seven. The guy she’d made love with. The guy who, let’s face it, cared about his team members and wanted them well adjusted and alert when they went back on duty.

  Yeah, right.

  The guy who was so hungry for the sight of her after a mere two hours that he was tempted to get back in the truck and drive down the peninsula to her condo. He could see himself, hanging around behind a row of rosebushes hoping she’d come out, like some sick high school crush.

  He wanted Linn Nichols and there was no getting around it. Yeah, there were one or two minor regulations about fraternizing on duty. They were about to embark on the final phase of the most important investigation of his career, and he needed to keep a clear head. But those sensible thoughts had no effect on this craving in his blood whenever he thought about her, this need for closeness that he only seemed to experience in those few, hard-won moments with her. And he wanted more of those moments. Many more.

  He let the bag fall on the floor in the bedroom and peeled out of the jeans he’d been wearing for what seemed like days, though they’d only left Napa this morning, and tossed them in the corner to start a laundry pile. Then he flopped on the bed and hooked up the phone with two fingers.

  After four rings, he realized he was holding his breath, and when her answering machine clicked on and he heard the same canned message he’d heard when he called earlier, he let out a long sigh.

  Maybe she’d gone to get groceries. Or maybe she was out with someone. A woman couldn’t look like she did and not be beating men off the doorstep with a stick.

  He dropped the receiver back into its cradle without leaving a message. He’d already left one. Two would make him look lame.

  He lay there for a couple of minutes.

  The truth was, he didn’t want any more phone conversations. They were starting to remind him of Rick O’Reilly, and he didn’t want to be thinking about that when he was talking to Linn.

  As if his thoughts had activated it, the phone rang. Maybe she’d picked up his message and was calling back.

  “Yeah.”

  “It’s me,” Cooper Maxwell said. “Want to come over for a beer? I don’t know about you, but I could sure use one.”

  Kellan hesitated. “Maybe not.”


  “Got something going? We have a couple of days of downtime until the brass get all the agencies and equipment into place.”

  “I don’t know yet.”

  “Oh, I get it. The word has gone out, right? Black’s Babes are homing in on you?” Coop whistled. “I was telling Danny you must have some kind of phone tree arrangement. One call does it all.”

  “No.” Kellan hoped he didn’t sound as annoyed as he felt. “I haven’t called anyone. Yet.”

  “What’s the matter? Did they all get old or something? I hear there’s a new hire in L.A. Word is that she’s hot. Redhead. Legs to die for.”

  “You have my blessing.”

  Coop was silent for a moment. “Something’s happened to you. Are you sick?”

  “Do I have to be sick to want to be alone for a while?”

  “If it were anybody else, I’d say no. But not the guy who’s been collecting girlfriends since the day he signed on.”

  “Maybe I want a change of pace.”

  Another silence. “Okay, I get it now. Something did happen to you. Just what exactly went on while you and The Girl were overnighting in Napa?”

  “What makes you think anything went on?”

  “My God. Wait till I tell Danny this. Oh, how the mighty are fallen.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You and Nichols. Danny and I had a bet you’d have her in the sack by the end of the operation, but I never thought it would go this far.”

  “You had a bet I’d sleep with her?” Kellan’s stomach hollowed with uneasiness. Linn had been afraid of this. He hadn’t thought it was a problem, so he hadn’t taken her seriously.

  That had obviously been a mistake.

  “Odds were pretty long,” Coop admitted. “But maybe not, if you’ve got a thing for her. Do you?”

  The fact that he even had to debate whether to tell his best friend was a pretty good clue to the strength of his feelings. He and Coop had never held back when it came to talking about women. There just hadn’t been anything to conceal. But now it seemed that everything had to be concealed, especially if Coop and Danny were talking about Linn already. If they actually had something to work with, who knew how far the gossip would go?

  Far enough to damage her career? Far enough to hurt her?

  “I have a lot of respect for her,” Kellan said at last. “Call her The Girl if you want, but she’s damn good at what she does. If it hadn’t been for her, Arroyo probably wouldn’t be talking to me.”

  “Well, they don’t get into CLEU because of their looks,” Coop reminded him. “It’s nice you respect her and all, but it still doesn’t explain why you’re not rounding up the usual romantic suspects.”

  “Maybe I’m just out of gas.” Kellan pulled his keys out of the pocket of the jeans on the floor. “Maybe I just want some space.”

  “And maybe I don’t believe you. I better call Danny and tell him the odds on that bet just shortened up.”

  “I wouldn’t do that.”

  “Is that financial advice, or a threat?”

  “Coop, give me a break. You never hassled me like this before.”

  “You never got serious before. The R word never came into the conversation before.”

  “Romantic?”

  “Respect. That’s a sure danger sign. You told her in the beginning she had to earn it, just like everybody else.”

  “And she has. With me, anyway. But if you guys go shooting your mouths off, she may lose it.”

  “Are you saying we’d sabotage her deliberately?” The note of banter and “let’s not take life seriously—ever” that habitually lived in Coop’s tone was gone. “What kind of friends do you think we are?”

  “The kind I can trust. But like you say, it’s never been this way before. Look, I’ve got to go.” Kellan jingled the truck keys in his palm. “There’s something I have to do.”

  LINN HAD JUST DRIED OFF after showering the last of Napa down the drain when she heard the knock on the front door. She grabbed her green bathrobe off its hook and tightened the belt at her waist as she padded across the living room to answer it.

  The view through the peephole rocked her back on her heels. Well. Great minds were obviously thinking alike.

  And what did that mean?

  When she pulled the door open, Kellan took her in from head to foot and then grinned as if he’d been given a gift. “Hey.” His smile was dazzling. Lamplight struck his cheekbones and gilded the ends of his eyelashes like something from an old painting. “Mind if I come in?”

  “Oh. Right. Sure.”

  Trust her to stare like a teenager as her crush passed by her locker instead of setting the mood for a seduction. Where was Caroline when she needed her?

  “Am I interrupting anything?” He looked around as though he expected to see a party, and people standing around with drinks in their hands.

  “No. I just got out of the shower.”

  “I’m always catching you when you’re soaking wet.”

  “Give me a second and I’ll put something on.” The leather skirt had worked once before, true to Tessa’s prediction. If there really were some cosmic thing going on between that skirt and the universe, it would be a shame to waste it.

  She turned, but he stopped her with a hand on her arm. “I like you this way. Complete with bathrobe.”

  And here she’d always thought men responded to lingerie and garter belts. Well, a good operator improvised and worked with what she had on hand. She settled onto the couch, and he sat beside her, the cushions sinking under his weight.

  “Did you really drive down here to give me compliments on my bathrobe? I was going to call you back, you know.”

  Not quite true. She was going to drive up to his place and give him a night he wouldn’t forget. It was sheer luck she’d decided to shower first. If he hadn’t been home when she got there, she’d have lost her courage and her opportunity.

  But opportunity had knocked right on her own front door.

  “I like it.” The smile flashed and was gone. “But I didn’t come just for that. I talked to Coop.”

  She eyed him. “Is that good or bad?”

  “He wanted to know if something was going on between you and me.”

  Did he, now. “What did you tell him?”

  “I told you I wouldn’t say anything, so I didn’t. I just said I respected you, and left it at that.”

  Between friends as close as he and Cooper seemed to be, Linn was sure there was more to it. But it was just as likely he wouldn’t tell her. She had other things on her mind, anyway—and one of them wasn’t talking about Cooper Maxwell.

  “Thank you,” she said absently. How long would it take to undo the buttons on his shirt? There was one way to find out. With a subtle movement of her shoulder, the robe fell open a little.

  Kellan’s gaze followed it, then away. “He…he wanted to know if I was going to call anyone while I had a couple of days of downtime.”

  Another movement, and the robe slipped off her shoulder altogether. “And are you?”

  She played with the top button on his shirt. He seemed to focus on her bare shoulder, as if he were wondering what the robe would do now. The button popped out of its hole and she went to work on the next one.

  “I said I wouldn’t. Call anyone, I mean.”

  Two buttons.

  “You called me,” she said helpfully.

  “You’re why I’m not calling anyone else.”

  Something behind her ribs bubbled over, the way champagne does when it’s shaken. For the first time, Linn wondered if Natalie was right. Had both of them met their match in the other, and it had just taken them this long to see it? And worse, had they found each other just in time to realize it and then walk into an operation where a simple mistake could be the end of everything?

  Three buttons.

  “Linn, what are you doing?” A strong hand on her wrist stopped her from managing the fourth button.

  “Undoin
g your shirt.”

  She’d made up her mind that tonight was going to be stolen out of time, one of those little oases of cold sanity and hot pleasure that they seemed to be able to create out of circumstances that shouldn’t allow either one.

  But now it seemed much more than that. She’d deliberately chosen him. And he, it appeared, had deliberately chosen her.

  “Talk is starting to get around the office. You were right. We can’t do this.”

  His grip loosened, and she worked the fourth button free. The collar of her robe drooped even further, and she felt cool air on her chest from the open sliding glass door. If she looked down to see what she’d revealed, it would spoil the effect. But the expression on his face was as good as a mirror.

  Better. She didn’t want to see herself as she was, anyway. She wanted to see herself the way he saw her.

  The last button gave in to her fingers, and she spread the two halves of his shirt apart, flattening her hand on his chest. “That’s more like it.”

  She no longer cared what everyone in the office thought. Once the talk got started, the truth didn’t matter anyway. There was nothing either of them could do about it now, so she wasn’t going to let it bother her. There were many more important things to think about.

  And do.

  “Are you listening?”

  “Oh, yes.” His skin felt so hot, so solid. She could just run a hand over his pectorals, like this…

  “I am trying to do the right thing, here.” His belly was hard, and the muscles flinched under her explorations.

  “I appreciate that,” she murmured. “But whether you take your shirt off now or not, it isn’t going to stop the talk, is it?”

  “Well, no, not right now, but it’s the principle—”

  “I do admire your…principles. Come here.”

  She leaned over and brushed his hair away from his ear, then touched his earlobe with the tip of her tongue, dampening it. When she nibbled it just the slightest bit, his breathing changed.