by Regan Black
“Take me home,” she replied. “We’re not friends. We’re basically client and expert. Two people stuck in a new and apparently difficult situation.”
Interesting. She resorted to the attorney lingo and unflappable courtroom voice when she got rattled. “We could be friends.” He heard the words and knew that’s what he wanted. To start with. He could list a dozen reasons why being friends was a good idea and probably a dozen more why distance was the wiser choice.
She slid off the hood to her feet, keeping the blanket wrapped around her. “I don’t play well with others, Mitch. I’m a better person when I’m alone,” she said.
The quiet words hung in the air, choking out what could have become a decent conversation. He wasn’t buying it, but he wouldn’t argue. Not yet. He’d been raised in a big noisy family that boasted the opposite philosophy. Mitch decided whatever the stalker’s motives were, he wanted to learn what the hell had turned her into such a loner.
As they drove back to her place in silence, he told himself to let it go. Except she wasn’t half the hard-nosed terror she thought she was or pretended to be. Under that tough-attorney exterior was a woman he wanted to get to know better.
A lot better.
Chapter 5
In the Marburg library, Julia rocked back in the task chair and stretched her arms over her head. She was exhausted. The words printed on the pages kept getting smaller and blurring into nonsense. A glance at the clock on the wall showed she’d been at it for over two hours since the last five-minute break she’d allowed herself. Two full days in the library and only the rest of my life to go, she thought bitterly. Precedents abounded for potential pretrial motions for the Falk case and her bosses expected her to present every possibility.
Seeking a respite, her thoughts drifted to Mitch. The way he’d infiltrated every corner of her personal space, it was tough not to think about him. He’d been camped out on her floor since that first night. Over the past days, she’d learned he could be awake and on full alert at the merest provocation, that he preferred free weights to machines at the gym and that he was itching to get back to the firehouse.
Mitch could cook, his coffee was better than hers, he rarely complained, he spoke fondly of his family and he maintained a solid, steady presence she often wanted to lean on. Having him around was simultaneously comforting and unsettling. She had to constantly remind herself it was temporary. Sticking with Grant’s orders, they followed her pre-stalker routine to the letter, even through the weekend. They’d worked out a method of sorts and a division of space that almost kept them from tripping over each other in her small apartment. In short, he was an exemplary roommate.
Why don’t you want to like me? His question echoed in her head, all these days later. She was far too willing to like him. What didn’t make sense to her was his determination to like her. Most people didn’t like her unless she could help them somehow.
If she could put a stop to her hot, needy dreams about him, she might feel less edgy and more willing to count him as a potential long-term friend. Certain parts of her body protested the friend concept, but Mitch was a great guy who deserved better than to be saddled with a troubled defense attorney. The more time they spent together and the more he revealed about his life and values made her increasingly aware that their only common ground was their determination to advance within their respective careers.
Since Mitch had entered her life last week, she hadn’t heard a single demand out of her stalker. It would be easy, and naive, to think her personal bodyguard had scared him off, since the creep continued to block her attempts to regain control of her money. Her rent was due in a few days and she didn’t have enough cash on hand to cover it. She’d gone into the bank branch to make a withdrawal only to find her accounts depleted. Embarrassed and infuriated, if Mitch hadn’t been there she would have reached out to bargain with the stalker just to get it over with.
Her phone hummed in her pocket and she grinned at the midmorning check-in text from Mitch. She sent the all-clear reply and returned to the case work. While the computer databases set her in the right direction for her research, she always preferred to read directly from the source whenever possible. A habit from law school she hadn’t broken yet.
After making another page of notes, she pushed away from the big table to go find another cup of coffee. She’d nearly pitched her phone through the window when the alarm sounded this morning, having spent the night tossing and turning in her bed, wishing she was bold enough to invite the handsome fireman to join her under the covers.
The outrageous and inappropriate attraction was taking its toll. Day after day she tried to chalk it up to proximity and failed. He was in her life to protect her and she didn’t want to cross a line and make things uncomfortable...but then she’d catch him looking at her in a way that made her want to ask if she could climb all over that sculpted body.
Down, girl, she scolded herself as she filled her coffee mug. Her mother used men, discarding them when she finished, and Julia had vowed not to follow that poor example.
If they made it through the rest of this week without any new threats or demands, she would assume this had all been an elaborate robbery and the stalker had succeeded. The financial blow was harsh but not impossible to overcome. Bolstered by the fresh jolt of caffeine, she returned to her research.
Her concentration was terrible today, flipping between the case, her unresolved predicament and Mitch. Why had she been targeted as a potential informant? No one in town really knew her. She enjoyed the ability to be her best self, without the clouds of her past hanging over her. The first time her personal and professional lives had intersected had been the day Mitch had shown up to take her to lunch and everyone assumed he was more than a new client.
Whatever had put this in motion, however it ended, she wanted to find a meaningful way to thank Mitch for his help. With a guilty glance around the library, she changed the target of her searches again. When her next alarm went off, Julia gathered her personal belongings, bookmarking her research to resume after lunch with Mitch in the park.
She stepped outside to find the day had turned cloudy. Mitch saw her and jogged up the sidewalk, a smile on his face that seemed to brighten the entire street. A woman could get used to the focus and attention Mitch applied to every task. That sexy smile haunted her dreams, creating delusions that a man as good and decent as Mitch would truly want her for more than a little temporary fun. His button-down shirt was open over a dark T-shirt tucked into his jeans, and her palms tingled at the thought of sliding her hands under that soft fabric.
“Any contact?” he asked, greeting her with his habitual warm hug. He’d overruled her protests, claiming a hug was the bare minimum affection allowed for a new couple.
“No.” She resisted the urge to cling as the masculine scent of his cologne surrounded her. Linking her hand with his as they strolled down the block, she refused to dwell on how natural it felt. She’d miss that when they went their separate ways. “I’m starting to think you scared him off.”
“Not a chance,” Mitch countered with a sly smile and a feisty glint in his brown eyes.
Her footsteps faltered, and he steadied her. “Did something happen?”
He shook his head. “I’ve got a feeling,” he said, pressing his free hand over his stomach. “I think he’s biding his time. Probably poking into me and why I’ve appeared in your life now.”
The idea made her queasy. “That’s ridiculous.” Bravado would have to carry her until they had hard evidence on a real lead. “He must have found someone more malleable.”
“Oh? Has he fixed the trouble he made with your finances?”
“No.” And she had no idea how she’d pay her rent on time. She could hardly ask for an advance on her salary without causing more problems. The embarrassment of asking her landlord for an extension would be torture, but it might be the best option. “If he doesn’t give me access to my money I won’t be able to pay my rent,” s
he confessed quietly. “I’m not sure what I’m going to do,” she murmured.
“Keep going through the motions,” Mitch replied.
She waited with him at the food truck and they walked together to their favorite bench. She pulled out the salad she’d packed at home while he doused the burrito he’d ordered with hot sauce. Normally she soaked up sunshine right here, refueling for the long afternoon and evening hours ahead. Today, low-hanging clouds gathered, underscoring the downturn her mood had taken.
“Does your lease allow you to sublet?”
“If I could, how would I find anyone in time?” She frowned at the salad in her bowl, poking through the greens. The conversation was ruining her appetite. “And why would I want to?”
“You’re worried about your credit and keeping up appearances, right?”
“Mmm-hmm.” She had enough to overcome at the firm, after throwing her reputation under the bus with the sudden appearance of a serious man in her life.
“You don’t want to take this to your bosses.”
“You know I can’t do that.” She glared at him. “Even without the now-silent stalker, I refuse to give them a reason to toss me off a career-boosting case or fire me. Either result is more likely than any show of compassion.”
“I’ve been giving this some thought. What if you sublet your apartment to my brother and move in at my place. He can cover the rent, my house gives us both more space to work, and—bonus—throws your stalker pal a serious curveball.”
The idea had merit. “You mean the stalker who’s gone silent?”
He shrugged, his hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket.
“Playing house at your place?”
“We’ve been doing it at your place,” he said. “Mine’s bigger.” His unrepentant grin put a flutter in her pulse. “Think about it.”
Oh, she was thinking about it, reveling for a moment in the sweetness of the offer. She’d never lived in a house, only run-down apartments and dorm rooms. Making that move would be using Mitch to test an experience she didn’t know she’d longed for. “Let’s give it to the end of the week? Maybe he’s been caught or really did give up on me when you showed up.” It was a weak argument and they both knew it.
He nodded thoughtfully while he finished chewing a bite of his sandwich. “You’re defeating your own argument,” he said once he’d swallowed.
“How so?”
“By definition stalkers are patient and thorough, even if your creep came out of the gate too fast. If you kick me to the curb he wins just by waiting you out. It sends the message that my presence was just a stunt.”
“It is,” she said, reminding herself as much as him. She didn’t like admitting it, didn’t like thinking of them as performers, but that’s what it came down to. She stabbed her fork through her salad. “You were assigned to be my buffer and all evidence proves you’ve been effective. I’d think you’d be happy to get your life back.”
His shoulders hitched as he laughed. “Spare me the legalese.” He balled up the burrito wrapper and stuffed it back into the paper bag. “Do you have your life back?”
“Not entirely.” She’d give that to the end of the week, as well. If the stalker hadn’t made another move, she’d file the fraud charges and a police report on the theft. It probably wouldn’t get her money back, but she’d feel better. She’d worked her tail off to create a career and financial stability and here she was, scraping by on the generosity of strangers, just like her mom always did.
“Then it is way too soon to back off now.” He leaned forward, elbows on his knees.
“Why are you so determined to keep this up? To stick with me?” She’d been told all her life how difficult she was to live with. How regimented, unwilling to cut anyone slack. Her mother had said it, her brother too before he’d moved out. Even her first two roommates in college complained about living with her.
He faced her, a wistful half smile on his lips. “You need me.”
Before she could respond, her phone screen lit up with a text message alert. Dread built in her throat when she recognized the number as her stalker’s. When he told her to save his number, she’d thought he was being cocky, yet so far he had successfully dodged the efforts to trace the phone. “It’s him.” Her voice cracked. Guess she wasn’t going to get a break and slip free of this jerk after all.
Mitch sat up casually, bumping her knee with his. “I’m scanning the park for any sign of him. You check the message.”
She could barely manage a nod of agreement as she swiped the screen.
Noticed you found yourself a boyfriend with money. Seems decent enough. Which means he can’t stop me.
A chill ran through her, raising the hair on the back of her neck. Keeping her voice low, she read the message to Mitch. “Should I reply?”
“Try asking for your money.”
She typed in the words before she lost her nerve. Nice to hear from you. I want my money back today or I call the police.
No police, Julia. Your money is safe, even earning interest. Give me the names I need and it’s all yours.
“I can’t do that,” she whispered as she typed the same in reply. Money first. If I’m evicted they’ll fire me.
Then you’ll have to cooperate with me. Remember who is in charge.
She showed the messages to Mitch. “I’m sorely tempted, but I don’t have what he wants. How is it this creep knows everything but that?”
“What are you doing?” Mitch asked when she started keying in a new message.
“Suggesting he torment someone in the prosecutor’s office. They know more about any plea deals Falk is planning than I ever will.”
*
Mitch watched Julia hit Send on the message before he could advise her to stop and think about it. He swallowed back the worry, scanning the crowd for anyone showing signs of aggravation. Preferably some aggravated person wearing a hockey team ball cap. He spotted more than one man with eyes on his phone fitting the general description. No way to round up all of them. What would it take to make the stalker flinch? “Let’s get you back to the office,” he said to Julia as he stood up.
He wanted her back behind the safety of Marburg’s granite walls and security systems.
Did her stalker have any idea how miserable Julia would be if anything happened to someone at the prosecutor’s office? He prayed the jerk hadn’t dug that deep into her past.
Over the past several days every conversation between them had shed a little more light on the real woman hiding behind the lawyer’s stoic face, classy wardrobe and mile-high defenses keeping the world far from her tender, battered heart. She’d be furious if she knew he’d decided to go back further, searching for any clue to her present trouble.
Her childhood had been less than ideal—a vast understatement—the things she must have seen and survived made his heart ache for that little girl with no control or guidance. She’d grown up in the Midwest and been between foster homes when her mom wasn’t considered a fit parent. He had yet to find any sign of her father. Despite the pile of disadvantages, Julia had single-handedly broken free and made her way through college and law school, landing at the top of the heap at Marburg.
For days he’d wanted to tell her how much her courage and grit impressed him. He wanted to hold her and make up for all the affection she’d missed growing up. Not yet. If he moved too soon, she’d boot him out of her life. Every day he told himself to wait a little longer, to wait until she made the first move.
“I’ll pick you up at seven,” he said when they reached her building.
“Why don’t I call you when I’m ready?”
Because every moment she was out of his sight was more unbearable than the last. With the stalker in play again he refused to take chances. “Are you going in there to get names and cooperate with him?”
She leaned back as if he’d sprouted a second head. “Of course not.”
“Then I’ll pick you up at seven. I have a shift at Escape ton
ight.”
“And I have a career on the line,” she shot back. “I’ll order delivery and work through. You can pick me up after your shift.”
He shook his head. “We can’t keep going on this way.”
“What?” She tilted her head and opened her mouth, then clamped her lips shut. “I’m edgy,” she admitted with obvious reluctance. “What have I missed?”
She’d missed the part where he was caring about her as far more than a client. He was into every part of her routine and it should’ve been weird. Instead, he was increasingly content with the situation, despite the risky reasons behind their association.
Association? He almost laughed. Her world, her scent, her patterns were seeping into his clothing, his skin, going deeper into his heart. “You can work your caseload from Grant’s office,” he suggested. “Or just take a night off.”
“I can’t get caught partying at the club again.”
“You didn’t last time. Trust me.”
“I do trust you.” She stepped closer and lowered her voice. “I do, or you wouldn’t be living with me.”
He ran a hand over his hair to keep from touching hers. His extended stay at her small place was wearing on her. On him, too, though the reasons probably differed. The more time he spent in her orbit, the more time he wanted. He’d had crushes and a serious relationship or two. What he felt for her was light-years from any previous experience. Too soon, he reminded himself.
“Julia, please.” His gaze roamed the people streaming by them. “After days of silence and searching, we’re no closer to guessing who this jerk is.”
Her lips parted on a frustrated sigh that mirrored his assessment.
“We owe Grant an update, in person.” He pushed the point.
“And?” Her eyebrows pulled together as she studied him closely. “You have something else on your mind. Just spit it out, Mitch.”
She was on his mind. Her safety, her happiness and her future monopolized his thoughts. He should tell her. Not yet. He gripped the lapels of her coat and tugged her in for a brisk kiss. Basic. Chaste. Yet his lips sizzled and her eyes were huge when he eased her back. “Seven,” he said, angling her toward the revolving door and giving her a nudge in that direction.
