“Your father.” She shifted her purse closed and held out the envelope. “I know he asked me to wait until tomorrow, but I had some information I thought you’d need before—”
“Boy, he didn’t waste any time.”
“We had a nice chat. Over coffee.” She scrubbed her palms down the sides of her skirt. “Sorry if I disturbed you. Anyway, you should read that before we meet with Mac Price.”
“Who’s Mac Price?” Should he know that name? His brain had turned into a sieve lately; either that or everyone had decided to keep him out of whatever loops they were circling. “And why are we meeting with him?”
Laurel pursed her lips, tapped fingers against her hip in that way she had as she examined him. “Mac’s an old friend of your father’s. Jackson suggested we meet with him. He thinks Mac might have some information we need on Alastair Manville and the crown.”
“Funny. I thought you might have some information on Manville.”
Other than shifting slightly on her feet, she didn’t react. Not even a flinch. But the veneer of calm she wore didn’t strike him as authentic. The fact she didn’t respond either meant she had no answer or . . . or maybe she was tired of lying to him. He hoped it was the latter. Was it possible . . . could this be the real Laurel? Ivy? Whatever her name was? She looked . . . perfect, relaxed even. She wasn’t tied down under designer dresses and belts and instead wore a flirty, filmy ground-sweeping skirt covered in grey and white flowers, and a snug white cardigan over a neutral beige top. Big gold hoops dangled from her ears, surrounded by wave upon wave of that sable brown hair. The barely there wedge sandals displayed coral-painted toes that were currently scrunching under a thin band. She looked like a gypsy out of the pages of a storybook.
Jasmine mingled in the air, awakening him to the midmorning sun shining down on them. Another sharp bark, followed by scratching, had him wincing in fear for his floors, just as Malcolm predicted.
“Why don’t you talk to your father at the party—”
“Can’t do that,” he interrupted as he stepped back and drew open the door. “Not today. Tremayne parties are no-business zones. I even mention the crown, let alone Manville, and Dad will skin me alive. Why don’t you come in and give me the rundown of your conversation with him so I’m up to speed.” So he wasn’t hit with any more surprises.
“You don’t seem surprised Jackson came to see me.” She stepped inside and gave him a wide berth by skimming the wall to keep her distance.
“Nothing my father does these days surprises me. And no, I’m not since he told me he planned to.” He shut the door behind her. “Bear with me. I’m functioning on four hours’ sleep and I have a headache that would kill a horse. Right now you could ask me for the combination to the company safe and I’d turn it over.”
“Want to fill me in on what’s in there?” She tapped a finger against the closed door and arched a brow at him upon the rapid canine response. “You don’t strike me as having time for dogs.”
Nathan rubbed a hand over his eyes and wished the exhaustion away. Giving Malcolm free rein over finding Nemesis’ next target could be the end of his sanity. His brother-in-law already had a list a mile long. “You know how you have a great idea at two in the morning?”
She chuckled. “Two in the morning ideas are never a good thing.”
“Where were you yesterday when I went to the shelter?” He pulled open the door and squatted to capture one of the two flying golden fur balls that scrambled for freedom. “I got them for Lydia and Kelley. I was told they were trained. I’m not convinced. Damn.” He watched in despair as the second pup dashed down the hall toward the living room and his leather couch.
“I’ll get her. It is a her, right?” Laurel dropped her fringe-accented leather bag onto the floor and followed the dog.
“It was the one thing I did right.” He stared down into big brown eyes that blinked before the tongue struck and licked the side of his face. “Oh, ugh. Ick.” But he found himself laughing as he nudged the envelope he’d dropped out of the way. He carried the puppy into the kitchen, noticed the water bowl was empty—its contents all over the floor. Oddly enough, as he stroked the dog’s head, she settled, letting out what sounded like a sigh as she nudged his bare shoulder with her cold nose.
“They’re bored,” Laurel announced as she joined him in the kitchen, her escapee padding right beside her. When Laurel stopped and held up her hand, the dog plopped its butt on the floor and stared up at her. “Good girl. Where are the t-r-e-a-t-s?” She asked Nathan.
“Still in the b-o-x.” He gestured to the counter and watched as the puppy remained where she sat, eyes firmly fixed on Laurel as she popped open the box and pulled out two treats.
“Put her down,” Laurel said. “Sit.” She held up her hand in a similar gesture and Nathan’s puppy mimicked her sister. “Good girl.” She dropped down and gave them each a treat. “They need attention. But they’re good pups.” She stroked their heads and had them bouncing around her like renegade Ping-Pong balls.
Amazed and feeling a tad inadequate, he could only manage, “How did you learn that?”
“One of the foster families I lived with for a while ran a shelter. One of the better homes.” When she looked up at him in between fits of pets and hugs, he noticed there wasn’t as much bitterness as he expected in her expression. “I loved working with the dogs. Always wanted one. I promised J—” She broke off, bit her lip and cut herself off, avoiding his eyes as she sat on the floor and opened her arms to the pups. “Yes, I know.” She let them snuggle into her and she lavished them with love and attention. “I know. He doesn’t have a clue how much it takes to care for you, does he?” She looked up at him with teasing eyes. “I can watch them for you if you want to get ready.”
“Ready?”
“Family party, remember? I don’t think you plan to attend wearing that, do you?” She inclined her head and skimmed his body with her hot brown eyes. “And you might want to comb your hair. Just a suggestion.” He looked down. The worn grey sweatpants were the only thing on his body.
“I, uh, should shower then.”
“Okay.” She nodded as if encouraging an unruly child. “I’ll man the fort and help you get them loaded in the car when you’re done.”
***
Holy hell. Laurel let the pent-up breath she’d been holding since Nathan opened the front door. Was that steam coming out of her ears? Laurel focused on petting the puppies to keep herself from overheating once Nathan left the kitchen. She knew she should have just left the envelope under the welcome mat and skedaddled, but no, she’d had to push the doorbell one last time and be rewarded by the sight of a tousled, bedraggled Nathan Tremayne in what had to be the sexiest sleepwear she’d ever been privileged to lay eyes on.
She should have known he’d be cut to near perfection, as if Michelangelo himself had carved him as a specimen of man, but damn. Friday’s workout session at the gym provided barely an inkling of what lay beneath his clothes.
He had those hip thingies—the sculpted muscles that turned girls stupid—as his pants rode low across his hips, tanned skin making her hands itch to explore. Not going to think about it, she told herself, ordered herself. She couldn’t. However the situation might be changing with the Tremaynes—with Nathan—they were still her job. That didn’t, however, preclude Laurel from thinking what his body would feel like under her curious fingers. Whew! That was enough to thaw out the Arctic.
The puppies finally calmed down and she shifted on the floor, sitting back against the whitewashed cabinets, and looked around at the barely used kitchen. The top cabinets were faced in glass and aside from a few plates, a few glasses, and a smattering of flatware on the countertops, she didn’t see anything that made a personal impression of any kind. Did he live here or was it a pit stop? An open box of Cap’n Crunch next to a stack of PowerBars was her only indication he actually at
e. She bet if she opened the fridge, she’d find bottled water, a planter of wheat grass, and beer. Designer. European.
Her hotel room had more personality than this place. Sans the stalking photos of course.
She heard the whine of water rushing through pipes, which told her the town house was old, but not ancient. It was a gorgeous space, what she’d seen of it, but if she didn’t know better, she’d think it was on the market. She’d found a solitary sofa, big-screen TV, and more remote controls than she could find devices for littered the narrow coffee table on her quick excursion into the living room. No wonder he was always working. What was there to come home to?
But what did Laurel have except a daughter she couldn’t wait to hold? She couldn’t believe she’d nearly slipped, but seeing the puppies had reminded her of a long-ago promise. That once she was home, once she broke free of Alastair’s blackmail and started a new life, she and Joey were going to the shelter to get her a dog. She’d traveled around the world, stayed in some of the nicest hotels, eaten at the fanciest restaurants, and all she wanted was to get her little girl the dog she dreamed of.
Laurel swallowed the bitterness and steadied herself. She had to keep focused, keep her goal in sight. Finding the crown was step one. The more she thought about it, the more she realized that was the key to everything else. Find the crown and she could be the one calling the shots. Wiggling her way around the Tremayne family without getting too involved would be a challenge, but she was up for it. Especially if it helped her get the upper hand for the first time in years.
Right now, however, there was a mess to clean up.
She swiped up the water on the floor, refilled the bowl, and gathered up all the squeaky toys, ropes, and chew toys she could find, putting them back into the bag she saw hanging on the back of one of the two kitchen chairs before sitting back down on the floor.
By the time Nathan returned, the scent of warm water and clean soap mingling in the air, her arms and heart were full of puppy, and the ever-so-slight twinge of regret over having to let them go.
“Good thing you didn’t name them.”
Her breath escaped her lungs in a whoosh. Was there anything the man didn’t make look good? Worn, snug jeans encased his long legs and lean hips and the Captain America T-shirt made him the perfect target with his damp, almost-too-long hair and freshly shaved face. Her face went hot, but she busied herself with the dogs, grateful for the distraction. “They’ll be great for little girls.”
“Big girls, too, it seems. Thank you for watching them for me.”
She smiled. “Happy to help.” All this felt too . . . normal. Laurel didn’t do normal. She didn’t understand it. Even though it was what she wanted most.
“How long . . .” he trailed off, as if he wasn’t sure how he should proceed. “How long did you live with the shelter family?”
“Four months when I was twelve.” Laurel recalled the middle-aged couple with kind eyes and a gentle touch. “Then they got paperwork telling them it was time for me to be moved. I think they wanted me to stay.”
“You think?”
She shrugged, trying to pretend the pain wasn’t still there. It was, only buried with a thousand other disappointments. “I hoped. One of those lies foster kids tell themselves—that every family they like wants them. Didn’t seem to matter how helpful I was or that I wanted to stay.” The system had never seemed interested in what she wanted. The next home hadn’t been nearly as hospitable—a group home with more kids than the caretakers knew what to do with and no locks on the doors. It was then she made up her mind never to get attached again.
No doubt that insecurity, that desperate need to connect with someone, had her latching on to Charlie from the moment he smiled at her. Seventeen and all attitude and charm. He might not have been perfect, but when they’d run off together, finally, Laurel felt as if she belonged somewhere. To someone. How different her life would have been, had she made another decision that night. Better? Not likely. But she wouldn’t have Joey and that, she knew, without a doubt, would have been a tragedy.
“I can’t begin to imagine what it must have been like, not having a family.” Nathan leaned against the counter, braced his hands on the ledge.
“Given your family, I’d think so. The system sucks,” she admitted, but bits of bitterness and anger clung to her. Her past made her what—and who—she was. And she was doing okay. Or she would be. Lonely maybe. Did she even realize how lonely she’d been before Nathan? The last man, aside from Poppy, to care about her, hadn’t cared enough to put her first. She didn’t want to remember what it was like to have someone care about her, someone to rely on. Then again, Nathan wasn’t like anyone she’d ever met—or been tempted to trust—before. “At least, it sucked for me, but it could have been worse. I know it varies from city to city, state to state, but it doesn’t mean the kids should have to suffer for it. There’s a lot to be said for stability and knowing you can stay where you’re comfortable. I’m sure your sister knows that.”
“I’d like to see anyone try to take Morgan’s kids from her.” Despite the teasing intent, she didn’t see any humor on Nathan’s face when she looked up at him. “She and Gage have filed to adopt the three you saw in the park the other day. That’s part of the reason we need to find the crown and clear my father. I don’t want any of the accusations against my father blowing back on them and preventing those adoptions from going through.”
Laurel’s blood went icy, her hand stilled, and she pushed one of the overeager puppies away. She didn’t need him to voice her fear over what she could be responsible for. “You think that might happen?”
“You know the system. Given Kelley and Cedric and Aiden all are special cases, there are some who want everything with their permanent placement to be perfect before it’s approved. Having Dad under investigation for a felony doesn’t exactly work for their case for stability.”
But Nathan had thrown himself into the mix. What could Nathan have done to warrant concern when it was his father’s supposed actions he was trying to atone for. “I thought your family has connections—”
“Way ahead of you,” Nathan cut in. “And while Morgan hasn’t been one to call in favors, she’s made an exception this time. We have a lawyer friend helping as well. Not that Morgan believes anything’s going to go wrong. She’s the optimist in the family.” His lips tugged into a strained smile. “She still has faith in the system. And in people. You and I know better.”
She did. Why did Nathan? “We’ll just have to find that crown and set everything right.” Guilt swept over her like the morning tide, frigid and bracing, stealing her breath. The potential for collateral damage piled up and each of them had names. And faces. “So, you’re going to this party in costume?”
“Cap is Lydia’s favorite superhero.” Nathan looked down and plucked at the shirt. “It was Kelley’s idea.”
“Well, you should probably get going.” She shoved her feet under her and pushed herself up, but a puppy was sitting on her skirt and she pitched forward, headfirst into the cabinets. Nathan stepped in front of her and caught her before she bashed her head, dragging her up as her skirt sagged lower around her waist. His hands gripped her arms with gentle strength, making her feel safe and protected even as he set her away.
“What a klutz,” she whispered, trying to shake off the embarrassment. She hiked her skirt straight, smoothed her hands down her front, and stared at the floor until Nathan caught her chin with his finger and tilted her face up. “Nathan, don’t,” she urged, even as she wanted.
He ducked his head, teasing, testing, and she wet her lips without thinking, felt her entire body flush as his eyes strayed to her tongue.
“Tell me you haven’t been thinking about this since that night you kissed me at the hotel.” His voice was firm, seductive, entrancing. “I have been.”
“Couldn’t let myself.” It may have been
the most honest thing she’d ever said to him. Wanting Nathan, thinking about Nathan, was a path to trouble and she needed to remember that. Even as she felt herself sway into him. “Things are already complicated, Nathan. With what we have to do—”
“You’re not curious?” He stroked a finger across her lips as her mouth longed for his. “You don’t want to know if what we felt that night was real or a lie?”
“I can’t afford to be curious.” Not now. There was too much at stake. For her and the Tremaynes. Anyone else, any other job, any other man, she could afford to give in, but with Nathan—he had so much to lose, so much she could take from him. She didn’t want to take this, too. Except she did. More than she dreamed possible. Even with everything she had at stake. “Please—”
He kissed her.
The first time had taken them both by surprise. The other night she had been the one in control; determined to show him she was in charge. That wasn’t the case this time. Feeling his lips on hers, the gentle tracing and probing of his tongue as he silently asked for her surrender. She gasped as he pulled her against him, felt her fingers tremble as she lifted her arms and circled his neck, tangling her fingers in his hair as he angled his head ever so slightly and took control.
She felt like liquid fire in his arms, heated from the tips of her curling toes to the top of her overheated head. The tingling sensation of his body pressing against hers, the way his hand slid down to press against the base of her spine, pulling her firmly against him as her legs began to throb. She drew him into her, into her mouth, into her arms, and for a moment—a moment was all she could afford—she surrendered.
“Well.” He murmured against her lips in between nibbling kisses as he worked his way to the side of her throat. “I think we’re both in some trouble now.”
Trouble. She squeezed her eyes shut. Oh, Nathan Tremayne was definitely trouble, and instead of avoiding it like she knew she should, like she’d told herself to, here she was, walking straight into it. The last time she’d ignored that voice, she’d ended up indebted to a criminal mastermind. When was she going to learn?
Trouble with Nathan Page 17
