Under Pressure

by Lori Foster

  When the tap sounded on the closed bedroom door, she almost hit the ceiling. Going to her back, heart pumping hard, she asked, “What?”

  He peeked in, saw her there on the bed, balanced on her elbows, and his gaze heated. “You okay?”

  No doubt she’d be better if he joined her. “Okay is a subjective term. All in all, for what my life has turned into, yeah, sure, I’m peachy.”

  He stepped farther inside but stayed near the door, the chicken. Maybe she tempted him. That’d be a nice thought.

  “Putting aside everything before this morning,” he said, “still fine?”

  “Sure.” Pride had her sitting up and shrugging as if she hadn’t a care. “You’re not the first rejection I’ve gotten, so don’t sweat it.”

  Almost against his will, he looked her over. “You’re not stupid, Cat, so don’t pretend to be.”

  No, she wasn’t, but she asked anyway. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  His attention drifted back to her face. “You know I want you.”

  Even while irked, hearing that sent a shiver down her back. Guess my radar isn’t as wonky as I thought. But whether he wanted her or not, he’d still rejected her, and she was still stung by that. “So you backing off is...what?” With a sneer, she asked, “Nobility?”

  Her deliberate laugh intensified the heat in his gaze. “I’ve known you less than a day.”

  “Ah, so it’s scruples?” She tsked and asked with an overdone dose of sympathy, “You’ve never had a one-night stand, huh?”

  “I never said that.”

  No, he hadn’t, which only confirmed that it was something about her that had him refusing.

  “Not that it would apply anyway,” he added. “We’ll be together for more than one night, maybe even weeks.”

  Weeks? Good grief. Could a woman die of unrequited lust? “So it’s that you need me to wine and dine you first? I can give it a try. That is, if you’ll add wine to that grocery list. No, wait. I bet there’s some here in the penthouse somewhere.” She looked over his very fine body and murmured, “I’ll see if I can find it.”

  The provocative words brought him closer. “You keep pushing and pushing.” He stood right next to her feet, which hung over the side of the bed. “I’m taking off now. Enoch is here. To give you privacy, he said he’ll stay in the office on the computer. I guess he can loop in to his own files from any location. He’ll work—here, with you—until I return.”

  No, and no again. “I don’t need a babysitter.” What she needed was some private time to reflect, to mope, to do whatever the hell she wanted to do—without an audience.

  Leese crossed his arms. “I’m not so sure about that. Half the time I think you’re plotting to run off. The rest of the time I figure you’re plotting something worse.”

  Cat tried to stare him down, but blast him, he was right. Out of necessity, she did do a lot of plotting.

  Hoping to placate him, she said, “What if I promise I won’t leave?”

  “How do I know your word’s good?”

  Slowly, she scooted to sit on the edge of the bed very close to him. “Okay, I’m not going to take offense at that. Like you said, we haven’t known each other that long. But you could look at it this way—where would I go? Tesh is out there, keeping watch. Others might be too. I know it. I feel it. Obviously I don’t have a death wish or I wouldn’t have worked so hard to stay safe, right? Sahara made me a terrific offer. I want to move forward with my life, not always be on the run. Believe me, it gets old quick.”

  He considered that. “So right now, staying put is your best option?”

  Her only option, but not a heinous one. “That’s how I see it.” She glanced back at the closet. “I was going to play a little. Shower with the good stuff, do my hair.” She pulled forward a hank of dull, dry hair. A deep conditioner would really come in handy. “Like you said, we might be here a week or so.”

  “More than a week.”

  No, she wouldn’t even consider that. “Since this will be my current residence, I want to explore the place.” She deliberately pouted at him. “I’m not comfortable doing any of that with Enoch hanging around.”

  After studying her, Leese must have decided she told the truth, because he patted her knee and stepped away. “I’ll be gone a couple of hours, tops. The elevator and the stairs will be watched. If you do try to sneak off, someone from here will follow you until I can catch up.”

  “I’ll be here,” she promised him. Then, since she’d gotten her way, she teased, “Waiting for you.”

  Given how he inhaled, it was a direct hit. He waffled a second more, then blew out a resigned breath. “Be good, okay?”

  “I’m always good,” she countered as he went back through the door and closed it. Deflated, she whispered, “Just not good enough.”

  * * *

  NEEDING SOME RELEASE, even in the way of violence, Leese half hoped someone would approach him. If he couldn’t screw away his tension, maybe he could demolish it.

  Unfortunately, he got through the phone store without a single incident. When he stepped out again, the area remained clear of any threats.

  Enoch had given him the keys to another car at the Body Armor agency, this one a nondescript sedan. To keep anyone from tinkering with it, he’d avoided the parking garage and instead pulled up at an empty spot near the curb right out in front of the store. As soon as he got seated inside, he locked up and pulled away. Still vigilant, he used one of the new low-tech flip phones to make a call.

  Miles Dartman, a fighter and a friend, answered on the third ring.

  Since Miles wouldn’t know the number, he said, “It’s Leese. I’m using a different phone.”

  “Hey, Leese, what’s up?”

  “Not a lot.” He still talked to the guys often enough that a call from him wasn’t surprising. “Work.” A woman. “Saw you won your last fight. Congrats on that.”

  “By decision.” His disgruntlement was loud and clear. “I needed a knockout.”

  Didn’t they all? It was never ideal to leave the decision in the hands of the judges. “You creamed him.”

  “But couldn’t finish him.” After a bitter huff, Miles said, “You didn’t call to hear me bitch. Hell, I don’t want to hear me bitch. How about a change of topic?”

  “Sure.” Leese turned the corner, heading for the grocery. “I was wondering if you’d have time to do me a favor.”

  “Probably,” Miles said. “I won’t fight again for a while and I have a few minor injuries to nurse. What and when?”

  As briefly as possible, Leese gave the bare-bones update about Catalina as a client. “I don’t want to go into detail—just know that I need someone I trust to stick with her for a few hours while I take care of something.” Cat was the type of woman who, if cooped up too long, would get stir-crazy. Hopefully, if he got her a few of her own things, she’d settle into the situation without as much conflict.

  And maybe she’d be less inclined to seduce him too.

  He was as far from a saint as a man could get, but he didn’t want to take advantage of her.

  So regardless of what she said, Leese planned to go by her house and get some of her belongings for her. If Cat was right, he just might be able to kill two birds with one stone.

  “I’m not saying no, but isn’t Justice there with you?”

  “He was. Now he’s otherwise occupied, and I trust you more than him anyway.”

  “Trust me to keep her safe, or to keep my hands to myself?”

  Locking his back teeth, Leese admitted, “Both.”

  When he finished laughing, Miles said, “You’re a couple of hours from me. When do you need me there?”

  “Day after tomorrow would be good. Think you can swing that?”

  “Shouldn’t be
a problem. Let me get the address from you.”

  Once Leese finished giving him directions, he added, “One more thing. I don’t want you to tell her why you’re there.”

  “Because...?”

  She’ll know what I’m doing, and she thinks I’m such a terrible bodyguard that I’ll get murdered. No, he wouldn’t admit that to Miles. “Like most women, she’s a worrier.”

  “Uh-huh. And hot?”

  He pulled into the lot for the gigantic grocery-slash-department store. “Yeah, she is. She’s also been through hell and I don’t want to contribute to her anxiety.”

  “So I’ll be keeping watch over a hot, tortured worrier, but she can’t know why I’m there, and I can’t come on to her.”

  “That’s about it.” Used to being heckled by his friends, Leese didn’t take offense. “Think you can be here by noon?”

  “Sure. Should I plan on spending the whole day, a few hours, or what?”

  “Whole day. She’ll enjoy the company.” Maybe. “I’ll treat you to dinner.”

  “Sounds good. See you then.”

  After he disconnected, Leese looked around, but from what he could tell, no one had followed him. Had Sahara’s ploy really worked? Possibly, but he wouldn’t buy it just yet.

  If he got back to the Body Armor agency without incident, then maybe, just maybe, he’d start to believe.

  For now he only wanted to concentrate on feeding Catalina a good, healthy meal that she’d enjoy. And if he could resist her, that’d be terrific too.

  * * *

  WHILE SOAKING IN an enormous tub filled with scented bath bubbles, her hair covered with a deep conditioner, her face caked with a mud mask, Cat sipped the best bourbon she’d ever tasted.

  Gawd, it felt good to pamper herself again.

  Until now she hadn’t realized how much she missed primping. And alcohol. Yup, she missed that too. Not that she was a lush. Far from it. What she’d told Leese and Sahara was true—it didn’t take much to give her a buzz. But it felt so good to be comfortable enough, secure enough, to imbibe and not worry about putting herself at risk.

  For too long she’d had to be sharp, on guard, always watching for an attack.

  Sighing in pleasure, she examined her fingers and toes and decided a mani and pedi were also in order.

  When the water started to cool she drained the tub and turned on the shower to rinse her hair and face. She felt soft all over—and liked it.

  Using a round brush, she blow-dried her hair into loose waves. Scott’s girlfriend had loved her beauty products, and Cat found an array of makeup to choose from. She wrinkled her nose at most of it, but did play up her eyes with shadow, coal liner and two layers of mascara, then slicked pink gloss over her lips. She knew from experience the gloss wouldn’t last; she almost always licked it off without thinking. But she liked the way the makeup enhanced her eyes.

  Wrapped in a towel, she finally examined the closet and found so many beautiful clothes that she felt guilty for her excitement. After all, Sahara’s brother and his girlfriend had both died.

  Cat bit her lip, then gave in and went through the clothes, finding a few pairs of skinny designer jeans that fit once she rolled up the hem. She tried on sweaters, blouses, shirts, sweatshirts—enough to last her for a good long while. The yoga capri pants, in multiple colors and patterns, worked perfectly. She even found socks, two nightgowns, a robe and slippers.

  Then she withdrew a slinky black dress made of stretchy material meant to hug the body and show off curves. Ohhhh, nice.

  Never mind that she lacked the usual curves necessary to really make the dress work. It was snug enough to ensure a decent fit.

  Skipping panties and knowing she couldn’t wear a bra, not with the cut of the dress, Cat pulled it on over her head, then tugged and adjusted until her breasts were cupped by just enough material to emphasize her meager cleavage. The hem dragged the floor like a train, but a side slit cut up along her leg nearly to her hip, leaving her almost indecently exposed.

  Now that she had the dress on, she didn’t want to take it off. Not yet.

  What would Leese think? She grabbed up her drink to sip again, then poured another before deciding she’d leave the dress on. Just as she appreciated the pampering, she also liked the male attention. It had been even longer since she’d had that—at least from a good man.

  In her old life, she’d never have worn anything this daring, but she’d owned similar quality gowns. Even being apart from her family, she’d celebrated special occasions with them. The last time had been her oldest brother’s birthday at a swanky restaurant. Each of her brothers had brought a date, but she’d gone alone.

  That night, two different men had approached her, but she’d ignored them both. They were smooth, polished and made assumptions as only the entitled could. She’d wanted less of that world, not more.

  Leese wasn’t like that. Sure, the man had confidence in spades. But it was different. She had a feeling he’d earned everything he’d ever gotten.

  The way he’d looked around when they entered the penthouse told her he hadn’t often seen that type of luxury, but he didn’t let it intimidate him.

  In fact, she couldn’t imagine anything or anyone intimidating Leese.

  Remembering how easily he’d leveled Tesh left her breathless in awe. Thinking of the muscled strength on every inch of his body, the heated way he looked at her and the hungry way he’d kissed her left her breathless in an entirely different way.

  There’d been nothing refined in his touch or attitude—and something very basic inside her thrilled at that fact. She’d bet her own safety that Leese had never taken a shortcut through the hardships. No, he’d probably just worked his way past them.

  Twisting, Cat looked at the rear view in the mirror. The straps were cut in a way to leave her back almost entirely bare. Inspired, she darted back to a dressing table and pinned up her hair in a casual twist that left a few long tendrils free.

  For once, she actually felt sexy.

  The shoes were all a size too big for her, so she ignored them and went for the jewelry, settling on long chandelier earrings in sparkling silver.

  Getting dolled up made her want to dance, so she headed to the living room and a state-of-the-art sound system. As she left the carpet and her feet touched the smooth tile floor, she realized it was heated.

  Heaven.

  After wiggling her toes, she examined the stereo. Much of the available music didn’t interest her; she’d never had mellow tastes in that regard. Another way she was weird. Her family liked classic music...and she rocked to heavy metal.

  She scrolled through every option until she found some hard rock. Immediately her heart picked up the beat and, feeling free, she stood to dance. Sure enough, the bourbon gave her a nice buzz to go with the music that now played throughout the penthouse. Carefree for the first time in ages, Cat let herself go—and forgot about everything else.

  * * *

  APPARENTLY THE PENTHOUSE was well insulated, because Leese had no forewarning until, arms filled with grocery bags, he shouldered open the door and got hit with the loud screeching of a metal band.

  Even more surprising was Cat, looking like sex personified in a slinky black dress that left tantalizing swaths of her body exposed as she danced, arms up and eyes closed, in the middle of the floor with abandon.

  Ridiculously captivated, Leese closed and relocked the door, then just stood there and took it in.

  She’d dolled herself up with makeup and she’d done something sexy and loose with her hair. He also noted the half-empty tumbler on the table.

  So dressed up, dancing and drinking?

  Not wanting to startle her, he quietly set the grocery bags on a foyer table, then went to the stereo and turned down the music.

  Slowing h
er dance, Cat opened her eyes and focused on him. “Leese.” With a silly smile and a limp wrist, she brushed back a wayward curl. “You’re back.”

  “Yeah.” And now he wanted her more than ever. All the lecturing he’d given himself was shot to hell the second he’d seen her. “What are you wearing?”

  Smiling, she struck a seductive pose then twirled, sending the material to fan out around her legs. “Do you like it?”

  The way the dress parted, she had to be naked underneath. For damn sure she wasn’t wearing a bra. “Yeah,” he growled, looking at her small bare feet. “I like it.”

  “I’d hoped you would.”

  Why the hell did she purr like that? “I thought your feet and hands stayed cold in the winter.”

  “I decided to dress for dinner, except the shoes were all too big. Luckily, the floors are heated.” Dropping her voice, she whispered, “I feel a little pagan, all dressed up but barefoot.”

  More like undressed, but whatever. “It’s sexy.” She was sexy—and he was definitely in trouble.

  Wearing a sultry, seductive expression, she started toward him. He almost backed up, but then decided to stand his ground instead. “What are you doing?”

  When she stood right in front of him, she smiled and reached around him to turn up the music again. “Dance with me.”

  “I don’t dance.”

  “Now’s a good time to start.” She curled both small hands around one of his and said again, “Dance with me.”

  Desperation unfurled inside him. There was no way he could get close to her in that getup and still deny himself. “I thought you wanted me to cook dinner?”

  “We haven’t even had lunch yet.”

  And she’d been drinking on an empty stomach. “Sorry about that. I know you have to be hungry.”

  “I’d rather dance.” She began swaying her hips.

  “I got the phones. You said there were calls you wanted to make.”

  “Later.” Back-stepping, she brought him toward the open floor.