by Lori Foster
“I need to put the groceries away.”
Her gaze darted to the door where he’d left several bags. Pouting, she said, “You have more excuses than I have lies.”
Jumping on that, Leese said, “What lies?”
Her smile slipped, then she frowned. “You don’t want to have sex, you don’t want to dance. You’re such a party pooper.”
Knowing he absolutely couldn’t talk about sex, especially with her in that dress, Leese cupped her face instead and concentrated on what she’d said. “What lies, Cat?”
“Forget it.” She shrugged free of his hands. “You’re the king of denial. Fine. Let’s go with that. But I’m dancing.”
She turned her back and sashayed out to the middle of the floor. Knowing he couldn’t stand there watching, Leese said, “I’ll get some food together.”
“Don’t be too long.” Hiking up the skirt, pretending he didn’t exist, she moved to the music.
Leese had to admit, the woman had rhythm.
CHAPTER SEVEN
TRYING NOT TO watch her, Leese carried the groceries to the kitchen and did a quick reorganization that made more sense than the present setup. He liked everything orderly, but this time the skill came with an effort.
Repeatedly his attention got drawn back to Catalina.
Was it his imagination, or were her gyrations more deliberately sensual now?
The sway of her slim hips, the ecstatic look on her face... Jesus, he almost felt like a voyeur, especially when he imagined her naked.
Would she look that hot during sex?
Would her face have that same expression of abandon if he pinned her to the wall and—
He didn’t need to visualize that.
He needed to concentrate on setting up the kitchen. Not an easy order when with every fiber of his being he knew Cat was right there moving in a way designed to make him insane.
With the groceries put away, he went about making a pitcher of fresh unsweetened tea. Next he sliced up the strawberries he’d bought and put them in a covered container. One way or another, he’d get Cat to eat a little healthier. And thinking of that, now would be a good time to let the chicken marinate—
“What are we eating?”
He turned fast and found her standing far too close. All her dancing had intensified her scent, that of sweet lotion and her sweeter skin. His nostrils flared on a deep breath as he filled his head with her.
“Leese?” Teasing, she swirled her drink and took another sip. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah.” He would stop letting her work him, starting right now. Covering her hand on the glass with his own, he tipped it forward and sniffed. “Bourbon?”
“It was that or gin, whiskey or beer.” With a wrinkle of her nose, she said, “No wine.”
“Really?” Gently, he took the tumbler from her and set it on the counter. “Judging by your glassy eyes, I’d say you’ve probably had enough.”
“Why are you forever trying to curb my appetites?” She stepped against him, all warm, fragrant woman on the make.
God help him. “Cat—”
“First you rule out junk food, then sex, then dancing. And now—”
For the sake of his own sanity, Leese smooshed a finger to her lips. “Stop baiting me.”
She lightly bit him, then sucked his finger into her mouth. With a soft sound of pleasure, she twirled her tongue around him.
Instant boner.
Watching her only made it worse, seeing the way her heavy lashes lowered to hide her eyes, how her lips closed around him.
With both hands holding his wrist, she kept him right there, making him think of blow jobs and release.
By force of will, he got himself together. “Enough, Cat. This isn’t going to happen.”
She bit him lightly, the released him. “You’re so mean.”
“And you’re drunk.”
“Just tipsy.”
Holding her by the elbows, he kept her an arm’s length away. “This situation hasn’t gotten better. If anything, now that you’re tipsy, you’re more off-limits than ever.”
For the longest time she looked at him, judging his sincerity, probably considering ways she might get around his decision, and finally accepted that she couldn’t.
“I looked around the penthouse,” she told him. “Checked out all the rooms, what’s stored where and all the windows and doors and...everything.”
Familiarizing herself with her new surroundings, just in case. Smart. He planned to do the same before bed. But he didn’t want her worrying, and beyond that, he wanted her to trust that he’d protect her. It was his job, so she could relax now. “You’re safe here.”
“I know. I believe it.” She stepped away from him and pulled out a bar stool. It took her a second to maneuver with the dress, but she got that stellar little ass onto the stool and propped her elbows on the bar. Not looking at him, she said, “Sometimes knowing and believing something isn’t enough to shake the fear.”
What would be enough? No, better not to ask her that. He already had an idea of what she’d say, and he didn’t need to be further provoked.
The dress fell to the side, showing her trim calf, smooth thigh...all the way up to her hip.
His abs tightened.
“What does that mean, exactly?”
“It means this place seems secure enough, but old habits die hard. I’ve gotten used to barely sleeping, listening for trouble, being ready to run in an instant if need be.” She tipped her head to see him. Her hair was now more down than up, as if she’d just been laid. “Sleeping with you was the best rest I’ve had in weeks.”
Ah, hell. That hit him on two levels; it made him want to strip her naked, and it made him want to hold her protectively close.
He wanted to hear her scream with a climax, and he wanted to feel her resting easy against him.
“I’ll back off,” she promised, her gaze locked on his. “If you let me sleep with you again.”
Leese barely suppressed the groan. It was what he’d wanted; hell, keeping her that close would make it a whole lot easier for him to sleep too. He’d be able to rest secure in the knowledge that she couldn’t sneak off.
But now, after seeing her like this, after she’d been teasing him?
Sleep probably wasn’t on the agenda, no matter what.
Still holding his gaze, Cat whispered, “I’m sorry. I can see by your expression that you’re not much interested in that either. And if I wasn’t so weird, if I was more like my family, I’d back off. But I can’t, because I don’t want to sleep alone. Not when you’re here.”
Him, specifically, or would she have felt the same about any other dude?
As if she’d read his mind, she said, “I trust you. At least a little.”
“Enough to sleep?”
“Yes.”
He hoped that was true. Nutting up, he nodded and said, “You’re not weird, so stop saying that. Especially since I was hoping you’d want to sleep—sleep, Cat—with me again. We both need to catch some shut-eye.”
A slow smile added to her appeal. “You really are a good guy.”
Leese braced himself, but after she slid off the stool, she only hugged him—a platonic, friendly, grateful hug.
“Thank you.” Stepping back, she dusted her hands together and said, “So what are we eating? I’m starved.”
* * *
THEY HAD QUICK, crunchy tuna wraps that were surprisingly good, especially since it was real food, fresh and she didn’t have to help make it. Even though she could taste some baby spinach in there, it didn’t detract from her enjoyment. They were delicious, and would tide her over for a few hours.
She popped the last bite in her mouth, and after she’d swallowed, she asked, �
��What are you doing for dinner?”
“So you agree that I’m the chef?”
“Sure. Unlike you, I don’t like to deny people.”
He pretended to take that on the chin, then laughed. “If I’m cooking, you have to eat it.”
“Deal.” She could make the basics, but she didn’t have a lot of interest in it. Usually she was drawn to her sketchbook and food was forgotten.
She did help with the dishes, then took the time to show him everything she’d discovered. The balcony was her favorite. It overlooked...everything, with heated handrails to keep the ice and snow away, and a cozy electric fire pit that gave the ambience of a real fire with the ease of flipping a switch.
“Why,” Leese asked, “would anyone heat an outdoor area?”
“To enjoy it in the winter, of course. Maybe we can eat a meal out here.”
Leese tested the air, even opened his coat, then shook his head in wonder. “Sure, maybe,” he promised her. “Not today though.”
“Why?”
“I want to do some more surveillance first.”
Ah. If they were sitting outside, in the open, they could be targets. Cat nudged him with her shoulder. “I like the way you think. Come on, I’ll show you the rest.”
He was as curious about the setup of the penthouse as she’d been, all the egresses, the nooks and crannies, closets, an attic, the security system... Leese also thought of things she hadn’t, like where to hide weapons.
“I’ll be with you,” he told her. “And when I’m not, I promise you’ll be protected. But to be even safer—”
“When won’t you be with me?” She felt like a nag asking. Even though he was her bodyguard—for the time being—no one was responsible for another person 24/7.
“I had to go out today for food, right? Assuming we’ll be here awhile, stuff like that is bound to come up again.”
It was more than that. She sensed it. Would he turn her over to someone else? A different bodyguard from the agency? Maybe Justice?
Justice was nice enough, but he wasn’t Leese.
“Pay attention, Cat. When I’m not here, I want to know that you have every advantage.”
Then you should always be here. But she didn’t interrupt again to say it—his instruction fascinated her too much. He covered every eventuality. Any room she went into would give her both a place to hide and a means of defending herself with a weapon already stashed there.
Cat thought he might have been so meticulous about the details for her benefit, but then again, Leese was a detail-oriented neat freak, so it could just be part of his personality.
By the time he finished, she knew where to find a hidden cell phone to call for help, how to block the doors to any room to make them more impenetrable, where to find hidden butcher knives and a few other sharp objects, and how to use hair spray, an ink pen or even an electrical cord to defend herself.
“We’ll work on all that,” he told her, his gaze skimming her thigh bared by the slit in the dress. “Tomorrow.”
“Can’t wait.” It’d be fun to learn some moves, more so with Leese as a hands-on teacher.
He popped his neck. “We’ll run some drills too. What to do, how to do it and how fast to do it in case of an emergency.”
“If you want, but I’m not sure I’d remember.” When she got scared, she went deaf and blind with panic.
“That’s why we do drills. Do something often enough, and it becomes automatic.” Quickly he grabbed for her.
Ducking, her face turned away, she jumped back, realized what she’d done and glared at him.
Leese smiled.
Suspicious, and more than a little flustered, Cat demanded, “What are you doing?”
“Proving a point. If I’d reached for you like this...” He gently closed his hands over her shoulders and pulled her closer, soothing her temper in the bargain. “No problem, right? But anyone lunging at you causes a programmed response. You protect your face and move away. That’s muscle memory.”
“That was fear!”
He smoothed back her hair. “It’s smart to be afraid when someone acts out of character—like me grabbing at you. In doing drills, you’ll get conditioned to do certain things the most efficient way, and you’ll learn how to counter attacks, which the attacker won’t expect. It’ll give you an edge.”
“Wow.” Now that he’d drawn her near, she took advantage and nestled closer. “You’re a fount of information. This is going to be fun.”
He laughed, and released her before she could get too cozy.
To keep him there with her, she said, “Explain this ‘muscle memory’ stuff to me.”
Shrugging one big, hard shoulder, he complied. “It’s how fighters learn. For every punch, there’s a counterpunch or a way to block it. If you have to stop and think, you’re already hit. So it has to become second nature. Often it’s not enough to duck, as you did. You not only need to avoid getting hurt, you have to be able to disable your attacker so you can advance, or in your case, escape.”
Cat lifted her chin. “Maybe I’d want to advance too.”
He clutched his chest theatrically. “Now you’re just trying to give me a heart attack.” Going serious, he said, “You will run and, when necessary, you will hide. That’s the plan, okay?”
Seeing the intensity in his gaze, Cat gave him the reply he wanted. “Okay.” For now. And in the meantime, once Leese started instructing her, she’d learn as much as she could.
By the time they were sitting down to dinner, Leese had learned how everything in the penthouse worked, especially the security system. He discovered that all the drapes, not just those in the bedroom, were on a remote and out of an excess of caution he closed them, denying her the view. Then for more than two hours, he researched the surrounding businesses. If he could see the building from the penthouse, he wanted to know all he could about it: who ran it, who was employed there, how long they’d been in operation and the hours they were open. When she asked him about it, he said if he could see them, they could see him, and he didn’t like leaving things to chance.
Would Webb hire people to spy on her in the penthouse? The thought gave her the creeps, and she decided the view wasn’t that interesting, after all.
Anyone who could “see” her could also put her in the sights of a high-powered rifle. How easy would it be to shoot her through the window, then disappear without a trace?
She’d seen it in movies plenty of times, but she had no idea if that related to real life or not.
After Leese finished his surveillance, he finally unpacked in the master bedroom. He didn’t have much more with him than she had—a few changes of clothes, a shaving kit, more cell phones than she had imagined, keys to several cars and a laptop.
While he did his thing, she trailed behind him, bored but not in the mood to be alone. He didn’t seem to mind.
For the most part he didn’t appear to notice her presence.
As he finished up dinner prep, she sat in the kitchen and watched. He looked so good there at the stove, his shirtsleeves rolled up, his hands deft at everything from chopping onions to tearing lettuce, that she knew she had to draw him.
Rummaging around in the drawers, she found the small pad of paper and a pen.
Good enough.
Leese glanced at her as she sat again, got comfortable and began to sketch.
“Making another list?” he asked with near dread.
“Nope.”
“So what are you doing?”
“Math.”
He laughed and, with his hands held out, wet from the salad prep, he looked over her shoulder. “Not math.” He studied the vague outline. “What is that?”
“Go cook, and I’ll show you again when it starts to take form.”
Skeptical,
he shook his head and retreated. “Dinner will be done and on the table in five, so don’t get too involved.”
When it came to her fascination with him, she was already so involved she almost didn’t recognize herself. It always helped her to draw. Even doodles. This time, though, she composed a picture of Leese from the back, standing at the counter, preparing dinner.
Ink wasn’t an ideal medium for this because she couldn’t really shade. With pencils or chalk, she’d have emphasized all those gorgeous muscles and innate strength. But she made do, using small lines and squiggles to add texture, leaving some spots lighter, layering others for depth, and by the time Leese turned to her, arms folded over his chest, plates on the table filled with fragrant chicken, broccoli and rice, she’d all but finished.
Her imagination had delivered what sight couldn’t.
“Let’s see it.”
She wasn’t a shy or modest person, but what Leese thought mattered. And shoot, she’d only been quickly sketching, not doing a portrait or anything. Would he understand? Was he a natural-born critic?
For all she knew, he might be offended by the way she’d drawn him. He could—
“You’re blushing.”
Yup, she was. She could feel the heat in her cheeks. Scooting off the stool and keeping the picture turned toward her, she said, “It’s nothing. Just a doodle. If you want, I’ll actually draw you something. Later. After I’ve gotten some supplies, maybe.”
His eyes narrowed the tiniest bit and a small smile curled his mouth. “No way. You’ve made me curious.” He strode to her.
“Leese—” She waffled between wanting to run or maybe just scrunching up the paper. Both reactions felt infantile, so instead she stood there, flushed, as he took the sheet from her and studied it.
“You drew me naked.”
Cat cleared her throat. “Yeah, I know, see—”
Caught between humor and disbelief, he said, “You drew my ass.”
Leaning around to see the paper, Cat inhaled. “Yup.” And a very sexy ass it was, as taut and sculpted as the rest of him—at least in her head.
He glanced at her. “Who the hell cooks naked?”
