Tough As Nails

by Jackie Manning

  Natural-leather sofas adorned with oversize russet and teal pillows nestled in cozy groups. A modern painting leaned against an easel. A granite egret wading in a metal lily pond shone with unseen illumination. Glass tables with black urns filled with white moth orchids flanked each side of the sofas.

  “I’m very impressed,” she said, feeling a surge of admiration at his obvious success. Mike was self-made, receiving little help from his alcoholic father or the mother who had abandoned them.

  He didn’t look at her when he shrugged off his leather jacket and slung it over a chair. His black T-shirt showed off his well-developed chest and biceps to perfection. “You mean it’s a far cry from those tar-paper shacks along Mill Street?”

  He was reading her mind and she felt suddenly self-conscious. “I’m very pleased that you’re successful, Mike.” She walked to the windows and gazed at the Brooklyn Bridge. “I’d like the name of your decorator,” she said, half teasing.

  He grinned. “What’s important is that the Crib is electronically secure. This is my apartment when I’m in the city, but I don’t think of it as home.”

  She paused to study an impressionistic watercolor in the hallway. She recognized the signature of an up-and-coming artist who’d had her first showing in a leading gallery last winter. “Where do you call home?” she asked, then damned herself for the question. On the way over in the taxi, she’d vowed not to ask him any more personal questions. She’d just broken her promise in less than twenty minutes.

  “I own a condo at Beaver Creek,” he said, “if that’s what you mean.”

  “Colorado?”

  When he nodded, she asked, “So you still ski?” She remembered that he had been captain of his high-school ski team, thanks to an anonymous contributor who had recognized Mike’s exceptional athletic talent, even as a teenager. She’d often wondered if Mike’s benefactor had been her uncle, the Judge. But Nora would never confirm nor deny it, regardless of how many times Brianna had asked.

  “I bought it because I knew the owner and he wanted to sell. It was a good investment,” he said, “but my work takes up most of my time.”

  Some things never change.

  They had only been married two weeks when Mike insisted he work full-time tending bar evenings after working a full shift at her father’s paper mill. She’d pleaded with him to reconsider. She had wanted Mike to enroll in college with her that fall. They could have lived comfortably on the more than generous allowance her mother’s inheritance provided them.

  But Mike would have none of it. He’d rather work day and night, leaving her alone in their cramped apartment, night after night, than take a penny of her money.

  She had begged him to talk with her, but when he was home he was too tired. He would always find time to listen to her, yet when she asked for his thoughts, he’d shut down. She could see that he was exhausted, but Mike believed that a man didn’t ask for help. So what could she have done?

  Now she realized that some personalities didn’t suit a long-term relationship. Mike would always put actions before his feelings.

  She was amazed at the bitterness the memory brought back, and she quickly pushed it aside. Nothing would come from raking up the past. They’d both made good lives for themselves after the divorce. That was the important thing.

  She moved to the bookcase where he stood, clicking numbers into a numeric pad on the wall. “There,” he said when he’d finished. “All doors and elevators are locked. If any movement is detected within twenty feet of the building, the action will activate the video cameras and an alarm will sound.”

  “What about a dog running along the sidewalk?”

  “That, too.” He picked up something that looked like a television remote control and pressed the device into her right palm. “Click the red button and watch that monitor,” he said, pointing to the walnut cabinet in front of them.

  She clicked the button. The cabinet doors opened and a computer monitor swiveled into view.

  She pressed the arrow keys. Views of the Crib’s street entrance, outside metal fire escape and various exterior shots of the brick building materialized with each click of her finger.

  “Touch the white button,” he said, leaning toward her. He was so close she could feel his warmth and smell the lingering scent of his aftershave. He took her hand inside his large grip, and she felt a tiny quiver when their skin touched.

  Okay. She found him attractive. He still had the magnetic personality and sinful good looks. She was human, after all.

  Brianna took a deep breath and focused on each view on the monitor. With each click of the control button, a different angle of the interior and exterior of the apartment came into view.

  “Who do you have for clients, the CIA?” she quipped, aware of the top-level security clearance he must have to maintain and operate such advanced equipment for the authorities.

  “TALON-6 has worked for the CIA among other government agencies. This is only one of many security features I’ve installed here.” His voice was low, and she knew he meant to make her feel at ease, but he was so close, and that ragged quality in his voice brought back an unbidden desire she’d vowed not to feel again with him.

  He took her arm and led her to a group of chairs. “What’s important is that you feel safe. Then maybe you’ll relax and catch up on your sleep.” He gave her a slow, lazy smile that made her all too aware of what she might dream about.

  “Thank you,” she managed to say, dropping the remote device into his palm and disengaging her fingers from his. Instead of taking a seat, she broke away and strode to the far wall to view a metal sculpture suspended from an overhead beam in the corner. The artwork reminded her of an eagle with a broken wing. “A local artist?” she asked.

  His grin came with a flash of humor. “That’s the bubble machine’s telephone antennae,” he said, coming to stand close beside her.

  She angled her head, studying him. “As you said, looks can be deceiving.” She struggled to think of something to say, anything that would lift the heavy weight of her memories of what they once had together. He was standing so close she could feel his warmth, smell his faint aftershave. Was he trying not to remember, too?

  She turned her back to him and focused her gaze on the Manhattan skyline. Someone was out there roaming the city, listening to her private conversations, following her, stalking her.

  “Don’t be afraid, Bria.”

  She started to believe that he would keep her safe, and she was filled with a gratitude she hadn’t felt in a very long time. She was safe with Mike. Safe from the unseen danger of the person out there, determined to wreck havoc on her life. She could trust Mike with her life, but not with her heart.

  She felt his solid hands on her shoulders and she stiffened. His strong fingers began their magic as he kneaded her tense muscles. A shiver curled down her spine when his thumbs stirred the fine hair at the nape of her neck.

  Closing her eyes, she fought back a moan of pleasure. If she turned around, what would she see in his eyes? Did touching her remind him of how his hands had played other parts of her body? Was his mind flooded with erotic memories, too?

  Dear God, she should stop this. He was so sexy, so powerful, and too available for her own good. Attraction was only physical, she reminded herself. What female under eighty wouldn’t be sexually excited by Mike Landis?

  She hadn’t been involved with a man since her ex-fiancé, Jordan, over two years ago. Since then, none of her casual dates had ended in bed, nor had she wished they had. Her work was now her passion, and much less complicated. Or so she thought before her uncontrollable rush of female hormones when Michael Landis returned to her life.

  But she was a woman in control, a woman who understood the raw physical power of attraction. She wasn’t a teenager anymore. She wasn’t about to lose her head over a charming, sexy male. “Thanks, Mike,” she said, her voice huskier than she’d like. “I’m quite relaxed. You don’t have to—”

 
His strong hands swung her around to face him. Slowly she gazed into those blue eyes and knew his thoughts were running parallel to hers. She felt a frisson of excitement. “Michael, I don’t think—”

  “Don’t think,” he growled, then he lowered his head and locked his mouth with hers.

  Chapter Five

  He slid his hands to the rounded curve of her bottom and drew her closer. She moaned a plaintive sigh as their kiss deepened.

  He felt the unsteady rise and fall of her breasts crushed against his chest. He angled his body against her soft curves and felt her surrender flicker through her body as she melted into his embrace. She whispered something against his chest as he pulled her lower body against his legs. Her hands tightened against his neck and he lifted her as he’d done a thousand times, the motion as familiar and natural as breathing.

  But instead of sliding her legs around his waist as he’d remembered, she drew back. Her fingers unlocked from the back of his neck and her arms folded behind her.

  He released her, trying to ignore that his loins ached with need and built-up frustration. He had thought that maybe, just maybe, if he’d kiss her and got it over with, the curiosity or fascination, or whatever the hell fueled his building arousal, would stop. Because ever since she’d walked into his office this morning, looking better than he’d imagined possible, he’d wanted to take her into his arms and kiss her senseless.

  “This isn’t going to lead anywhere,” she said.

  “You think not?” He couldn’t hide the challenge in his reply.

  “I’m absolutely positive.” Her green eyes glittered with determination, yet she couldn’t quite hide her breathlessness. “I’m attracted to you. There. I’ve admitted it. Now you can stop trying to test me—”

  “Is that what you think I was doing?”

  “Well, what the hell would you call it?”

  “Some things you can’t label, Brianna.”

  “Well, I can.” The stiffly polite tone was back in her voice. “You kissed me because you were curious to know how I’d respond. The primal action by the dominant male. But on a subconscious level, your desire to keep me safe transfers itself to what you believe is sexual attraction. You’re feeling protective, but your male response is sexual. A textbook case. Nothing more.”

  He hooked his thumbs in the belt loops of his jeans and studied her. Despite her cool facade, her hands trembled and that breathy quality of her voice indicated a vulnerability she was trying desperately to hide. “A little presumptuous, aren’t you, Dr. Kent? Telling me what I feel?”

  “I usually try to guide my clients into discovering their own feelings, but in this case we don’t have that much time. I thought we needed a more immediate approach.”

  “Save the psychobabble for your clients, okay? Me, I know what I feel and why. And I’m not afraid of the truth, which is more than I can say for you.”

  Her lips, still moist from their kiss, fell open. “Are you suggesting I’m denying my feelings?”

  “Bingo.”

  She closed her eyes and took in a deep breath. “Michael,” she said in an even tone he’d wager his last dime she used on her more difficult clients. Her eyes opened to meet his and her changeable eyes glittered. “Very well,” she said. “I’ll cut to the chase.” She lifted her chin. “If we can’t keep this professional, then I’ll hire someone else.” She whirled toward the door.

  “You kissed me back like I remembered, honey. Don’t try to deny it.”

  She paused in midstep, then turned to face him. “I admitted that you’re an attractive man and I’m human.” She shrugged. “But I won’t go to bed with you. Not now, not ever. Been there, done that, and I won’t make that mistake ever again.” Her eyes flashed with uncontrolled anger. “Now please show me to my room,” she said, glancing at her watch. “That is, if you’re willing to keep this relationship professional.” She spoke through clenched teeth. “Or shall I hire someone else?”

  He felt the chill in the air. It was as though she had dropped a force field around herself. Yes, this was a new tack for Brianna. The woman he knew could never hide her passion nor would she want to. He gave her a lingering look. She was correct about his feeling protective of her, but she was kidding herself if she believed the rest of that crap. She was right about this being a business relationship, though. He’d been a damn fool to think that kissing her would banish his ex-wife from his mind. Brianna Kent was temptation personified, a temptation that he’d resist, if it killed him. If she could make-believe she had ice water in her veins, then so would he.

  HE REACHED DOWN and grabbed her suitcase. “Right this way,” he said, his tone as flat and emotionless as hers.

  Brianna stood where he’d left her. She still trembled with a mixture of surprise, anger and arousal as she watched him carry her Pullman case down the hall, his biceps bulging. The luggage was heavy, yet he carried it as effortlessly as if he were carrying a pillow.

  Dear God, she should turn and run. Her heart was still clamoring wildly from his kiss. That kiss. All reason and logic shut down in her mind when he’d pulled at her lips, filling her mouth with the taste of him. For a moment, she’d gone limp within the heat of his powerful arms. For a moment. Then a spark of sanity brought her back to the present. No, not again warned in her fogged brain. It was insanity to think she could remain under the same roof with Mike.

  But she had no choice. Until she found out who was disrupting her life, she needed him.

  She needed him.

  A shiver of primitive awareness shimmered down her spine. She ignored it as she followed him along the long corridor. Mike paused at the last door on the left. “Hope this suits you,” he said as he swung open the door and stepped inside the spacious bedroom.

  Her gaze dropped to the king-size bed flanked by bare, ceiling-to-floor windows. She forced her gaze to the broad expanse of glass. The Brooklyn Bridge spanned the horizon.

  “All the windows in the apartment are one-way glass,” he said, guessing her thoughts.

  “The view is breathtaking,” she said, her mind unable to think of anything except how his long-legged frame would look stretched out on that bed. But she knew how he would look. She forced away the memories with a determined mental shake. “It would be a shame to cover the windows.”

  “Especially at night.”

  Especially at night. Where they would be sleeping together in the same apartment for the first time since their divorce.

  He motioned to the open door at the far wall. “The bath, dressing room and closets are through there.”

  “Where is your bedroom?” she asked, her throat dry.

  “Across the hall. This way.”

  Her gaze followed him as he strode through the door and went directly across the hall. When he opened the door to his bedroom, her gaze was drawn to the corner of a black-and-white striped spread covering what she could see of a king-size bed.

  What was the matter with her? She dragged her gaze away from his bed and ran her trembling fingers through her hair. She was extremely tired and not herself. After she finished her reports tonight in her room, alone, she’d turn in for a good night’s sleep. Tomorrow, she’d be ready to face her predicament and plan what she was going to do about it.

  But could she relax enough to sleep knowing that Mike Landis would be sleeping across the hall?

  Of course she could. She was safe here. Whoever was playing games with her life had no idea where she was. Tomorrow, after she was rested, she and Mike would come up with a game plan to catch this person.

  “The accommodations are lovely. Thank you,” she said, attempting to sound relaxed.

  “I’ll send out for some coffee,” Mike said from the doorway. “Why don’t you take a hot bath. I’ll be in the kitchen if you need anything.”

  “No coffee. I’ll settle for a quick shower.” She unfastened the lid of the suitcase and took out her jewelry bag. “Do you have a microrecorder?” she asked, retrieving the answering-machine tape
s she’d taken from her apartment. “I’d like to listen to my phone messages while I unpack.”

  “Sure thing,” he said, and left the room.

  She pulled a tiny cassette tape from the jewelry case. In what seemed like less than a minute, he stuck his head in the door, carrying a palm-size gadget in his hand. “Keep it,” he said, tossing it to her. “I’ve got plenty more.”

  She caught the object in midair. The device was the size and weight of a candy bar and made from a shiny canvas material that she’d never seen before. “Another one of your gizmos?”

  His mouth lifted in a crooked grin. “Yeah. That model tells time, is waterproof and floats.”

  She grinned, then glanced at the watch face, the size of a quarter. “Five-thirty! Oh, I almost forgot.”

  He craned his head inside the bedroom doorway. “Forgot what?”

  “I forgot to call Larry Cunningham. He’s planning to pick me up tomorrow night on the way to the business dinner.” She rummaged in her bag for her cell phone. “What’s the address here, Mike? He’ll show up at my apartment if I don’t tell him—”

  “You can’t tell Cunningham where you’re staying.” Mike leaned his hip on the doorjamb and folded his arms across his chest. “You can’t tell anyone. That’s the point in staying here.” His gaze was unreadable but there was a determined set to his jaw.

  She sighed. “Mike, surely we can trust Larry. Simone, my secretary, must know where I’m at, and—”

  “Until we know if Cunningham’s phones are secure, we can’t risk it. All they need to know is that you’re in a safe place and they can page you or reach you on your cell phone.”

  She pushed back a lock of hair from her cheek. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

  A grin laced with understanding lit his face. “Tell you what. Why not cancel the business dinner tomorrow. I’ll take you to dinner.”

  She shook her head. “It’s more than just business. It’s the annual awards dinner for the city’s shelter for abused women. The mayor will be there, along with celebrities and very important volunteers who’ve worked unselfishly to bring this dream to fruition. I work closely with these people and they’re expecting me. The proceeds from the dinner alone fund the shelter for the year.” She took a deep breath. “Besides, I want to be there.”