by I. T. Lucas
Anandur dropped the brush in his bucket and sauntered toward her.
“That depends.” He stood so close that her face was only a few inches away from his crotch.
For a moment, her nostrils flared as she inhaled his scent, then she cranked her head up to look at his face. “On what?”
Lana was one of those blondes who were so devoid of pigmentation that she looked almost like an albino. Her hair, as well as her skin, were incredibly white, her eyes were a pale, watered-down blue, and her lips, although big and puffy, were only a shade pinker than the rest of her.
Not to say that she was unattractive, on the contrary.
The combination of long, powerful legs with boobs that rivaled some of the best enhancement jobs he’d seen but in Lana’s case were real, and the uncommonly fair coloring was both interesting and sexy.
He ran his knuckles over the smooth skin of her cheek. “On who’s my partner. I can do wrestling…” he slurred a little as his fangs filled his mouth. “I also do mixed martial arts.” He caressed her other cheek.
Lana’s lush lips parted and her eyes hooded. “I do wrestling,” she breathed.
Anandur chuckled. “I’m game to do some wrestling with you…” he leaned to whisper in her ear. “In bed.”
“You want?” She smiled, but he deduced a challenge in her eyes.
“I do.”
“Why I do with a deck boy? Ha?”
“Because I’m sexy.” Anandur turned around in slow motion. “And because I’ll give you multiple orgasms so good that you’ll be screaming my name.”
“Humph, all you men think you so good.” She crossed her arms under her impressive breasts, turning her cleavage into something that belonged in a porn movie.
“Ah, but I really am.” He leaned and kissed her cheek, using the opportunity to stick a bug to the chair’s underside, then straightened up and grabbed his bucket.
It wasn’t the best of places—somewhere inside would’ve been better—but there were plenty more where this one came from. Next time he’d find somewhere strategically more advantageous. “If you excuse me, I have work to do.” He spun around and began walking.
“How I know?”
He turned only his head and smiled. “How do you know that I’m the real deal? There is only one way to find out, isn’t there?” He winked and walked away.
“What’s your name, deck boy?”
“Anandur.”
“A Scot?”
“Aye.”
She grinned. “I hear Scots are very good lovers.”
“As I said before, only one way to find out.”
The hook had been cast, and Lana had bitten. Next step would be to reel her in.
Easy.
He was going to have so much fun with the hot Russian.
Chapter 22: Andrew
Andrew glanced at the big white clock hanging on the wall above Agent Kravitz’s head, willing the arms to move faster. His work day was dragging on like a stink behind a porta-potty. Every fucking minute felt like an hour.
It had something to do with craving for coffee. But not the watery thing brewing in the break room. Andrew wanted a good, hot cappuccino, served by a sexy lady with big brown eyes. Eyes that looked tired but full of life, hardened by experience but innocent.
Sweet Nathalie.
The moment he’d left her shop, he’d decided to go back straight after work. Without Bhathian this time. He wanted to pursue the thing that was going on between them sans her father’s intimidating presence.
Problem was, Nathalie had more than one daddy.
True, her adoptive one suffered from dementia, but nevertheless, he hung around the place, and pretending like he wasn’t there while flirting with his daughter would no doubt feel awkward.
Poor Nathalie, how was she supposed to have a love life while working such long hours in the café and caring for her adoptive father? It was quite likely that the last time she’d seen any action had been in college because Andrew couldn’t imagine her grabbing a quickie in the kitchen, which given the circumstances was the only way she could’ve gotten busy with a guy.
That reminded him that he’d promised to check on her missing waitress, but staying after work to investigate would mean less time with Nathalie.
Fuck it, he could do a quick search while on the clock.
The address Tiffany had given her boss had no phone number attached to it. No big surprise there, her generation didn’t bother with landlines anymore. Everyone was using their cellphones for everything. The only information Andrew found pertaining to that address was the name of the landlord— a corporation owning hundreds of rental units all over the country.
He emailed the main office in Seattle, asking for the phone number of the manager of Tiffany’s building.
The best thing would’ve been to drive up there, knock on the door, and question the girl’s roommates. But it would’ve meant more time wasted between now and finally getting to see Nathalie. Given that her café closed at eight, and the earliest he could get there was five-thirty, he wasn’t about to shorten the little time he could have with her even further.
At a quarter to five, Andrew closed his computer, pocketed his keys and his access card, and said goodbye to the agents sharing his office without bothering to come up with an excuse for why he was leaving early. He’d skipped lunch so he could leave at five instead of five-thirty, and cutting an additional fifteen minutes to leave even earlier didn’t require explanation.
If his boss had a problem with this, he could find another monkey to do Andrew’s job.
The drive to Glendale that would’ve taken him twenty minutes without the damned traffic took forty-five, which wasn’t too bad for L.A.’s rush hour. Thankfully, there were no accidents to bring the congested freeway to a complete standstill, and slogging along with the rest of the workplace refugees he got there, as planned, at five-thirty.
“Andrew, what a nice surprise.” Nathalie’s face lit up as he came in. “Where is your friend?” She tilted her head to look behind him. Funny girl, as if someone as big as Bhathian could’ve been hidden by Andrew’s body.
He leaned his elbow on the counter to get closer. “I wanted you all to myself.” He winked.
“Oh…” Nathalie blushed. “Would you like some coffee? A sandwich? I can make one custom ordered. What would you like in it? There is tuna, salami, or perhaps the vegetarian, my favorite, with eggplant and roasted bell peppers. Or perhaps something else?” By the time she finished reciting the options, she was out of breath.
Sweet, her response had taken him all the way back to junior high when girls had still gotten flustered when he’d hit on them. Was she so unused to getting attention? Not likely. Nathalie was pretty and sexy and seemed like a genuinely nice person.
She was probably fending off guys all day long.
So, was it him? Was he making her nervous? Perhaps his scars were to blame, or his stupid comment from yesterday—the one about having to kill her if he told her about his and Bhathian’s secret project. Or both.
He smiled, trying to go for friendly. But given his pose and proximity, it must’ve come out wrong. He probably ended up looking as if he were leering.
Her face got a shade redder, and she started chewing her lower lip as she waited for him to answer.
To give her space, Andrew straightened up and took a step back. “Surprise me,” he said.
Nathalie’s chest expanded as she took in her first deep breath since he’d come in. No wonder. He’d been hitting on her with the tact and finesse of an adolescent.
“Sure thing. Take a seat anywhere you like. I’ll make you something that I hope you are going to like.”
“No pressure. I’m going to like whatever you make.”
The only vacant booth was the one at the very end of the café, and as he glanced at the direction of the one across the aisle from it, Andrew confirmed his suspicion that its occupant was indeed Fernando.
Bummer. He’d hoped
to sit as far as possible from Nathalie’s daddy. Grabbing a newspaper from the stand, he tucked it under his arm and headed for the back. Perhaps he’d erect a shelter using the thing.
As Andrew slid inside the booth so he could sit by the window, Fernando raised his head from his own newspaper and gave him a curt nod.
Surprised, Andrew nodded back. Did the old guy remember him from yesterday? Or did he nod at everyone who happened to be seated across the aisle from him?
He was going to ask Nathalie about it. Perhaps Fernando remembering him was a good sign. His dementia couldn’t be too bad if he remembered someone he had seen only once. True, it had been just yesterday, but from what Andrew knew about the disease, short term memory was the first one to go.
Busying himself with flipping through the New York Times pages, reading mostly headlines, Andrew waited for his food to be served, or more to the point, for the one serving it to arrive at his table. A couple of times he lifted his head to check on her, but the place was full, and she had other customers to take care of.
It seemed like everyone had gotten their food before she finally arrived with his.
“Sorry it took me so long, but I wanted to get all the other orders done first so I could sit with you for a little.”
Now, wasn’t that music to his ears. “I’m glad you did. For the pleasure of your company, I don’t mind waiting.”
Nathalie smiled, removing two cups of cappuccino, two tall glasses of water, and a plate heaped with mixed greens and a sandwich cut diagonally into two triangular pieces.
“Just a moment,” she excused herself, turning to her dad. “Are you okay, Papi?” She put her palm on his shoulder. “Do you need anything?”
“No, sweetheart, I’m fine. You go ahead and sit with your guy.”
“My…” She turned her head and cast Andrew an apologetic glance. “He is not my guy, Papi, he is just a friend.”
Fernando smiled and patted her hand on his shoulder. “If you say so.”
“Sorry about that,” Nathalie said as she sat down across from Andrew. “I don’t know why he would say something like that. It’s probably his dementia.”
Andrew hesitated for a moment before mustering the guts to say what he wanted to say. “I don’t want to be just your friend, Nathalie, I want to be your guy.”
Nathalie’s cheeks got red like a couple of ripe tomatoes, and she opened and closed her mouth, then opened it again, but no words came out.
“Do I frighten you? Is that why my advances are making you so uncomfortable? I’m a nice guy, I swear. And that stupid comment I made yesterday was just a bad joke.”
“I know,” she whispered, then reached for the water glass with a shaky hand and gulped down half of it before returning it to the table. “I’m not scared of you, I know you’re a nice guy, it’s just that I like you too.”
Was there a sheen of tears in her eyes?
Andrew reached across the table and took her hand. “Is it a bad thing? Liking me?”
She nodded, dropping her eyes.
“Why? Is there someone else?”
Nothing about Nathalie suggested that she had a boyfriend, but that didn’t mean that there hadn’t been one in the past. Someone who had either hurt her so badly that she was afraid of getting hurt again, or someone who still exerted influence or control over her despite her breaking up with him.
God knew there were enough jerks like this.
“Is anybody threatening you, Nathalie?”
She shook her head. But Andrew wasn’t going to leave it at that. She might be afraid of involving him in her problems or some other crap like that.
“Because if anyone is, you need to tell me. I’ll never let anyone hurt you, and these are not empty words. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of, like in eliminating, whatever and whoever is giving you trouble.”
She chuckled, but the sound was devoid of mirth. “Oh, Andrew. This is the sweetest thing anyone had ever said to me. But unless you know how to cure dementia, there is nothing you can do to help me.”
That was unfortunately true, but Andrew failed to see how her father’s disease had anything to do with him.
“No, regrettably, my various talents don’t include miracle working. But I don’t understand why your father’s condition would influence the way you feel about me.”
With a heavy sigh, she pulled out her hand from his grasp, and he let her, sensing she needed the distance. “I can’t leave my father alone even for a moment.” She whispered so quietly he had to lean forward to hear her. “He wanders off, looking for our old house—the one we sold years ago— and gets lost. Every time he manages to escape, I lose a year of my life until he is found. He has dog tags and a bracelet with my phone number on them, so I usually get calls from the nice people who find him, telling me that they have him. But not everybody is nice, and I’m afraid that one of these days he’ll escape and never come back.”
“That must be tough.”
“It is, but I can deal with it. The problem is that I can’t have a relationship, not even a friendship. I can’t go out, ever. Not to a movie, not to a restaurant, not to visit someone’s home. It’s just my dad and me. There is no one else to step in and give me room to breathe.”
“Now, there is. I’m here, and I don’t care if the only way I can be with you is sitting here in this booth and waiting for you to have a few moments to spare, or hanging out at your place. I don’t care about going out to movies or restaurants. All I care about is being with you and getting to know you.”
“Why? You’re a handsome man, you can get any woman you want. Why me and my baggage? Why settle for less?”
Her questions and her self-deprecation were starting to annoy him. “Let’s get one thing straight. I don’t want to ever hear you say that you’re someone to settle for. You’re a unicorn, Nathalie. You are rare and special, and I’m one lucky bastard to have not only found you but to have, for some inexplicable reason, piqued your interest or even won your affection.”
The shy smile that bloomed on her face was priceless. “Okay.” She squared her shoulders. “So, given the limitations, how do we proceed?”
Chapter 23: Nathalie
It must be a dream, Nathalie thought, a very nice dream, and at any moment she was going to wake up. Things like this just didn’t happen to her. A sexy guy, one who’d been starring in her very naughty fantasies last night, just offered to accept her with all her limitations because she was so fabulous that he couldn’t stay away.
Right.
But if this is a dream, please don’t wake me up.
“You close at eight, true?”
“Yes.”
“Do you need to stay and clean up?”
Oh, God, if she had to do this too she would’ve jumped off the nearest bridge. “No, I have a service that comes and cleans the place at night.”
“Good, so after eight you’re free, other than babysitting your father, that is.”
“Yeah?”
“Are you in the mood for Chinese?”
“I’m not hungry, but maybe later. Do you want to order takeout?”
It could be nice. She was a little sick of her own pastries and sandwiches. But was she being careless? Inviting a guy she’d only met yesterday up to her apartment?
Nathalie had a good feeling about Andrew, but that didn’t mean much. He was attractive and she was so lonely that she would’ve probably ignored any troubling signs, even if subconsciously. And anyway, with her lack of experience, she wouldn’t have known what to look for.
Where was Tut when she actually needed him?
Whenever a guy would show interest in her, the ghost in her head would issue warnings or nasty comments or both, making it impossible for her to conduct a friendly conversation with anyone she found even remotely attractive, yet alone anything else.
“I’ll go and get us some from the Golden Palace, as far as I know they don’t deliver. And I’ll get a movie from the supermarket’s vending machi
ne. Anything in particular that you like?”
“Perhaps that latest Star Wars? I’m a big fan.”
Andrew smiled broadly. “Ah, my kind of girl. I was afraid you’d go for something sappy and romantic.”
“Nah, a romantic comedy yes, but I hate sad stories. I want to be entertained, not depressed.”
“My thoughts exactly.”
She glanced at his uneaten sandwich, and the cappuccino that was most likely cold. “Finish your food before you go.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He dutifully lifted the sandwich she’d made for him and took a bite, rolling his eyes as he chewed. “Delicious,” he said after swallowing his first bite.
Nathalie could’ve gladly spent the next few minutes watching Andrew eat, but the jingle of bells announced new customers and she had to get up. “Would you like me to make you a new cup? This one is probably barely tepid.”
“Thank you, but no. This is perfectly fine.” He grabbed the small porcelain cup and emptied it on a oner.
“I have to go.” She cast him an apologetic look as she scooted out of the booth.
“It’s okay, go, take care of your customers.” He waved her away.
As she rushed to the front, Nathalie sneaked a quick peek behind her at her father. He seemed absorbed in the newspaper spread out on the table before him, but the small smirk on his kind face hinted that he’d been eavesdropping on her conversation with Andrew, and that he approved.
It made her feel good, even though God only knew what scenario Papi’s dementia had painted for him. He might have imagined that Andrew was her husband, or that she was someone else altogether. He had gotten confused before, thinking she was Eva. Except, she doubted he would’ve been happy to see his ex-wife flirting with a man.
“I’ll be back shortly,” Andrew said over the head of a customer who was ordering coffee and blew her an air kiss before leaving.
Wasn’t a real kiss supposed to come before a pretend one? She thought it was kind of funny.
An excited flutter started in her belly, and she struggled to school her face for the sake of the older lady, who was done fumbling in her purse after having found the exact change to hand over. Never having to fake a smile for a customer before, Nathalie hoped she was doing it right and not looking like one of those plastic store mannequins.
