Undercover Husband

by Rebecca Winters

  “That’s good.”

  “Please.” She spread her hands. “Make yourselves comfortable. Rod will be back before we know it.”

  “I’m glad he’s out of earshot. Just so you know, I’ve assigned some of my colleagues to keep round-the-clock surveillance on you and your brother. As I told Brit, no one knows how much information Baird picked up on the two of you that you’re not aware of. We do know he mentioned you in the letters to Brit, so I’m not taking any chances.”

  “Thank you, Roman.” Denise’s voice shook. “Like Brit, my parents and I will be willing to pay any price for peace of mind.”

  “We’ll worry about the bill later, all right?”

  She nodded. “You’re very kind. What can I do to help?”

  “For one thing, we’ll want you and Rod to witness our wedding in three days’ time. I’m thinking we’ll do it at Brit’s parents’ home, if they agree.”

  “Three days?” Denise blinked.

  “That’s right,” he murmured. “We have to move fast.”

  Brit spoke up. “I—I’m sure it will be fine with Mom and Dad, Roman.”

  He nodded approvingly before his gaze switched back to Denise. “What we need from you is to throw us a party day after tomorrow. Let’s make it an evening affair, informal. I’ll pay for the pizza. Phone anyone you want. Brit’s friends from work, from her church, your mutual friends.”

  “Like a couples’ shower?”

  “Exactly.” He grinned. “You know the kind.”

  Denise’s eyes looked mischievous. “I do.”

  “When we leave here, you can get on the phone to people. As for right now, I want you to tell me everything you can remember about Glen Baird from the very first moment you saw him. I want to hear any details you can share, no matter how insignificant they may have appeared to you at the time.”

  She shared a private look with Brit. “I’m sure she’s told you everything. He gave all of us the creeps. But when everyone shied away from him, I felt kind of bad for him. That is until we got home and he started sending Brit those ghastly letters.”

  Roman nodded. “I can understand that. Most stalkers are disgruntled humans reaching out for love or attention in the only way they know how. In the course of their actions, they make mistakes a child could follow and are soon caught.

  “The large percentage don’t have intentions of causing physical injury, though they put their victims through unquestionable hell and emotional anguish. Unfortunately Baird is an unknown commodity, which is why we need to assume he could be dangerous to Brit and you.”

  Brit stirred restlessly. “I think being stalked is one of the most awful things that can be done to a person.”

  Roman’s gaze flicked to her. “It’s the reason for the anti-stalking laws. But in the end, it comes down to money. Our local law enforcement agencies don’t have the funds to pay for extended stakeouts and surveillance.

  “This last year I’ve been gathering information to prepare a bill for the Utah legislature which asks that public funds be granted to known stalking victims to bring their perpetrators to justice in the shortest amount of time possible. Bills like this are being initiated in other states, as well.

  “But enough of that for now. You two need to help me understand Baird. Try to remember. Any little detail could help.”

  You’re an amazing man, Roman Lufka. One in a million. How was I lucky enough to have picked you out of all the other private investigators?

  CHAPTER THREE

  “YOUR parents are delightful people, Brit.”

  In the darkness his deep voice reached out to touch her as they drove along Wasatch Boulevard toward his home. The thought of living with him filled her with an inexplicable excitement. Try as she might, she was having trouble remembering that he was simply a private investigator hired to guard her. On both an emotional and physical level, no man had ever affected her this profoundly.

  “Thank you. They were very impressed with you, too.” So impressed, in fact, that they were willing to put their faith in his hands. Not once did they raise an eyebrow over the unorthodox situation.

  Brit wasn’t surprised. Roman made a powerful impact on people. Even Denise hadn’t been immune to his commanding, virile appeal.

  As for her parents, their eagerness to comply with Roman’s wishes and put on a wedding in so short a time—despite her father’s heart condition—was nothing short of miraculous. They acted almost as if it were going to be the real thing, conversing animatedly with Roman, treating him like a true son-in-law to be.

  The specter of Glen Baird seemed to have taken a back seat to the wedding preparations, all of which Roman assured them he would handle down to the last detail. Tonight Brit, herself, could be forgiven for thinking the unsolicited letters sent by that freak were a figment of her imagination.

  “We’re home,” he murmured at last, slowing down to turn into the driveway of a home hidden by trees on densely wooded property. He pressed the Genie on his sun visor and they slid quietly into the double car garage where she saw a slate-blue BMW convertible parked.

  The modern glass-and-wood house on Spruce Hollow Drive, aptly named for its many pine trees, was definitely a man’s domain. No feminine frills anywhere, yet it invited.

  When Roman came around to help her from the car, her arm accidentally brushed against his solid male chest, sending another dart of awareness through her body. On trembling legs she followed him through a door at the side of the garage into an entry hall where framed graphics of surrealistic drawings hung on the walls, capturing her attention.

  Brit fell in love with the hardwood floors stained in a dark walnut color. The wood moldings and wainscoting against the off-white walls of the main living areas came as a surprise and added a traditional flavor. The same dark stained shutters at the windows gave total privacy, while the leather easy chairs and sofas, modern lighting and glass dining table off the kitchen with its own bar counter and stools gave the interior warmth.

  A book-lined study complete with cherrywood desk and computer software, also contained a large television and VCR. Everything was tasteful, comfortable and unpretentious.

  “The bedrooms are along this hallway. Mine is in front. I’ll put you in the middle bedroom because it has a comfortable queen-size bed, and the bathroom is just across the hall. I’ve been using the last bedroom as a storeroom. It needs to be decorated and furnished. Unfortunately I haven’t had the time to see about it yet.”

  Because of people like me, she mused guiltily.

  He sounded very matter of fact, but Brit couldn’t stop thinking about the sleeping arrangements. During the night, a mere wall would be separating them. Except for her father, she’d never lived in the same house with a man.

  Sleeping in Roman’s home would be a very different proposition. Somehow she was going to have to forget that his bed was so close to hers. But try as she might, she knew she wouldn’t be able to prevent certain intimate pictures of him from forming in her mind.

  His strong, whipcord frame and dark good looks made her think thoughts she’d never entertained about a man in relationship to herself. They brought the heat to her cheeks as he paused at the door to the middle bedroom.

  She felt his narrowed gaze wander over her. No doubt he’d noticed her flushed face. “Make yourself at home. I’ve already done up your bed with fresh linen and put clean towels in the bathroom for you.”

  She swallowed hard, unable to meet his eyes. “Thank you again. It seems like that is all I ever say to you.”

  “It’s nice to hear,” came the low-pitched response. “Just remember. If you didn’t need my services, I would be out of a job. I should be the one thanking you.”

  At that comment she couldn’t help but smile, then shyly met his level gaze. It was a mistake. In the semidarkness of the hall, their proximity, combined with his masculinity, was all too potent. “Your point is well taken. Nevertheless, I am grateful.”

  She noted the quick rise a
nd fall of his chest, wondering what exactly was going through his mind. After all, it was almost midnight.

  Most likely he was anxious to do whatever it was he did when he was alone. Providing living quarters for a client who was going to be underfoot around the clock had to be a new experience for him, too. The last thing she wanted was to be a burden.

  “I—I’m sure you’re tired, Roman. I know I am, so I’ll say good-night and see you in the morning.”

  She’d moved halfway into the room when he said, “Why don’t you join me for a nightcap first?”

  Much as she would have loved to say yes, she didn’t dare. For a lot of reasons she was afraid to explore, it would be better if she went straight to bed. Besides, he’d only mentioned the idea out of courtesy to a guest. “I appreciate the offer, but I had a soda at Mom and Dad’s.”

  His unreadable expression didn’t change. “All right then. Sleep well.” After hesitating a moment longer, he disappeared down the hall, leaving her feeling out of sorts.

  Though her body was exhausted, she couldn’t imagine being able to sleep. Maybe a hot shower would help her mind as well as her body to relax. Grabbing a nightgown and robe from her suitcase, she crossed the hall to the bright, modern bathroom and shut the door.

  The fluffy towels, a black, beige and white stripe, reminded her of him, making it impossible for her to turn off her errant thoughts. The soap and shampoo he supplied, everything carried his stamp, increasing her cognizance of his vital, living presence in her life.

  She slipped out of her clothes and submitted herself to the spray, wishing she could blot him from her consciousness. Eight hours ago she hadn’t known of his existence.

  How could one man have changed her life so drastically since four o’clock this afternoon?

  Roman could hear the water running while he locked up the house and turned off lights. Much as he tried to concentrate. on anything else, he couldn’t prevent vivid images of the woman in the shower from passing through his mind.

  He’d entertained houseguests on numerous occasions, mostly his brother and sister-in-law and their children.

  This was different.

  No way could he forget Brit Langford was standing under that water. With clothes on, she was breathtaking. The sight of her without—

  Stop right there, Lufkilovich.

  Realizing it was going to be a long night, he headed for the kitchen and pulled a can of beer from the fridge. He rarely drank anything alcoholic, but tonight he needed something to offset the adrenaline running rampant through his body.

  When the beer didn’t give him the relief he craved, he had a strong urge to call his elder brother, Yuri. But it was two in the morning in New York. Out of the question!

  He could phone his best friend, Cal Rawlings, Diana’s husband. Unfortunately it was past their bedtime and he hated waking either of them.

  The only other person he felt inclined to confide in was Chief Wilson. Nevada was an hour earlier than Salt Lake. Maybe it wouldn’t be too late to give him a jingle and discuss Brit’s case with him.

  The older man reminded Roman of his deceased father. They’d hit it off during the stakeout. Crazy as it was, he wanted the chief and his wife to attend the mock wedding. Or maybe he just wanted verification that he’d done the right thing in going undercover as Brit’s husband.

  To his chagrin, when he made the phone call, there was no answer and no machine asking that he leave a message. It could mean the chief had gone to bed. Or he and his wife were out somewhere.

  Frustrated, Roman turned off the kitchen light and headed for his ensuite bathroom to brush his teeth. He’d have to phone him in the morning.

  All was quiet in the house. Brit had gone to bed. By the time he’d slid under the covers, he was angry with himself and glad he hadn’t talked to anyone.

  You’re losing it, Lufkilovich. The woman asleep in the next room has slipped past all your reliable defenses and has somehow worked her way beneath your skin. You’re not the same man you were before you took this case.

  Far into the night Roman wrestled with his own particular demons, then shot out of bed when he heard a scream that sounded like the fabric of a blood-curdling nightmare.

  Brit!

  He entered her room without knocking and turned on the overhead light, forgetting that he wore nothing more than the bottom half of his sweats.

  She was thrashing about under her covers, making terrified moaning sounds, obviously deeply disturbed.

  Cursing the hairy-faced monster who had done this to her, he sat down on the side of the bed and called her name, urging her to wake up.

  Her eyes suddenly flew open. Through the curtain of her disheveled hair, he could see they were glazed over. She didn’t recognize him.

  “Brit—It’s Roman.” He smoothed the ash-gold strands from her pale face. Right now she possessed an almost ethereal beauty. But it was the moisture on her cheeks that brought out his protective instincts like nothing he’d ever experienced in quite the same way before. “You’ve had a nightmare.”

  His voice appeared to bring her back to some semblance of reality. “I—I don’t understand.”

  She was disoriented. “You’re at my house, Brit. Remember? I heard you cry out.”

  She blinked before realizing the state of her undress and lifted the sheet to cover herself. During her struggle, the pale blue nylon gown she was wearing had become somewhat twisted, the sleeve having fallen down her arm to the elbow. He’d seen enough to guarantee that he’d never get to sleep now. Maybe never again.

  A deep rose color tinted her dewy skin.

  She knew what he’d seen. Lord.

  “I’m all right now,” she whispered, averting her eyes.

  The hardest thing he’d ever had to do was get up from that bed. Looming over her, he said, “I’m sorry to have burst in on you like that, but the terror in your voice wouldn’t let me ignore you.”

  She shook her head. “I-it’s all right, Roman. I’m sorry that I disturbed you. Since those letters started coming, I’ve had a lot of violent dreams. Living alone, I guess I didn’t realize just how bad they’ve become.”

  “Can I bring you some tea, or some hot chocolate? Something to soothe your nerves?”

  She moistened her lips. “No, thank you. I’ll be all right. I brought some books with me. Reading always helps.”

  “You’re sure? If you want, I’ll stay with you awhile.”

  “No,” she said a little too forcefully for his liking. “I’ve imposed on you enough. Please—go back to bed. I’ll be fine.”

  He sucked in his breath, fighting the almost overwhelming desire to climb under the covers and hold her so she wouldn’t be frightened anymore.

  “If you need me during the night, call out and I’ll hear you.”

  Slowly she lifted her gaze to his, those orbs so dark with turbulent emotion, they looked closer to black than blue. “I pray I won’t disturb you again.”

  “I don’t mind,” came the words from deep inside him.

  Her eyes closed. “But I do. Good night, Roman.”

  He turned on the bedside lamp. “Good night.”

  As soon as he’d flicked off the overhead light and shut the door, she reached for the novel she’d put on the nightstand. Twenty minutes later, after she’d read the same page for the tenth time, she gave up, turned out the light and sank down under the covers.

  Her body felt alive in a brand new way, like it was on fire...

  When he’d looked at her just now, something had ignited in the recesses of his eyes, turning the flecks in those green irises to gold. It was as if a charge of electricity had leaped clear of his body to find a place in her own, energizing her with his life-giving force.

  Though he hadn’t touched any part of her except her hair, she felt a connection with him as real and vital as something tangible. Filled with more intimate thoughts of him, her eyelids finally drooped and at some point she knew no more until she heard him call her to breakf
ast.

  Through bleary eyes she glanced at her watch. It was ten to nine. She never slept in this late, but after the events of last night, Brit realized her body needed the extra sleep. Still, she was embarrassed by what had transpired. Furthermore she felt selfish, especially when she’d kept Roman awake part of the night and knew there was a huge amount of work to be accomplished today.

  After scrambling to make her bed, she freshened up, then dressed in jeans and a blouse to join him.

  Cereal, eggs, juice awaited her at the dining room table. She tucked right in and told him food had never tasted so good before. Fortunately she caught herself before she blurted that he looked good, too. Especially in that black T-shirt and hip-hugging Levi’s.

  Last night all he’d been wearing were the bottom half of his pajamas or some facsimile. He was a gorgeous male. She could hardly breathe just remembering the sight of him when she’d first been awakened by his voice.

  With difficulty, she finished eating, then took her plate to the sink. “Let me do the dishes, please.”

  His enticing mouth curved upward. “That’s what I was hoping to hear, but they’ll have to wait. I’ve phoned a moving company. They’re sending a small van to your condo within forty-five minutes. We need to get over there right now so you can pack what you need to bring here. The rest we’ll put in storage.”

  “I won’t want much.”

  He studied her for a brief moment. “Bring anything you like. There’s plenty of room.”

  “Even for Tiger?”

  “Tiger?”

  “She’s an alley cat who comes around once in a while for food and a little love.”

  A smile hovered at the corner of his mouth. “If she’s there, bring her along, too.”

  “I didn’t mean it, Roman. She’s a wild cat and knows how to survive. But thank you anyway,” she said softly, rubbing her palms together before looking away.

  So far there was nothing about Roman Lufka she didn’t like. She’d been trying to find something—anything—which would help her keep her perspective in this situation.

  “I’ve already arranged for your phone and fuel to be disconnected. The post office now has a hold on your mail. We’ll pick it up every day at the Foothill outlet. In case this weirdo changes his mind and sends you something else in the mail, I want the postmaster to open it. That kind of corroborating testimony will weigh heavily, if and when charges are brought against him.”