“All I want is a simple date.”
Andi’s chuckle turned into a full-blown, gut-clutching laugh.
“What?” Linc demanded.
“Simple? Good luck, my friend.” She shook her head, a look bordering on pity in her blue eyes. “Nothing about Dee Wakefield is simple.”
CHAPTER FIVE
~~~~
DEE BLAMED TUESDAY. Stupid day of the week with no real identity to call its own, no wonder bad things happened.
The rest of the week, save Thursday, had an excuse. Monday was slow, with a getting started vibe. Wednesday was easy—hump day. Friday provided a sense of anticipation for the weekend. Saturday meant playtime. Sunday was reflective and lazy.
Tuesday and Thursday, unlike their counterparts, were wild cards. Anything could happen and too often did. Unfortunately, Dee grumbled as she limped her way up the subway steps and toward home, she had a job to do. Her clients paid good money and expected results, Tuesday, or no Tuesday.
By nature, Dee wasn’t a superstitious person. The day of the week didn’t matter. Until the bugger rose up and kicked her ass—or shin, as the case may be.
Dee couldn’t blame the kid who kicked her. Given the circumstances, she admired the little girl’s gumption and could easily picture herself doing the same if someone dared turn her father over to the police—guilty or not. Unfortunately for his plucky daughter, in the case of Randy Leidecker, the judge’s gavel would fall firmly on the side of guilty. With the proper plea deal and time off for good behavior, he might be out by the time the girl graduated high school.
Yes, she decided as she paused to rub her leg, she blamed Tuesday.
When Dee’s fingers found a lump the size of her fist, her head fell back, eyes lifted toward the heavens. With a sigh, she hobbled along feeling sorry for herself since no one else was around to share her pain.
Taking her keys from her pocket, Dee didn’t notice the man by the entrance until she was almost upon him. One look at his half-smile and the glint in his amazing blue eyes and she knew without qualification, she should have stayed in bed, covers firmly pulled over her head.
Fuck Tuesday.
“Hurt yourself?” Linc James asked.
The concern in Linc’s voice was little balm to Dee’s injury. For all her poor me thoughts, she hated to display any sign of weakness—especially in front of a man who sent prickles up her spine with one knowing look.
Straightening her shoulders, Dee shifted her weight to her good leg and crossed her arms. With her best badass smirk, she met Linc’s gaze.
“What brings you to my part of town?” Between his jacket, gloves, and boots, she imagined he wore a fortune’s worth of supple, grade-A leather. “Take a wrong turn, tennis boy?”
Not her best effort, but considering her growing aches and pains, Dee gave herself a couple of points for the weak putdown.
Crossing his arms, Linc mimicked her body language, smirk and all.
“I was in the neighborhood and decided to stop by on the spur of the moment.”
“Right,” Dee scoffed. “Your neighborhood and mine aren’t in the same hemisphere.”
“Unless someone split Manhattan in half without telling me, we’re not only in the same hemisphere, we’re on the same island.”
“Smartass.”
“Takes one to know one.”
Dee was too tired to think of a clever response. Instead, she simply raised an eyebrow and waited.
“Would you believe, try as I might, I can’t get you out of my head?” Linc asked with a half-smile.
“Nope.”
Funny. The night they met, Dee hadn’t noticed how tall Linc was. Frustrating because she took pride in her powers of observation—a trick she picked up from endless hours as a child watching Murder, She Wrote with her Jessica Fletcher obsessed mother.
Replaying the encounter in her mind, Dee suddenly remembered how, even in stilettos, Linc topped her by an inch or two. Now, in a pair of comfortable, relatively heelless biker boots, she estimated his height to be six foot three. She stood five-nine in stocking feet.
Like so many things she could list, Linc’s superior height annoyed Dee. Yes, her feelings toward him were irrational. And, yes, she understood the underlying reason. He got her juices flowing. Big time. However, if she kept her hormones in check—something she did with ease in the past—she saw no reason he had to know.
The best way to keep Linc at bay was a thick layer of bitchy attitude. Men, in her experience, wanted soft, sweet, and pliable. Dee didn’t qualify on any level.
“If you need a P.I., I’m booked.”
“I’m good, at the moment.”
“Then we have nothing to discuss.” She took a step forward, careful not to wince. Linc, arms still crossed, blocked her way. “Move your ass, or I’ll move it for you.”
“You could try.” A glint entered his eyes, which said he loved a challenge. “Please. Try.”
Well, crap. Dee was tired, her shin continued to swell with each passing moment as the ache traveled up her leg with alarming speed. On any other occasion, she would drop Lincoln James on his pretty ass without a second thought. Today—Tuesday—she didn’t feel as confident. Linc was in good shape. Excellent shape. No way she would allow him to best her. Now, or ever.
“One of two things will happen. Either knock you flat and risk injury to your million-dollar serving arm. Or, walk away unscathed. You have ten seconds to decide.”
“One hundred million,” Linc shrugged. “According to my insurance policy.”
“Holy shit! Really?” The amount boggled Dee’s mind. “You play tennis. How can one part of your body be worth so much?”
“I’m a lefty. Makes my arm more valuable.”
“Bull.”
“Not buying my story?” Linc grinned. “Okay. What if I tell you there’s a part of me worth a hell of a lot more?”
Dee didn’t ask. No need. Nothing a man prized more than his dick. Sex wasn’t nearly as profitable as tennis. Though if Lincoln’s reputation were accurate, he wouldn’t go hungry.
“Keep your parts in your pants, fella.”
“You think I meant my…?” Linc gasped, his eyes wide with mock surprise. “Honestly, Ms. Wakefield, you need to pull your mind out of the gutter.”
“If not your little friend,” Dee sneered. “What did you have in mind?”
“My golden tongue, of course.”
“Gold not silver? You think a lot of your tongue.”
“Hey, my tongue can do a lot more than form words.”
Dee wanted to laugh, but she swallowed the urge. The last thing Lincoln James needed was encouragement.
“Move aside.” Dee dangled her keys in front of his face. When he raised a brow, she sighed. She blamed her capitulation on her aching shin—and Tuesday. “Please move aside, Mr. James.”
“Since you asked nicely.”
Lincoln James was seriously cute, not an attribute Dee found appealing under normal circumstances. However, nothing about her mixed-up emotions where Linc was concerned were normal.
Distracted by his smile and trying her best not to reciprocate, Dee took a step, forgetting for a moment the pounding ache in her shin, and winced.
“You are hurt.”
Frowning, Linc’s expression went from teasing to concerned in a heartbeat.
“No big deal,” Dee said with a shrug. “I failed to get out of the way of a pissed-off, whirling dervish.”
“Did you retaliate?”
“I don’t hit ten-year-old girls. Or boys. Her punishment was when the police handcuffed her father and arrested him on an outstanding warrant for armed robbery. By comparison, I got off easy.”
“Poor kid.”
“Life, on occasion, sucks.”
Dee used her weight to open the front door. As her head began to pound in sympathy with her leg, she slipped into the building, hoping to lose Linc. Without missing beat, he simpl
y slipped in after her.
The lobby was empty—as usual. Whether a permanent resident like Dee or someone who needed a room for a night or two, people who wanted to linger on the shabby sofa and mismatched chairs soon discovered the ancient furniture wasn’t only uncomfortable but potentially hazardous. Invariably, a stray metal spring punctured the backside of an unsuspecting sitter. Proof the owners didn’t give a rat’s ass about customer satisfaction.
The area behind the check-in counter was empty. The day manager spent most of his time in the small office located behind the front desk. Other than smoke one off-brand cigarette after another, Dee had no idea how he passed his time. Since his left hand seemed permanently stained from a steady diet of Cheetos, orange Fanta, and nicotine, she was happy to live in ignorance about what he got up to with his right hand.
Silently, Linc’s sharp gaze took in everything.
“Security sucks.”
If Linc had commented on the cracked walls, warped floorboards, or the peeling wallpaper, Dee wouldn’t have been surprised. His focus on security came as a surprise.
“Please tell me those work.” Linc nodded toward cameras mounted in adjacent corners.
“Maybe.” Dee shrugged. “During the Clinton administration.”
“You should report the owner.”
“He’d sell rather than bring the building up to code. Which would leave me without a place to live.” Dee bypassed the broken elevator and started up the stairs.
“Anyone could come and go. Do anything.”
“Kind of the point.” Dee found Linc’s naiveté oddly adorable.
“But—”
“I keep my door locked, and my gun close. Same as I would if I lived in Fort Knox. Your concern is noted.”
Afraid if she stopped moving, her muscles would stiffen to the point where she had to crawl up the stairs, Dee needed to get rid of Linc and get to her room.
“Thank you for the escort.”
When she would have started up the stairs, Linc stopped her with a firm hand on her arm.
“Before you rip me a new one,” he said before her growl could turn into a roar. “Give me a second.”
“One second?” Dee raised a brow. “Shoot.”
“For future reference, I have to remember you’re a literal person,” Linc chuckled. “I need thirty seconds. A minute tops.”
Dee crossed her arms, tapped her watch, and waited.
“I’m a professional athlete.”
“You get paid to run around a little court in a pair of shorts,” Dee conceded with a snort. “The athlete part is debatable.”
The flare of annoyance in Linc’s dark-blue eyes told Dee her verbal jab hit him directly in the ego. She was about to smile when instead of taking the bait she employed in the hope he would use up his allotted time, he ignored her comment.
“As an athlete,” Linc continued, heavy emphasis on the last word. “Bumps, bruises, and minor contusions are my specialty. If I don’t have an ache or pain ninety percent of the time, my coach calls me out as a slacker.”
“Nice guy. Or gal?”
“Guy. Pete Winchell. We’ve been together since I was thirteen.” Linc shook his head. “Twenty-one years. Where the hell did the time go?”
“Time passes for everyone. The secret is to make the years count.”
“Good advice. Fortune cookie?” Linc asked, tongue in cheek.
“My father.”
“Smart man.”
Dee agreed. Eagan Wakefield made his living as a college history professor. He was kind, gentle, loving, and her greatest supporter. The day she announced she’d joined the Navy, her mother went ballistic, firm in her belief the military was a waste for a woman.
Her father, as always, had her back. He talked his wife in off the ledge before he drove Dee to the train station, gave her a fierce hug, and told her to stay safe, stay strong, and most of all, stay true to herself. Words of wisdom Dee tried to live by each day of her life. Sometimes, the safe part was easier said than done.
“And your mother?”
“My mother?” Dee frowned. “You mean is she smart? Very.”
“Good to know,” Linc nodded. “I meant you’re obviously close to your father. Do you like your mother as well?”
An odd question. The difference between like and love was huge where parents and children were concerned. Dee’s relationship with her father was easy and friendly. The way she felt about her mother was another kettle of fish. They argued so often about everything and nothing, she couldn’t say with honesty that she liked Judy Wakefield. Love? Absolutely. Like? No. Not really. If pushed, Dee imagined her mother would say the same about her.
“My mother and I are… complicated.”
Unsure how the conversation veered into personal territory, Dee paused on the second-floor landing. Somehow, Lincoln distracted her from the pain in her leg and managed to accompany her up the stairs.
A strong person, in Dee’s book, was smart enough to admit her vulnerabilities—at least to herself. She was afraid if she stumbled, Linc would catch her. Worse, after a long day, with each step a struggle and the aches in her body screaming for a hot shower, multiple aspirins, and several hours of blissfully uninterrupted sleep, she might just let him.
A part of Dee appreciated Linc’s thoughtfulness. She could remember a time, before a wall of cynicism and distrust settled around her heart, when she would have taken his help without hesitation.
By choice and necessity, Dee learned to take care of herself.
“If I ask you to go, will you?”
“Absolutely. After I see you to your door.”
For all his polished, pretty boy looks, Lincoln James was no pushover. When she gave him a withering look, unlike most men, he didn’t flinch. Instead, he held her gaze for several seconds before a frown formed between his brows.
“Your cheek is an interesting shade of green.” Linc’s warm, blue eyes turned frosty. “Who hit you? Not the little girl.”
Tentatively, Dee touched her face. Well, crap.
“Her father may have landed a blow or two before I took him down,” she admitted with a sigh. The marks on her body would fade a lot faster than the bruise to her pride. “More luck than skill.”
“Hmm.” Linc measured his steps to match her slower, limping pace. Though the displeasure remained on his face, the light, friendly tone of his voice returned. “Did I mention my mother is a doctor?”
“Doesn’t make you one,” Dee said, afraid she knew where he was headed.
“Between Mom’s expert guidance and personal experience with a wide variety of injuries, I’m as close to an expert as you’ll find.”
Dee wasn’t in the mood to argue. Home at last. Now, before she collapsed in a heap of self-pity, she needed to lose her uninvited companion.
“Next time I’m in the market for a pseudo-healer, I’ll keep you in mind. For now, thank you for the escort. I—”
“Might as well take advantage of my knowledge—long as I’m already here.”
Linc didn’t use his physical strength against her. Instead, he used words and charm. Until now, Dee would have sworn on a stack of bibles ten feet tall that his brand of persuasion left her cold to the core. The trickle of heat she felt made her worry. Perhaps the punch she took to the face did more damage than she thought.
“I can make you feel better.”
Door key poised near the first lock, Dee paused. She felt like the gunk on the bottom of a sewer worker’s boots, so low just about anything would be an improvement. However, she wasn’t so far gone she would let Lincoln James into her home without a small test.
“You can make me feel better?”
Lincoln nodded.
“Promise?” she asked with a seemingly innocent sideways glance.
“I never make a promise I can’t keep.” His gaze was clear, direct. “I’ll do my best.”
Test passed, with flying colors. Linc didn
’t lie, or brag, or promise her the moon. Besides, her inner warrior was worn out, beaten down, and tired of the fight. Didn’t she deserve a little TLC? Wasn’t she allowed, for once, to give into temptation?
“One thing?” Dee said, her tone matter of fact. “Get out of line, and I won’t hesitate to hurt you.”
“Sounds fair.” Linc watched as she moved the key from one lock to the next and smiled. “You weren’t kidding about your own personal security.”
“No, I wasn’t.”
Dee toed open the door. Linc followed her inside.
“One thing on my side?”
“What?” Dee asked with a groan as she removed her coat.
He helped her with her coat before he unzipped his own. Both garments ended up on the chair by her desk. Hers made a thunk as the gun in the pocket knocked against the wall.
“If the time comes when you feel the need to hurt me? No broken bones.” He shrugged when her brows rose. “What can I say? My body is my living.”
“I never make a promise I can’t keep,” she said, echoing his words. “Here’s an easy solution. Don’t give me a reason and neither you nor your bones will have anything to worry about.”
“Deal.”
Linc held out his hand. Dee hesitated. Why did everything seem to be a challenge, a dare, from him to her? And why, though she knew better, did she feel the need to pick up every gauntlet he threw at her feet?
Touch me, Linc’s blue eyes taunted. The world won’t come to an end.
The end she could handle. Dee was more concerned about a beginning where she didn’t know the rules. Linc was a wild card, the first man in forever who intrigued her, worried her, and, if she let him, could throw her ordered world for a loop.
Dee still had a choice. She could tell Linc to go. If her words were firm, her body language no-nonsense, her gaze direct, she was confident he would do as she asked.
“Come on, Dee. What do you have to lose?” Linc smiled. “Except a few aches and pains.”
Another challenge. Damn him. Somehow, Linc knew what buttons to push. Not that Dee was a pushover. Trouble was, she was tempted, and she liked the feeling enough to throw caution to the wind. What did she have to lose? Looked like she was about to find out.
SIX DAYS Page 5
