“Then, I’ll say goodbye. See you tomorrow, boss.”
“How did you know I was home?” Linc asked when they were alone.
“Your agent told me.”
“Boris? When did you meet?”
“After you hired me, we talked on the phone several times.” Dee unzipped her jacket. “Mind if I come in?”
“Please.” Linc kicked himself for not offering sooner as he hung her coat in the closet. “Would you like something to drink? Water? Won’t take but a minute to make a pot of coffee.”
“You avoid caffeine yet, you always have coffee handy. Why?” Dee asked as she took in the view, hands clasped behind her back.
She looked good framed by the beveled window, bathed in the last waning light of day. She looked good, Linc decided, period.
“The secret of a good host is to make a guest feel welcome.” Linc held up a bag of whole beans. When Dee shook her head, he put them away. “Plus, my mother is addicted to the stuff. Since I never know when she might drop in, here or at my downtown office, I like to be prepared.”
“The good son?”
Linc stood next to Dee, close enough to breathe in her scent. Close enough to touch. Like her, he clasped his hands behind his back, his grip tight.
“Do I detect a note of sarcasm in your voice?”
“Admiration,” she corrected. “My mother drives me crazy, but I always keep a box of her favorite cookies in my cupboard along with a few bags of Earl Grey tea.”
“You love her.”
Dee shrugged.
“She’s the only mother I have.”
Linc doubted Dee was as cynical as she appeared. Then again, not every family was as close as his.
“Would you like to sit?”
“Been on my backside most of the day. Feels good to stand.”
When she caught Linc sneaking a glance at her butt, Dee shot him a look he couldn’t decipher.
“Shoot me,” he said as his lips curved into a self-deprecating smile. “You mention your butt, I have to look.”
“Never tell a woman who carries a gun to shoot you. Given enough provocation, she might take you up on the offer.”
“Given enough provocation, she’d shoot me anyway, with or without my permission.”
“Fair point,” Dee chuckled. She turned toward the room. “I didn’t come for the view. Top notch, by the way.”
“Anytime you want to take a gander, you’re welcome.”
Dee couldn’t know she was the first woman to receive an open-ended invitation to visit his home. If she did, Linc didn’t doubt her surprise would be a match for his own.
“Or, I could hit the top of the Empire State building.”
“My view isn’t as panoramic.” Linc watched as Dee moved around the room. “Then again, I don’t charge sixty bucks for the privilege.”
“Privilege?” Absently, she ran her fingers over a crystal replica of Rodin’s The Kiss. “Someone has a high opinion of himself.”
Linc enjoyed the way Dee tried to put him in his place with a bit of snark. She was good, but he could take whatever she wanted to give. After years in the public eye, his skin was tougher than an armadillo’s.
“I didn’t create the New York skyline,” he conceded.
“Simply paid a fortune for the right to your panoramic slice.”
“Jealous?”
“Of your money or your view?” Dee asked as she settled in a plush chair his decorator strategically positioned to face the windows.
“Both. Either.”
“Jealousy is a pointless emotion. Occasionally, destructive.”
A shadow crossed Dee’s face, too fast for the average person to notice. Where she was concerned, Linc wasn’t average. He noticed but kept his concern to himself. She was a private person, a fact he understood. If she wanted to talk, he’d listen. If not, he would respect her need to keep her demons, big and small, to herself.
“I’m glad to see you, Dee.” Linc sat, sinking into the sofa’s soft cushion. “Too bad you didn’t take me up on my offer. You’d love Dubai.”
“Unlike you, my schedule doesn’t have room for a romp in the sun.”
“Romp?” Linc snorted. “I wasn’t exactly on vacation.”
“You played tennis. Emphasis on played.”
“Wished you’d informed my opponents.” Absently, Linc rubbed his aching shoulder. “They were out for blood, not a stroll in the park.”
“Did you get paid—handsomely?”
“Sure, but—”
“You hit a ball over a net and romped away with a massive payday.” Dee sent him a smug smile. “Case closed.”
Linc hid his grin. Another time, another person, the words would have chaffed. The twitch of Dee’s lips, so close to a smile, plus the teasing glint in her dark gaze took away the sting.
“Meet me on the court,” Linc challenged. “After a game or two, if you haven’t changed your mind, then you can declare the case closed.”
“I will never believe anyone is worth the kind of money you make. However…” She held up a hand before he could argue. “The market set the value, not you. Tennis, golf, football. Athletes get what they get. Who am I to argue?”
“Ha,” Linc crowed. “You admit I’m an athlete.”
“Doesn’t your ego get enough attention without digging for more?” Dee let out a long, pitying sigh. “Don’t answer. As usual, we veered off topic.”
“Remind me?”
“I’m dressed for work, in case you didn’t notice.”
“I notice everything about you, Dee.” Linc’s gaze moved from her eyes up several inches. “Today, instead of a streak of color, the ends of your hair are tipped with silver.”
Dee stared hard at her coffee cup as a frown formed between her brows.
“What’s your point?”
“Someday, I hope you’ll tell me why you change the color so often.”
“Variety is the spice of life,” Dee said with a casual shrug.
Linc knew there was more to the story. He’d always believed he preferred easygoing, uncomplicated women. Again, and again, Dee proved to be the exception.
“You hired me to do a job. Remember?”
“I do.” Linc stretched his legs to their full length.
“You seem more concerned about the color of my hair than your safety.”
“Wasn’t my idea to hire you,” Linc reminded her. “If left to me, our relationship would be purely social.”
“You shouldn’t be so casual about your safety.”
Linc wasn’t worried, but Dee seemed to be. The turn in her demeanor from teasing to somber got his attention.
“Did you find something I should worry about?”
“I thought Boris told you,” Dee sighed.
“Apparently, Boris and the rest of my team, without consulting me, kept the information to themselves.” Though unhappy with the decision, he understood the reason. A big part of any athlete’s game was mental. The less stress, the clearer his mind each time he stepped on the court, the better he could concentrate on the game.
“Good old Boris left the dirty work to you. I apologize.” Linc would have some choice words for his agent the next time they spoke. “My stalker must be a doozy. What’s the deal? And, how long do I have to live?”
“Not funny.” Her brow furrowed, Dee drummed her fingers on the arm of her chair. “I can surround you with a dozen bodyguards, but if you don’t change your attitude, what’s the point?”
A dozen bodyguards? Was she kidding? When Dee didn’t crack a smile, Linc had to believe she was serious.
“You’re way ahead of me in the information department. Back up and start from the beginning. Do you know who’s behind the emails?”
“Her name is Amelia Moore.” Dee handed him her phone. “Here’s her picture. Ring a bell?”
Linc was good with names, better with faces. The woman seemed familiar.
“Maybe.” After a long look, he gave her back the phone. “I meet a lot of people, Dee.”
“I assume tennis players have groupies? Ball-bunnies perhaps?” Dee offered.
“Groupies, sure. Ball-bunnies? Really?”
“How should I know? I don’t understand the desire to sleep with someone simply because he’s famous. Which isn’t the point.” Dee cleared her throat. “Straight-out question. Did you have sex with Amelia Moore?”
“Absolutely not.”
“A one-night stand after a few drinks?” she ventured with a shrug. “Could be you forgot.”
“Jesus,” Linc scoffed, increasingly pissed off. “What kind of man-whore do you think I am?”
“Is there more than one kind?” Dee asked, her gaze steady.
“Dozens, I imagine.” Linc didn’t try to quell his rising temper. “Do I enjoy the company of women? Yes.”
“Many, many women?”
“I’m thirty-four, and I haven’t lived as a monk. I have sex, Dee. More than some men, less than others. Not so much that the faces have blurred, and never,” he emphasized the word for Dee’s benefit and his own, “so far under the influence, I can’t recall my partner’s name.”
Dee’s cool demeanor didn’t change. She simply nodded as she typed some notes into her phone.
“You didn’t have sex with Amelia Moore. You didn’t date her. What about professionally? She’s a model. Any chance you worked with her?”
Linc closed his eyes, as he did before a match, and focused. Amelia Moore. Amelia Moore. He felt the answer lurked in his subconscious, but where? Between practice and tournaments, his time was filled with endorsement deals, print ads and television commercials.
A reasonably active social life was important for his mental health. Plus, he couldn’t ignore the charities he supported.
“Charities.” Linc’s eyes popped open. “Of course. Amelia Moore won a charity auction. About six months ago, I think. She and six other high bidders received a group tennis lesson followed by lunch.”
“How much time did you spend with her, one on one?”
The memory unlocked, details flooded back.
“We spent an hour on the court first as a group, then five minutes of individual instruction.” Nothing unusual stood out in Linc’s mind. “Amelia Moore flirted, let me know she would be open to more.”
“And?” Dee waited.
“I wasn’t interested.”
“Was she angry? Insulted? Did she push the issue?”
Linc shook his head.
“Nothing about her or the encounter stands out. I fulfilled the terms of the auction. Everyone left satisfied, I believed. End of story.”
“Seems Amelia Moore decided to write another chapter.”
“I should meet with her.”
“Absolutely not.” Dee’s cool dissolved. “Don’t contact her. Not by email, or text, or phone. And, under no circumstances, are you to see her in person. If you see her on the street, cross to the other side. Understood?”
Until now, Linc worried Dee thought of him as nothing more than a client. The crack in her professional calm, the heat in her eyes, her raised voice, told him all he needed to know. She cared—a lot.
While relieved, he needed to make something clear.
“No one gives me orders, Dee.”
“Not an order,” she corrected. “A strongly worded suggestion.”
“Semantics.” Linc crossed his arms. “Give me an option, I’ll pick the one that works for me.”
“Stubborn,” Dee muttered.
“What I am is a man who doesn’t want you, or anyone else, to make decisions for me.”
“You’re right.” She sat forward, her expression all business. “Here’s the situation.”
Concisely, Dee told him what she knew.
“I see four possibilities. One, Amelia Moore’s emails, though sexually explicit, might be nothing more than a weird, but harmless fantasy. Two, she sees you as a stepping stone in her modeling career. Three, in some twisted way, she believes her emails will entice you into a personal relationship.”
“Ick.” The idea made Linc’s skin crawl.
“If one whack job connects with another, you never know what might happen.”
“Whack-job sex? Again, ick.” Before the image could take root, Linc gave his head a firm shake. “What’s possibility number four?”
“A combination of two and three.” The way Dee’s dark eyes narrowed slightly, Linc had the feeling number four was the one she’d pondered the most. “Best of both worlds for Amelia. A relationship with you plus the inevitable boost your high profile would give to her career.”
“Women have tried to use me to get attention in the past. I make certain they don’t stick around long.”
“Whatever the truth, you need to take precautions.”
Linc understood Dee’s concerns. He wasn't convinced.
“Is Amelia Moore dangerous?”
“I can’t say for certain that she isn’t.” As if to emphasize her point, Dee leaned closer, her expression earnest. “My advice? Hire a bodyguard.”
“No.”
“No? Period? Without any more discussion?”
“If the emails take a turn for the sinister, I’ll reconsider. Until then, I refuse to jump every time someone says boo.”
Dee wasn’t ready to accept Linc’s decision.
“You already travel with a crowd-sized entourage. What’s one more body?”
“I said no, Dee. Unless…” Linc grinned. “You take the job.”
Perhaps she realized the fight was over. Or, as Linc preferred to think, his charming smile won her over. Whichever the case, Dee let out an exasperated, chuckle.
“Even if I were qualified, which I’m not,” she told him with a pointed look. “Certain boundaries exist between a bodyguard and client.”
“As in no hanky-panky?” When Dee nodded, Linc let out an exaggerated sigh. “If you worked for me, I couldn’t resist the hanky or the panky.”
“In case you forgot, I already work for you.”
“You were hired to find the source of the emails,” he pointed out. “You briefed me on your findings. Job signed, sealed, and delivered.”
Linc gave her a smug, so there, smile. He should have known Dee would have a comeback of her own.
“Technically, until I receive final payment, you’re still my employer.”
“How much?” Linc jumped to his feet. “I’ll write you a check.”
Dee stood, grabbing his arm before he could dash to his office.
“I appreciate your enthusiasm.”
Placing his hand over hers, Linc looked deep into her eyes.
“You have no idea how enthusiastic I feel.”
“Trouble is, if you pay me, the moment would turn a bit prostitutey.” She stepped closer. “So, just this once, I’ll make an exception to the no fooling around with my client rule.”
Linc placed his hands on her hips. To his delight, she’d made the first move, and he didn’t want to give her a chance to change her mind.
“How much of an exception?” he asked.
“I’d rather show than tell.”
As Dee’s lips found his mouth, her body sank fully into his. Easy, natural, like two parts finally making a whole. She didn’t tease, deepening the kiss until Linc’s head spun, a whirlwind of need and desire.
Sliding his fingers under her shirt, he found the small of her back to be a bounty of soft, supple skin. Dee’s hum of pleasure emboldened his touch. Should he go up or down, Linc asked himself as he toyed with the waistband of her jeans. Knowing he couldn’t lose either way, he chose to delve deeper until his hand rested on the gentle swell of her backside.
“Any further, and you’ll be in dangerous territory,” Dee warned, gasping when Linc bit her lower lip.
“I’m not worried.” He inched lower. “Are you?”
“Don’t want to s
tart something we can’t finish,” she breathed.
“Tell me one reason we can’t.”
Dee kissed him again. Then, with a groan, dropped her arms and stepped away.
“Sorry.” Genuine regret filled her dark eyes. “I have a prior engagement.”
A prior engagement? Linc frowned. As in a date? With another man?
“Call and cancel.”
“Impossible.” Dee retrieved her coat. “My dad is the one person I never brush off.”
Dee’s father was her date? If Linc were so inclined, now would be the time for a happy dance. He pressed the elevator call button, he settled for a silent, heartfelt sigh of relief. An instant later, the doors opened.
With a wry smile, Dee paused before she entered.
“Sorry. I didn’t expect one kiss to be so combustible.”
“I did.” With a wink, Linc touched one silver-tipped strand of hair. “Are you free tomorrow night?”
“What did you have in mind?”
“Dinner here, to start. The rest, we’ll play by ear.”
Alone, Linc ran a hand over his face and let out a hefty sigh. One day until Dee returned. He had plenty to occupy his time. But, damn, now that he knew how she felt in his arms, twenty-four hours never seemed so long.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
~~~~
DEE CHECKED THE time. Two hours, not bad compared to an average stakeout.
The coffee shop waitress cleared a nearby table, grumbling at the twenty-five-cent tip she found under one of the plates. Dee commiserated. In high school, she ran her tail off one hot New Hampshire summer, serving sweaty tourists iced tea and hamburgers. She earned minimum wage, lousy tips, and bruises courtesy of the male customers who assumed her backside was on the menu.
When Dee finally complained to the owner, he told her to shut up, get back to work, and smile, damn it. To add insult to injury, as she turned, he patted her on the ass.
Dee’s impulse control wasn’t as refined back then. If she’d carried a gun, like now, rather than a scathing fuck you, she would have aimed, fired, and left the owner with one less finger with which to abuse his staff.
Probably for the best. All her colorful language did was lose her the job. The gun would have sent her to jail.
SIX DAYS Page 12
