Читать книгу Night After Night... - Kristin Gabriel - Страница 11

NATE HAD Carleen Wimmer exactly where he wanted her.

Now he just had to figure out a way to make her talk. Not that he had much in common with Elvis aficionados—even if this one had breathtaking brown eyes and a killer body that had him all shook up.

No wonder Tobias Hamilton wanted to marry her.

Nate couldn’t understand how anyone could find a trip to Germany more appealing than the woman beside him. Voluptuous didn’t begin to describe her. He’d climbed into bed with plenty of women, but the sight of her, asleep and unaware, had caught him like a sucker punch to the gut the moment he’d lain down beside her.

The silky waves of thick brown hair tousled on the white pillow. The way her wide pink mouth parted slightly, begging to be kissed. The generous cleavage that almost spilled out of the thin cotton nightshirt she wore. If he was her fiancé, he’d never leave her side or her bed.

But he wasn’t her fiancé. Not even close. He was her worst nightmare—if she had something to hide. That’s what he was here to find out, Nate reminded himself. And he couldn’t let a pair of big brown eyes—or a pair of erect nipples—distract him from that mission.

“You never answered my question,” he said, breaking the heavy silence between them.

She lay with her back to him, but he could tell by her stiff posture and erratic breathing that she was still wide awake.

“What question?”

He liked the husky depth of her voice. It brought to mind vintage movie starlets like Katherine Hepburn and Lauren Bacall. Strong, independent women who knew how to drive a man to distraction. “How a nice girl like you ended up in a sleep study like this.”

She rolled over to face him, her expression hidden in the shadows. “It’s a long story.”

“We’ve got all night.”

She hesitated, and for a moment he thought she was going to turn her back and ignore him. Instead, she slid her slender hands under her pillow, pulling it down in front of her like a protective shield. “I guess you could say I’m doing it for the money.”

“Me, too,” he acknowledged, though he didn’t tell her who was paying him. “So that gives us at least one thing in common.”

“Poverty?”

He chuckled. Not only beautiful, but witty. A lethal combination. “Okay, make that two things. I was talking about finding creative ways to make money.”

As he waited for her response, Nate knew it was too much to hope that she’d confess her upcoming marriage to Tobias Hamilton was her latest money-making scheme.

“I’m trying to save my business.”

Now he knew she was lying. He’d gotten access to Carleen Wimmer’s credit reports just this afternoon and there was no way she’d ever qualify for any kind of business loan. “You own a business?”

She cleared her throat. “Actually, it belongs to a good friend of mine, Mia Maldonado. I’m the office assistant for Mia’s Makeovers, a design business she runs out of the house we both live in. I guess that’s why I feel like the business belongs to me, too.”

Her explanation didn’t quite ring true, though if he stared into those eyes long enough, he’d believe any word out of her lovely mouth. Her eyes looked even sexier in the glow of the jukebox and he wondered how many men had lost themselves in their warm chocolate depths.

Nate hated to admit that Mrs. Hamilton might be right about her son’s fiancée. She was a femme fatale, with an aura of wanton innocence that few men could resist. The kind of woman who could easily make a weak man surrender his heart as well as his money to her without a struggle.

Nate had only known Carleen for a few minutes and he was already mesmerized. But he wasn’t weak. Or stupid. There was something about her that bothered him. Something fishy that made him want to keep asking her questions until the answers started to make sense.

Then she asked a question of her own. “So what do you do for a living, Nate?”

“I’m a security specialist,” he replied without missing a beat. “In fact, I’ve done some security work for Harlan—surveillance cameras around his estate and keyless entries, that sort of thing.”

“Is that why he trusts you alone with me?”

“That and the fact that any significant change in your bioreadings will bring someone in here to check on you. Plus, there’s the call button, which you just proved works quite well.”

She leaned up to look at it and he inhaled the soft scent of her hair and felt the warmth radiating from her body. A body separated from him by only the thin fabric of her nightshirt.

He fought to keep his focus. “So you see, we’re not quite as alone as it seems.”

That realization dampened his impending fantasy. A fantasy that featured Carleen without her nightshirt.

Not a good idea.

In the first place, she was an engaged woman. In the second place, he had every reason to believe that she was a liar and a scam artist,. and that she was only marrying Tobias Hamilton for his fortune.

But if he did attempt to seduce her, what better way to prove her love and loyalty to Tobias? If she resisted his advances, then Nate could pass it on to Mrs. Hamilton as evidence that Carleen truly loved her son. If she didn’t…then better the truth come out now rather than after the wedding.

She yawned beside him, then rolled away, tucking her pillow under her head. “I have to admit that does make me feel better. No offense, Nate.”

“None taken.”

Nate considered the consequences of romancing Carleen Wimmer away from Hamilton, aware of the dangers of mixing business with pleasure. And seducing this woman would most definitely be a pleasure. His body tightened just thinking about stripping away that nightshirt and discovering all her intimate secrets.

“Besides,” she said sleepily, “if you’re a security specialist, I should be safe with you.”

Nate smiled into the dark at her assumption. Big mistake, Carleen. Big mistake.

THE NEXT MORNING, Mia awoke to find Nate hovering over her, his fingers gently brushing over her right temple. She sucked in her breath, afraid to move as his eyes met hers. Afraid not to move as he leaned toward her to whisper, “Good morning.”

His smile was slow and sexy, sending her heartbeat into double time. Muscles bulged in his arm as he propped himself up on his elbow next to her. He lay so close to her that his thigh pressed into her hip and she could feel the radiant heat of his powerful body from head to toe.

An odd, tingling warmth swirled in the pit of her stomach, then moved lower. Her gaze fell to his firm lips. They were so near to her own that she could capture his mouth in a kiss without even moving her head off the pillow. Maybe that would finally quench the fire that had been burning inside of her since Nate had slipped beneath the covers last night.

He looked even better in the light of day. Dark eyebrows arched across his wide brow and whiskers shadowed his lean jaw.

Mia saw both strength and experience in his face, which she found more alluring than any picture-perfect male model. She wanted to ask him about the scar above his right eyebrow and the second one she’d just noticed at the base of his chin. She wanted to trace the rugged terrain of his cheekbones with her fingertips as well as the small dimple that rarely dared to appear at the corner of his mouth.

She wanted what she couldn’t have.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” he murmured, his fingers sliding over her forehead and into her hair.

Then what had he meant to do? Seduce her in her sleep? Mia imagined waking up with his hands under his nightshirt, his nimble fingers caressing her breasts instead of her head. Or finding him naked under the sheets, his lips sliding slowly up her inner thigh until he found her wet and ready for him. Like she was right now.

“What are you doing?” she asked, her voice raspy with both sleep and desire.

“Hannah was in a few minutes ago and unhooked you from the machine. There’s still some of that sticky gel on your forehead and in your hair. I was trying to wipe it off before it dried.”

A perfectly reasonable explanation. So why did his touch feel more like a seduction than a simple act of kindness? She saw no kindness in his eyes. Only heat and hunger and a stark, raw need that touched something deep inside of her. Something that made her want him even more, if that was possible.

But it didn’t matter how much she wanted him, she couldn’t have him. Not if she finally wanted to break her bad habit of falling too hard and too fast for the wrong kind of man. And Nate Cafferty had Mr. Wrong written over every inch of his sinfully delicious body.

“Please,” she began, her breath catching in her throat as his fingers trailed sensuously over the curve of her cheek and along the length of her jaw.

“Please what?” he whispered huskily.

She swallowed, drumming up every bit of willpower she possessed. “Please…stop. I think all the gel is off.”

To her surprise, he did.

Nate rolled away from her and sat up on his side of the bed. He wiped his fingers on a tissue from the nightstand. Then she heard him take a long, deep breath before reaching for his duffel bag on the floor.

Maybe Harlan was right and she could trust him.

Not that Nate could trust her. He didn’t even know her real name or identity, after all. But what did it really matter? After this sleep study ended, she’d never see the man again.

“Did you know you hog the covers?” Nate asked, pulling his T-shirt off, then tossing it in the bag.

Her mouth went dry at the way the muscles flexed over the width of his bare back and shoulders. “I do not.”

“Do, too,” he countered, glancing back at her with a smile.

Mia knew she should get out of bed, but she didn’t want Nate watching her walk around in her old, grungy nightshirt. The first item on her agenda this morning was a trip to the store to buy new sleepwear.

She looked up to find Nate staring intently at her.

“You know,” he said at last, “you don’t look like a Carleen.”

Mia had almost forgotten she was playing a part. The reminder was as effective as a bucket of ice water on all her forbidden fantasies about Nate.

“It’s a family name,” she improvised. “My grandmother was the youngest of eight girls. Her father’s name was Carl, so they called her Carleen when they realized they wouldn’t have a son to name after him.”

The words just kept tumbling out of her mouth, her tale growing taller by the second. Keep it simple, she admonished herself. The more details she gave him, the more holes he could poke in her story. She couldn’t afford to have him voice any suspicions about her to Dr. Longo.

“That’s interesting,” he said, shifting on the bed to face her. “What about Wimmer? Is that English? German?”

He seemed unusually fascinated with her name. Or did he feel as awkward as Mia and was simply trying to make conversation? Her awkwardness was due to the fact that he was still shirtless. Fortunately, the man seemed oblivious of his effect on her.

“It’s Dutch, actually,” she replied, having no clue as to the origin. “Short for Van De Wimmer. My ancestors changed it when they immigrated to America.”

He stared at her, as if waiting for more. But Mia had already lied enough for one morning. She rolled out of her side of the bed, taking the comforter with her. She wrapped it around her waist, then turned toward him. “I guess I’ll see you tonight.”

He nodded, rising to his feet and facing her across the bed. “Same time, same place.”

Acutely aware that she probably didn’t look her best, Mia disappeared inside Graceland to wash up. When she emerged several minutes later, Nate was gone.

Anxious to return home so she could be herself again, Mia quickly packed her overnight bag and then headed for the door. Harlan Longo met her there, looking unusually chipper for so early in the morning.

“How did you sleep, Carleen?”

“Fine,” she lied, not wanting to admit that sharing a bed with Nate had kept her awake most of the night. She’d been all too aware of every breath he’d taken and every movement he’d made as he’d lain beside her in the dark.

“Good.” The older man smiled. “I knew Nate wouldn’t give you any trouble. He’s not the kind of man to take advantage of a woman. At least, not an unwilling woman.”

Those words lingered in her head as she made her way past the moat, the school bus and the chickens down to the front gate to retrieve her car. Instinct told her that Nate didn’t come across many unwilling women in his life. Just like Ian.

Which was reason enough to keep her distance.

NATE KNEW it wouldn’t take long for Harlan to find him. He’d just finished breakfast when his old friend walked into the dining room of the Longo estate.

“Well, how did it go?” Harlan asked, pouring himself a cup of hot tea.

“Not quite as I expected.” Nate tossed his napkin onto his empty plate. “Carleen Wimmer might just be my most intriguing case yet.”

Harlan pulled out a chair and sat down. “I think you’re wrong about her. Carleen doesn’t strike me as the type of woman who would scheme to marry for money. She’s too sweet. Too pretty.”

“That’s how she reels in men like Tobias Hamilton,” Nate replied. “Guys fall for that sweet and innocent act all the time.”

Harlan arched a silver brow. “But not you?”

Nate didn’t meet his gaze. “I’m just doing my job.”

“That’s what concerns me.” Harlan set his teacup on the table. “Look, Nate, I know it’s none of my business, but you’re almost thirty years old. Don’t make the same mistake I did by letting your work become your life. You just might live to regret it.”

The light dimmed in Harlan’s eyes and Nate knew he was thinking about his late wife. Those stupid public allegations about Harlan neglecting her illness had taken their toll. Few people knew that Adele Longo had refused treatment for her terminal illness, preferring to spend her last days at home with her husband.

Nate hadn’t seen either one of them for years, losing contact with his foster parents shortly after his high school graduation, though he gave them all the credit for his making it that far.

His own father had left home when Nate was seven years old and his mother had turned to a whiskey bottle for comfort instead of to her only son. She was a mean drunk—taking out her anger and pain on the easiest target. Nate soon learned that words could hurt more than fists. He’d endured the pain of both, always hoping that one day his mother would realize how much he loved her. That he’d endure anything if she’d just be happy again.

Growing up, he’d spent more and more time on the streets, falling in with a neighborhood gang of tough kids. When he was thirteen years old, his mother had lost her job and they’d been threatened with eviction. So one night, Nate and his gang had burglarized a liquor store. A night that had changed his life forever.

That was the last time he’d seen his mother. She’d come to the police station the next morning, still suffering from the effects of a hangover, to tell him he was as worthless as his no-good father. Then she’d signed the formal papers terminating her parental rights. Oblivious to Nate’s pleas for a second chance, she’d turned him over to the state and left him without a backward glance. Years later, he found out she eventually died of cirrhosis of the liver.

He lost his mother but he never lost the memories of the eighteen months he served in a hellhole they called the Pennsylvania Juvenile Rehabilitation Center. After that, he’d been sent into the foster care system. That’s when fate had finally smiled on him—in the form of Harlan and Adele Longo.

They’d taken him in and told him that he wasn’t worthless, though Nate had tested them at every turn. Adele had showered him with love, despite his surliness. Harlan had signed him up for boxing lessons as an outlet for all the rage inside of him.

Nate had been the city’s Golden Gloves champion in his age group for three years in a row. He’d always refused to let anyone bring him down—not his mother, not a rival gang member and not another boxer.

It was the only way he knew how to survive.

Through his high school years, the Longos had made him part of their family. Then he’d left to join the Marines before his foster parents could discover for themselves what his mother already knew—that he simply wasn’t worth it.

News of Adele Longo’s death had finally brought Nate back to Philadelphia again after a ten-year absence, where he promised to stay as long as Harlan needed him. He hated watching his foster father go through the painful grieving process. That’s why Nate had encouraged him to pursue his research projects, which seemed to help more than anything else.

“Is that why you put me in Carleen’s bed?” Nate asked, trying to lighten the mood. “For a little romance? That wasn’t part of our plan.”

“Plans change,” Harlan replied breezily. “I thought it was for the best.”

“So is this a sleep study or a matchmaking project?”

“Can’t it be both?” He smiled. “Once I met Carleen, I knew she couldn’t be the kind of woman you think she is. I thought if you got a chance to know her, you’d see that for yourself.”

Nate knew that Harlan put high stock in first impressions. Hell, he’d picked Nate out of a pool of juvenile delinquents and given him a home fifteen years ago. It was the first time in Nate’s life that anyone had ever believed in him. Now Harlan wanted him to do the same with Carleen.

But it wasn’t that simple. The woman had too many secrets. Besides, Nate had decided a long time ago that he was better off alone. He loved women, but like a boxer using fancy footwork, he knew that the best way to avoid a knock-out punch was to keep moving.

“Just give her a chance,” Harlan said, reading the skepticism on his face. “You might be surprised.”

“Don’t get your hopes up,” Nate admonished. “I’m not looking for sweet and innocent—if she is innocent. Besides, I don’t think she likes me.”

A twinkle lit Harlan’s eye. “Oh, she likes you all right.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because science doesn’t lie.” He rose to his feet. “Come with me and I’ll show you.”

Nate followed him to the control hub in the research center, where several of Harlan’s assistants were busy analyzing the data gathered the night before.

“Please hand me the Wimmer file, Hannah.”

Harlan’s assistant dug through a stack of files on her desk, then pulled one out from the bottom. “Here you go, Dr. Longo.”

“Thank you.” He motioned Nate into his office. It was cluttered with books, papers, and an assortment of feather pillows left over from his last research project.

“Have a seat.” Harlan handed him the file folder, then hovered at his shoulder as Nate opened it.

“Now take a look at her vitals when you got into bed with her,” Harlan said

Nate glanced down at the file, noting a sudden spike in her pulse rate and respiration around the time that he joined her in the Elvis bed. “That’s not exactly surprising. She thought I was an intruder. Anyone would have that reaction.”

“Yes, but notice how long those levels stay elevated. Even after she falls asleep—or pretends to fall asleep.”

Nate’s gaze flicked from the television screen to the data report and back again. “According to this, she was awake for almost four hours after I got there.”

“Which makes me believe that you definitely had an effect on her.”

Nate closed the file, mentally storing the information for later use. “The only effect I want to have is closing this case. The sooner I can find out the truth about Carleen Wimmer, the better.”

Harlan frowned. “You’re not going to intimidate her, are you? I only agreed to set this up because you made her sound like some kind of ruthless barracuda. Now that I’ve actually met Carleen, I have to admit I’m having second thoughts.”

So was Nate. He’d let Mrs. Hamilton’s prejudices color his image of Carleen. But instead of finding a worldly schemer, she’d struck him more as a woman who didn’t know the power of her own sexuality. Or if she did, had used it so skillfully that Nate was still reeling from their close encounter this morning.

He closed the folder. “Don’t worry about Carleen. I’ll be on my best behavior.”

Harlan started to say something else, but Nate’s cell phone interrupted him.

Nate looked at the number on the display panel. “I’d better take this.”

“I’ll give you some privacy.” Harlan headed toward the door. “Go ahead and show yourself out when you’re through. I need to start studying all the data from last night.”

“Thanks, Harlan.” He waited until the man was out the door before he answered the phone. “Hello, Mrs. Hamilton.”

“I know it’s early, Mr. Cafferty, but I’m quite eager for an update on my case.”

“Not much has changed since yesterday.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.” Mrs. Hamilton’s voice quavered. “My son called me last night. Somehow that tart convinced him to cut his trip short and come home a week early. He told me they’re going to marry as soon as his plane lands.”

“That doesn’t give you much time to torpedo the wedding.”

“You’re the one running out of time,” she countered. “I need dirt on Carleen Wimmer and I need it as soon as possible.”

Nate swallowed a sigh, tempted to quit the case and let Mrs. Hamilton find her own dirt. But the thought of leaving Carleen behind bothered him more than he wanted to admit. Besides, he wasn’t a quitter and Mrs. Hamilton had paid for his services.

“I’ll see what I can do,” he said at last.

“Please don’t disappoint me, Mr. Cafferty,” she replied. “I only have three weeks left to save my son.”

He rang off, wondering how he could accelerate his investigation without arousing Carleen’s suspicion. She had told him only the most superficial information about herself and her family so far. Nothing solid he could go on.

Then it hit him.

Maybe the key wasn’t talking to Carleen, but someone who knew her. Someone who lived with her and worked with her on a daily basis.

Nate suddenly had an irresistible urge to redecorate the master bedroom of his home. And he knew the perfect interior designer to hire for the job.

Mia Maldonado.