Читать книгу Bewitched: In Too Deep - Lori Foster - Страница 10

CHARLIE SAT ON the floor, her backside bruised, her lust squelched. Where had Harry gone? On hands and knees she crawled to the window to peek out. Just as her head lifted, Harry snatched it back down.

Hissing close to her ear, he asked, “Is there a particular reason you want to offer up your brains for target practice?”

“Where did you go?” Her words were muffled against his fly, and while there, she noticed he’d suffered quite a reaction to their kisses. Heaven help her, the man was hard.

“I was surveying our options, of course. Now be still.”

She quit squirming and sighed. Having her cheek pressed to an erection, her nose smashed against a muscled thigh, with no hope of any loveplay, seemed like a terrible waste, especially since this was the first time in ages she’d been interested in such a thing. “Do you have any suggestions?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact, I do.”

At that moment, Floyd called out. “You might as well come on out of there!”

Charlie whispered, “He certainly sounds furious.”

“Yes, well, maybe he knows you planned to toss him off the truck.”

“Ha! I think it’s probably his aching jaw where you slugged him that has the bastard madder than hell.”

He tsked. “Your language is a disgrace.”

“You have my face buried in your lap, but you’re worried about my language?”

Harry groaned, and his fingers contracted on the back of her head. “This is no time for your unregulated tongue, so keep quiet if you please.”

“We know you’re both in there!” Floyd growled. “There wasn’t no place else for you to go. Now come on out and maybe we won’t shoot you. We’ll just take you to Carlyle.”

Harry kept one large hand mashed against her head, forcing her to stay low, as he yelled out, “I have your gun, remember? Come anywhere near here and I’ll be obliged to put a bullet in you! At the moment, the thought doesn’t distress me at all.”

Curses exploded from outside the garage.

“He really doesn’t like you, Harry.”

“The feeling is mutual, I assure you.”

Unable to help herself, she nuzzled slightly into his lap. Harry jerked away. “Keep your head down, and no, don’t say a thing. In case you’ve failed to notice, we’re in something of a situation here. I need to keep my wits collected.” When she dutifully remained silent, he nodded. “Good. Now, I’m going to draw them to the back of the garage. There’s a door back there, and when they think we’re escaping out the back, we’ll make a run for the truck. Understand?”

He was all business, his eyes bright, his voice low, his body hard, poised for action. He impressed the hell out of Charlie, being so urbane one minute and so lethal the next.

“How can I help?”

“By not getting yourself killed. Now, do you understand everything I told you?”

“I’m not an idiot.”

He sighed. “I suppose I’m to take that as a yes.” He started to move away, then suddenly leaned forward and grabbed her by the neck. His mouth landed on hers, hot and hard, for the briefest second, and then he disappeared into the shadows. He managed to move without making a sound, causing her admiration to grow.

Charlie plopped down onto her backside and waited. She didn’t like waiting. She felt ineffectual and cowardly and the feelings didn’t rest well with her at all. She was used to taking action, to controlling things.

Floyd evidently didn’t like waiting, either. “I’m losing patience!” he shouted. “I’ll give you to the count of ten, then we’re coming in and shooting any damn thing that moves. Carlyle would rather have you dead than loose.”

Hurry up, Harry, she thought, listening as Floyd started a loud, monotonous recitation of his numbers.

Glass shattered at the back of the garage, followed by the sound of running footsteps. Cautiously, Charlie peeked over the edge of the window above her head. Floyd and Ralph stood frozen in the moonlight for a single heartbeat, then they cursed and ran hellbent for the back of the garage.

She waited until they were out of sight before she slithered toward the door Harry had kicked in, proud of the fact that she, too, made no discernible noise. She’d barely edged outside before a rough, hot hand clamped over her mouth and a steely arm closed tight around her waist. She would have panicked if it hadn’t been for Harry’s height, assuring her he was the one who’d accosted her.

Without struggling, she got dragged to the truck and roughly thrust inside through the driver’s door. Harry slid in beside her.

Seething, Charlie restraightened the huge coat she wore, holding the throat closed with a fist, and leaned close to whisper, “What? You thought I’d refuse your rescue and opt to stay with my buddy Floyd? Is that why you felt you had to manhandle—”

“No keys, damn it.”

She squeaked. “What do you mean, no keys? How the heck are we going to—”

He thrust the gun into her hand. “Watch out for the two stooges while I hot-wire this barge.”

Bemused, Charlie looked down at the gun in her hand, then to where Harry bent low beneath the dash, then dutifully out the window.

Hmm. There was something innately sexy about a man who could hot-wire.

It took him mere seconds. He’d just managed to fire the engine when Floyd and Ralph came stumbling back around the garage, their curses so hot Charlie’s ears felt singed, and that was surely impressive given she’d been raised hearing curses all her life. The two men literally jumped up and down in rage as gravel and mud slung off the spinning tires, embellishing Harry’s daring getaway. Ralph fired, and Charlie thought she heard a bullet or two hit the side of the truck bed, but it didn’t slow Harry. She waited, wondering if, because of the gunshot, he’d feel it necessary to put her head back in his lap.

She was slightly disappointed when he didn’t.

Harry didn’t say a word, concentrating instead on finding the main road and figuring out how to turn on the lights, the wiper blades, the heat. Charlie was just about to tuck the gun into her pocket when he retrieved it from her without a word.

She knew a struggle for the gun was useless, and she scowled. “Now what?”

Harry rubbed the back of his neck, glanced at her, his gaze moving over her from head to toe, then cursed slightly. “I think we’ll abandon this truck outside town. No sense in taking a chance that Carlyle or one of his cronies will recognize it and want to pull us over. We’ll grab a taxi to my apartment.”

“Why your apartment?” Not that she’d complain. Her curiosity over Harry grew more rampant with every moment she spent in his company. From his place, she could call her sister, and then maybe they could finish what they’d started at the garage. She glanced down at Harry’s lap, but the interior of the cab was too dark to tell if he still reacted to their little interlude. She liked it a lot that she’d turned him on. In all her life, she’d seldom had the opportunity, or the desire, to indulge in lust. But with Harry, well, she was more than a little intrigued.

“I think we need to talk, to figure out what we’re going to do.”

Charlie sighed, then carefully ventured a suggestion. “I don’t think we should call the police.”

Harry stilled for a moment, smoothly switched gears, then nodded. “Okay, I’ll bite. Well, not really, not unless you wanted me to, and then it’d be more appropriate to say nibble—”

“Harry.”

“Why don’t you want to contact the police?”

“Because I can’t see any way for you to explain this without telling them I was there, dressed as a guy, spying. And I’d just as soon no one knew about that.”

“I can see where that would be a tale you’d hesitate to broadcast. But as it so happens I don’t relish involving the police, either.”

“And your reasons are?” When he only slanted her a look, she poked him in the side. “No way, Harry. I told, now it’s your turn.”

“You told very little, actually.”

“I’ll get into more detail once I’m warm and dry and have time to reason a few things out.”

“I suppose that’ll have to appease me.”

“Give it up, Harry.”

He didn’t want to, she could tell that. He gave her a grudging look that almost made her smile. “I promised my friend I wouldn’t involve any of the other people in the area. They’re older proprietors, like Pops, and they aren’t excessively fond of the police right now.”

“You mean Pops—the guy who runs the store we were in before Floyd decided to play kidnapper?”

“That’s right. They’ve contacted the police a few times in the past over other situations—loud music, loitering, things like that. They were pretty much told that since they’re in a run-down, high-crime area, they have to expect a certain amount of that sort of thing. The police offered more surveillance, but the elders didn’t think that was enough. They were determined to take matters into their own hands, which of course would be dangerous.”

Even as she nodded, Charlie wondered if her father was one of the men being bothered. It seemed likely. She felt a moment’s worry before she firmly squelched it. Her father deserved nothing but her enmity, and that’s all he’d ever get. He’d never been there when she needed him most, but she’d found him now, and he could damn well pay. What she wanted from him—financial assistance to get her sister through college—had nothing to do with emotions or family relationships.

The rain started again, and they settled into a congenial quiet. Harry reached over and pulled her to his side. It wasn’t quite as nice as his lap, but he was warm and firm and secure, and she took comfort from his nearness, though she’d never have admitted it.

As they neared the outskirts of town, Harry nudged her with his shoulder. “It’s regretful things got interrupted back there.”

“Yeah.”

He cleared his throat. “If you’re interested…”

“Yeah.”

Laughing, Harry pulled the truck up to the curb and turned the engine off. He tilted Charlie’s face up and kissed her softly. “There’s nothing coy about you, is there?”

She raised a brow. “Should I pretend I’m not interested? That’d be dumb, Harry, since I don’t get interested all that often.”

Harry fought a smile, and lost. “So you’re telling me you’re not easy after all?”

Charlie snorted. “Most of the men that frequent my saloon could tell you I’m usually damn difficult.”

“No! You? I’ll never believe it.”

Charlie smacked his shoulder. “Smart-ass.”

Chuckling, Harry said, “Wait here. I’ll call us a taxi.”

He left the truck and trotted to a pay phone across the street. Charlie watched him go, admiring his long-legged stride, the way he held his head, the natural confidence and arrogance that appeared as obvious as his physical attributes. He was a strange man in many ways, his lofty wit and cultured diction in opposition to his easy acceptance at being kidnapped, shot at and holed up in a greasy garage. He’d stolen a truck as easily as if such a thing were a daily occurrence. Though it was apparent to Charlie he’d led an expensive, well-bred life, he hadn’t so much as sniffed at her admission to owning a saloon, or the fact that for the most part, she was an obvious gutter rat, born and bred on the shadier side of life.

And he didn’t hesitate to call her Charlie.

Most of the regulars at her saloon called her what she told them to, wary of getting on her bad side. They weren’t, however, great examples of masculine humanity, so their concessions counted for very little. She had a feeling Harry, with all his grins and arrogance and stubbornness, was a true hero, even if he’d chosen to deny it.

He watched her from the phone booth while he placed the call, alert to any possible danger. With a smile, Charlie turned away to view their surroundings. They were near a park, but not one she recognized. Of course, she had little time or interest for dawdling in parks, so that wasn’t a surprise.

Seconds later, Harry returned. His wet dress shirt clung to his upper torso, showing a large, smoothly muscled chest and shoulders, and even through his undershirt, she could see a sprinkling of chest hair. The shirt opened at the collar and his strong throat was wet, a couple of droplets of rain rolling down into the opening. Charlie swallowed.

His damp hair stuck to his nape and one brown lock hung over his brow. His light brown eyes, framed by spiked eyelashes, darkened as he watched her inspect his features. Harry leaned back on the seat and the corners of his mouth tipped in a slight smile. “Have I sprouted horns?”

Charlie shook her head. “You’re a real looker.”

One brow lifted as his smile turned into a grin. “Thank you.”

“I bet you hear that a lot.”

“Seldom enough to keep me humble.”

She choked on a laugh. “There’s not a humble bone in your big body, Harry, and I bet women fawn over you all the time.”

He didn’t deny it. He did tilt his head to look at her, then slowly reached out to touch the top button of his coat, where it rested low on her chest. “I don’t suppose you’d want to pass the time by appeasing my curiosity over these mysterious breasts of yours, would you?”

Charlie gaped. She should have been used to his boldness by now, especially since his brain did seem to stay focused on her upper assets—or lack thereof. “You expect me to just flash the coat open for your entertainment?”

He shrugged, shifted to his side to face her. His finger trailed over the deep V at the neck of the coat, tickling her skin, raising her body temperature by several degrees. “I’ll admit I’m vastly interested, and while you’re indulging in more temperate humors, I thought this might be the ideal time. Besides, what else have you got to do right now other than model for my delectation?”

He certainly had a way with words. And his gentle touch and tone, compared to the coarseness she was accustomed to, was a major turn on. But she shook her head. “I’m not putting on a show for you, Harry, so forget it.”

Harry fought his grin. “Ah, well, you do like to vex a man, don’t you?”

Before she could answer, headlights flashed against the windshield of the truck. For a second there, Charlie panicked, thinking somehow Floyd and Ralph had found them. But then Harry leaned forward, gave her a swift kiss, and said, “Our ride is here. Faster than I’d anticipated, but evidently the cabbie was in the area. Come on. Other than seeing your elusive bosom, dry clothing is the most appealing thing on my mind.”

The cabbie, a seasoned veteran, made no comment on her lack of shoes or bedraggled appearance, much to Charlie’s relief. Harry somehow managed to be imperious, despite their circumstances, and the driver gave him due deference.

Harry held her hand all the way to his apartment, which wasn’t all that far, taking a mere fifteen minutes. But it was long enough to make her edgy, to make her ponder several different things, mostly how enticing the thought of having an affair with him seemed.

He paid the cabbie, refusing to let her dig money from her own pocket to pay half. In fact, he seemed insulted by the very idea. Charlie shrugged. She needed her money, and if he wanted to play the gallant, that was fine by her.

Harry led her to the first floor of an exclusive complex, and Charlie wasn’t at all surprised to see, once he’d gotten the door unlocked, that his apartment wasn’t an apartment at all, but rather an expensively decorated, immaculate and beautiful town house. She couldn’t help herself, she felt intimidated.

Then the barking began, startling her half out of her skin.

Harry relocked the door and switched on more lights. A miniature collie and a small, stocky, mixed-breed mutt darted out around a large, beige leather sofa. The collie’s entire body quivered with happiness at the sight of Harry and he laughed as the dog jumped up and down in near berserk joy. The mutt, a little more subdued, ran circles around Harry and howled. Harry immediately knelt to rub the dog’s scruff. He glanced up at Charlie. “Meet Grace and Sooner. Grace has been with me a long time, but Sooner has only been in the family a couple of years.”

She stared at the dogs, who stared back, one sitting on each side of Harry, heads tilted, expressions alert, like sentinels guarding the king from a scourge. She grinned, and the dogs seemed to grin back.

“I can understand the name Grace, since she looks so refined. But Sooner?”

Harry shrugged. “He’d ‘sooner’ be one breed as another.”

“Ah.”

Harry patted the dogs. “She’s entirely acceptable, guys, so you may as well present her with the royal treatment.”

Once he said it, both dogs trotted over to sniff her, lick her hand, bark a few times in a doggy greeting. Then they each gave Harry a quizzical look, as if her presence made no sense at all, and retreated. Grace leaped up to lie on the sofa, resting her head on a black and beige motif throw folded over one end. Sooner went over to flop onto the floor in front of a white stone electric fireplace. He gave a loud groan and closed his eyes.

The town house was very sleek, and as Charlie looked around, she saw marble-topped oak end tables, bare wood floors with thick area rugs, and windows with streamlined blinds rather than curtains. All in all, she thought the room was gorgeous and suited Harry to a T.

She was afraid to move. Her bare feet were muddy, grime from the garage between her white toes. Water still dripped from her hair, her nose, Harry’s coat. She felt like a flea-ridden squirrel turned loose in a palace.

No wonder the dogs thought her curious.

“Make yourself at home. I’ll locate us some dry clothes. Would you like something to drink?”

All the social niceties. Charlie shook her head, fighting the urge to fidget. “I’d really like to call and check in with my sister, if you don’t mind.”

He went to a desk situated in front of a long window that looked out over the backyard. It was partially separated from the living room by a wide arched doorway. Charlie could see oak file cabinets and office equipment. She heard Harry curse.

“What’s wrong?”

“The electricity evidently went out with the storm. My answering machine is dead, meaning I’ve missed any calls that may have come in.”

“Were you expecting an important call?”

“Several, actually.” He walked back to her. “You’ll have to use the phone in my bedroom. The portable is out.”

His bedroom?

Harry crossed his arms over his wet chest and frowned at her. “Surely that look doesn’t mean you’re afraid of me? Not the woman who challenged Floyd and Ralph, the woman who did her best to bait two miscreants. I assure you, you’re safe enough with me.”

“Me, fear you? Ha!” She was more afraid of herself at the moment. She felt like tossing his gorgeous self to the floor and having her way with him. But she would never do such a thing in front of the innocent dogs. “It’s just that my feet are dirty. The dogs are cleaner than I am. I don’t want to track mud all over the place.”

Harry looked down, took in her bare feet and growled. “I forgot you’d removed those hideous boots. You could have cut yourself on something when we ran for the truck. I can’t believe I didn’t notice sooner. Well, actually I can, given my attention was somewhat fractured by other things, but not so much so, I shouldn’t have noticed naked feet. I am a P.I. after all, usually very alert to small details.”

“Uh, Harry?”

He still stared at her feet. “Hmm?”

“The phone?”

“Oh, yes, of course. Okay, no help for it. I suppose I’ll have to play the martyr.”

“No! Don’t you dare… Harry, put me down.”

“You’re really very slight, now that we’ve rid you of your ridiculous waterlogged costume.” As he made his way up a flight of carpeted stairs, he looked down at her, their noses almost touching, and the smile he gave her made her catch her breath. His gaze dipped lower, and Charlie glanced down to see the coat had slipped some and she had a modest amount—all she possessed really—of cleavage showing. She tried to make a grab for the coat, but then Harry lowered her, and she realized she was in a taupe and black tiled bathroom, more specifically, he stood her in the black tub.

“Don’t move. I’ll play lady’s maid and get you a towel and dry clothes and you can clean up just a bit before we progress any further.”

Progress to what, she wondered? Another part of his home, or another level of intimacy? She knew where her vote would be, but she didn’t say so. She did need to clean up, and dry clothes sounded heavenly.

Harry reappeared with two plush white towels, a long polo shirt, and silky boxer shorts. He grinned as he laid the items on the marble vanity. “The thing is, you’re something of a squirt, so nothing I have would be small enough to fit you. However, I wear a “tall” so my shirt should make do for a dress, only I couldn’t bear the thought of you being naked beneath it, not if you expect me to exhibit my more civilized tendencies, so I determined the boxers would serve as well as anything.” He lifted his hands. “I’m fresh out of ladies’ panties.”

She drew a blank, except to ask, “You wear silk boxers?”

“Actually no. They were a gift from a friend.”

“Ah.”

He headed for the door. “Go ahead and wash up. You can hang the coat on the back of the door and I’ll take care of it later. There’s a hamper under the cabinet where you can stick your muddy jeans. I’ll be in the kitchen making coffee after I’ve changed.”

The second he was out the door, Charlie rushed through her bath. She stripped off the coat, praying it wasn’t ruined, and then spent several minutes working her wet, worn jeans down her legs. She didn’t know what to do with her panties—no way would she put them in his hamper for him to find later. After giving it some thought, she washed them out and hung them on the side of the tub.

She disdained a full shower for simply cleaning herself off. Calling her sister was a priority.

Once she’d pulled on the dry clothes Harry’d brought her, she found his comb and worked the tangles out of her short hair. The polo shirt hung almost to her knees, looking, as he’d predicted, like a dress. It adequately covered her, but the silky boxers tickled. Rather than toss her dirty jeans in the hamper as he’d suggested, she folded them, put her panties in the pocket along with her money, and left the bathroom.

Harry sat on a corner of a colossal bed, head bent forward while he towel-dried his hair. He had on clean khaki slacks, and nothing else. His back was broad, muscled, lightly tanned. His feet were long, narrow, braced apart on the thick carpeting. Charlie stood there gawking, appreciating what a spectacular sight he made.

Oh yes, she definitely wanted to explore these unique feelings he inspired. She’d been around men all her life, but she’d never, not once, felt this much interest in one.

Her sigh caught his attention. He lifted his head, surveyed her tip to toes, then slowly stood. “You are an adorable sight, Charlie…” He paused, looking much struck. “I just realized I don’t know your last name.”

“Jones,” she squeaked, breathless over the way he watched her. She cleared her throat. “Charlie Jones.”

He held out his hand in the formal, time-honored tradition. “Harry Lonnigan.” Smiling, she stepped forward, shifted her wet jeans to one arm, and took his hand. With a mere glimpse of evil intent, Harry tugged her forward. He took her small bundle from her and dropped it to the floor. His hands lifted to cradle her face, she caught her breath, and then he kissed her.

HARRY COULDN’T believe the way she made him feel. It was a simple kiss, damm it, and heaven knew he’d kissed plenty of women in his time. And among those women, Charlie was likely the least proficient at it. So her lips were soft? So she smelled incredibly sweet?

She looked like a rumpled child in his shirt, the shoulders bagging almost to her elbows, the hem skimming her knees—very sexy knees actually, followed by shapely calves. He shook his head. She’d combed her hair straight back, evidently not the least interested in impressing him with her feminine attributes. She’d made no effort at all to make herself more appealing. Yet he already had an erection and he practically shook with lust. All because of a simple kiss.

It was so unexpected, he almost grinned.

That happened a lot with her; hell, he’d grinned more since first spotting her in that small grocery, all decked out like an adolescent thug, than he had in the past six months.

Beneath his palms, her skin warmed and she felt so incredibly silky, so vibrant, he wanted to devour her. He never devoured women! He was suave and controlled and applauded for his technique.

She had him so turned on, he couldn’t even remember his touted technique.

His thumbs stroked over her temple, her jaw. He kept the kiss easy, letting her lead, though he wanted badly to taste her, to slip his tongue into her mouth, to feel her tongue on his.

With a groan, he pulled back the tiniest bit and looked at her. Eyes almost closed, she swayed toward him, her pale, flushed skin in striking contrast to her glossy black hair and dark blue eyes. Her lips were slightly parted, and unable to help himself, he kissed her again, this time giving in to the urge to explore. He licked over her lips, and when she gasped, he slipped inside, coasting over her teeth, mating with her soft tongue.

He pulsed with need, he was so aroused.

Charlie’s hands opened on his naked shoulders. She moved against him, and he could feel her stiff little nipples, could feel the plumpness of her breasts, small, but very feminine and sweet. He started to lift a hand, to cup her, tease her and himself, and his honor came knocking, just barely nudging aside the need.

Unspoken invective filled his brain. He wanted so badly to feel her breasts, but…

Once he got started, he knew good and well it would be hours before he got his fill. He should be getting in touch with Dalton. He had no doubts the man would be worried, wondering what had transpired, whether or not Harry had been able to make any headway. He owed Dalton that much.

“Charlie.”

“Hmm…” She nuzzled his throat, took a small nip of his chin.

“Sweetheart, we need to talk.”

She blinked up at him, her look dreamy. “You called me sweetheart.”

Sighing, he said again, “We need to talk. Now.”

She stiffened, her gaze searching his. “Oh good grief. Please, don’t give me the old ‘you’re not that kind of guy’ routine.”

He took two steps back, and commended himself for accomplishing that much when he wanted so badly to feel her flush against him.

“I’m absolutely that kind of guy,” he assured her, staring down into her sweet face. “I’m the kind of guy who is nearly desperate to strip you to your very sexy naked hide. I’m the kind of guy that once I got started, especially on the unveiling on these stupendous breasts of yours, I wouldn’t want to stop until we were both insentient and without wit. I wouldn’t stop until you begged me to. Unfortunately, what happened tonight probably has several people worrying about us.”

The changing expressions on her face were almost comical. She went from openmouthed surprise, to blushing, to wide-eyed with realization. “My sister!”

“Yes. And I have a friend to contact. They deserve to know that we’re still alive and kicking.”

She rudely shoved him aside to snatch up the phone, and Harry admired the smooth rounded lines of her delectable backside. Nobility was surely a curse.

“I can’t believe I forgot about my sister.” She sent him a grave look of accusation and dialed the phone, muttering how it was his fault for distracting her, leaving off his shirt, showing his bare feet.

His bare feet? Harry shook his head. There was no accounting for her strange twists of reason. “I’ll finish dressing while you make your call.”

She’d barely finished dialing when Harry heard a shouted, frantic “hello” through the earpiece. Her sister had evidently been waiting for the call.

“Jill…I know, and I’m so sorry. I’m fine, really—Jill, I’m fine, I promise. Well, it’s a long story. I met a guy… No, Jill, it’s not that long.” Charlie glared at him, and Harry took the hint. He grabbed the rest of his clothes and left the room with a salute.

As he bounded down the stairs, he could hear the animated conversation, along with the occasional hushed, whispering tones, which he assumed meant the two women were discussing him. He entered the kitchen and because he was distracted, he almost tripped over his cat, Ted, now twisting around his bare ankles. It didn’t matter where Ted might be, if Harry entered the kitchen, Ted showed up.

He smiled down at the cat as he added some fresh food to his dish—always the first order of business. “I wonder how much Charlie will actually tell of our adventure.”

The dogs heard him talking and sauntered in. Harry reached for the back door which led to a tiny yard with a privacy fence. “Hey, why don’t you guys go out and run around a little, maybe give me some privacy?”

Doggy tails wagged, but actual bodies didn’t move.

The cat looked thoroughly indignant at such a suggestion and continued to eat.

“So it rained a little. Don’t you have to go?”

Sooner woofed an agreement and ran out. Grace took a little more coaxing, until she heard Sooner bark again and trotted out to investigate. Ted, with a look of disdain, licked his whiskers clean and leaped up to sit in one of the kitchen chairs.

Harry had the coffee ready, two cups poured, when Charlie came striding in. Harry handed her a cup and motioned for her to sit at the round table. Unfortunately, she tried to sit in Ted’s chair.

Ted could be very theatrical when it suited him. He made a horrid hissing sound, arched his back, fuzzed out his tail and made a general threatening display until Charlie had backed up a good five feet.

“What the hell’s wrong with your cat?”

Harry smiled fondly at his pet. “That’s Ted. He doesn’t like females.”

“Ted? How’d you come up with that name?”

Shrugging, he said, “He’s just Ted. Here, use this chair.”

Cautiously, keeping her gaze on the cat, Charlie circled to the chair Harry held out. “Is he always so mean?”

“With women, yes. He behaves well enough for me. Or maybe I behave well enough to suit him. Whatever, the arrangement works.” Harry smiled at her.

“The dogs don’t bother him?”

“Actually, they all get along fairly well. On his first day here, about a year or so ago, Ted explained things. We haven’t had a real ruckus since.”

“You’ve only had him a year? He looks older.”

“He is. I found him in an alley while I was on a job. He saved me by making a grand distraction when he objected to our invasion of his private space.”

“He threw a hissy like he just did to me?”

“Exactly, which effectively distracted the fellow who’d been holding a gun on me. I was able to…get the upper hand. So I brought Ted home. The vet treated him, despite Ted’s vicious complaints, and as long as I keep him well fed and his litter box clean, he doesn’t destroy my home.”

“A fair enough trade-off, I suppose.” She still eyed the cat warily, but Harry was pleased to see there was no dislike in her eyes. She understood, and he liked that.

“Cream or sugar?”

She snorted at such a suggestion, then took a healthy sip of her black coffee.

Harry scrutinized her as he liberally sweetened his own. “So you drink yours like a trucker, hmm? Now why doesn’t that surprise me?”

After another sip, she asked, “For the same reason that seeing you turn yours into syrup doesn’t surprise me?”

“Your insults are getting sloppier. You must be tired.” He glanced at the clock, saw it was after midnight, and wondered if he should call Dalton after all. He hated to wake the older man if he’d already gone to bed. And Dalton did know Harry could take care of himself, so perhaps he hadn’t been worried at all. “Is your sister appeased by whatever story you told her?”

She frowned at that. “I told her the truth, and yeah, she’s appeased, but far from happy. She told me she’s going to wait up for me.”

Charlie offered that last small tidbit with a wince, which told Harry the night was going to get a whole lot shorter. “I assume this means you want to head home soon?”

“I’m afraid so. Jill is only eighteen, and she worries more than she should.”

That brought out a snort, which appalled him. Good God, he was beginning to pick up her less discriminating habits. Harry cleared his throat. “More than she should? With a sister who muddles into extortion and gets herself kidnapped, I’d say she’s justified.”

Charlie shrugged. “She wants me to give it up, my spying that is, but I’m determined.”

“Charlie—”

“No, before you start any lectures, I have a few questions for you.”

“Please, don’t keep me in suspense.”

“I know you said you wouldn’t want to see me again—”

Before he could correct her, because at this point he had every intention of seeing her, all of her, as many times as was necessary to get the fever out of his system, she held up a hand and continued.

“Don’t worry. I’m not going to get clingy. A little hanky-panky would have been…nice. But the night has gotten way too complicated, and I can see why you wouldn’t want to get involved with me beyond the night. I mean, we’re hardly two peas from the same pod.” She tried a smile that looked more like a grimace. “But… Well, I was hoping we could work out a different arrangement.”

Harry leaned back in his seat, positively prostrated. “You think a rendezvous with me would be merely nice?”

She looked startled by his tone. “Very nice,” she clarified, as if that made it better.

He felt smote to his masculine core. Here he’d been dredging up pagan images too erotic to bear, and she’d relegated the possibilities to merely nice. “I’ll have you know—”

“I’d like to hire you, Harry.”

That effectively put the brakes on his righteous diatribe. Hire him? Did she consider him a gigolo? Did she dare think she could afford him if he was for sale? The nerve.

But in a lusty sort of way the idea genuinely appealed to him. His body tensed until his muscles cramped. He was so hard, he could be considered a weapon.

Carefully, in case he misunderstood, he asked, “Hire me for what?”

“Detecting, of course. What else would I mean?”

Disappointment flowed through him. Nevertheless, he contrived to look merely curious. “Of course. And what would you need a P.I. for?”

“I told you.” she said with exaggerated patience. “To find out information on my father. He abandoned my sister and me ages ago, and that’s fine by me because from what I know of it, we were better off without him. Except now I think it’s time he accepted a few responsibilities. I figure since your friend has hired you to look into the extortion, and my father is one of the proprietors in that area, it shouldn’t really be too much trouble for you to find out a few things for me.”

A sick feeling of dread started to choke him. He remembered their most recent introduction, when she’d given him her last name. His belly churned, and he forced the question out. “Your father is?”

“Dalton Jones.”