Читать книгу Safe In His Sight - Regan Black - Страница 11
ОглавлениеKnowing it was the smart choice, her only choice, to accept help, Julia wondered why it felt like such an irrevocable mistake. When her friend had enlisted the Escape Club’s help, she hadn’t mentioned dealing with anyone as tall and imposing and...virile as Mitch.
Virile. Yes, that was the best word to describe him as he stood silently looming over her in the hallway between the raucous club and the office. His brown eyes were intense and curious. He kept his thick blond hair short and burnished gold whiskers shaded his jaw. His bright blue uniform polo shirt with the club logo embroidered on the chest hugged his defined biceps and trim torso that narrowed to trim hips and long legs. She had her doubts that any fat cells would dare to linger on his fit frame.
She’d dated a guy in law school who’d worked his body into this kind of shape. That guy hadn’t been interested in anything that didn’t benefit him directly. This man had been assigned to stand between her and the stalker who’d turned her life inside out in the space of an afternoon. She wondered if he had as many doubts about that 24/7 concept as she did. Willing away her immediate reaction to his tall, fit form, she raised her gaze to meet his and caught the spark of amusement.
“Satisfied?” he asked, hooking his thumbs in the belt loops of his khakis.
“How tall are you?” Her cheeks turned warm when she realized she’d voiced the question.
“Six-three most days. Am I taller than your stalker?”
“Yes, I think so. Fortunately, he hasn’t been close enough for me to be sure. Yet.”
“And I won’t let him get that close.”
The determined set of his mouth gave her a ridiculous amount of reassurance. Did he practice that expression? He hadn’t even done anything truly helpful yet.
“What do you need, Julia? Should we stay for the music so you can unwind or should I take you home?”
“I’d like to go home.” What was it about his voice that sliced through her defenses? Home didn’t sound scary anymore and yet nothing had changed. Not really. A stranger was still out there somewhere, expecting her to cooperate. What was the protocol for dealing with a temporary bodyguard? “What does twenty-four/seven mean?”
“You’re an attorney. I think you’re smart enough to figure that out.”
“You can’t really expect to...to stay with me,” she protested. She needed more space in her life, more than the average person. Her mother, friends and both former boyfriends were all in agreement on that.
His eyebrows dipped low over his eyes. “Do you believe you were followed here?”
“No.” She swallowed, knowing the immediate response might be inaccurate. She couldn’t know for sure. She’d just admitted to two strangers that a man had followed her for days and she’d been none the wiser. “At least I don’t think so.”
“Did you drive here?”
She shook her head, forcing her gaze to remain on his eyes. Steady eye contact conveyed confidence, and she needed him to know she wasn’t always frightened of every shadow. “I thought a cab was the safer choice.”
“Probably right on that one. Safety in numbers, I guess,” he said, echoing her deciding thought.
She folded her arms over her chest. “How many women have you saved from stalkers?”
His eyebrows arched and his lips twitched into a half smile, but his voice was serious. “I’ve only been on the job here for two weeks. That makes you my first.”
She rolled her eyes to the dingy ceiling tiles over his head. “Grant assigned you to me because I’m with Marburg. He’s going through the motions for me, that’s all.” She fisted her hands in her coat pockets. “This was a mistake.” She’d find a way to navigate this on her own.
“Hey.” Mitch stepped closer, crowding her. “You came here for good reason. We can help. Personally, I think the boss would be within his rights to turn away anyone from your firm. But he didn’t. That’s not how he operates. Just because I’ve never done something doesn’t mean I can’t do it. I happen to know a few things about getting people out of trouble.”
“Then show me your skills,” she said, spreading her arms wide and then dropping them back to her sides. “What comes next?”
He’d better have some answers, because she was at an absolute loss. Another trickle of icy fear rolled down her spine. If she turned away from Escape’s help, the cab fare home would wipe out most of the cash in her wallet. She had more money stashed away at home, but not nearly enough to cover her expenses if the stalker didn’t give her access to her accounts. Trying to focus on what she could control, on choosing the best option out of the short and lousy list, she pressed her lips together and waited.
“One step at a time,” Mitch began in a soothing voice. “I’ll drive you home. I’ll walk through your place and make a decision after that.”
Him. In her apartment. An image popped into her head, confounding her. The studio space was almost too small for her. “What kind of decision?”
He gave her a pleasant smile she didn’t quite trust. “One step at a time,” he repeated. “Come on.”
“Where?” she asked as he turned his back. Faced with the view of his wide shoulders tapering to lean hips, her feet moved forward of their own volition. Her responses to him embarrassed her, made her feel too much like her mother—the woman who used anyone and everyone in her orbit. “This kind of thing doesn’t happen to me.”
“Okay.” He kept walking.
She followed. “I’m not a drama queen.”
“Got it.” He pulled open a door at the end of the hall, encouraging her to enter first. “Break room,” he said, answering her unspoken question. “I need to grab my coat and keys. Unless you changed your mind about staying for the band?”
“No, thank you.” She scolded the voice in her head that encouraged her to forget responsibilities and problems and dance all night with Mitch. “I have to be at the office early tomorrow.”
With a nod, he pulled a worn leather bomber jacket from a peg on the near wall and shrugged it over his shoulders. It fell into place as if he’d been born in it.
The burst of attraction zipped through her veins. She blamed it on some unruly, misplaced version of hero worship. He hadn’t even done anything but hand her a glass of water and introduce her to Grant. For all she knew this would backfire.
“Mr. Galway—”
“Mitch. We’re going to be inseparable for a while, Julia.”
He made it sound so ominous. And so tempting, she thought with a mental sigh. She ignored that hero-worshiping voice. “Right. Mitch.” She tested his name as he led her out the back door and into the dark night.
The void of the Delaware River stretching away in both directions startled her and she stopped short. She’d forgotten the club was perched at the end of a pier. On the opposite riverbank, New Jersey sparkled. Little more than the bass of the band was audible once the door closed behind them. She knew thousands of people were nearby, in restaurants and bars, condos and businesses, but right now, she couldn’t see any of them. The solitude was blissful.
The cool night air slipped under her coat and she shivered. Mitch stepped up and wrapped an arm over her shoulders, pulling her into his warmth as they walked up the pier to the parking area across the street. Immediately, her body resisted the invasion of her personal space. Just her luck she’d get saddled with a touchy-feely type of buffer. “Do you have to touch me?”
“Relax, play along. If you were followed here, being with me will throw your stalker a curveball.”
Followed. One more fear to add to the heap, though the idea of putting the stalker off balance appealed to her. The jerk had demonstrated too much familiarity with her life and habits this afternoon. Giving in, she leaned into Mitch’s solid body as if she could truly count on a man she’d just met. No, it wasn’t smart, but it wasn’t forever. Her entire life had been one lesson after another proving she was better off handling things on her own.
Until now. It had been quite a blow this afternoon to realize she had no idea how to overcome a situation where her opponent operated so swiftly and effectively from the shadows.
“How do you think he found out so much about me in such a short amount of time?”
“That’s a tough question. I’ll need a look at the file you assembled.” Mitch’s fingers flexed on her shoulder through her coat. “We’ll figure it out.”
“How?” She had the impression he was holding back his real opinion of her and her situation. “You think he knows me.” Anxiety slid through her belly and she gazed out over the parking lot, expecting to see that orange cap. “Or maybe you believe I’m exaggerating the circumstances.”
His sharp inhale was followed by a vapor cloud as he exhaled into the cold night air. “You don’t hold back much, do you?” He slipped a key into the door lock of a classic muscle car and opened the door for her. “Slide in,” he suggested when she stood there waiting for his reply.
“Answer me,” she said. “Please,” she added a beat too late to be considered polite.
He laughed. “You’ll get answers. In the meantime, let’s get warm.”
She gave the car a long look. The glossy, midnight-blue finish reflected the nearby lights as if they were stars in the sky. Sinking into the passenger seat, she discovered supple leather upholstery and polished walnut accents on the dashboard, console and gearshift.
“I’m impressed,” she said when Mitch settled his tall frame behind the steering wheel.
“It loses points as a classic with the high-end upgrades rather than original features,” he said. “But I like it better.”
“Must have cost you a fortune.”
“You can bet I’ll charge someone a fortune when I sell it.” He shot her a wink as the engine roared to life.
She pulled her feet away from the vibration as he chuckled again. “You rebuild cars when you’re not bartending at Escape?”
“Sometimes.” He blew into his cupped hands to warm them. “Where to?”
She gave him her address, relieved her voice didn’t catch. When she’d walked to work this morning, her world had been normal and safe. Since the stalker had stormed into her life, any thought of going home—going anywhere she typically went—set off that clawing panic.
“City girl all the way, huh?” he asked.
“It’s close to the office.” She wasn’t inclined to share more about her life than necessary to resolve her problem. In her experience, sharing didn’t change how people saw her.
“Some people like to get away and enjoy a change of scenery at the end of the day.”
She bristled at the not-so-subtle judgment in his statement. Some people didn’t work new-associate hours at the best and largest law firm in the city. “The proximity of my home and office should make keeping track of me easier,” she said, hoping her irritation wasn’t too obvious.
“Proximity? Fair point,” he allowed.
“So, you rebuild cars when you’re not tending bar?” She wanted to know what kind of skills he had and how he planned to use them to help her. Details she should have hammered out with Grant rather than simply rolling along because she was scared and well out of her element.
“Among other things. Normally I restore cars when I’m not fighting fires.”
“Galway,” she said as the name clicked into place. “I read about your case.” It had been a big headline a few weeks ago. “The fire department suspended you for punching a victim at a fire scene.” She had a sudden vision of Mitch planting a fist into her stalker’s face. It was surprisingly satisfying.
Mitch snorted. “Not the best fifteen minutes of fame for the PFD or me.” He drummed his fingers on the gearshift while they waited for a red light to change. “Perp is a better word for that sorry excuse of a man.”
“What happened?”
“What do you really want to know?”
She hesitated. “I’d like to hear your side of it.” Her natural curiosity had occasionally proved helpful at work, but on a personal level it usually got her in trouble. “Only if you want to share.” Would a man with a quick temper be an asset or a hindrance in her situation? “The news offered up teasers at first, but nothing real ever came out when the PFD went silent and applied the ‘ongoing investigation’ comment.”
“Thank God for small favors.”
If he’d been her client, she would agree with him. As her buffer, she wanted to know who he was behind the sculpted biceps and handsome bravado. She cleared her throat. “Well? Do you want to tell me?”
He drove another few blocks in silence. “Look, I’ve been part of the PFD all my life,” he said at last. “First as a fireman’s kid and later as a volunteer before I graduated the academy and earned a spot on my own merit.” He worked through the gears and then squeezed through a narrow gap in traffic to make the last left turn onto her street.
“Are you trying to scare me?” she demanded, bracing herself against the door.
“No,” he said, startled by her outburst. “Sorry. Sorry,” he repeated with more sincerity. “The whole mess annoys me.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t drive when you’re annoyed.” She reached into her purse for the key to her apartment. “Take the alley behind the building,” she said, pointing out the turn.
“Where can I park?”
She swallowed another surge of nerves. “Guest spaces are at the end of the back row. We’ll have to give your name and plate number to the doorman.” And how many days he planned to stay.
“No problem.” He parked in the designated spot and cut the engine.
It felt like a problem to her. She could already hear the teasing remarks from Mr. Capello when he heard the boyfriend excuse. Her doorman was warm and helpful, and forever encouraging her to live a little.
It’s temporary. She repeated the words in her mind as she reached for the car door handle.
“Hang on a second,” Mitch said, laying a hand gently on her arm. “The guy came at me, all right? At best, the man’s negligence nearly killed his little girl. Kitchen fire got out of control. He, the dad...um.” He took a deep breath. “We heard her. Still not sure how. Managed to get her out. Saved that whole row of houses, by the way,” he added. “Not that he gave a damn about that.” Mitch closed his eyes a moment. “She was so thin. No weight to her at all. The paramedics took her out of my arms and started working on her.” Opening his eyes, he stared at his hands as if reliving it. “When I asked the father why his kid had been locked in a closet, he came at me, fists flying. Trying to shut me up, I guess.”
She was almost sorry she’d asked. “The father threw the first punch?”
Mitch lifted his gaze to hers, his jaw tight with the recollection. “Does it matter?”
“Yes.” Character made all the difference. With her lousy track record with first impressions and reading people, she preferred to have things spelled out clearly. She preferred the evidence of actions over all the right words.
“He threw the first punch,” Mitch confirmed. “My union rep says witness videos support my account that I defended myself until they hauled him off me. He was older—it wouldn’t have been right to flatten him. It was a shock to me and everyone on my shift when he filed the complaint.”
“Thanks,” she said, satisfied. In the awkward silence, she patted his hand. Grabbing her purse, she climbed out of the low-slung car before he could come around and open her door.
She picked up her mail and somehow survived the wink and waggling eyebrows of the doorman while they filled out the information for Mitch’s car.
In the elevator, Mitch laughed over the encounter and Julia tried to join him, though she wasn’t feeling it. Another shiver of fear or awareness or some troubling combination of the two swept over her as she opened her apartment door and invited Mitch inside. Without a word, he closed the door and secured both dead bolt locks, while she punched in her code on the security system panel.
In this neighborhood, she couldn’t afford a big place, and living alone, working long hours, anything more than this tidy efficiency would’ve been a waste of money. Unfortunately, just as she’d thought, Mitch’s presence filled the small space to bursting and he’d barely stepped inside. He couldn’t possibly stay here with her—they’d run out of oxygen by morning.
“Go ahead and look around.” She forced out the words. No one was here, waiting to spring an attack. “We’d only trip over each other if I gave you a guided tour.”
The kitchen to the right and the living area in front of them were self-explanatory anyway. In three strides, he peered around the canvas privacy screen she used to designate her bedroom. Printed with Monet’s water lily pond, she suddenly felt overexposed, as if he could see straight through to those last secret soft spots she kept hidden from the rest of the world.
Ignoring what would be a swift orientation, out of habit she dropped her purse and keys on the chair, along with the mail. When she realized that the only space left for them to sit together was the love seat, she changed her mind and moved things to the table snugged under the kitchen pass-through. She’d have to clear that by morning to make room for him to eat breakfast.
The last time she’d had a roommate was during her undergrad years. She’d skimped and scraped through law school without having to share her space. Did he expect her to cook for them? Should she come up with a schedule so they weren’t tripping over each other?
A small, square note card envelope dropped to the floor, distracting her. White, no postmark, only her first name typed in all caps as an address, it stood out against the nearly black hardwood floors. “It’s nothing bad,” she murmured to herself. Could be any number of happy things, she thought, willing it to be true as she crouched down to pick up the envelope.
“All clear,” Mitch said. “Nice place. Saw your windows are wired into the system, too. Smart.”
“Thanks.” Julia stood up and faced him, smiling as she hid the envelope behind her back. If he knew what she’d found, he’d stay. If he stayed, she’d never get any rest. Twenty-four/seven or not, she needed him to go, to let her have some peace for what was left of the night.
“What’s that?” He raised his chin as if he could see right through her midsection to the envelope fluttering in her shaky hand.
“I’m sure it’s nothing.”
“And I’m sure that particular ‘nothing’ has scared you.” He held out his hand, flicked his fingers to encourage her to hand it over. “You’re white as a sheet.”
Or white as an envelope, she thought with a flash of gallows humor. “You want to open it, go ahead.” She held out the envelope but didn’t let go when his fingers closed over it. “It’s addressed to me.” She showed him. “Just my name.”
With a shrug, he tucked his hands into his coat pockets. “Any idea who sent it?”
She clamped her lips shut when her teeth wanted to chatter. “Probably a neighbor.”
“So open it already and find out.”
“Fine.” She slid her thumb under the flap and pulled out the enclosure. The paper shook like an autumn leaf in a gale as she read the short list of names followed by another terse message: “Stay on the case, Julia. Cooperate with me or I’ll drop these bodies on your doorstep.”
Her knees buckled and she pitched forward. Mitch caught her, guiding her to the chair. “Here.” She shoved the horrid note into his chest. “Take it.”
She couldn’t bear to hold it anymore, couldn’t bear the implications. She’d only entertained the thought of taking herself off the case for a few brief seconds this afternoon. Why was he doing this? Threatening her career, ruining her credit and credibility was bad enough. Threatening her best friend, her mother and her brother upped the ante.
“It’s a bluff,” she murmured. It had to be a bluff. “He’s making a point that he knows where I live.” As if she might be too stupid to put that together from the pictures and messages he’d sent her earlier.
A thick fog of dread blurred everything around her. She waited for anger to burn through it, waited in vain as her heart raced and tremors racked her body.
Mitch dropped his coat over her shoulders, gave them a brisk rub. Enveloped in his warmth and the spicy scent of his cologne, it was hard to remember she didn’t like being touched. Hearing him moving through her kitchen, she couldn’t work up the least irritation with him or her paralyzing fear. Where was her fight? Grit and unwavering fortitude had carried her away from home, through college and law school, through pressures far more direct and personal than one bully with a camera and a gift for nasty text messages.
“Drink this,” Mitch said, kneeling in front of her.
She focused on his face, on the compassion in his brown eyes. He wrapped her numb hands around a bottle of water. She managed to raise it to her lips, taking one sip, then another. “Don’t leave,” she said. “Please.”
“Not a chance.”
* * *
Mitch picked up the note and read the brief message, wondering about the significance of each name. He might not have a lot of experience with stalkers, but this note—and her severe reaction to it—meant leaving wasn’t an option, regardless of the assignment.
He’d seen plenty of shock victims through the years. Julia, in her current emotional state, needed rest and assurance more than anything else. Still pale, the water bottle wasn’t shaking quite so much as she burrowed deeper into his coat.
He read the note again. Aubrey Wallace, Karen Neal and Justin Carter. None of the last names matched Julia’s. “How are these people connected to the Falk case?”
“They aren’t.” She pushed her fingers into her hair, closing her eyes as she tipped her face to the ceiling. “He listed my best friend from college, my mom and my brother. In that order.”
No wonder she’d nearly fainted. Mitch gave a low whistle as he tucked the note into his back pocket. He was tempted to drag her into his lap and cuddle her as if she was one of his young nieces fighting off a bad dream. He almost smiled, imagining how poorly that would go over with the prickly attorney. “So the stalker targeted you for personal reasons.” He’d be furious if someone threatened his family to force his cooperation. He didn’t want to contemplate how fast he’d give in to keep them safe.
“No,” she murmured. “No one here knows I have a brother,” she murmured. “Other than my mother and whoever did the required background search before Marburg hired me.”
Her low, flat voice unnerved him. It seemed as if the note had smothered all that pride and fire she’d shown from the moment she’d walked up to his bar. Then her words hit him like a sucker punch. “Pardon me?”
She burrowed into his coat. “Justin is several years older than me. He joined the Marines when I was in high school. We lost touch while I was in college. Mom called me when he overdosed on painkillers. That was my first year of law school.” She rubbed at the frown creasing her forehead. “I did a little digging after that. He’d gone to rehab but didn’t complete the program. Checked himself out early. As far as I know, no one’s heard from him since. He might already be dead.” She leaned forward, her green eyes wild and fierce. “That’s actually good news.”
“It is?” Mitch didn’t believe any threat to family was good news.
“Yes. The creep must be mining old records. He doesn’t realize only Aubrey still matters to me.” Her gaze dropped to her hands. “Well...that makes me sound like a terrible person.”
“Not at all.” He used the tone that calmed down panicked victims during a rescue. People had countless definitions of family, not all of them as strong and unified as his. “You’re not close to your mom?”
“No.”
That one word packed a hefty warning to back off the sore subject. He swallowed his follow-up questions. “Then why were you so upset to read the note?” He could be of more help, be less of an intrusion, if he understood her.
“It’s an invasion.” Her shoulders shifted under his coat. “Bad enough he’s jeopardizing my integrity and twisting up my finances. This? Dredging up old baggage and dumping it here in the place I made for myself?” Her hands fisted on her knees as she emitted an angry growl. “The envelope...he was in my building.”
He seized on that point like a lifeline. “Would you rather stay somewhere else for a while?”
She shook her head and shut her eyes tight for a moment. “I won’t give in that easy.”
“Good.” He admired her courage. “Remember, you’re not alone.”
Her eyes met his again, held. “Okay.” She rubbed her palms briskly over her knees and took a deep breath. “We’ve found a silver lining. I’m home safe and although he got close, the creep isn’t lurking in a closet. What next?”
Good question. He was in over his head here. He fought fires, not stalkers. “We should warn your friend.” That sounded logical. “And your mom.”
Julia’s features smoothed into an unyielding, emotionless mask. “And say what? They don’t live here in Philly.”
“All right.” Mitch flared his hands, unwilling to push her any further tonight. His job was protecting her. Grant could tackle this issue of warning others if necessary. “Why don’t we get some rest and start fresh in the morning.”
She glanced at the small, antique sofa. “You won’t be comfortable there.” Her gaze slid toward the privacy screen hiding her bed.
He wasn’t about to make her sleep on this hard sofa. “Don’t worry about me. If you have an extra blanket and pillow I’ll sleep just fine on the floor.”
The little furrow between her brows as she examined the small apartment was endearing. Or it would be under different circumstances. This wasn’t the right time to be charmed and distracted by the woman he was supposed to be protecting. One of the hardest lessons of firefighting was doing the job without getting emotionally invested in the people saved.
While he denied it every time it came up, no one seemed to believe he’d finally grown past the foolish damsel-in-distress complex he’d had as a kid. Yes, his last girlfriend had used that specific soft spot against him and it had taken him too long to see her true colors. But he’d eventually corrected that mistake. The nature of the job was to race into danger and bring people out alive. Without his innate drive to protect those in need, he wouldn’t be a decent firefighter.
“You’re really staying over.”
He nodded, unable to tell if she was more relieved or frustrated by his protective intrusion. He managed not to remind her she’d asked him to stay only a few minutes ago.
In a flurry of motion, she stood up. Shrugging off his coat, she folded it neatly over the back of the chair. Moving behind the privacy screen that divided the space, he heard her open a closet. A moment later she returned with a pillow in an ivory satin case and the quilt that had been folded neatly on the foot of her bed. “Make yourself comfortable.”
“Will do.”
“Are you a morning person?” She crossed her arms as if she was cold again.
“I’m a firefighter. I’ve learned to adapt to the situation and timing, whatever it is.”
Her auburn eyebrows arched, then knit into a hard scowl.
“Is that a problem for you?”
“No.” The scowl remained, the arms tensed more.
“Something’s got your wheels turning.” He tapped his temple.
“How can this work?” She spread her arms wide. “You can see my place is too small for you to move in.”
“We’ll manage.”
She wasn’t satisfied by his vague confidence. “You’re just going to follow me? Everywhere?”
“Sure. Until we identify who’s hassling you. Isn’t that what you asked for?”
Her shoulders sagged. “Yes. No. I’m just...”
“Tired,” he finished for her. “Stressed-out. That’s reasonable, Julia.”
“I don’t like having you here.”
“I understand.” He could sympathize. Independence radiated off her. He didn’t know her well, but it was clear that she was unhappy she’d needed to ask Escape—or anyone—for help.
“This creep might just be a big gasbag trying to embarrass the firm.”
“It’s possible.” Although they both knew that theory didn’t explain the stalker sifting through her past for hot buttons of friends and family. Mitch hoped the situation was resolved quickly just by his presence, but her stalker was pushing awful damn hard and fast.
Mitch would have a tough time forgetting the shock and fear on her face when she’d read the note. The facade of the savvy, polished attorney had dissolved, instantly revealing a frightened woman floundering to make sense of things.
The bastard had put a note in her mailbox. Tomorrow, once Julia was safe at work, Mitch would come back and have a chat with the doorman. A building as posh as this one had to have cameras on every entrance. The residents wouldn’t tolerate anything less.
“I guess I’ll, just, um, head to bed then.” She took a step back.
“Could I take a look at your phone, please? It would help if I could review the interactions you’ve had with him before tomorrow.” If he was lucky, he might even find a clue as to why Grant had assigned him to Julia’s situation.
“Let me know when you’re done. It’s my alarm clock.” She handed him the phone and excused herself. He tuned out the sounds and the resulting speculative images of her preparing for bed. It required more effort than it should have.
He skimmed the text messages first, then the file with Julia’s notes on the encounter, and the pictures and emails that had followed. Despite his limited experience, Mitch recognized this definitely wasn’t a typical stalker.
Maybe Grant thought he was dodging that looming threat against the cop by assigning a suspended firefighter. More likely, it was a combination of convenience and intimidation. Mitch made a habit of using his height effectively in any situation and he’d been standing right there while Grant assessed Julia’s trouble. On top of that, Grant probably sensed Mitch’s restlessness. The man was legendary about reading people.
He glanced back at the closed bathroom door and took advantage of the moment by cruising through Julia’s contact list. Only the best friend’s name turned up. Interesting. She really wasn’t close to her mom, not that he’d doubted her earlier answer.
He heard the bathroom door open and her footsteps approaching. “Are you done yet?”
“Just finished,” he said, closing the open files on her phone. Looking up, his jaw dropped at the sight of her. With her makeup gone and her long, red hair tumbling in loose waves over her shoulders, she managed to transform the bulky sweatshirt and sweatpants into the sexiest of lingerie.
His pulse kicked into overdrive. He wanted to feel that hair in his hands and inhale that soft fragrance that seemed just out of reach. What the hell was wrong with him? She’d kick him out in a hot second if she realized where his thoughts had gone.
He kept his feet rooted in place, holding the phone at arm’s length. “Here you go.”
She didn’t go to bed. She came around to sit in the chair again, inadvertently teasing him with that warm fragrance as she passed by. She tucked her feet up by her hip and studied him. “Did it help? Do you have a plan?”
“A starting point,” he said, resuming his seat on the sofa. The apartment was truly too small. “Once you’re safe at the office, I’ll see what I can dig up. If we’re lucky he’ll show up wearing that orange hat again.”
Her lip curled. “I hope not.”
The admission startled him. “Why?”
“Because if the hat is his habit or signature or whatever, it means I’ve been oblivious to him for days.”
“Stop.” Mitch reached for her and thought better of it. “You can’t do that to yourself.” He waited until she lifted those lovely green eyes to meet his gaze. “It’s a very popular hat around here.”
It took a second, but when she finally laughed her entire body relaxed. And his tensed up as the sound rolled through him. He stretched his arms across the back of the sofa and changed the subject. “What’s with the furniture?” She didn’t strike him as the sort of woman who preferred fragile antiques to modern, sturdy furniture.
“You don’t like it?”
“I didn’t say that. I just pegged you for something more current.”
Her mouth twisted in a wry smile. “You wouldn’t be wrong. These are my inheritance from my grandmother.” She traced the carved wood accent on the arm of her chair. “The pieces fit the space and saved me money.”
Sensing more to that story, he waited for her to elaborate. She didn’t, leaving him wondering how to politely nudge her out of the way so he could stretch out on the floor.
“You’ll never be comfortable on that.”
“I’ll manage,” he replied.
With a heavy sigh, she pushed to her feet. “Hang on.” Her footsteps were quiet on the hardwood as she padded to a closet and rummaged around. “I’ve got a sleeping bag and mat I use for camping.” She leaned both items against the chair. “There. You’ll be more comfortable and I won’t feel like a total bitch.”
He smiled at her candor. “I never would have known the difference.”
“I would have.” She shrugged. “I set out clean towels and a travel toothbrush for you in the bathroom. Sleep well, Mitch, and thanks for staying.”
“You’re welcome.” The woman was full of surprises behind that thick wall of lawyer, he thought as he unrolled the mat and sleeping bag. It was hard to imagine her roughing it in the woods, but he was grateful.
He studiously kept his gaze averted as he passed her bed on the way to and from the bathroom. When he slid into the sleeping bag, he found himself surrounded by the elusive scent that was uniquely her.
With a sigh, he folded his hands behind his head. The few hours left between now and morning were going to make for one long night.
