All Things Pretty (4 page)

I’ve thought about it a million times this
morning, and I’ve all but convinced myself that his attractiveness
and our chemistry was a result of my heightened anxiety, nothing
more. For that reason, I’m ready to get my phone and put the whole
thing behind me as soon as possible. Whatever it is about him that
disconcerts me–if there even
is
such a thing today–will be a
moot point in about ten more minutes. He’ll be out of my life for
good. No harm done.

It’s when I’m glancing casually around the
coffee shop, sipping my coffee, that I look up and I realize how
very wrong I was. The instant my eyes fall on Sig’s tall form
weaving through the tables, my stomach clenches. And when he winks
in recognition, it bursts into a knot of fluttering flames like
he’s my first crush and he’s about to ask me to go to a dance.

Carefully, I set my hot drink down and clasp
my shaking hands tightly in my lap, my mantra for the moment
something to the effect of
be cool and stay out of
trouble
.

He’s dressed in faded jeans that hug his
long, thick thighs and a chambray shirt that’s stretched tight
across his wide shoulders and cuffed up his forearms. His hair is
still damp from his shower and his face is even more handsome than
I remember. I didn’t think that was actually possible.

Pulling out a chair and lowering his big
body into it, Sig smiles at me across the table and I’m forced to
acknowledge just how dramatically I underestimated my attraction to
him. I feel his smile from my wide eyes to my trembling lips and on
down to places below my waist that haven’t felt this needy in
years.

And that’s not good.

Before I get too anxious, I remind myself
once more that I won’t have to see him after today. He can’t be a
problem for me if I never see him again, now can he?

Nope.

I scoot the cup of coffee that I ordered for
him across the table just as he slaps a brown paper bag onto it.
“For me?” he asks in his rumbly voice.

“For you.”

He takes a brave gulp and then unwraps a
huge burger as I’m left to wonder if he has any skin left on his
tongue. “Mmmm. Just when I thought you couldn’t possibly be any
more attractive.”

I warm over his compliment. “I assume you
like cream and sugar?”

“I like coffee. Any way it comes.”

“Even with a burger?”

“Especially with a burger.” He takes a
voracious bite. I’m not surprised when he lowers the sandwich and
about one third is missing. As big as he is, it makes sense that
he’s a big eater with a big bite. I wonder vaguely if all his
appetites are so…healthy.

I suck in a little breath at the train of my
thoughts, sinking my teeth into my bottom lip to give me something
unpleasant to think about. It usually works, but when Sig’s dark
brown eyes fall to my mouth and his chewing slows, all I can think
about is what it would feel like if he kissed me. Right here, right
now. Before we go our separate ways forever.

“Are you hungry?” His voice is low,
hypnotic, his eyes flipping up to capture mine and hold them
relentlessly.

“I’ve already eaten. Thank you.” His eyes
don’t leave mine as he takes another bite and chews. We sit in
silence, watching each other, lost in thoughts that I can somehow
imagine that we share. And that’s dangerous. Very, very
dangerous.

With great effort, I glance away. “So, do
you always eat like this for breakfast?”

“I have a big appetite. What can I say?”

I feel like groaning, his words playing into
my thoughts as if he can read them. He has a way of doing that.
“You’re a big boy.”

As soon as the words are out, I wish I could
take them back. Why couldn’t I just
not
comment.

“I’m big, yeah, but there’s not a single
boy
part on me.” His grin is so wicked, so proud, so
very…
male,
I can’t help laughing and rolling my eyes.

“Right. I forgot how modest you are.”

“I’ll try to remind you regularly then.”

That brings me back to the situation with a
jarring jolt. There won’t be any “regularly” for us. There won’t be
anything
for us. Because of Lance. “Not to be rude, but you
did bring my phone, right?”

Sig reaches into his pocket and produces my
phone. I reach for it with both hands, trying to ignore that it’s
warm from being close to his body. I try hard to focus only on how
much trouble this could’ve caused me. I have
got to be
more
careful.

“Thank you so much.”

“I’m all about smart phones and safety and
shit, but you seem a little more…relieved than the average person.
I mean, it
is
just a phone. Is everything okay?”

“Yes. I just…I rely pretty heavily on my
phone.”

“Work?”

“Uhhhh, well, just life.”

Balling up his wrapper in his large hands,
Sig’s eyes lock on mine, suddenly serious. “Boyfriend?”

I don’t know why I’m surprised that he’s
perceptive. Those dark chocolate eyes seem to see everything.

I gulp. “Yes.”

Much to my surprise, he grins. “Good!”

That wasn’t what I was expecting.
“Good?”

“Yes, good. That I can handle. I won’t feel
bad. I couldn’t live with myself if I wrecked a home, but
boyfriends are fair game.”

I smile politely. “As much as I appreciate
the thought, I’m not interested.” That almost sounded convincing.
Almost.

“Liar.”

“No, I’m not.”

Actually, I am. A really good one, too.
Usually.

Sig watches me carefully, his fingers toying
with his coffee cup. He leans slowly toward me, bracing his elbows
on the table as he tilts his head to study me more closely. “I
don’t believe you.”

“You should.”

“There’s something between us, Tommi.
Whether you admit it or not.”

“There’s not. There can’t be.”

He relaxes back into this chair, his
expression undaunted. “We’ll see.”

“Unfortunately, we will not. I doubt we’ll
ever see each other again after today.”

“Let’s leave it up to fate. What do you
say?”

I see no harm in agreeing, especially since
I know that I won’t be seeing him again. If I ever spot him coming,
I’ll run the other way. Sig is a risk I can’t afford.

“Fate’s a cruel woman. Or didn’t you know
that?”

“That’s mother nature. Fate is a man. And
he’s on my side. Trust me.”

I rise to my feet, draping my purse strap
over my shoulder. “Well, it’s been a pleasure, Sig. Thank you for
all your help.”

“Until next time,” he says, also
standing.

I say nothing as I make my way toward the
exit. The thing is, I’m disappointed that I won’t be seeing him
again. I feel his eyes on me as I leave and I miss the heat of them
already.

CHAPTER EIGHT- SIG

I head back to the station, walking right to
Captain Brevard’s office. I knock and then walk on in. “I’m in,
sir. You’ve gotta let me do this.”

“Locke, I–”

“Just trust me. I can pull this off.”

His sharp eyes dig in again, like two
pointed shovels. They’ve been known to make a full-grown man
fidget, but I’m confident that I can do this, so I hold his gaze,
unwavering.

“Alright. You’ve got your shot. I’ll get
word to Finch and set it up. But let me tell you, son, if you so
much as–”

“I know, sir. You don’t need to warn me. I’m
not messing this up. You have my word.”

He sighs. “Look, Locke, I know you’ve been a
cop since the damn womb, but going under is different. Are you sure
you’re ready for this? To give up all contact with your family for
a while? Live on the wrong side of town, consort with the scum of
society? To be someone you’re not, to be the type of person you’ve
dedicated your life to getting off the streets?”

“I was born ready, sir. Just give me the
details of my cover and I’ll bring this assface down.”

“I like the confidence. Just don’t let it
turn into
over
confidence. I’ve seen good men get killed over
preventable mistakes.”

“I’ve got this, Cap. I’ve got this.”

“I sure as hell hope so,” he says,
resigned.

I smile. I wasn’t kidding when I said I was
born ready. I was born to do this right here. And I’m gonna do the
shit out of it.

CHAPTER NINE- TOMMI

Three weeks later

“I told you I wanted someone to look out for
you when I’m not around. Why are you surprised by this?”

I can tell by the look on his face that
Lance suspects that I’m doing something I shouldn’t be, which I am,
and that I have a devious reason for not wanting one of his men
watching my every move, which I do. But I need to disabuse him of
the notion or it could cripple my plans.

“I know how small you like to keep your crew
and how much you value each one.”
Not!
“I just hate to feel
like I’m taking away from the business. I’m not a helpless female.”
Even though that’s what he wants me to be.

Lance smiles in that tolerant way he has,
the way that says I’m like a wayward child who exasperates him. All
he needs to do is cluck his tongue and say
Tommi, Tommi,
Tommi
in a disapproving parent way.

“I don’t mind that you’re a helpless female.
I don’t
want
you taking chances or having to work hard or
get dirty. That’s not who you are.”

Not true. That’s not who
he wants
me
to be, but it
is
who I am, actually. The fact that he can’t
see it just assures me that I’m a good actress. A good liar. But I
already knew that.

“I won’t. I promise to call if I ever need a
hand. Then you can send someone right over.”

“Now you won’t have to call. The new guy’s
sole purpose in life is to protect you, to be there when I can’t
be.”

My lips wobble with the effort I’m putting
into maintaining my pleasant smile. “Wh-when do I get to meet him
then? I hope he isn’t
too
scary.” I widen my eyes, like a
good little helpless girl would, and resist the urge to vomit.

Lance kisses my shoulder. “There’s no reason
for you to ever fear one of my men, baby. If one ever laid a hand
on you or endangered you in any way, he’d be dead within the
hour.”

A bit of an exaggeration, I’m sure, but
still Lance makes his point. Unfortunately for this guy, whoever he
is, when Lance finally finds out what’s been going on, what the new
babysitter has failed to catch on to, he’s probably going to be in
deep trouble.

“Well, that makes me feel better.”

“Good. He should be here any minute.”

I try not to toy nervously with my hair or
my fingers. I strive to appear outwardly calm at all times, even
when my insides are on fire. Which they often are in Lance’s
presence. “Where did you find him?” I make my question casual, even
though I’m interested. I need to learn as much as I can about this
man. It will only better serve my purposes if I know him better
than he knows me.

“He’s Finch’s cousin. They worked together
on the west coast. He used to enforce for a crew out there, so he
can handle himself. Should be good security for you.”

“And did you check this guy out?”

Lance’s head snaps up and his suddenly-harsh
eyes meet mine. “Of course I did. What the hell kind of fool do you
take me for?”

“You’re not a fool. I’m just nervous.”

Lance releases me and I can breathe again. I
squelch the shiver that tempts my nerve ends.

“Don’t ever second guess me.”

“I didn’t. I mean, I won’t.”

He says nothing, simply turns away and types
something into his phone. Less than three minutes later, there’s a
knock at the door and his trusted “Number Two,” Barber walks in.
It’s who is following close on his heels that makes my mouth drop
open for a second before I can snap it shut. Walking in, big as
life, is none other than Sig. My Sig.

I stand, paralyzed, in the center of the
room, trying to control my erratic breathing. I feel fear. Of
course I feel fear. If he lets on that we know each other or,
heaven forbid, has mentioned what happened three weeks ago on the
side of the highway, I’m in for it. Lance will be furious. Furious
that I lied to him, furious that I let another man take me dress
shopping, furious that I went to such lengths to keep it form
him.

But I feel something besides fear, too. I
feel breathless, but in a completely different way than what Lance
makes me feel. I also feel warm and dewy, like my skin has been
misted with hot water. And I feel attracted.
Oh god!
Over
the last three weeks, I’ve managed to convince myself that my
memory of him
had to be
embellished, but now I can plainly
see that it was not. He. Is. Gorgeous.

He seems taller than he was that day, all
dressed in black from his perfectly fitted jeans to his perfectly
fitted tee and blazer, his presence filling the room. He looks like
a model for mob-wear or something. His sable eyes twinkle when they
meet mine, but he says nothing. Neither do I.

“Randall, this is my lady, Tommi. Tommi,
this is Slade Randall.”

I’m not surprised by Sig’s first words. It’s
not unusual for men in this community of felons to adopt a
nickname.

“I go by Sig. Like the gun,” Sig says,
nodding curtly, his deep voice stroking the flesh of my face and
chest from all the way across the room. “I don’t tell many people
my name, much less go by it.”

Although he is speaking to me, I know the
comment was meant for Lance. I almost gasp at his audacity, my eyes
flitting to Lance. I see his jaw harden and I brace for his wrath.
But it never comes. He merely responds with equal curtness. “Sig
then. I don’t give a shit what you call yourself, just as long as
you do your job.”

“You don’t have to worry about that.”

“Good because you start now. Tommi has a
friend’s baby shower to attend. You’ll be taking her. You can drive
the Maserati. You go where she goes. No questions. No excuses. She
doesn’t leave your sight.”