All Things Pretty (5 page)

Oh crap!
“That’s not necessary,” I
pipe up hurriedly. “I’m sure Sig,” I say, purposely pausing over
the name, as though I’m not familiar with it, “would much rather
wait in the car than to stand in the shadows, watching a bunch of
girls swoon over baby clothes and play games that involve diapering
a doll.” I put on my purr face, as I like to call it, and walk to
Lance, draping one arm over his shoulder and running my finger down
his jawline. “But if you don’t believe me and
you’d
like to
come along, I’d be more than happy to show you.”

The black dot of Lance’s pupil swells inside
his blue eyes and my belly crumples in on itself. If we were alone,
I know exactly what that look would mean. Been there, done that.
That’s why I don’t taunt him. I’ve done a great job of finding
other ways to keep him happy. No need to change that. Right now,
though, we aren’t alone so I know I’m safe.

“Not this time. But if you want him to stay
in the car, that’s fine. Just keep your cell turned on.” The last
is said with a warning note. Once, a couple of weeks ago, I
mentioned in passing that I’d left my phone in the car that day it
was towed. He still hasn’t gotten over the thought of even
possibly
not being able to reach me for a few hours.

“Of course,” I say, moving away to grab my
purse. “See you tonight.” I give him a chaste peck on the cheek and
turn to priss off, hoping that the sight of my wiggling butt in the
pencil skirt that he loves best will give him things to think about
other than what I’m doing and where I’m going.

My eyes shift to Sig as I move past him. He
meets them and watches me until I reach the door, at which time he
opens it for me. I nod my thanks, ignoring the way my skin tingles
where my shoulder brushes him as I slip by.

Neither of us says a word as we make our way
to the elevator and down from the penthouse. At the lobby, Sig
mutters, “I’ll pick you up at the curb.”

“Don’t you need the keys?” I ask.

He holds up a single key on a ring and
jiggles it. I thought I had the only two keys to my car. Evidently
Lance had another one made when he gifted it to me. Figures.

I barely catch his wink before he turns and
walks off toward the exit that leads to the parking garage. For
just a few seconds before I continue on through the lobby to the
front doors, I let myself take in his tall form, his lean physique,
his cocky swagger. He’s downright sinful to look at.

When I finally reach the exit, the doorman
is waiting to assist me. “Ms. Lawrence. Will you be needing a car
today?”

“No, thank you, Gerald.”

The older man bows his graying head, his
faded hazel eyes crinkling kindly at the corners. Although I’m sure
he has an inkling what Lance does for a living, he’s never given me
the impression that he looks down on me or thinks I’m actually
involved
. Not like so many others do. They try to hide it,
of course, but it’s fairly obvious that they think I’m no better
than Lance is. And in some ways I’m not, but it still rankles that
they put me in the same category when they don’t really know the
first thing about me. Few people do. And even fewer still know the
truth.

“Gonna be a scorcher today.”

I turn my face up to the sky as I walk out
the door he holds open for me. The blue expanse boasts not a single
cloud, just a blaring yellow sun. “Looks like you might be
right.”

Focusing on the hot, humid breeze brushing
my cheeks and tossing my up-do, I wait for my driver. My prison
guard. My possible downfall.

I hear the expensive hum of an engine pull
up to the curb and I open my eyes to Sig dragging his big body from
behind the wheel of my Maserati and coming around the hood to open
the back door for me. I don’t argue. I just bide my time until we
are alone.

“Thank you,” I say politely, ducking inside
the cool interior. I don’t glance at Sig as he closes the door and
I try not to follow his every move with my eyes. But it’s hard.
It’s really,
really
hard. Something about him draws me. It
just
does.

When he slides in behind the wheel, he finds
me in the rearview mirror and asks, “Where to?”

I give him the address of a semi-luxurious
condo building I know of that happens to have a dark, swanky
internet bar behind the lobby. Without asking questions, he pulls
away from the curb and takes a right at the red light.

I flick my fingernail against the strap of
my purse as I wait for Sig to say something. When he doesn’t, I
make the first move. “So, you didn’t tell me that you knew
Lance.”

“You didn’t tell me that
you
knew
Lance.”

Fair enough.

“I, uh, I assume you didn’t, um, tell him
about…about…”

Sig’s amused eyes meet mine in the mirror
again. “About rescuing you on the highway? Or about wanting to kiss
his girlfriend before I knew who she was?”

My breath rushes out in a huff. I knew there
was an attraction between us. I’m not blind. Or stupid. But to hear
him say it…it brings to mind a crystal clear fantasy of Sig taking
me into those big strong arms and devouring me with that sexy
mouth.
Holy lord!
It’s enough to make me squirm.

“Th-the highway, yes.”

I hear Sig’s soft, rumbling laugh. “Yeah,
that’s what I thought. The answer is no. I didn’t tell him about
finding you on the highway. Or wishing that you were single.”

His eyes rove my flushed face through the
mirror. The sad thing is, they’re no less potent this way–through
glass, with distance between us. In fact, him watching me like this
is a little bit naughty somehow. It’s like being spied on or
something. It makes me feel…steamy.

I clamp my teeth down on my bottom lip and
look away. This is like playing with fire. I knew Sig would be a
problem from the moment I met him, but I didn’t give it much
thought because I never imagined that I’d see him again. I was
relieved (in some ways) that I wouldn’t have to worry about it. But
now…now, he’s here. In my life. Even more the forbidden fruit than
he was before. And even more tempting, if that’s possible.

“So, where are you really going?” he asks,
my eyes flying back to his.

After my initial shock, I quickly school my
expression into the most politely bland mask I can muster. “A baby
shower. I thought Lance told you.”

“No, I mean where are you
really
going?”

“To a baby shower,” I annunciate
carefully.

“If that’s your story…” he quips with an
unconcerned shrug.

I frown. “It’s not a story. It’s the
truth.”

A lie. Of course. I can’t spill my guts to
this guy. Even though I sort of
have to
trust him since he
has dirt on me.

“Right. If that’s what you say.”

My frown deepens with the prick of my ire.
“Look, I don’t know what you’re getting at, but I don’t appreciate
the insinuation.”

“Usually I can read people pretty well. I
thought you were lying. My mistake.”

Handsome, charming
and
perceptive?
This guy has to go!

I let the silence stretch out between us.
Nothing good will come from arguing with him or trying to press a
point when
I
stand to lose, not
him
.

“Just Tommi,” he begins after a while. I
nearly close my eyes at the sound of my name on his lips. It’s like
a caress, drifting back to touch my face, nearly as tangible as the
warm, moist breeze I was enjoying earlier. My gaze shifts back to
find warm chocolate eyes locked onto mine. “You look beautiful
today.”

I lick my suddenly-dry lips and attempt a
smile. I know it looks fake, but it’s the best I can achieve with
so much tension thickening the air inside the car. “Thank you.”

I want to tell him that his comment is
inappropriate, that he shouldn’t look at me in such a way. But I
can’t. It feels too good to have him look at me with this blatant,
almost animal attraction in his eyes.

I turn my attention to the passing cars and
buildings, my mind a million miles away on a man and a woman who
can act on their feelings rather than having to squelch them. I
don’t know how many minutes pass before I hear his voice again, but
when I do, I nearly miss his words. “You can trust me, Tommi.”

I face him and his sinfully dazzling eyes.
“I don’t trust anyone.”

That one sentence contains more truth than
I’ve spoken in years.

CHAPTER TEN- SIG

I watch Tommi’s delectable ass as she
crosses the sidewalk and enters the building. Luckily, there’s
parking out front, so I ease her car into a spot and get out. Her
instructions to stay here until she gets back, that she won’t be
long, only make me more curious as to why she wants me to stay
away. Maybe it’s nothing. Maybe it’s something. There’s only one
way to find out.

I lock up and jog to the door, nodding to
the attendant as I pass. Inside, I pause for a few seconds to let
my eyes adjust to the dimly plush interior. I scan my surroundings,
spotting a discreet sign for a bar at the back of the lobby. I walk
that way, thinking I can easily keep an eye out from there.

Something colorful sticking out of a
trashcan catches my eye as I pass. It looks an awful lot like the
baby shower present Tommi came in with. There’s no way I can
confirm without making a scene and digging it out of the trash, but
I’m pretty damn sure that’s what it is. Either way, it’s enough to
have my instincts on high alert.

At the bar entrance, I look for a table
close to the door so that I can have a good view of the mysterious
Tommi as she leaves the building. At least I can see if she comes
down with someone.

Turns out I don’t have to wait. And that I
was right about her lying. She’s up to something. And it’s not a
baby shower. She’s here in the bar.

Even if she wasn’t blonde, which so many
women are, and even if she weren’t wearing a green blousy thing
that matches her eyes, I’d still be able to pick her out of a crowd
instantly. Something about her pulls at me. Like a magnet or
gravity. Or temptation
.
Even though her taste in men is
practically criminal (
for
criminals) and she’s likely at
least knowledgeable about what Lance is into, I can’t
not
be
attracted to her. I just can’t shake the feeling that there’s more
to her. It makes no sense, but then again it doesn’t have to. In a
house full of cops, gut instinct is a way of life and I’ve learned
never to ignore it.

I’ve always been damn good at reading people
and as soon as Tommi said it, I got the feeling she wasn’t being
entirely straight with Lance about this baby shower thing. Then,
when I saw the shocked look on her face when I asked her where she
was really going, I knew I was right. Something’s up. And I’m just
the guy to find out what that something is.

I drop into a seat that’s behind a big
column near the entrance to the bar and I wait for a few seconds
before I straighten enough to see Tommi again. She’s sitting at a
corner booth, alone, like she’s trying to hide. Kinda like I’m
doing. She’s got a little tablet in front of her and she looks
engrossed, totally oblivious to what’s going on around her.

The waitress comes and I order a Coke,
handing her a ten and then turning my attention back to the
beautiful platinum head across the room. I watch her for forty-one
minutes. She only rouses to her surroundings a couple of times,
stretching and glancing around nervously before focusing once again
on the screen. Whatever she’s doing, she doesn’t want to get
caught. I don’t know if Lance even knows where we are, if she gave
him an address. Hell, for all I know, there might not even
be
a pregnant friend. What I find most interesting, though,
is that she’s playing Lance. That much is obvious. And that means
there are only three options for the beautiful Just Tommi: She’s
dumber than I think, smarter than I think or she has a death wish.
And I’m determined to find out which one is accurate.

When after the better part of an hour, she
folds the collapsible keyboard and starts closing up shop, I slip
out unnoticed and haul ass to the car. I’m sitting in the driver’s
seat with the window rolled down when I see her appear on the
sidewalk at the front door. I start the engine and she looks my
way. Her lips curve into a faint smile, which dies almost
immediately, almost like she didn’t mean to smile. Yet she did.

I watch her walk primly toward me. I get out
at the last minute to open the back passenger door. Her step
falters for a second. “You don’t have to open my door.”

“Of course I do.”

“You’re not a chauffer.”

I shrug. “No, but I was raised in the south.
This is what a man does.”

She considers me for a while before she
bends gracefully to get into the car. I close the door behind
her.

Once I’m settled in behind the wheel again,
I find her eyes in the rearview. “Where to now?”

“Back to Lance’s.”

A few minutes of silence. I glance back
several times to find her staring out the window, her expression
blank. I’d love to know what’s going on behind that beautiful face,
because I know something is. Probably a lot of something. If I had
to guess, I’d say this woman’s mind never stops running.

“How was the shower?”

Her eyes slide to mine and she frowns.
“Pardon?”

“The baby shower. How did it go?”

“Oh, right. Fine.” She sighs. “She’s having
a little boy. She got tons of stuff. Clothes, diapers, a stroller,
a baby swing, bottles, travel kits, a little bathtub. She shouldn’t
have to buy much.”

She doesn’t bat an eye, just rattles this
shit off like she was actually there. I’m impressed. This girl can
lie her ass off. The question is: Why would she need to?

“Nice.”

Neither of us speaks for the rest of the
trip back.