But the rest of him got physically ill at the idea of putting Reggie’s safety in the hands of someone else.
As they taxied into SEA-TAC airport two days later, Reggie tried to convince herself that Gabe’s mood was not actually worsening by the day.
She was projecting, that was all. She was stressed, so she thought she saw signs of stress in him as well.
But he
was
giving her the silent treatment.
At least she thought he was, but with Gabe, who could tell?
He was certainly as amorous as ever. She had a hickey on the inside of her left thigh to prove it.
Still, he was withholding something, something he’d started to let out before she’d had to cancel their plans to spend the day in Taos. She was afraid her obsessive attention to work had shoved it firmly back inside him and slammed the door.
And she wasn’t helping matters. Ever since she’d discovered she was in love with him, she’d been skittish herself, afraid of coming on too strong and freaking him out. Normally she wouldn’t be such a coward, but his manner the past few days hadn’t exactly been approachable.
She tried to make small talk, her anxiety superseded by irritation as Gabe limited his response to grunted mono-syllables.
By the time they got to their hotel room, she couldn’t stand it anymore.
“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong, or am I going to have to hone my telepathic skills?” she snapped, heaving her suitcase up on the bed.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Oh, come on. You’ve been acting weird the last couple of days; you barely said two words on the plane. You’re distant. I’d say quiet, but you’re always quiet. But this is a different quiet, like you’re mad and keeping it from me.”
His face bore the age-old exasperated expression all guys got when their girlfriends decided it was time for “the talk.”
“I’m not upset—”
She barreled on before he could finish. “I know what’s wrong. I know my schedule sucks.”
“You think I’m sulking because you’re busy? I know we’re not some boyfriend and girlfriend on vacation here.”
Ooh, there it was. The B word. She’d been hesitant to refer to Gabe that way, even in her head. But now that he’d brought it up. “How do you see us, Gabe?”
He froze, his hand halfway to the closet with his suit jacket. “What do you mean?”
She wanted to stomp her foot. Why did every semi-intelligent man become obtuse when it came to this topic? “I mean, I know that our circumstances aren’t exactly normal, but how do you see us? How do you see me? Am I your girlfriend? Or am I a client who’s enjoying some really great perks?”
His eyes narrowed and he at least had the grace to look insulted. “I don’t think of myself as some gigolo, if that’s what you mean.” He finished hanging up his jacket and stalked toward her, his shoulders set in tense, irritated lines. Good. She’d take irritated over distant any day. “Why don’t you tell me, Reggie? What
are
we doing here? Am I an entertaining way to pass the time on the road? What happens after you no longer need my services? Are you going to stuff a check in my shorts and send me on my way?”
She gasped, outraged. Did he actually think she was capable of using him like that? She started to tell him off but snapped her mouth shut when she caught his hard stare. Though he tried to keep it hidden behind his flat, dark stare, she could see the confusion, the vulnerability as he, too, wondered where they stood.
Taking a deep breath, she squared her shoulders. Someone had to be brave enough to take the first step. “You want to know how I feel?” Oh God, she was really going to do it. Blurt it all out, let him know where she stood and risk letting him trample her heart into a fine-grain powder. She gripped his hands, hoping he didn’t notice the film of nervous sweat glazing them. “I really care about you, Gabe, and even though I have, like, zero time for a relationship, I want to see if we can make this work.”
Her heart thudded in her brain and she was afraid she might stroke out in the face of his ongoing silence.
His dark eyes unreadable, he finally spoke, “There’s something we need to talk about.”
A sentence to make the hardiest woman’s blood run cold. As she’d feared, she’d freaked him out by laying it all out there and telling him how much she cared, and now he wanted to get their relationship back to business before she completely lost her mind and fell in love with him.
Too late. The fact that she never said “I love you” was a minor consolation.
She nodded curtly and braced herself for the crushing blow.
“When we were in Santa Fe, I talked to my friend Malcolm.” At Reggie’s confused frown he clarified, “My buddy who had to fire me.”
She nodded again, still perplexed, wondering what Malcolm had to do with Gabe dumping her.
“He has a potential client for a high-level corporate security job that he can’t take on right now. He wants me to fill in.”
Afraid she already knew the answer, she asked, “When would it start?”
“The client wants to start as soon as possible, but he’s given Malcolm until the end of the week to get back to him.”
“I assume if you took this job more referrals would follow?”
“Malcolm said he could hire me back as a full-time consultant.” He raked a hand through his hair, leaving it in thick, silky tufts. After a few moments, he said, “He can have someone to replace me immediately.”
She wanted to hurl herself on the floor and wail like a two-year-old. Not fair, not fair! How dare reality intrude on her perfect situation. Stuck in close quarters with her fantasy vacation guy who actually turned out to be the kind of man she could fall in love with, with the opportunity to spend time with him in a way that simply wasn’t possible with her currently jam-packed life.
If he left at the end of the week, she’d never see him again.
But she knew this was exactly the opportunity he needed to get his career back on track.
And since her stalker seemed to have gone AWOL, the need for twenty-four-hour protection was rapidly deteriorating. At this point, any rent-a-cop would no doubt placate Carrie and the network. She hardly needed someone as highly trained as Gabe.
Determined not to cry or lay him with a guilt trip, she tried to dispel the tension with an attempt at humor. “I guess the decision would be a lot harder if scrotum boy hadn’t up and disappeared.”
He gripped her hand where it fisted on the table. “I wouldn’t even consider leaving if I didn’t know that Malcolm would find someone just as good, if not better than me.”
She smiled sadly. “We both know your skills as a bodyguard aren’t really the issue here.”
The lines on either side of his mouth deepened as he took her arm and walked her over to the couch. She sat next to him, unable to look at him for fear she’d burst into tears. “You’ve already broken one rule about work and personal relationships. I’m not going to ask you to sacrifice an opportunity like this so you can keep babysitting me.”
And she sure as hell wasn’t going to ask him based on whatever tenuous romantic attachment he might feel for her. God, being noble and self-sacrificing really sucked, especially considering what she really wanted to do was yell and scream that she’d hired Gabe first, and Malcolm could go find himself another security consultant.
Long, calloused fingers grazed her cheek. “No matter what happens, I want this to work too,” he said. “I don’t want to stop seeing you just because I stop working for you.”
The words should have filled her with relief, but instead anxiety bloomed in her chest. How was that even possible? She wouldn’t have a break in God knew how long, and until then she’d be lucky to see him once a week if he was willing and able to travel. Although there was one possibility…“What are you doing for Christmas?”
He sat back, confused. “I thought I would stay with my sister in San Francisco. Why?”
“It’s the one week off I’ll have until February, and I thought maybe…” She let her voice trail off, wondering if she was pushing too hard, too soon. He said he wanted to keep seeing her. He didn’t say he was ready to commit to a major holiday.
“You want to bring me home for Christmas?” he asked warily.
“Good God no! I’d never subject you to my mother’s Christmas dinner.” She cracked up at Gabe’s heartfelt sigh of relief. “I was thinking more along the lines of just the two of us, holed up somewhere for the week.”
His slow smile sent warmth cascading through her. “Maybe Maui, a return to the scene of the crime?” He waggled his brows lasciviously.
All tension melted from her face and she practically glowed. “Back to the Grand Wailea?”
“You in a bikini, me making sure every inch of you is thoroughly covered in sunscreen? Sounds like a very Merry Christmas to me.”
Several hours later they emerged from their hotel room and found an Internet café close by so Reggie could send Natalie the latest revisions to print off and mail to Sharon and access any updates to her schedule in Los Angeles.
Though she was heartened by her discussion with Gabe, it was hard to ignore the cold weight of reality bearing down on their fledgling relationship. In a sick way, she was almost upset when she saw nothing disturbing or out of the ordinary in her e-mail box. If only her stalker would contact her again, she’d have a legitimate excuse to ask Gabe to stick around. She said as much in a whiny e-mail to Natalie.
Once the shoot started, Reggie was too busy to say two words to Gabe, but she remained, as always, intensely aware of his presence. It was hard to believe how intrusive he’d seemed at the beginning, especially now that the thought of not having him around to shadow her every move left a big, gaping hole in her chest.
N
atalie opened the door to Tyler’s knock. His cheeks were slightly flushed, his blond hair slightly disheveled from the blustery November wind whipping around San Francisco.
He looked better than he had a right to in a gray single-breasted suit and a French blue shirt that perfectly matched his eyes. Like some yuppie bad boy guaranteed to break hearts and take no prisoners.
He’s a total player, she reminded herself sternly, a sort she’d had more than enough exposure to over the past several years, thank you very much. And at the end of the day, he wasn’t even her type, with his clean-cut businessman look. She liked guys with an edge, guys with long hair and tattoos.
“What’s with the suit?”
“Client meeting. Management flew in from the east coast, and those guys still tend to equate work casual with west coast flakiness.”
“Hmm. You look like a Bank of America escapee.” Actually, hot was how he looked, but the last thing Tyler’s ego needed was yet another woman drooling all over him.
Besides, clothes could hide a multitude of sins. He probably had a decent set of love handles hidden under the fabric of his dress shirt. She led him over to Reggie’s couch and offered him a seat. “I just got here so I still need to print out a copy of the updated schedule.”
“Look, I don’t mean to be a jerk,” he said, glancing at his watch, “but I’m kind of in a hurry.”
“Got your latest shipment from Bimbos ’R Us?” she teased, trying to convince herself she was absolutely
not
jealous.
He laughed good-naturedly. “No, I’m having dinner with the lawyer across the street again.”
Later she’d analyze and agonize over why she cared. Right now she seized on the first smart-ass remark that popped into her head. “Ooh, three whole dates with the same girl? Better be careful or the male slut club will revoke your membership.”
He raised his eyebrow and tapped his watch meaningfully.
She stood, eager for the excuse to get away from him. What was it about him? No matter how cool and collected she tried to be, he inevitably made her feel like a flustered teenager, alternately trying to gain his approval or goad him into an argument. “Help yourself to anything you find in the fridge.”
The sound of a cabinet door opening and shutting followed by the hum of the faucet echoed down the hall as she walked into the office and snapped on the light.
As she reached for the computer, an eerie chill washed through her, distracting her from the Tyler-induced butterflies in her stomach. A stack of bills sat on the top edge of the desk, just to the left of center. She could have sworn she left them on the top right-hand corner, like Reggie always did.
She flipped on the computer and took a look around while she waited for it to boot up.
From what she could tell, none of the books on the shelves was disturbed. All of Reggie’s office equipment, anything that might have attracted a thief, was all accounted for.
She went into the bedroom. Discarded clothes from Natalie’s last-minute cleanout of Reggie’s suitcase still lay in a pile on the bed. Her Manolo slides were in the precise spot where Natalie had kicked them off last week after she’d borrowed them.
Moving closer to the dresser, she squinted at the carefully organized items on Reggie’s dresser. Perfume bottles, jewelry case, and framed photos were all perfectly arranged, with none of the clutter of carelessly strewn knickknacks, pocket change, and scraps of paper that decorated Natalie’s own dresser.
But something was odd. Different from the last time she’d been in here, but so subtle she immediately dismissed it as paranoia.
She couldn’t dismiss the creepy feeling that someone had been here, someone had touched Reggie’s things and replaced them, but not quite precisely enough. Reggie had mentioned in her e-mail that she hadn’t heard from the stalker in two weeks. But maybe she’d spoken too soon.
She went back to the office and in a few short keystrokes accessed and printed Reggie’s schedule for the upcoming trip to L.A., along with their travel itinerary.
She walked back out into the living room and handed Tyler the schedule. “Is anything wrong?” he asked when he saw her frown.
“No,” she said distractedly, rubbing her hands up and down her arms to ward off the chill that had suddenly engulfed her. “I have the weirdest feeling, like someone’s been in here.”
Tyler looked around and she waited for him to tell her she was crazy. But he only asked if anything was missing.
“No, but things have been moved.” She frowned, thinking of the bills on the desk. “At least, I think so. It’s just a sense I get, you know? Like a premonition or something.” She watched him look over the printout. “I hope you don’t mind that I’ll be joining you in L.A. Reggie said she wanted me there.”
That wasn’t precisely true, but Natalie had managed to convince Reggie that she needed her there as a fashion consultant on the photo shoot.
“Who else can you trust to make sure they don’t put you in anything unflattering?” she’d said.
Tyler unbuttoned his shirt cuffs and pushed the sleeves up ropy forearms dusted with a sprinkling of blond hair. Hair that would rasp against her fingertips as she traced every muscle and tendon…
Natalie’s throat went bone dry. Desperate for a diet soda, she retreated for the kitchen. Her stomach seized as she caught something strange in the corner of her eye.
Rex, Reggie’s prized ficus, was in its usual place in the corner next to her kitchen table. But his green, glossy leaves were scattered all over the floor. Branches were torn off as though in a fit of rage.
Her soda slipped from nerveless fingers as she hurried over for a closer look. The main stalk had been twisted off near the base and now lay forlornly against the side of the pot.
Pooling at the roots was a shallow puddle of blood.
Her screech brought Tyler skidding across the slate floor.
He wrapped his arms around her waist and caught her as her knees buckled.
“What?” His voice was frantic in her ear.
“He killed Rex!”
“Huh?”
His arm was still around her waist, and through her terror she became aware of his hard, lean body pressing against her back. What do you know, no potbelly after all.
But this was no time to succumb to inappropriate lust. “Rex, Reggie’s ficus, the one she’s been nursing for the past five years. The stalker ripped him apart and there’s blood all over it.”
She felt him gasp as he spotted the carnage. “Jesus.” Tyler knelt down, careful not to get any sticky red liquid on his suit pants. He leaned closer and sniffed. “I think it’s just paint.” He stood and pulled her into a soothing embrace.
Relief coursed through her at the fact it wasn’t blood, but only briefly. Someone had broken into Reggie’s apartment. Even though it wasn’t her own stuff that had been pawed through, she felt violated on her sister’s behalf, and couldn’t imagine how Reggie was going to take the news.
Another wave of panic shot through her belly. Turning, she burrowed her face in Tyler’s chest. The silk of his tie rasped against her cheek, and she inhaled the scent of his faint sandalwood cologne and underneath his own musky, enticing scent.
“It’s okay,” he soothed, his hands moving in strong, calming strokes down her back. “When was the last time you were here?”
“Last night. I brought in the mail and watered Rex before I did some work on the computer.” Little by little her panic was subsiding; his big, warm hands helped to dissipate the chill that had settled deep in her bones. “Poor Reggie. Why won’t this guy leave her alone?”
“Just be glad you didn’t interrupt him.”
Another shudder racked her body at the thought of catching the deranged fan on her own. Tyler squeezed her harder and pressed a kiss to her forehead.
She tilted her head back. Even in her three-inch heels, she had to tilt way back to look into his face. The bright overhead lights of the kitchen picked up white blond highlights in his hair, and she wondered inanely if they were natural. They must be, she decided. As well groomed as he was, she couldn’t imagine Tyler sitting quietly with a head full of foil wraps. A faint shadow of beard dusted his jaw, and she noticed that some of his whiskers were dark red.
He stared down at her, his blue eyes soft with concern. Her gaze dipped to his firm, full lips, and she was suddenly, achingly curious to find out how good they would taste.
Flustered, she stepped back, stumbling a little on her spike heel. “We better call the police.”
He dropped his hands, and she wasn’t sure, but she thought maybe they lingered for a few extra seconds on her hips.
Fifteen minutes later, two uniforms were there to take their statement. “…and then I found Rex, my sister’s plant, ripped apart with paint all over it.”
While the first officer did a walk-through of the apartment, she and Tyler gave them a quick rundown on the stalker and the harassing activity to date.
“But you say he’s never broken into the house before?” the officer asked.
Natalie shook her head. “Not that we know of.”
“And the alarm didn’t go off?” His eyes did a quick survey of the room. “This looks like a sophisticated system. It should have gone off.”
“The only time it went off was when I didn’t turn it off in time,” she admitted.
The officer’s dark eyes narrowed on Natalie’s face. “You say you’ve been watching the place while your sister’s out of town?”
She nodded.
“Any chance you forgot to set the alarm after you left yesterday?”
“No,” she denied vehemently. “I’m extremely careful to always set it before I leave.”
“Sometimes you leave in a rush, you forget things.”
Before Natalie could deny carelessness, Tyler broke in. “Officer, if she set the alarm, she set the alarm. Natalie doesn’t forget stuff like that.”
The patrolman looked like he wanted to argue, but thought better of it. He flipped his notebook closed. “We’ll have someone over to dust for prints. And since this is likely connected to your sister’s stalker, the detective assigned to the case will call you both in the next few days and will come by to interview the neighbors.”
“Do we need to stick around, or can we leave?”
Right. The date with the lawyer. Wasn’t Tyler lucky that he could so easily deal with a break-in, a hysterical sister, and still have the energy to go bone his latest conquest.
The officer said they could leave if they wanted.
She sighed, suddenly exhausted as the final drops of fear-based adrenaline evaporated from her bloodstream. “Should we call Reggie?”
Tyler was silent a moment, considering, then shook his head. “Let’s wait and see what the police have to say tomorrow. Nothing she can do about it from Seattle. For now, let’s go. You shouldn’t stay here. Tyler grabbed her arm and she let him lead her out the door, even though she didn’t particularly relish the idea of going home, alone, to her none-too-secure flat within spitting distance of the Tenderloin. “Come on, we can finish going over everything back at my place.”
He led her down the block and ushered her into his silver BMW. She’d never admit it, but Natalie loved this car, with its smooth leather seats and dashboard that reminded her of a cockpit. “Did you know the BMW is one of the top five most popular cars with gay males?”
He shot her a quelling look and reached for his cell phone. “Hi, Christine.”
What a prince, calling her to tell her he’d be late. Natalie stared out the window and tried not to eavesdrop.
“I’m sorry for the short notice, but I’m going to have to cancel tonight.”
Now that got her attention. She listened with interest as he explained that something had come up with work, and no, he couldn’t meet her later.
Sounded like a brush-off to her, which was strange coming from a guy who, less than an hour ago, had seemed so eager to get on with this evening’s plans.
“You can go over the schedule yourself and call me with any changes,” she said when he hung up. “You didn’t have to cancel your plans.”
“It’s okay,” he said shortly. “I have some ideas I want to talk to you regarding your idea for pitching Reggie to women’s magazines like
Glamour
and
Marie Claire
, and besides”—he cleared his throat uncomfortably—“you’re pretty shaken up about the break-in, and I don’t think you should be alone.”
He didn’t sound exactly resentful, but he also didn’t sound overjoyed at the prospect of spending the evening with her. Besides, since he hadn’t said anything since she’d initially proposed getting Reggie in some younger skewing publications, she was pretty sure of what he thought of her idea. She didn’t need him feeling sorry for her. “You don’t have to babysit me,” she snapped. “I have plenty of people to call if I don’t want to be alone.”
He didn’t bother answering and he guided his car through the heavy evening traffic back to his loft. He unlocked the door, tossed his keys on the entry table, and shrugged out of his suit jacket. She hung up her own coat and headed automatically for the office.
His voice caught her before she started downstairs. “I’m going to change clothes,” he nodded his head toward the bedroom, an open loft at the top of a steep spiral staircase. “Why don’t you open a bottle of wine, and then we can fix some dinner?”
“I thought we were working,” she said uneasily.
“I’m starving,” he said matter-of-factly. Then, with a sly smile she’d never seen on his face, he said, “And somehow I think we’ll get along better if we both loosen up a little.”
What the hell was going on? Then again, after the afternoon she’d had, a glass of wine sounded heavenly. Who was she to argue?
“Open whatever you like,” he called.
She didn’t know much about wine, other than that she liked it. Her usual method of purchase was to see what was on special at Safeway. Judging from Tyler’s collection, he didn’t shop at Safeway.
After she’d poured herself a generous glass of Australian Shiraz, she took the opportunity to snoop through his considerable CD collection. Probably the usual preppy boy mix of Dave Matthews, U2, a little Van Halen mixed in for nostalgia, and John Mayer for when he wanted to charm the ladies’ pants off.