Midnight Man (2 page)

“Ecru.” She smiled.

“I beg your pardon?”

“I’m sure you have technical terms in your business, Commander Huntington—John. Just as I have them in mine. The colors are slate, ecru and teal, not gray, beige and blue. And the blue thingies are stencils.” She pushed the drawings across the desk to him. “Keep these. You’re welcome to them. And if you need any help in getting the furnishings, let me know. Nothing in my design is custom-made. You could buy everything immediately. I’d be happy to help. I get a professional discount at all the major retailers. ”

“That’s very generous of you. Would you be willing to design living quarters for me, too? For a fee, of course.”

She drew in a quick breath. “Living quarters? You want—you want to live here, too?”

“Mm. There’s plenty of space. Those three big back rooms would be more than enough for me. I keep odd hours in my business and I need to be close to the office. This would suit me fine. Now I want you to call some of the people on the list on page two.”

“I beg your pardon?” When she shifted in her chair, some floral scent wafted his way. His nostrils flared to take it in.

“I’ve provided five people as character references. Call them. Call them before we sign the lease. We can do that tomorrow.”

“I’m sure that won’t be necessary, Comm—John.”

“It’s absolutely necessary, Suzanne.” He looked around then brought his gaze back to her. “This is a beautiful space and you’ve done a great job renovating the building, but we’re in a rough neighborhood.”

It was one of the reasons he wanted his corporate headquarters here. He sometimes hired people who had looked wildly out of place in the prissy downtown building. Like Jacko, with his pierced nostrils and the viper tats.

“If you’re going to be alone in a building with a man, you need to know who he is and that you’re safe with him.” His eyes bored into hers. “You’ll be safe with me.”

But not from me, he thought.

“I guess you’re the expert.” She blew out a little breath.

“Yes, ma’am. You’ll call?”

Her eyes dropped to the paper. “Of course, if you want me to. You have an impressive list of references. Wait. Lieutenant Tyler Morrison, Portland Police Department. You know him?”

“Bud? Sure. We were in the service together. Then he quit and became a cop. Call him. And one more thing before I sign. What’s your security system?”

“Security system? You mean like the alarm system? Let me check.” She opened a Filofax and started poring over the pages with a tapered, pink-tipped finger. “I don’t remember off-hand, but I know it was expensive. Ah, here we are. Interloc. Do you know them? Oh, how stupid of me. Of course you do, security is your business.”

“I deal in personal security, not building security, but I know them.” Interloc was a crappy outfit. They’d have snowed her with fancy alarms and seven-digit codes and their equipment could have come out of a cereal box. No freakin’ way was he going to live and work in a building secured by Interloc. He stood up. “I’d appreciate it if you were to secure the alarms after I leave.”

“I—okay.” She stood up too, looking puzzled, and walked around the desk. “If you really want me to. I tend to just have the door locked during the day because it’s so fussy putting on the alarm system then switching it off when I want to go out. So…I guess we have a deal?”

“You bet.”

He stuck out his hand. After a second’s hesitation, she offered hers. It was almost half the size of his, slim and fine-boned. He carefully applied a little pressure and ordered himself to let go. It was damned hard to do. What he wanted to do was pull her into his arms and take her down to the floor.

Some of that must have been coming through because her eyes widened in alarm. He stepped back.

“I’ll start moving my stuff in tomorrow. And I’ll definitely be taking you up on your offer to help me decorate. Of course I’d like to pay for the design of my office. I can see that a lot of work went into it.”

She waved that away. “No, don’t worry. I was just doodling. Consider the design a welcome present.” She turned into the hallway and he followed, trying not to ogle her backside and trying not to be obvious about smelling the air in her wake. His men said he had the sense of smell of a bloodhound. He could smell cigarette smoke on a man’s clothes a day after he’d smoked. Suzanne Barron’s smell nearly brought him to his knees.

Her scent was perfume, something light and floral, mixed in with an apple-scented shampoo, the smell of freshly washed clothing and some indefinable something that he just knew was her skin. Soon, very soon, he’d be smelling her skin close up. Just a matter of time.

The sooner the better. Christ, the view from the back was as enticing as the one from the front—sleek curves, dark-honey hair bouncing with every step she took.

He’d never seen a woman as curvy yet as delicately made as Suzanne Barron. Everything about her was dainty, fine-boned. He was going to have to be careful. No rough sex when he took her to bed. He’d have to enter her slowly, let her get used to him before…

She turned and smiled at him. “That’s all right, then.”

All right! His eyes narrowed and his body quickened until he stopped himself just short of reaching for her. She’s talking about the lease, you idiot, he told himself.

“I’ll get a contract drawn up and have a copy of the keys made for you. When do you want to start moving in?”

Now! His body clamored. Right this second. But he had things to take care of. “I don’t have much to move. Mostly filing cabinets and computer equipment. Lots of that.” He smiled into her eyes. “You’re going to order the rest of the furnishings for me, right? Spend whatever you have to, I’ll be good for it.”

She was looking up at him, breathing slowly.

“Right, Suzanne?”

She blinked and seemed to come out of a daze. “Oh, yes, um, that’s right. And I’ll have a copy of the keys made for you.”

He opened the door. The contrast between what was behind him—a delicate lady in a jewel of a building—and what was in front of him—bleak burned out storefronts, liquor stores and empty lots—made him turn back to her. Little Miss Muffet had to know that there were spiders out there. Big bad ones.

“Check me out, Suzanne. Make sure you know whom you’re putting in your house. Call Bud. Call him now.”

Pale pink lips slightly parted, gray eyes wide, she stared at him. “Okay, I…” She swallowed. “I will.”

“And set the security system when I leave.”

She nodded, her eyes never leaving his face.

“Do you know the seven digit code by heart?”

“How do you—? All right, no I don’t.”

“Start getting used to keeping the building secure. Learn the code by heart. I’ll bet you keep the code on a piece of paper taped to the underside of your desk. You’re right-handed so it’s probably taped to the right side.”

She blew out a little breath and nodded. Bingo.

“That’s not good. From now on keep the code in a safe and memorize it. You’ve got a security system, so use it. I want this building locked down after I leave.”

“Yessir, Commander, sir.” A dimple twinkled then disappeared. “Or would that be aye aye?”

“The correct answer is—yes, I’ll do exactly as you say.”

She was so close he could have seen the pores in her skin if she’d had any. Instead, her skin was as smooth and perfect as marble, except soft and warm, he’d bet. He had one foot out the door, stepping from one world into another. He had to force himself to move.

“Lock the door, Suzanne,” he said again as he crossed the threshold, pulling on the handle.

He waited patiently on the steps until he heard the distinctive whump-ding of the Interloc security alarm going on then walked down the steps into the rainy morning.