“No, but when he was choking me, he asked where it was. I had no clue what he wanted until I saw you standing at my door. My brain finally connected the dots.”
“You think your attacker meant your spoon?”
“Since I don’t have a stash of drugs or any crown jewels lying around, it makes sense. Those spoons seem to be a hot commodity.” She picked up a sweater and held it to her chest as her eyes narrowed. “Am I wrong to give you the benefit of the doubt and assume you didn’t send that punk to liberate my spoon?”
He reared back. “Why would I do that when you offered to let me use it on the show?”
“Someone wants the damn thing, that’s for sure.” She folded the sweater and set it in a dresser drawer. “Who else would even know I possess one?”
He opened his mouth and closed it as he tried to process the situation. “I don’t know who would want it, but a few people at the studio know I talked to you about filming a segment.”
“Perfect.” She let out a breath. “Why are you here, Wyatt? I told you I don’t want to be on your show.”
“I was hoping to change your mind. I came to plead my case in person.” He studied her battered face, and his stomach knotted. “This isn’t how I imagined our conversation going.”
“I bet.”
“I feel responsible for those bruises, even though . . .” He ran a hand through his hair, completely at a loss. “I don’t understand any of this. Where’s your spoon, anyway?”
“I showed it to my co-workers when we were talking about my meeting with you in L.A., and then I forgot to bring it home. The spoon has actually been in my desk at work for the better part of the week, which seems like a good place for it. Considering.”
“I’m sorry this happened, Talia. Really, really sorry.”
“I’ll live. I’m just pissed that freak got away. I’d like some answers.”
“So would I.” He let out a deep breath. “What can I do to help?”
“If you want to make yourself useful, you can wipe down all the flat surfaces where the cops dusted for prints while I finish putting away these clothes.”
“Sure.”
He washed the kitchen counters and the door, wiping away a film of powder residue, then cleaned and replaced all her desk drawers. Talia stuffed the rest of her sweaters and work-out clothes in the dresser before heading into the bathroom. He’d neatly stacked the papers scattered on the floor and picked up the office supplies when she stalked through the room to jam a paper bag in the trash.
“More damage in the bathroom?”
She nodded. “He dumped my cosmetics on the floor. That stuff is expensive to replace.”
“Looking the way you do, why even bother with makeup? You sure don’t need it.”
A hint of a smile curled her lips, followed by a wince. “How I look right now is pretty scary.”
He walked over and touched her cheek. “You’re still beautiful, even with the purplish marks and fat lip. Come sit down. Anything else that needs to be done can wait until tomorrow.”
“My adrenaline rush seems to have worn off. I’m afraid if I sit, I’ll never get up again.”
“You don’t need to get up.” He took her hand and led her over to the couch. “Let’s talk.”
“About what? Do you want to add a little drama to your show by filming a re-creation of the break-in with me getting punched in the face?”
He squeezed her hand until she grimaced, then immediately loosened his grip. “I’m not a jerk. I’m concerned for your safety, not my ratings. What if this person comes back?”
“I hope he does since he won’t catch me by surprise a second time.” Her brows drew together in a scowl. “I’ll shoot first and ask questions later.”
He pulled back and stared at her. “You own a gun?”
“You bet. I can protect myself.”
“I guess that’s good, although you hear all the time about accidents with firearms in the home. I hope you know how to use your weapon.”
She patted his arm and laughed. “I know how to use it.”
His neck heated, certain she was either humoring him or flat out making fun of him, but he forged on anyway. “Are you in law enforcement?”
“I used to be. Now I work for a private company that utilizes my skills to their full potential.”
“Skills that include finding my unlisted address and shooting home invaders?”
“Among other things.”
“And here I was, ready to sleep on your couch to save you from that criminal.”
She leaned back against the cushions and smiled. “You sure there wasn’t an ulterior motive involved?”
“Not when you’re hurting and traumatized, but all bets are off once you’re feeling up to par again. I thought about you far more than I probably should have over the last week. You left an impression, Talia, and I’d like to get to know you better.”
“Is this your way of sweet-talking me into appearing on your show?”
“Nope. This is strictly personal. Nothing to do with No Stone Unturned.”
She seemed to relax for the first time since he’d arrived, the tension draining out of her as she settled more comfortably into her corner of the sofa. “I’m sorry if I’ve been suspicious and prickly. I’m not at my best after getting punched in the face.”
“Understandable.”
“My privacy matters to me. That’s the reason I turned down your request.” She touched her bottom lip and winced again. “Seems like someone already knows I’m involved, despite my wishes.”
“I don’t know how that happened, and I’m plenty pissed it did.” He hesitated for a moment. “Can I get you some ice for your jaw? It looks kind of swollen.”
“I iced it earlier. Thanks, but I doubt a cold compress will help much at this point.”
He pulled out his phone, checked the time, and reluctantly returned it to his pocket. “It’s nearly ten. I should go so you can get some rest.” He gave her an enquiring look. “If you’re positive you don’t need my protection, that is?”
“I’ll be fine.”
“In that case, I’d like to call you tomorrow. Maybe take you out after work or something.”
“Did you seriously fly all the way across the country just to convince me to appear on your show?”
“Among other things. We were filming at Mount Vernon. Once that wrapped up, I took a commuter flight straight to Boston.” He flashed a smile. “You know, since I was practically in the neighborhood.”
She responded with a grin before glancing toward the bag he’d left beside the door. “I don’t have to go into work tomorrow—unless an urgent situation arises. Where’re you staying?”
“I didn’t make a reservation since I wasn’t sure . . .” He gave a little shrug. “Can you recommend a nearby hotel?”
Her brown eyes darkened to the color of rich chocolate. “I’ll give you a recommendation, or you can sleep on my couch—even though I don’t need a guard dog.” She paused. “Since you’re here already and it’s late.”
His pulse sped up. “I won’t be in your way?”
“I wouldn’t have offered if I thought you’d be a problem.”
“In that case, I’d be happy to crash here. Thanks.”
“Now that we’ve settled your accommodations, do you want to watch the news or a movie or talk about anything not related to the break-in?”
“You aren’t tired?” He shifted to face her and laid one hand on her knee. The warmth through the fabric of her jeans heated his palm.
“I’m a bit of a night owl. Usually I’m up past midnight working when we have an active case to research.”
“If you need to—”
“I don’t. Yesterday, we wrapped up business in . . . well . . . not Boston, and we don’t have anything pending right now. That could change, of course.”
He didn’t respond, just studied her. Her eyes still held a hint of caution, and even though she lounged against the couch cushions, he could
feel the nervous energy coiling through her. His best guess was this woman rarely let her guard down completely.
“You can trust me, you know.”
She clenched her hands into fists in her lap before straightening her fingers and splaying them across her thighs. “I work for a private company that rescues people who’ve been abducted. Our work takes us all over the globe. It’s dangerous but extremely rewarding. While I’m certainly capable with a firearm, my worth to the team lies in my skills on a computer. My job is to locate the victim and provide intel to minimize the risk involved.”
He sat still for a minute, absorbing her revelation. “All I can think to say is wow. I feel like I’m in the presence of a superhero.”
A tentative smile stretched slowly, and humor flashed in her eyes. “Feel free to call me Wonder Woman.”
“I just might. Is your job the reason you don’t want to appear on TV?”
She nodded. “We try to maintain a level of anonymity. I’ve been thinking about taking a break, but—”
“What kind of break?”
She closed her eyes for a moment, and he wondered what she was thinking. When she opened them again and regarded him steadily, he could see hints of emotion in their depths. Sadness. A touch of anger. Withdrawal.
“A few weeks off. I’ve been pushing myself hard for months. Years, really. I could use some time to chill and get my head on straight.”
He could see that the admission came at a price. This woman didn’t like to show any weaknesses. Getting her to open up would be a delicate process.
“Did something happen?” He kept his tone soft.
“Not the way you’re thinking. Not with work. I can deal with those highs and lows.”
“Still, the stress must be exhausting.”
“At times. I crash pretty hard after a mission. We all do, but . . .” She let out a sigh. “We have each other to rely on. To unwind with, knowing the others understand exactly how we feel.”
“It’s great to have people like that around. Sort of a family of your own choosing.”
“Yeah, and my teammates are wonderful.” She hunched one shoulder. “You may remember the relationship I mentioned, the one that ended badly. I work with him.”
He could certainly relate. “Awkward, seeing as how you spend so much time together.”
“Yes.”
His chest tightened as he studied her, feeling hopes he hadn’t realized he’d been harboring slip away. “Are you still in love with this idiot? I can’t believe any guy with a brain would dump you.”
“I don’t know that we were in love to begin with, but I liked him a lot. I thought it might turn into something special. My friends have been bugging me to take a break, and I’ve come to the conclusion they’re right.”
“I recall something about a fling with a cabana boy.”
When she smiled, despite the fat lip, she was so damn pretty, he could barely form coherent thoughts.
“I have no interest in a boy. I prefer a real man.” She picked up a throw pillow and hugged it to her chest. “No rebound relationships, though. That’s not fair to anyone involved. Or maybe I simply need to focus on me and my future. Figure out what I really want. Everyone I know seems to have gotten married recently. Now the baby train is starting.”
“You want a family?” He tugged the pillow out of her grip and threaded his fingers through hers to squeeze.
“I don’t know. I suppose at some point, although I can’t imagine when that might be. I do know I’m not getting any younger.”
He snorted. “What are you, twenty-five or six? I’ve got at least ten years on you.”
“Try thirty-two. I look younger.”
“I’ll say, but it’s something of a relief.” He scooted closer. “I was a little concerned about hitting on someone so young.”
“What? Now that you know I’m not a kid, you have a greenlight to pounce?” Her expression held an edge. “Do I get a say in this?”
“Of course you do. Besides, you’re still recovering from your earlier encounter, so I certainly won’t push.”
“Smart. Especially since you know I’m armed.”
He laughed out loud. “I love your sense of humor, Talia. It shines through even though you’re injured and tired. What can I do to make you feel better? Surely there’s something.”
“Honestly, I’m enjoying your company. Keeps me from dwelling on the break-in and beating myself up for letting that punk get away.”
“Hardly your fault.”
She grimaced. “Debatable, but enough about me. I’m sick of the subject. Tell me more about your life.”
He released her hand and slid his arm behind her back. When she curled up against him, he smiled, content to literally be a shoulder for her to lean on. Anything else could wait.
“Home base is L.A. and my daughter, but I travel a lot for work. I love going to all the odd locations where we film and digging into the history and mystery of a region.”
“You must have been pretty young when Bree was born.”
“Just out of college. Serena got pregnant, and we married that summer. We made our marriage work while I was getting my masters and learning the industry ropes. But when my career took off and I started traveling, our relationship crumbled.” He shrugged. “No one’s fault. We wanted different things. Serena remarried and has the life she always envisioned. Bree is a well-adjusted kid who knows she’s loved.”
“That’s what’s important, right?”
“Absolutely.”
She glanced up at him, her eyes filled with interest and intelligence. “So, you filmed at Mount Vernon, home to your Cousin George?”
He grinned. “Yep. My segment is finished, and my producer is pushing me to nail down the next episode.”
She pulled back slightly. “I take it that’s where I come in?”
“One of our staff researchers dug into Dolley Madison’s family. She believes Dolley gave her spoon to a niece, and it was handed down through her lineage to your great-grandmother, who you mentioned gave it to your mother.”
Talia’s brows shot up. “Sounds like you’re privy to my entire family tree.”
“Only enough to verify the likely chain of possession. That makes for a pretty dry TV show without the interesting details you could provide to bring your relatives to life.”
“You mean you want me to drag my family drama out into the public?” She scowled. “Reveal to the world that my mother was disowned for marrying a black man. Describe how we struggled to get by when my dad was killed on the streets.”
He tightened his hold on her. “Or you could tell our audience about your mother’s loving relationship with her grandmother. How she held onto her spoon through difficult times because it was a tie to her past. The pride she felt when she gave it to you.”
“I guess it’s all about the spin. I still don’t like the publicity aspect.”
“What if you wear a hat and dark glasses during the interview portion. We can film wherever you choose, and you can focus on whatever part of your family story you’re comfortable with telling.”
She studied him for several long moments. “This means a lot to you, doesn’t it?”
“The document I found is hugely significant from a historical perspective. I don’t want a half-assed, poorly researched show before I produce the parchment. I hope to give the story background and depth so viewers will be invested in what went down between the founding fathers and care about where those spoons ended up.”
“I’m curious about them, too. More importantly, I intend to find out who wants mine badly enough to try to steal it and assault me in the process.”
He turned to look straight into her eyes. “Then you’ll do the show?”
“I’m leaning toward yes, but I need a little time to decide what I want to reveal about my family. I have grandparents—if they’re still alive—whom I’ve never met. I can only assume they’d be less than happy if the show airs our dirty laundry. Making
enemies out of them isn’t my goal.”
“Anything you need.” Wyatt gripped her shoulders and kissed her gently before letting out a whoop. “Thank you, Talia. You’ve made me a happy man!”
She laughed softly. “Is that how you treat all your interviewees?”
“Only the gorgeous ones.” He beamed at her before his gaze slowly turned sensual. “Not the way I imagined our first kiss. I can do a whole lot better.”
When he leaned in, she covered his mouth with her hand. “Not happening, bud.”
He kissed her palm, and heat flared in her eyes. “You sure?”
She nodded.
“Fine.” He pulled her in for a quick hug before releasing her. “I really do appreciate this.”
“I know you do.”
Warmth spread through his chest as he held her gaze. “I also really like you. I hope we can build on that going forward.”
“I like you, too. And, yes, I recognize we have chemistry together.” She held up her hand again. “But I don’t intend to jump into bed with you. I’ve been burned before, and it’s made me cautious. I’m sick of being hurt, and I see a huge potential for that in this situation.”
“That’s fair, even though I would never intentionally do anything—”
“It’s never intentional.” She rose to her feet and backed up a step. “I’m going to bed. Alone. Good night, Wyatt.”
He stood and gently touched her bruised cheek. “Good night, Talia. You won’t regret your decision to help me. I promise.”
Her eyes darkened. “I hope not.”
Chapter Seven
Talia woke as the first rays of light filtered into the room. She blinked and turned onto her side, then froze when her gaze landed on the couch and its occupant. The blanket rode midway down Wyatt’s bare, tanned chest. His eyes were still closed, and one muscled forearm dangled off the side. The faint sound of regular breathing broke the silence. Obviously, her overnight guest was still sound asleep.
She took her time studying him, and every part of her grew a little warmer as she shifted in her bed. The man stayed in shape, and he was certainly easy on the eyes with his strong jaw and shapely mouth. She hadn’t wanted to resist his advances the previous evening. Only a strong sense of self-preservation had kept her from doing something stupid she knew she’d come to regret.
Ominous Legacy (Counterstrike Book 4) Page 8