About That Kiss

by Jill Shalvis

  But it was nine o’clock that night before Joe got to Kylie’s place. He stood on the porch and once again remembered the other night, how he’d felt watching Gib come out of her apartment obviously in possession of a key, and his own over-the-top reaction.

  Because he’d wanted it to be him.

  Just as he lifted his hand to knock—since he didn’t have a damn key—he heard Kylie cry out from inside.

  In five seconds he’d broken in and had his gun out. Sweeping his gaze across the room, he found Kylie on asleep on the couch, clearly in the throes of a bad dream. He quickly cleared the room and the rest of the apartment before coming back into the living room to crouch at her side. “Kylie,” he said softly.

  “Don’t leave me,” she whispered, voice thick with tears, and for a minute Joe’s heart stopped because . . . she wanted him to stay?

  He dropped to his knees and took one of her flailing hands in his. She squeezed it tight and pressed it to her heart. “Grandpa, please don’t die.”

  Well, hell. All those of years living with his dad and then his own experiences in the military had taught Joe the dangers of waking someone up without warning. But this was Kylie and she’d been reduced to heart-wrenching whimpers, so he scooped her up into his arms and sat on the couch with her in his lap. “I’ve got you, Kylie.” He brushed a kiss to her damp brow. “You’re safe. Wake up now.”

  At the sound of his voice she instantly came awake. He could tell by the sudden stillness of her entire body and how she stopped breathing. Pulling her in closer, he kept his mouth at her temple. “You okay?”

  She let out a shuddery sigh and relaxed into him, pressing her face into the crook of his neck as she nodded. He didn’t believe it for a second, but sometimes one had to fake it to make it, so he let her have that one. “Bad dream?”

  Face still buried against him, she nodded again. She had one arm around his neck, the other clutching something.

  A photo.

  Shit. He pried it from her fingers. It was the penguin, perched on the edge of a bonfire this time, tipped as if it was about to fall in. He started to get up, but she tightened her grip and he relaxed back into the couch, willing to give her whatever time she needed to compose herself. He held her close with one hand, using the other to pull out his phone to access the app that would bring up the feed of the security camera he’d installed outside her door the last time she’d gotten a delivery.

  The camera recorded only when there was motion, so he could zip straight to any action, as he’d been doing two times a day since he installed the camera. He ran quickly through, pausing at the first action sequence—a cat chasing a bird.

  And then a shadow arriving on the porch, time-stamped to several hours before.

  Male.

  Bulky.

  He wore a hoodie sweatshirt and kept his face averted as he shoved the manila envelope into Kylie’s mail slot before vanishing into the night.

  “I got a new pic,” she murmured, face still planted against him.

  “I see that,” Joe said calmly, but he wasn’t actually calm at all. He was furious—for her.

  “It upset me,” she said.

  “Of course it did.”

  “No,” she said, and then paused. “I mean it upset me because it showed the penguin near a fire.”

  And he got that too. “Because of the warehouse fire.”

  “Yes. It’s the setup. It’s a play on how he died.”

  “But he didn’t die in the fire,” Joe said. “He died two days later when he succumbed to his injuries in the hospital.”

  She blinked in surprise. “How do you know that?”

  “Because I researched it.”

  “Wait.” She stared at him. “You researched him? Did you research me too?”

  “I research every job I take. It’s why I’m so good at what I do.”

  “Right.” She nodded, scooting back away from him, making herself comfortable in a small ball on the far end of her couch. “I’m a job. Somehow I keep forgetting that.”

  “Okay, not what I meant.”

  “You researched me,” she whispered to herself.

  “Yes.” Joe drew a deep breath and held eye contact as he gave her the rest. “And there’s something else. I put a security camera outside your front door. Motion sensor detection.”

  She gasped. “You what?”

  “I wanted to make sure you were safe and also hopefully ID whoever was doing this at the same time.”

  “And?”

  “And what?” he asked.

  “I thought maybe you’d want to apologize for the camera thing.”

  “No, because I’m not sorry,” he said.

  She stared at him and he blew out a breath. “Okay, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” he said. “But not for the camera itself.”

  She studied him and then nodded. “Did you get anything?”

  “Not until tonight.” He showed her the feed. “Recognize him?”

  “I can’t tell.” She shook her head. “He’s smart. He kept his head down and the hoodie up.” She slid him a look. “What did you learn about me? When you did your research?”

  “Mostly stuff I already knew.” That she’d been raised primarily by her grandpa because they’d been teenagers when they’d had her and hadn’t been up to the task. A fact that’d been proven the time that a four-year-old Kylie had been found in the street in the middle of the night, having walked out the front door after being scared awake from a bad dream and finding out that she’d been alone in the house. Her dad hadn’t been in the picture by then and her mom had gone out for the night.

  That’s when Kylie’s grandpa had stepped in and taken her. She’d grown up and attended an art high school where she’d showed big promise. The tragic warehouse fire had happened the summer following graduation.

  Afterward, she’d taken a year off from school, then gotten her AA before entering in her chosen field. She’d worked for herself on her own for a short time before going to Reclaimed Woods.

  She was looking at Joe and then suddenly she broke eye contact. “The dream I just had . . . It reminded me that there’s something I haven’t told you about, either. Something I wasn’t sure I was going to tell you at all.”

  “Okay.” He tried to meet her gaze, but she wasn’t having it.

  “It’s something I’ve never told anyone,” she said.

  He got up and moved closer, sitting right next to her, and ran his hand up her back and into her hair, trying to soothe her. “You can tell me anything.”

  She gave a mirthless laugh.

  “Anything, Kylie.”

  She shook her head. “You’re going to think different of me after you hear it.”

  Gently he pulled on her ponytail until she looked at him. “Listen to me,” he said. “I’ve done and seen shit that would make your hair curl . . .” He spared a glance for her wavy hair and smiled. “More than it already is.”

  She gave him a small smile but shook her head. “You don’t understand.”

  “I do understand,” he said. “I was an asshole punk when I was younger. And then in the military . . .” It was his turn to shake his head. “So trust me. There’s nothing you can tell me that would change my mind about you.”

  “It’s my fault.” Her eyes filled with tears, but not a single one spilled over. “It’s my fault my grandpa died.”

  He shook his head. “The fire was deemed an accident by the arson investigator,” he said. “It’s believed that possibly a soldering iron caught fire. Your grandfather was soldering some copper pieces onto a dresser but no one was listed as at fault.”

  “I was the last one to use the soldering iron,” she said. “Which makes the fire my fault.”

  “That wasn’t in the reports,” he said.

  “No, because when my grandpa was transported to the hospital, he was awake. He told the police and firefighters that he was the last one to use the iron. I don’t know why.” She closed her eyes. “It was me. Whic
h means the fire was all my fault.”

  His heart squeezed tight. “Kylie, no. It wasn’t—”

  “Yes! It was!” She jumped off the couch and scrubbed her hands over her face. “And on top of that, I lost everything that was his. I have nothing of my past except that penguin, and I want it back.” She grabbed a sweatshirt and yanked it over her head. “You said you had a lead on another apprentice. We doing this or what?”

  “Yes,” he said carefully. “But it’s late and you’re upset. Maybe we should try this again tomorrow—”

  “No,” she said. “Nothing matters except the penguin. I want to know whatever the hell you’ve found out.”

  All he wanted to do was haul her back into his arms and hold her, but that yearning was his own problem. He’d bent his rules, changed his ways for her from the very start. They should probably talk about that, but she’d had enough emotional upheaval for one night. “I located Raymond Martinez,” he said. “He’s changed his name. He goes by Rafael Montega now and he’s managing a small gallery in Santa Cruz.”

  She blinked. “Why would he change his name?”

  “Let’s go find out.”

  Chapter 16

  #BondJamesBond

  The drive took an hour and Joe spent that time dividing his attention between watching the road and Kylie, who stared out the window for a long time, lost in her thoughts. Then she unexpectedly turned to him and out of the blue asked, “Have you never been in love, not even once?”

  He glanced over at her in surprise. “So now you want to talk about feelings?”

  “Do you ever just answer a question?”

  He used the excuse of going around a slower vehicle to give himself a moment. “I’ve been in lust,” he said carefully. “I’ve been in like. And maybe a few of those might’ve eventually led to love, but I bailed before they could.”

  “Why?”

  “Because loving someone comes with a price.”

  “One that you’re not willing to pay?” she asked.

  “One that I’m not willing to let someone else pay,” he corrected her. It began to rain and he flicked on the windshield wipers. The rhythmic swooshing back and forth was the only sound in the truck for a long moment. “And you?” he asked against his better judgment.

  “Me what?”

  “You know what,” he said. “You ever been in love?”

  She was quiet so long that he wasn’t sure if she planned on answering or not. Then she finally said very softly, “I’m not real good at love.”

  Because her mom had always put men before her? Because her dad didn’t appear to care enough to check in with any regularity? Because her first crush/love had been oblivious for too long?

  The insane thing was, she deserved love more than anyone he knew. “You don’t have to be good at it but the one time,” he said.

  She laughed. Laughed.

  He glanced over again. “What’s so funny?”

  “You,” she said, shaking her head. “Giving me love advice.”

  He thought about it and had to laugh as well. “Okay, so that was a definite stretch for me.” But it’d been nice to hear her laugh.

  “My mom once told me to fall for someone who makes me feel like I do when my phone’s at three percent and I just found a charger.” She paused. “But my problem is that I never let my phone get to three percent.”

  He smiled. She matched it, but then sighed. “We’re both pretty messed up. You realize that, right?”

  “In a very large way,” he agreed.

  They were silent for a minute. “I never got to ask you,” he said. “What happened with Gib after I left the other night?”

  She paused. “Does this pertain to the case?”

  “No,” he said honestly.

  She absorbed that for a moment. “Interesting,” she said. “Given your relationship stance of not liking anything too relationship-y.”

  “It’s not that I don’t want a relationship,” he said. “It’s that I can’t be serious with anyone right now.” Or ever . . .

  “Also interesting, given the intensity of the kisses you’ve laid on me.”

  He let out a breath. “I never said I didn’t want you.”

  She bit her lower lip. She wanted him too, something he already knew but didn’t mind being reminded of.

  “So if we gave in to that wanting, this would be what?” she asked quietly. “Just a physical relationship?”

  “We’re also friends. And at the moment, coworkers.” He paused, knowing damn well that no matter what he might want, she couldn’t agree to just a physical relationship. She was a woman who needed—and deserved—more, the very least of which was an emotional connection. Something he couldn’t afford. “I’m sorry,” he said. “But that’s all I’ve got to offer.”

  Joe would’ve sworn there was nothing that could surprise or shock him, not anymore. Not when he’d seen or done it all, which had left him jaded and cynical to say the least.

  But Kylie had managed to put him off his axis more than once and she scored again.

  Staring out the front windshield, she said, “I’m okay with that.”

  They drove in silence for a few minutes, him because he was stunned and turned on and also wishing she’d said so before they’d left her place so they might have been able to get started on that physical relationship. He had no idea why she was so unusually quiet though.

  She didn’t say anything else as they drove into Santa Cruz. “Almost there,” he said.

  Kylie took a wig from her bag and set about putting on her disguise, God help him.

  “I know you think the disguises are silly,” she said quietly, seriously. “I guess I just get into the excitement of it.”

  Here he’d been planning his route to getting her naked and she was thinking about the job. How times have changed, he thought ruefully and ordered himself to get his head in the game. “This isn’t exciting,” he said. “It’s dangerous.”

  She nodded, though he was pretty sure she didn’t get it. And why should she? She didn’t wade knee-deep through the scum of the population for a living.

  “So . . . a redhead?” he finally asked.

  “You’ve got a problem with that?”

  “No.” She looked sexy as hell. He parked and got out of the truck. “Let’s do this, Red.”

  She rolled her eyes, but followed him toward a gallery on a small narrow street with a bunch of other galleries and shops designed for foot traffic. It was a mix of business and residential, but at this time of year, the sidewalks rolled up early.

  Everything was closed including the shades on the windows, so there was no checking out the interior. Joe led the way around back and down the alley, standing a few doors away behind an electrical unit so he could get a feel for things. But all he was getting a feeling for was Kylie in that pixie wig, which in the dark was like a beacon, both to anyone passing by and to his own libido.

  “We going to break in and take a look at the inventory?” she whispered, staring at the gallery’s back door.

  “That’s illegal.”

  She snorted. “Since when have you let that stop you?”

  Good point. But they were more out in the open here and the buildings were all close together, the ones on either side of the gallery lit up. Which meant people were nearby. “I can’t break in here with you. If we got caught—”

  “You don’t get caught. You’re too good.”

  “Flattery will get you everywhere.” He pulled out his tool kit. “You’re going to do exactly as I say.”