by Deborah Camp
“Trudy, you and I need to get a few things straight – one of which is that you aren’t a bother to me and another thing is that you’re part of my life now – an important part.”
His assertions sent a ribbon of pleasure spiraling through her and she had to bite her lips to keep a goofy grin from overtaking her. What had she done to deserve this man? she wondered for the umpteenth time.
He glanced at his wristwatch. “I have to be up to speed tomorrow for the meetings because people will expect—.”
Her lips on his ended his explanation. “I’m happy with any time you can give me, Mr. Wolfe. So, we’re going to your place?”
“Yes. Let’s get out of here.” He took her hand in his and brought it to rest in the crook of his arm. “Where’s your luggage?”
“Gonzo had it brought up. It’s out there by the elevator.”
“I’ll have someone drop it by my place.”
“Can’t we take it with us?”
He patted her hand. “I have people to do that.”
“Oh, right. I keep forgetting you’re the big boss around here.”
Unlocking and opening the door, he waited for her to precede him. Her inner muscles still hummed from his swift intrusion and she knew there were many, many more delights waiting for her. She smoothed her hands down the front of her dress, stingingly aware that her panties were in Levi’s pocket instead of on her body. Levi stopped at Darla’s desk. Gonzo was gone, but the security guards were still hanging around.
“Darla, I’m taking Trudy to my place, but I’ll be back this evening to do some work. Leave all the files on my desk. I’ll need the McPherson specs ready for my two o’clock meeting, so forward them as soon as you get them.”
“Do you want any calls sent through or should I send them to your voice mail?”
“Voice mail. And I don’t plan on being in the office tomorrow. I have one meeting after another, as you know.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And don’t schedule anything for me this weekend.”
“You have the Anderson’s anniversary party Saturday night.”
He’d started to turn away, but he stopped, his shoulders sagging. “Extend my regrets and have a case of champagne sent to their home.”
“Consider it done.”
“Thanks, Darla.”
He was clearing his calendar for her, Trudy thought with a twinge of guilt and a big dose of appreciation. Was it wrong of her to want him to herself . . . to be glad that she would have uninterrupted hours with him when she knew he was swamped with work? Probably, but when it came to Levi Wolfe, she was a selfish woman.
He escorted her to the elevator and frowned at the two security men who were ready to ride with them. “We’re just going to my place, guys,” he said, taking Trudy’s hand in his. “I guess Gonzo told you that my stalker is footloose again.”
“Yes. Were you ever planning on telling me about that?” She edged closer to him when the security guards joined them.
Levi punched the lobby button and the elevator doors shut with a hiss. “I was hoping she’d be in custody again in a day or two and you wouldn’t have to worry about it. I’ve dragged you through enough crap already.”
She gave him the side-eye. “You haven’t dragged me through anything. For heaven’s sake, Levi, quit blaming yourself for every little thing. And stop keeping stuff from me.”
He squeezed her hand and stared straight ahead. She got the message. He didn’t want to talk in front of the security guards. She squeezed his hand back and he let go of a long breath.
Lord, he was wound as tight as a seven-day watch! Closing her eyes, she concentrated on the energy emanating from the man beside her. Like a tuning fork, he vibrated with taut nerves. She realized that he still held her hand tightly. When she flexed her fingers, he actually gave a little jerk before relaxing his hold on her.
“Sorry,” he murmured as the elevator doors opened.
They crossed the lobby and exited the building, but instead of heading for the parking lot, Levi guided her to the sidewalk between the two buildings.
“Where’s your car?”
“My cars are parked in the underground garage.”
“Oh.” She sent a questioning glance his way. “So, we’re walking to your place?”
He nodded, grinning.
“Is it far?” she asked as they approached the building next door.
“No.” He stopped and rested a hand on the handle of the building’s double doors. “We’re here, actually.” He pulled one open and motioned for her to go in ahead of him.
“This is an apartment building?” she asked, smiling a greeting at the young man standing beside a tall counter.
“Yes.” He nodded at doorman. “Hello, Jeremy.”
It was cool inside and her shoes sounded smartly on the marble floor. Two elevators were straight in front of her just like in the building’s twin. Metal mailboxes were set into one wall. Jeremy handed Levi a few pieces of mail and a couple of magazines.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Wolfe.”
“Jeremy, this is Ms. Tucker. She’s allowed to come and go in my home any time she wants. She’ll have total access to my place. Understood?”
“Yes, sir, Mr. Wolfe.” Jeremy smiled warmly at her. “Nice to meet you, Ms. Tucker.”
“Thank you,” Trudy said, automatically, because her attention was riveted to Levi. Was he giving her a key to his place? Her heart swelled and she told herself not to put too much into the gesture, but . . . he was giving her a key to his place!
The security detail had followed them into the building, but they remained in the lobby as Levi and Trudy stepped into the elevator. Instead of pressing one of the numbered buttons on the elevator panel, Levi inserted a key, opened a panel and punched in a series of numbers.
“The access code is fourteen, four, thirty-four, but I’ll write it down for you later to memorize. Okay?” The elevator started its ascent.
Trudy tapped her temple as she repeated it once to herself. “I have it.”
His look of surprise melted into one of admiration. Reaching for her hand again, he pressed a small key into her palm. “That’s yours for the panel.”
She smiled and closed her fingers around it. “You’re on the top floor,” she said, her mind catching up with his actions. “The penthouse.”
“That’s right.” He smiled at her. “I bought this building and gutted it so that I could design my own place.”
“How long have you lived here?”
“I moved in two years ago.”
The elevator doors opened to reveal an entry. Black lacquered doors contrasted with white walls and white marble floor. A black and silver bike leaned against an entry table and a helmet dangled from its handlebars. Levi gently pushed her forward.
Looking around, she noticed the security cameras and the panel set in the wall beside the doors. Levi pressed the palm of his hand on the black panel.
“Hello, Mr. Wolfe,” a woman’s canned voice said. There was click as the lock disengaged.
“Pretty snazzy,” Trudy noted.
“It’s new. We’ve beefed up security since the stalker. It’s a pain in the ass, but necessary.” Levi held up a finger. “Wait one sec.” He went inside, stepped around the door, and Trudy heard beeping sounds as if he were disarming the security system. He came back out. “Place your right hand flat against the panel, Trudy.”
Startled, she started to question him, but on second thought, obeyed.
“Trudy Tucker has been added to your access list,” the voice announced.
Levi nodded. “Place your hand against it once more, please.”
She did.
“Hello, Ms. Tucker.”
Levi smiled and stepped back to allow her access. “Welcome, Ms. Tucker. Go on in.”
The space she entered was as she had imagined it would be – spacious and light. The hardwood floors were dark and an area rug of dark blue and gray designated the seating area. The wal
ls were ivory – except for the one that faced the pale blue sectional – it was charcoal. A fireplace took up the lower half of it and a television screen took up the top half. A large black-and-white photograph of a wolf trotting across barren land, its eyes glinting, dominated the opposite wall. A glass coffee table seemed to float in front of the sectional. Slipper chairs and large black cubes sat at either end of it. Ahead of her, a wall of windows provided a lovely, sparkling vista.
Trudy moved further into the room. “That’s Olympic Park, right? I read about it online.” She could just make out the colorful Olympic rings fountain among the green patches of grass. In the distance the spires of steel columns reached for the cloudless sky. “Wow,” she breathed. “I bet your stalker loved living here for a few days.”
He walked past her, tossing his keys and mail onto a table below the wolf photograph. “I imagine she did. Let me give you a tour.” He held out his hand to her. “Then we’ll eat dinner.”
“Are you cooking or are we ordering something?”
“I think I can find something.” He captured her hand and led her around the fireplace wall. “Speaking of which . . . here’s the kitchen and dining room.”
“Jeez . . . it just gets better and better,” Trudy said, shaking her head at the ultramodern kitchen that was arranged in a half-moon shape. On their level a dining table and eight chairs sat in front of large windows with sheer lipstick red drapes. The kitchen was stainless steel and white tiles with accents of dark gray, electric blue, and bright red.
“Downstairs you’ll find a study, bathroom, and a gym,” Levi said, indicating a curving staircase.
Trudy glanced down the stairwell. She could see the edge of a black desk, a leather, wing-backed chair, and shelving filled with books. “Looks cozy,” she said.
“It’s functional.” He squeezed her hand and nodded ahead of them. “That door leads to a utility area.” He pointed up. “There’s also a back door that opens to stairs that will take you to the roof where there’s a patio and a lap pool.”
“A lap pool,” she repeated, impressed.
He nodded. “It’s covered, but the water still gets really hot in the summer, so it’s not always that practical.” He shrugged. “But feel free to use it. Use anything and everything here.” He gave her a wink. “Me, included.”
She sighed, suddenly feeling like Little Orphan Annie being led around by Daddy Warbucks. “You’re going to be so unimpressed with my home.”
“I’m going to love your home.”
“It’s nothing like this, I can assure you. There’s a birdbath in the backyard, but it’s too small for either one of us to use it.”
“Your home has you in it. That makes it special.” He led her to the living room again and to a wide hall.
“My instincts tell me that we’re headed to the master suite,” Trudy said, appreciating the framed art along the wall. She recognized them as photographs of space taken by the Hubble Telescope. They were beautiful and surreal and looked like modern art.
He nodded at doors they passed. “Bathroom. Closet. Guest bedroom.”
“You have many overnight guests?”
“Occasionally. Quintara, for one.”
He stopped at the end of the hallway, pulling her to stand in front of him as he opened the door. “And this is the playroom, baby.”
Her heart climbed into her throat, but she released her breath in a nervous laugh at the sight of a bed, dresser, and tall bureau.
“What?” he asked, chucking a little at her reaction.
“When you said ‘playroom,’ I thought this might be a room full of whips and chains.”
His eyes rounded and he laughed. “You read too much. I hope you’re not disappointed there’s no St. Andrew’s cross in here.”
“Not at all,” she assured him, moving into the room to admire the simple but elegant lines of the furniture. It was masculine, but not to the extent that she felt like an interloper.
The bed was queen-sized – not humongous as she had thought it might be – and it was tucked into a bricked off area – the bricks painted black – so that it wasn’t completely exposed to the large windows making up one corner of the room. A number of pin lights were positioned in the ceiling above the bed and only a few of them were on. She bet that they could provide all kinds of mood lighting.
He opened a door next to the bureau to reveal a large, brightly lit walk-in closet. She peeked in, smiling at the rows of neatly hung clothes and the shelves of precisely folded dress shirts, sports shirts, and t-shirts. His shoes were on a carousel.
“I knew your closet would look like this,” she said, grinning at him. “In fact, this whole place is pretty much what I imagined.”
“The master bath is over here,” he said, escorting her around the bed’s brick partition and to the other end of the room where a large bathroom held a huge shower, double sinks, and an oval, sunken bathtub. A skylight, directly above the tub, provided a soft, natural glow to the room. An image of stepping down into that tub and into Levi’s arms, their bodies slick and naked, the starry night above them, burned through her mind and spread heat through her belly.
The floor and walls were white marble, veined with silver. Levi walked the length of the bathroom to an accordion door made of mirrors. He pushed it back to reveal a dressing area that was mostly empty. Boxes sat in one corner and a few items of clothing hung on a rod at the far end.
“I know a lot of women who would kill for this kind of closet space.”
“What about you?”
She glanced at him and shrugged. “I’m not a clothes horse. My whole wardrobe would fill up about a third of this.”
“Seriously?”
Hearing the surprise in his tone, she looked at him and nodded. “Yes. Seriously.”
“What about shoes? Women own lots of shoes, right?”
“Some women do,” she amended. “This woman owns about . . . oh, maybe a dozen pair. Tops.”
“Amazing,” he said, and seemed impressed. Or maybe that was pity shining in his eyes. “Well, then you can do cartwheels in here, I guess, because this space is all yours, sweetheart.”
She whipped her head around and sucked in a breath when confronted by his smile that changed from amused to tender. “Levi . . . wh-what are you . . ? I don’t need this. I don’t even need to unpack my suitcase. I can hang up a few things and be done with it.”
He settled his hands on her shoulders and turned her around to face him. “Trudy, if this is going to work – if we are going to work, then we need to be with each other. I can’t go weeks without you. I know myself. I’ll either go stark raving mad or I’ll cheat on you.”
Hearing him say that word – cheat — made her blood run cold and she actually shivered. He felt it, because he pulled her to him, hugging her close.
“I don’t want to and I’ll hate myself for caving . . . but weeks and weeks without you, baby, I can’t do it. I just can’t. I’ve talked to Dr. McLain about this – about us.”
Her hands rested on his chest and she pushed back to look up into his face. She’d wondered what he’d been telling his psychiatrist about his decision to be monogamous. “What does she think about you being in a relationship with me?”
“She’s all for it.”
Trudy relaxed against him. He covered her hands with his and brought one to his lips, kissing her palm.
“Dr. McLain thinks I’m ready for a serious, adult relationship. She wants to meet you.”
“Oh? I’d like to meet her, too.” She didn’t miss the wariness that shadowed his eyes as he kissed her knuckles and then brought her hand up to rest on his shoulder.
“Yeah, well, we’ll see.”
Trudy caressed the back of his neck where his hair curled. She could feel him shutting down. Same old Mister Moody Blues, she thought. Now what was he hiding from her?
He shook his head as if slinging his thoughts back into order. “I’m making you a priority in my life. For the past few yea
rs, my work has been my priority. I’ve spent most of every day building my business and making personal appearances all over the place, and I had no complaints. Until a few weeks ago.”
She laced her hands at the back of his neck, noting the intensity firming his jaw and darkening his eyes. Suddenly, her throat tightened and she caught her breath. What was he saying? That he loved her? She thought he did, but he’d never said so. He just acted like a man in love. Or maybe that’s what she wanted to see.
“You, Trudy Tucker, blew through me like a Tulsa twister and obliterated my organized, satisfying existence.”
“I did?” she whispered.
He grinned and rubbed noses with her. “More than you know. I’ve been miserable without you. In fact, I even discovered a phrase for exactly how I’ve been feeling.” He drew in a short breath. “You ready?”
“Lay it on me. Wolfe.”
“Avoir le mal de quelqu’un.” He looked proud of himself. “Dr. McLain issued that diagnosis after a session in which I bitched and moaned more than usual.”
The French words slipping off his tongue had curled her toes in her shoes. “Ah, leave it to the French to come up with the perfect phrase.”
“You speak French?”
“A little. I understand it better than I speak it.”
“So, did you understand that particular phrase?”
“Something about being sick. Lovesick?” There’s that word, she thought, wondering if he would wince or draw away from it, but he only nodded and smiled.
“Close enough. It means to intensely miss someone so much that it literally makes you sick. Sort of like seasickness. And I have been afflicted with it ever since leaving you in Key West.”
“You aren’t the only one who’s been suffering.” She rose on tiptoes and kissed his warm lips. “I was afraid you had decided you didn’t like me as much as you’d thought you did back in Key West. Especially while you were in Vegas. I imagined all those showgirls wearing next to nothing lining up outside your hotel room.”
“I have my work cut out with you, don’t I?” He angled back to give her a stern look. “You’re always shoving ‘trust’ in my face, but whose the big doubter now?”