“You keep taking good care of her,” the lady said.
“Her life is golden,” Vincent promised the woman. “No one is going to touch her.”
“Except you,” the lady said with a smile.
Natalie sucked in a breath, but she didn’t refute the woman’s words. By then, Mrs. Morgensen, the last of the neighbors, was filing past. “Just a little nothing,” she said to Natalie, pushing a small leather-bound book into Natalie’s hands.
“Mrs. Morgensen, I can’t take this. Your husband gave it to you.”
“He gave it to me in love, and I’m passing it on in the same spirit,” Mrs. Morgensen said. “Bernard would have approved. You’re a love for trying to help us.”
And Natalie knew in that moment that no one actually believed that she would be able to help them. They simply appreciated the fact that she wanted to. Even though many of them had lost their life savings, they had all brought her some token of affection. They had given what they had.
Thick tears clogged Natalie’s throat. She watched as Vincent moved forward to help Mr. Jorge back into his wheelchair for the ride down the hall, and she felt such a moment of affection for her neighbors and such gratitude to have Vincent helping her take care of them. A moment of absolute despair followed immediately. What if they were right, and she couldn’t do a darned thing to help them? What would happen to all of them?
When they had returned to the apartment, she turned to him. “You see now why I’m doing this, don’t you?”
“Because they’re your family, and you care about them. Yes, Natalie, I see that.”
It hadn’t been what she was going to say. She did care, but the family part— She had never phrased it that way. “I…already have a family,” she said, confusion in her voice.
“I know, but this family—Mrs. Morgensen and Mr. Felsmith and the others—trusts you to work miracles. They believe in you implicitly. That makes them extra special.”
She swallowed hard. He was right…and he understood.
“It’s part of why I have to get that story, Vincent. Do you see?”
He gave a tight nod. “I don’t like what you’re forced to do, but yes, I do see.”
“And I’m not succeeding very well lately.” Anguish filled her soul. She hated the thought of not coming through for these good people whom she loved.
“You will. I’ll help you.”
Natalie looked up at Vincent. He was gazing at her with a fire she hadn’t seen in his eyes before. “How?” She whispered the word.
“I’ll stop fighting you so much. Just let me be there. I can’t let you walk into danger and not go crazy. We’ll work this out some way. I have faith.”
Something bright and sunny and good sprang forth within Natalie. “Thank you,” she said softly. She wished she could kiss him, but she couldn’t. Because if she touched him, she would want to go on touching him. She would want him to take her to his bed, and that just wasn’t fair to him when he was fighting so hard against it.
“I’ll set something up, and I’ll do all I can to accommodate you,” she told him. “And Vincent?”
“Yes.”
“Thank you for watching my back.”
He smiled. “Watching you isn’t a hardship, Natalie. Not at all.”
With that, he turned around and left.
Natalie couldn’t help wondering what Vincent saw when he looked at her, when he watched her. But thinking that way would drive her crazy. Because when she looked at him, she saw a caring person, one who had helped Mr. Jorge with his wheelchair. And she remembered his mouth on hers, his hands on her. Heaven help her, she wanted him to kiss her and touch her again.
When Vincent handed Natalie the newspaper the next day and she pulled it from its plastic wrapper, a piece of paper fluttered to the ground.
She growled. “Darned annoying inserts.”
Vincent chuckled. “You need coffee. I’ll get you some.” He turned to go, but then he swung back.
She reached down to pick up the piece of paper.
“Don’t,” Vincent said.
Natalie looked up at him from her bent over position, her hand still outstretched, but he was pulling a handkerchief from his pocket, reaching past her.
Her heart started to thud, slowly at first, but then more rapidly. “Let me see.”
Vincent ignored her.
“Vincent.”
He looked at her, worry lines knitting his forehead. He didn’t hold out the paper.
“I have the right,” she said, even though her voice shook.
“The man’s an animal,” he told her. “He doesn’t matter.” But he held out the paper so that she could read it.
You see, I know where you live, it said, I know how to get to you, and when I’m ready I will.
Natalie’s body went cold. She struggled for breath and closed her eyes.
“He’s not getting in,” Vincent promised her. But they both knew that he had gotten close enough to insert this note in her newspaper.
Vincent’s arm came around her. He led her to the couch and eased her down on it. She felt the shift of the cushions as his big, warm body came down next to her.
“Natalie, look at me,” he said.
She kept her eyes closed, fighting the fear, searching for courage, for whatever she needed to get through this.
“Please.” Vincent’s voice was harsh, rough. She turned and looked into his worried eyes…and found what she needed. Calm, steady strength. She saw a man who would go to any lengths to keep her from harm, a man of unswerving conviction. She continued to gaze into those eyes.
“You okay?” he asked, reaching out to brush her cheek with his hand.
She nodded and leaned into his touch, never looking away from him. “Yes. I’m…better now. In fact, I’m—that letter—how dare someone sully my morning paper? That’s the news, that’s my personal paper, my morning relaxation, what I read with my first cup of coffee. That newspaper should never be sullied,” she said, knowing she sounded irrational but also knowing that she needed to whip herself into a frenzy. “In fact, I’m so appalled that anyone would have the nerve to touch my stuff this way that—darn, I’m getting angry.”
“Good. You’re far better than him. The guy isn’t fit to touch anything you own,” Vincent agreed. “He’s slime.”
“And I’m not going to let him scare me into huddling inside waiting for him to strike,” she said. “I swear to you that I’m not. Nothing is going to stop me from living the way I want to.”
No answer followed.
“Vincent?”
He stroked one thumb over her bottom lip. Her anger faded a little. She fought to keep from trembling from fear and from gratitude that Vincent was here with her at one of the worst moments she could remember.
“I’m not going to lie,” she said. “I’m scared.”
“I know.”
“But it’s—I can’t explain. It’s important to me that I fight him.”
“Yes, I guess I know that, too.” He sounded sad and resigned.
“Will you help me?”
He turned on the couch, cupped both of his big hands around her face. “I promise you, Natalie, that I will do anything and everything I can to help you. He’s not going to win. I swear to you that he isn’t.”
A tear threatened to roll down her cheek, but she fought it off and smiled.
“I’m glad you’re the one protecting me,” she said.
He gently traced his index finger down her cheek, but he didn’t answer her. Not that she could blame him. Despite her brave words, she was scared out of her wits and she was pretty sure he knew that, but her way of dealing with fear had always been to run toward it, not away. She needed to make it seem smaller by pretending that it didn’t matter, so trying to protect someone like her had to be a frustrating affair.
And things had just gotten worse.
Sitting at the bar of The Ladder that night, Vincent was starting to get edgy. Natalie had been talking to Brad
Herron for several minutes already, and today the guy actually seemed to be sober and reasonably serious. A good thing from her perspective, Vincent figured. He did hope she at least got some good information, but Vincent couldn’t help noticing that the guy paid way too much attention to Natalie’s breasts and lips. He wanted to go over there and belt the guy, except he hadn’t been hired to protect her from men who admired her beauty, only from people who wanted to hurt her.
Brad wanted to do something with her, but it definitely didn’t involve abuse or death. What Herron wanted was to get Natalie naked, and it appeared he was beginning to realize that that was never going to happen as long as he acted like a lech.
Today, he wasn’t acting like a lech. Natalie was listening to the guy with what looked like interest.
A low growl erupted from Vincent’s throat.
Fortunately, a loud group of Starson employees entered the bar at that time, and Natalie got up and excused herself. Herron said something to her, but she shook her head politely. She headed toward the ladies’ room, and as she passed him, she gave Vincent the briefest of looks, just a tiny smile. He knew what she was doing. She was telling him that she was all in one piece and he didn’t have to worry.
As if she didn’t know that Herron would try to hit on her again the next time he saw her. A slow burn began in Vincent’s chest, but Herron’s cell phone rang at that moment, and he headed for the door. The fact that he looked toward the door of the ladies’ room before he left did nothing to ease Vincent’s mind.
“Don’t go poaching on my territory,” Brad said as he saw Neil Gerard walking toward The Ladder. “The lady is marked as mine, and I mean to have her.” Brad tapped Neil on the shoulder to make his point.
“Don’t touch me, Herron. And don’t think you know so much. There’s a whole heck of a lot you don’t know.”
Herron snorted. “About women? You’ve got to be kidding. I’ve been tossing women’s skirts since the day I was old enough to realize that their anatomy was different from mine. Not much I don’t know. Someday, I’ll teach you a thing or two if you ask nicely.” He grinned and patted Gerard on the back.
Neil swung around and punched Brad’s arm away. “I told you I don’t like to be touched, Herron, especially by idiots.”
Brad frowned. “You’re calling me an idiot? I might remind you—”
“Don’t bother reminding me of anything. I know all I need to know. More than you realize. And if I want to talk to Natalie McCabe, that’s my affair.”
“Why? You interested in getting lucky with her?”
“I’m interested in her brain.”
“Not her boobs?”
Neil flushed a rich, dark red. Brad gave him a slow smile. “Yeah, you’re just interested in her brain, all right. Good luck.” Not that he meant it, not that it mattered. Gerard wasn’t the type that women dreamed about in their beds. He had arms like string beans, he had zero conversation skills and he blushed like a kid. Brad started to move on when Gerard shoved his face up against Brad’s nose.
“You’re going to do something stupid, and then there’ll be trouble,” Neil warned. “Stay away from her.”
“And let you handle her? Can you?”
Gerard opened his mouth to speak, his face getting hotter and redder by the second. Then he closed his mouth, swerved away and moved to the door of The Ladder.
Brad eyed him speculatively. He had never liked Gerard, which was really unfortunate. Working with the guy was a necessity, but the man just had no people skills, no sense of fun.
Besides, Natalie was his new toy, Brad thought, and he didn’t like Neil making a stink about it. He always tried to spoil everything.
The evening had been a strain, and Natalie hadn’t found out much other than when Brad had told her that some of his clients were older and needed a lot of hand-holding. She had told him that she used to work in a retirement home, which was a lie, and she had entertained him with one or two made-up anecdotes, hoping he would reciprocate. Instead he had asked her personal questions. He’d asked for her phone number.
She’d considered giving him nothing, but there was always the possibility that he might tell her things on the phone that he would never say in person. Some people were that way. In the end, they had traded cell numbers.
“How did you all start coming here?” she asked Neil after she had returned from the ladies’ room and found him sitting in his usual corner.
“I don’t know,” he said. “People were coming here before I ever began at Starson.”
She nodded. “So you haven’t been there very long.”
He picked up a coaster and twisted it between his fingers. “I didn’t say that.”
“No, but The Ladder only opened a couple of years ago.” She smiled reassuringly, hoping she hadn’t embarrassed him.
She had. He blushed again. “Yeah, I guess I knew that,” he said. “Why are you talking to me?”
Natalie blinked. “Pardon me?”
“Women don’t. Usually.”
“Oh, well, maybe most women don’t look beneath the surface.”
“And you do?” He twisted the coaster again. It bent a little.
Natalie noticed that his hands were small, without the long, lean fingers Vincent had. Immediately, she felt angry at herself for having noticed Vincent’s hands. “I’m interested in a lot of things,” she said, managing a smile, “and people are almost always more interesting once you get to know them. Appearances don’t count for much.”
“So when men tell you you’re pretty…”
She squirmed slightly. Having Neil compliment her wasn’t like having Brad compliment her. Neil was painfully shy. She didn’t like taking advantage or making him think she felt something she didn’t feel.
“I don’t pay much attention. I’m not interested in being anything more than friends with any man.”
He frowned at that and continued twisting the coaster. Damn, she had probably blown this chance.
Then Neil smiled, just a bit.
“What?” she asked.
“I guess you’re not going to go to bed with Brad Herron, are you?” For a second, she thought she saw something orgasmic in Neil’s eyes, but then he quickly shrugged. “Never mind. He’s just a bit of a jerk. I don’t like to see him take advantage.”
“That’s not going to happen.”
“Want to play some pool?” he asked.
“Sure.” Maybe once he relaxed enough, he would tell her something of what she needed to know.
It didn’t happen. She had to cheat to keep from beating him at pool. Her brothers had taught her too well.
“You let me win,” he told her when they were done.
Uh-oh. She opened her mouth.
He surprised her by smiling. “I like that. I like a girl who knows how important it is for a man to win. I almost never win. Girls never even give me their phone numbers.”
So for the second time that night Natalie handed out her cell number. She really needed to move this along, because things were getting messy, so when an older man came into the bar, she seized on the moment.
“You don’t have any older people who work at Starson, do you? At least, none that come here.”
“We have a few. They don’t come here. And no, the company’s not an older person’s world. Too much pressure.”
She nodded. “I understand. I have friends who are older. People take advantage of them at times.”
“Must be tough to be old. I’d hate for anyone to take advantage of my mother.”
“What would you do if you thought someone was?”
“I don’t know. I’d be angry. I’d want to do something. Why? What happened to your friends?”
She debated answering, but then, why shouldn’t she answer? He either knew something or he didn’t. He’d either tell her or he wouldn’t. She was getting nowhere fast this way.
“They lost a lot of their money in investments.”
He nodded. “I see.” She figured
that he did. “I’m sorry I don’t know anything that could help your friends. Investments are tricky. Sometimes people lose. It happens every day.”
“I know.” She couldn’t keep the wistfulness from her voice. “I just wish I could work a miracle for them, find some loophole, some way out, some way of salvaging things.”
He reached out and touched her hand. His fingers were sweaty. She looked up to see that his face was fiery red. “I doubt that’s going to happen,” he told her. “Old people make bad decisions at times. It’s just the way things happen. I guess this means you’re not in the mood to talk to me anymore tonight.”
She wasn’t. Her friends hadn’t just made bad decisions. Someone had taken advantage of them.
But she smiled at Neil and talked for a few more minutes. When he tried to touch her hand again, she couldn’t help herself. She pulled away, and she looked up and saw that Vincent was rising from his chair.
Her eyes met his as she reclaimed her fingers and he sat back down in his chair.
Ten minutes later, she bid Neil a good-night and walked out the door of The Ladder.
When she finally got home and Vincent came in behind her and shut the door, she looked up at him and wanted nothing more than to throw herself into his arms and have him kiss away the memory of Neil telling her that Mrs. Morgensen was just an old person who had made unfortunate decisions.
“This isn’t working,” she said.
“I know. I’m sorry,” Vincent said. “So sorry.” He touched her hair.
“I’m a bad person, aren’t I?” she asked.
“Why?” His voice was low and compelling.
“I’m playing a game, pretending to be something I’m not.”
“You’re doing it for a good cause. Have you made any promises, suggested that you want more than you’ve given?”
She shook her head violently. “I’ve been as honest as I can be. I’ve told them both that I’m not interested in more than friendship.”
“Good girl.” He reached out and stroked her cheek, and she wanted to lean into him. Which was just so stupid. Hadn’t he already let her know that he couldn’t have a relationship with her? She had to concentrate on helping her friends. Only…
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