by Lara Lacombe
It was all he could do not to grab her and haul her up against his chest, but his arms wouldn’t respond to his brain’s commands. He was paralyzed by this sultry, sexy version of Fiona, and his eyes remained glued to her body, anticipation building in his belly.
She moved like quicksilver, all graceful, fluid lines as she reached out to touch him, to caress him. He felt her hands on his skin and was surprised to realize his shirt was gone. When had that happened? No matter, she was touching him, and that was all he cared about.
“You’re wearing too many clothes,” he said, the words sounding strangled as he struggled to remember how to speak. She had short-circuited his brain, and he had to concentrate to complete even the simplest of tasks. Like breathing.
She merely laughed, the sound low and husky and oh so sexy. Her teasing fingers flattened against his chest, and she gave him a shove. He fell through the air, the shock of it making his body stiffen and his stomach lurch. But he needn’t have worried. He landed on a soft mattress, the linens cool against his heated skin.
Fiona stepped forward to the edge of the bed, her fingers working at the button of his pants. He tried to help her but found he couldn’t use his hands. Clever girl that she was, she didn’t need his assistance. With a firm tug, she stripped the pants down his legs and off his body.
Her face lit up in appreciation as she ran her gaze up and down the length of him, and a sense of male pride filled his chest. She liked what she saw, and he couldn’t wait to see her in a similar state.
She cocked one eyebrow at him and gave him a sexy smile. Then she slowly climbed onto the bed, moving her body over his until she straddled his hips. She bent to take his mouth, putting more weight on his chest. It felt so good, but she was heavier than he had expected. He tried to move a little, to release the pressure on his chest, but she kept leaning forward, her weight making it hard for him to breathe. His arousal quickly turned to panic as his brain cried out for oxygen. But his arms wouldn’t work, and he couldn’t get her off...
Nate came awake with a start, gasping for air. The pressure on his chest was still there, and it took a moment to identify the source: Slinky. The big cat was stretched out on top of him, regarding him with those big, luminous eyes.
“Uh, hi, buddy.” He tried to roll to the side, hoping to move the cat off him and onto the sofa. But Slinky dug his claws in, the sharp spikes piercing the fabric of his shirt and pricking the skin of his chest painfully. Okay, apparently that strategy wasn’t going to work.
“You’re kind of heavy,” Nate said, hoping a more direct approach would work. But the cat merely blinked at him, apparently unconcerned with his respiratory distress.
“Is there a reason you’re here with me and not Fiona?”
Slinky’s ears perked up at the mention of Fiona’s name, but he made no move to get down. With a sigh of resignation, Nate closed his eyes. Now that he had identified the problem, his breathing was coming easier. And while he wasn’t thrilled about his new role as Slinky’s bed, the cat wasn’t too bad. If anything, he made a good space heater and helped to stave off the chilly air in the apartment.
Just as he was drifting off, something thumped his nose. Nate’s eyes popped open, and he stared at the cat, who was pretending to ignore him. “That was uncalled-for, don’t you think?”
The cat merely yawned, then laid his chin on Nate’s chest. Nate let his eyelids drift down again, but kept them open a slit so he could watch the cat. Sure enough, as soon as Slinky thought he was asleep, the big cat stretched out a paw and bopped him on the nose again.
“Hey! What is your deal?” He tried to sit up, which was difficult to do with eighteen pounds of recalcitrant cat glued to his chest. Slinky mewed at him and held on for dear life, so, in the end, he wound up cradling the cat like some kind of large, furry baby.
“Listen,” he said, trying to keep his voice down. “You can’t just poke at people while they’re asleep. It’s rude.” Slinky mewed at him again, more insistently this time. There was something about the tone of his cry that made Nate think he wasn’t just trying to be obnoxious.
“What is it? Are you hurt or something?” He felt a little foolish talking to a cat, but there was no help for it. Slinky looked fine, and Nate didn’t feel anything out of place. But what did he know about cats?
Another cry. “I don’t know what you want. I don’t speak cat.”
Apparently fed up with his ignorance, Slinky jumped out of his arms and walked toward the bedroom door. Then he walked back over to Nate, mewing insistently.
“Let me guess,” Nate said drily. “Timmy’s in the well?”
Then he heard her. A soft whimper came from the bedroom, and he realized what Slinky had been trying to tell him all along. Fiona was in distress.
He moved quickly to the door and pushed it open, trying not to make noise. If she was having a nightmare, the last thing he wanted to do was create a racket that would wake her up and add to her terror.
She was curled on her side, the sheets twisted around her. In the moonlight from the window, he could see tear tracks on her cheeks and his heart clenched. While he watched, she moaned again, then kicked out, trying to fend off an invisible threat.
“No, no!” she cried. She turned away, but the sheets tangled her legs and kept her from going far. “Stay away!”
Nate crossed to the bed and sat on the edge. He reached out to touch her, but thought better of it. “Fiona,” he said, his voice low but firm. “It’s just a dream. Wake up.”
She frowned at the sound of his voice and stilled. He spoke again. “Wake up for me, Fiona.”
“Nate?” she said. She sounded so lost and alone, as if she had been abandoned to her fate.
“It’s me,” he responded. “Wake up for me.”
Her eyes fluttered open and she found him, her gaze unfocused. “Nate?”
“I’m here.” He allowed himself to touch her then, just a hand on her arm. “You’re safe.”
The breath gusted out of her in a heavy sigh, and she launched herself into his arms. “I was so afraid,” she said, her face buried in the hollow of his shoulder. “He kept chasing me, and he wouldn’t stop.”
“He’s not here,” Nate assured her, running his hand up and down her back in what he hoped was a soothing gesture. “And if he does show up again, I won’t let him get to you.”
“I know.” She shuddered in his arms and burrowed closer. “But you weren’t there.”
“Not in your dream, maybe,” he said. “But I’m here in real life, where it counts.”
“Yes, you are.” She squeezed him, then pulled away. He reluctantly let her go, immediately missing the warmth of her body.
“Do you think you’ll be able to go back to sleep?”
She nodded. “Now that you pulled me out of the dream, I hope so.”
“Good.” He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Try to think about something else. I’m here if you need me.”
“Thanks.” Fiona curled on her side and closed her eyes, and Nate stood, intending to leave her alone.
“Nate?”
He stopped. “Yes?”
“Would you mind staying? Just until I fall asleep again?”
Her simple request hit him hard, and some primitive, caveman-like part of him sat up and took notice. “Of course,” he replied. He’d do anything in his power to protect her, even from the demons that haunted her dreams.
Nate walked around to the other side of the bed and lay down on top of the covers. He reached for her hand, wanting her to know he was here as she fell asleep. Fiona gripped his hand hard and used it to pull herself across the bed until she snuggled up to his side. She let out a deep sigh of contentment, and her body relaxed against his.
“Thank you,” she sighed, just before she drifted off.
Nate couldn’t talk around the lump in his throat. He settled for wrapping his arm around her, anchoring her in place. Slinky jumped up, shaking the mattress as his impressive we
ight landed on the bed. He strolled over and curled up next to Fiona, purring contentedly as he settled into place.
Nate closed his own eyes, surprised to find sleep was pulling at him, too. He usually didn’t rest well with someone else in his bed. But his own body relaxed, instinctively recognizing the rightness of it all. With Fiona in his arms and her cat a warm weight next to them, he felt as though he had his own little family to take care of. It was a potent sensation, the realization of a dream he hadn’t known he wanted so badly.
It wouldn’t last. It couldn’t. He had too many real-life responsibilities to handle, between his job and his own family. There simply wasn’t room in his life for anything else, and it wouldn’t be fair to pretend otherwise. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy this interlude while it lasted. He just had to soak in all the sensations, the smells, the sounds. Tuck them away in his memory so he could pull them out and relive them later, when he was alone again and Fiona had moved on with her life.
He breathed in deeply, taking comfort from her now-familiar scent. Remember this, he told himself, pushing aside the aching knowledge that it was only temporary. What was that saying? Better to have loved and lost, or something like that. And while he couldn’t say that he loved Fiona yet, he did like her very much. It wasn’t a stretch to assume that if they tried to work something out, it wouldn’t take long for his like to turn into love.
But that was an issue for another day. Now, he was just going to enjoy holding her in his arms. For however long it lasted.
* * *
Joey paced back and forth outside the fast-food place, puffing hard to take the last drags off his cigarette. Things had not gone well this morning, and he had to figure out a way to get back on track.
Uncle Sal had sounded angry, and no wonder. He hadn’t exactly made a lot of progress so far. But what he hadn’t expected—what had made his guts turn to water—was Uncle Sal’s threat.
If you can’t get the pictures by this time tomorrow, you’d better start running and pray I don’t catch up with you.
The memory of those words made him shiver. He’d known all along that Uncle Sal didn’t think highly of him, but he’d never for a minute thought the man would kill his own family.
Maybe he should try to leave now, get a head start to improve his chances of getting away. If Uncle Sal was occupied trying to get the pictures, he wouldn’t pay much attention to Joey’s absence.
It was a tempting thought, but Joey dismissed it right away. Big Sal had a long reach and an even longer memory. Running away might temporarily solve his problems, but eventually they would catch up with him.
Taking one last pull, he dropped the cigarette and ground the stub under his shoe, taking pleasure in savagely crushing it into nothingness. If only his other problems were as easily handled!
The woman shouldn’t have gotten away this morning. He’d done everything right—he’d cased her place before breaking in, and he hadn’t made too much noise. The only reason she’d seen him was because she’d gotten lucky. How was he to know she’d be so fast? He shook his head. He should have tampered with her car first, gotten rid of her means of escape. Next time, he’d make sure she couldn’t get away.
And there would be a next time.
Even though he had no idea where she’d gone, he knew she had to come back to her place. She’d left all her things behind, and there was no way she was just going to abandon them forever.
Joey had watched earlier in the day as the police had come and searched the house. Probably looking for evidence, but he hadn’t left them any. He’d been smart earlier and had worn gloves so as not to leave any fingerprints. They’d stayed a few hours, but once they’d gone, he’d been able to creep back inside the house and take stock of her belongings.
She had some nice stuff, he had to admit. A lot of it was old, but he could still get a good price for the electronics. It might be worth pawning some of it later, if only to pad his pockets. Might as well get some benefits out of this wasted opportunity.
“Not now,” he said to himself. He didn’t want her to run as soon as she came back home. He needed her to stay so he could talk to her, find out where she’d put the papers. Later, after he’d delivered the goods to Uncle Sal, he might come back and clean her out. But he had to be patient, play the long game.
So he’d left again, but he’d taken care to unlock the back door. It had worked for him once; he could make it work a second time. Besides, she wouldn’t expect him to come back. He had the element of surprise on his side.
A cold wind kicked up, making him wince. He huddled into his jacket and grabbed the cold metal door handle, giving it a tug. First things first. He’d grab a bite to eat here, then he’d head back to her place. She had to come back sometime.
And when she did, he’d be waiting for her.
Chapter 10
Fiona woke slowly, reluctantly rising from the depths of sleep to a greater awareness of her surroundings. She was surrounded by warmth and softness, and, for a moment, she wanted nothing more than to stay there forever. But then her body woke up, her stomach rumbling and her bladder doing its part to get her attention. She was going to have to get out of bed after all.
She opened her eyes and smiled at Slinky. He was curled up in a ball, his back resting against her stomach. It was his favorite spot, and she always enjoyed cuddling with him. She smoothed her hand over his body, and he stretched in his sleep before settling back into place with a contented sigh.
Fiona arched her back, then froze as something behind her moved, as well. For a panicked second, she wondered what, exactly, was in bed with her. Then it all came rushing back—her nightmare, waking up to find Nate in her room, his offering to stay until she fell asleep. He must have gotten tired, too, waiting on her.
Waking up next to a man was a new experience for her, one that she wished she could savor. But, at the same time, it was a little awkward. How bad was her morning breath? And her hair—it must be sticking out everywhere. Normally, she didn’t care what she looked like in the mornings. The only male around to see her was Slinky, and as long as she fed him, he didn’t judge her appearance. But this was Nate. And he probably looked perfect, no matter the time of day.
She slowly turned her head, slitting her eyes open to get a glimpse of him. Yep, it was just as she’d suspected. He was still aggravatingly handsome. The stubble on his cheeks was a little heavier than last night, giving him a bad-boy look. And his hair, though tousled, looked expensively styled rather than like bed-head. She ran her gaze up to his eyes to find that he was regarding her, as well, his own lids half-open.
“Hey there,” he said, his voice rough with sleep. The corner of his mouth curled up. “Is it safe to open our eyes now?”
She smiled back. “I wasn’t sure if you were awake yet.”
“So naturally you squinted at me to keep the full force of your gaze from tearing me out of sleep. How thoughtful of you.”
Fiona couldn’t help but laugh. Then the realization of what she’d done kicked in, and she clapped a hand over her mouth. “I’m sorry,” she said from behind her hand. “I didn’t mean to breathe on you.”
It was Nate’s turn to laugh. “It’s okay. A little morning breath never killed anyone.”
“I suppose you’re right.” But she didn’t want to test that theory, so she kept her hand where it was.
“Are you hungry? I could fix us something to eat.”
At hearing the word eat, Slinky lifted his head and meowed. Nate leaned over her and regarded the cat with a raised brow. “I’ll even make something for you, buddy.”
“That sounds really nice,” Fiona said. “Let me run to the bathroom, and I’ll come out and help you.”
“Take your time,” Nate replied, sliding gracefully from the bed. “Go ahead and shower. It’ll take me a few minutes to get everything put together. And I’m sure Slinky will be happy to help me.”
At the sound of his name, Slinky stood and stretched, then w
alked over to the side of the bed and sat, looking up at Nate expectantly. “Ready?” Nate asked him, then turned to go. Slinky jumped down, trotting after him and the promise of food.
Fiona watched them leave, a feeling of contentment stealing over her. It hadn’t taken Nate very long to fit into her life, and she wondered if he thought the same about her. Or perhaps this was just a moment out of time. Maybe once they returned to their normal routines, the magic between them would dissipate, too flimsy to withstand the rigors of daily life.
She shook her head and climbed out of bed. She had to stop overanalyzing everything. It was a trait that served her well as a graduate student, but it didn’t always help in her personal life.
Twenty minutes later, she stepped into the kitchen to find Slinky sitting on the table, watching Nate as he stood in front of the stove.
“So you see,” Nate was saying, “you have to wait until just the right moment to flip the omelet. If you flip it too soon, the eggs don’t get cooked all the way through and it’s too runny. But if you wait too long, it gets burned. It’s a matter of timing.”
Slinky mewed in response, and Nate shook his head. “No, I told you it’s too early. You just stick with your cat food, and leave me in charge of the human breakfast.”
Fiona snorted out a laugh and Nate whirled around, his cheeks and the tips of his ears turning a dark pink. “Oh, hey,” he said, trying to sound nonchalant. “I didn’t hear you come in.”
She took pity on him. “I haven’t been standing here long.” She crossed to the fridge and tugged on the door, bending forward to check out the contents. She reached in and fished out the orange juice, then turned to find Nate’s eyes on her. Or rather, her bottom.
Tingles raced through her system, making her feel warm despite her still-wet hair and the cool air in the apartment. “Ah, don’t you want to flip those?” she asked innocently.