Code Name: Baby (12 page)

The sun was low and red when she pulled into a self-service gas station about a mile from Liz's office. She turned off the motor, then looked back at the three dogs. “Stay.” She made the command clear and very firm.

Baby's tail twitched once, and Kit quickly calculated when the dogs would need to eat again. As a precaution, she had packed enough vitamins and food for two days. With luck, the extra driving wouldn't make Baby and Butch carsick the way it usually did.

Distracted, she started the pump and watched traffic race past. After the tank was full, she replaced her gas cap and slid behind the wheel.

Behind her in the line a car horn honked. Irritated, she reached for the ignition.

Her car keys were gone.

Fuming, Kit dug in all her pockets, checked the floor, then searched the compartment between the seats. Again, she came up empty-handed.

She had only been outside for a few minutes, and no one had come near the car. Besides, the dogs hadn't made a single warning bark. She tried her pockets one more time and checked the back compartment.

Nada.

Another car horn blared. Kit ignored it, searching all the way back beneath her seat and finding an old chew toy and a glow-in-the-dark Frisbee, but no keys.

Metal tinkled near her ear. Looking up, she saw a set of keys—
her
keys—swinging in the air at the open window. Someone was leaning against the car, just out of sight.

“Looking for these?” a familiar voice asked.

T
HE WORDS DIED
in Kit's throat.

He looked even tougher than she remembered from that morning, and she couldn't read his face any better than she ever could.

“Why are you here?”

“You left your keys in the car. Not a good idea.”

“It's a
gas
station.”

“And criminals don't need gas—or cars?”

“Whatever.” Kit held out her hand. The keys dropped, landing in her lap.

But they were forgotten when Wolfe leaned through the window. His dark eyes tracked her with an intensity that left her mouth dry. She suddenly remembered that nobody did
intense
the way Wolfe Houston did. She also remembered why she'd had a mind-wrecking crush on this man for almost a decade. He was
hot.
But even more, he was a man who got whatever he went after, and while he did it, he would be dangerous and unstoppable.

The keys slid down between her legs and onto the seat of the Jeep. Kit took a deep breath, trying to ignore Wolfe and the keys. She didn't
want
to feel anything. She wasn't going to get dragged back into pointless emotion because of him.

He was a virtual stranger now, and that's how it was going to stay—as soon as she got her surging hormones under control. “Are you going to tell me why you're really here?”

“R and R.” Sunlight fell over his shoulder, casting half his face into shadow. The effect was unsettling, as if his features struggled to move against a carved mask.

Someone honked a horn again. Straightening, Wolfe glared at the source of the noise.

The honking stopped abruptly. Even the dogs were still.

“Why did you come back home? Why now?” She whispered the words, not buying his flimsy story. In the sunlight's glare, she noticed a scar on his neck that hadn't been there when he'd left. Lines cut into his forehead as if he had seen too much, in too many places.

His jaw clenched.

“Home.” He found the keys on the seat and slid them into the ignition. “Do me a favor and don't say home is where the heart is.”

She heard the flatness in his voice. She'd heard enough stories—and seen an occasional bruise—to know why home would never mean anything good to him.

“I want an answer.”

“Maybe, just this once, you could skip the questions. Your dogs like me, so why can't you?”

Liking
him wasn't the problem. Kit had
liked
him when she was eleven. By the time she was thirteen she was hyperventilating at the mere sound of his voice. At fifteen her stomach twisted in knots whenever he was close enough to touch.

And if that wasn't pathetic, she didn't know what was.

Baby stretched forward, resting her head on Kit's shoulder as if she wanted into the conversation.

“Gorgeous, aren't you? Got a kiss for me?”

Kit's pulse kicked hard. Then she realized he was talking to the dog. She scowled at him. “Actually, that's not a good idea. Pet-borne parasites can be transferred via saliva. There are also viruses and allergies—”

She shook her head and stopped, aware that she sounded ridiculous. He was turning her brain into mush again.

Ignoring her, Baby pushed between the seats and sniffed Wolfe's hands. When she was done, her tail wagged, banging into Kit's face.

“Down, Baby.”

Kit realized she was looking at Wolfe's strong, broad hands. She couldn't stop imaging how they'd feel on her skin. Maybe Miki was right.

Maybe one long, sweaty night in Wolfe's bed would stop all her obsessing, and then she could forget about him.

But when she looked up, Wolfe was gone. She leaned out the window, but saw no sign of him.

Typical.

Furious, she peered through the windshield. The man was a natural disaster in the making. There ought to be some kind of national siren alert when he was in the area. Or maybe just an announcement.
Elvis is in the building.

“Jerk.” She started the Jeep. “Irritating, unreliable, stupid—”

Wolfe opened the other door and slid into the seat beside her. “I take it that was me you were ripping to shreds.” He calmly handed Baby the rubber chew toy that had fallen between the seats.

“Well? Are you leaving or staying?”

“Staying. For now at least.” He buckled his seat belt calmly. “Why did you race off from the ranch so fast? I was lucky I saw you here getting gas.”

There were holes the size of Indiana in his casual explanation, but Kit didn't point them out. If he wanted to lie to her, that was his problem. It wasn't as if
she
had any hold over him.

“Diesel was sick. I took him in to the vet.”

“How's he doing?”

“Better, but he'll probably have to stay overnight. Meanwhile, I've got errands to do. I can't drive you—”

“I'll tag along. Not a problem.” He made no sign of moving and she couldn't exactly push him bodily out of the car so she pulled out into traffic. He was up to something, but she didn't know what.

Of course, there was Miki's outrageous plan to consider. What if she actually leaned across the seat and went for his belt?

No way.
She'd never be able to carry it off. He'd laugh at her, and she'd be crushed.

Kit decided that this obsession with Wolfe was unhealthy. She needed an intervention. The problem was, she didn't have a clue how to go about changing things.

Her cell phone rang and she answered with one hand. “What?”

“Gee, I was calling Kit O'Halloran. How did I get the Wicked Witch of the West?”

“There's traffic, Miki. Sorry, but I'm driving.”

“How's Diesel?”

“Better. Still not out of the woods.”

“Are you headed back now?”

“I need to stop at the pet store. Baby needs a leash, so I thought we'd take care of that now.”

“Hold on. Replay for me, please.
We?
”

“Wolfe's with me,” Kit said carefully.

“
Yes!
The time is right. Make your move. Go to a hotel. No, come here to my place. I'll tidy things up and clear out. You can use the couch, then give the bed a workout.”

Frowning, Kit cupped her hand around the phone. “I—uh—don't think that's possible.”

“
Why not?
Do you like this limbo you've been stuck in for years?”

“No, meat loaf would be fine.” Kit avoided Wolfe's face, aware of his focused attention.

“He's listening, isn't he? Put him on the phone, Kit.”

“Yes, thanks for calling. I'll talk to you then.”

“Put him on,” Miki said quickly. “I'll invite him over here. Then I'll leave and you two can be as wild as you want. I'll even chill a bottle of champagne. It's domestic but decent.”

How had she even
considered
any of this? Kit wondered. She couldn't pull off a pre-planned orgy with Wolfe. She was tongue-tied at the very thought.

“Something wrong?” Wolfe asked. “I can hear yelling.”

She realized her hand had slipped and he could pick up Miki's loud questions. “That's right, I'll call you then,” she said into the phone. “Bye.” She hung up when Miki was still in midsentence. “That was my friend, Miki. She asked what I wanted for dinner.”

Except Kit suddenly had no appetite. The thought of seeing Wolfe naked affected her that way, hard and dirty. Below the belt with a capital
B.

She chanced a quick look.

Uh-oh. He was looking dangerous again. The kind of dangerous that left her fascinated and more than a little flushed.

“You can't go with me. I've got errands,” she said.

“What kind of errands?” His long fingers curved over Baby's head.

Kit thought about them wrapped around her leg. Maybe climbing up her thigh. Definitely her breasts.

Enough. Sheesh.

There were probably moral concerns here. Definitely there were cellulite issues involved. “Errand errands. You know—deodorant, flea powder….”

Her cell phone warbled again. She scanned the LED and rolled her eyes. “Miki, what now?”

“Check your handbag.”

“Why?”

“Just do it. I added a few new things today after lunch.”

“What kind of new things?”

“Pink thong underwear. Very slinky. They should crank up his motor in record time.”

“Miki, I don't want—”

“And a scented candle. I use ylang-ylang, but there's also tuberose. Very sensual.”

“Will you stop trying to—”

“And some edible chocolate body paint. Food and foreplay at the same time. How good is that?”

Kit stared grimly out at the highway. “I'm going now, I may call you again in about thirty years. Then again, maybe not.”

Miki ignored her. “There's a red velvet bag there, too. No wires, so you can take it anywhere. The batteries are fresh. Your hair is going to stand on edge when you try it out. This is one hot mama that will take you straight to o-land.”

Kit felt blood streaming up into her face. She was going to
kill
Miki. Maybe slow-acting poison. Or maybe she'd cut her up into tiny little pieces with a dull paring knife. “I'm going now. I do not know you. In fact, I have never even
wanted
to know you.” She made a crackling sound against her cell phone. “We're going into a tunnel now. My phone is breaking up. Can't hear you. Bye—”

“There are no tunnels in Santa Fe.” Miki was laughing. “And you are such a liar. Fate's giving you a lottery ticket here, so stop being a chicken-heart.”

Kit figured there were some things you couldn't change about yourself, no matter how you tried.

Things like the shape of your ears. Your DNA.

An aversion to sex toys.

She hung up. She
was
a chicken-heart. Miki was right.

“More meat-loaf questions?”

There was something smoky in his voice that made her wonder just how much he'd heard. “No, everything's fine. Excellent, in fact.” She had thong underwear and a vibrator in her purse, along with a nearly empty bottle of flea powder.

Something was very wrong with this picture.

Her watch alarm chimed, coming from somewhere in her purse. Kit realized she'd put it there before leaving Miki's.

Time for her medicine.

“Your alarm's going off.” Wolfe picked up her purse. “You want me to—”

“No!”
She grabbed for the strap without looking away from the road. No way was he going to find the X-rated equipment Miki had stashed. The embarrassment factor alone would leave her crippled for life. “I'll get it myself, thanks.” Blindly she searched the outer flap pocket and dug out her watch along with two individually wrapped pills. She chewed them up with a grimace and swallowed them.

“What were those?”

“Vitamins.”

Her eyes dared him to ask any more questions.

He asked anyway. “You take them dry?”

“I'm tough.”

Baby and Sundance pushed up next to Wolfe's face, panting happily. As the wind raced through the windows, Baby dropped her chew toy in his lap, and it landed at his feet. He searched the floor with one hand, but instead of the chew toy he pulled out a white paper bag with pills. “These yours?”

The question sounded deceptively casual.

Kit pulled the paper bag away. “Gee, I've been looking everywhere for those vitamins,” she lied. These were her extra stash, always kept somewhere in the car, just in case she couldn't get back home. “What do you know?”

Her purse began shaking on her lap. She felt it creep across her thighs, making a dull
brrr
as it rocked up and down. Miki's damned gift.

She swatted blindly at the unseen velvet bag, trying to shut the motor off before Wolfe noticed.

“Anything I can do to help?”

“
No.
Just ignore it.”

His brow rose. “You sure you don't want me to check?”

Over her dead body. Kit shoved the bag down at the opposite side of her seat. “It's my cell phone—on vibrate mode.” Miki was definitely dying for this. “So,” she went on brightly, “what about those Lakers?”

“What about them?”