Authors: Unknown
DevilishlyHot (21 page)
She frowned, then still not answering his question, glanced toward the window. This time when she pulled against his hold, he released her. She walked over to the windows, squinting even in the gray light. He joined her, blinded by the whiteness that seemed to envelop the city.
“Easily a foot,” he said, glancing at her. “And it doesn’t look like the plows have been through in a while.”
The street was deserted aside from a few brave souls attempting to dig out.
Annie stared at the street below, but she didn’t look any more relaxed by the knowledge that whatever—or whoever—was sending her into this utter panic would have to wait. Nature was taking precedence today over everything.
She stared a moment longer, then turned, beelining right back to her shoe.
“Annie, you can’t leave now. And especially not in that dress and those shoes.”
“I have to,” she told him, as if that was explanation enough.
“Why?”
She slipped her foot into her shoe, then sighed. “That was Finola. She will expect me in the office.”
Nick frowned, finding it hard to believe even someone as demanding as Finola White would expect her employees to drag out in this weather. On a Saturday, no less.
“You can’t be serious.”
She looked at him, her expression stating that she hadn’t been racing around like a lunatic for her own amusement.
“But you didn’t even speak with her. Or listen to her voicemails, if she left any.”
“I don’t need to,” Annie stated. “If she called five times, then she needs me.”
“Yes, and you need to stay here. At least until the plow goes through. Right now, you can’t get a taxi. You can’t even walk to the subway, not in those shoes and with the snow so deep.”
She looked at him, her mouth drooping, her eyes filled with panicked frustration.
Finally she let out another sigh and her shoulders slumped. “She is going to be furious.”
Nick went to the bed, dropping down beside her, their legs and shoulders touching.
“Well, that’s too damned bad. You can’t control the weather.”
She nodded, but then said, “Sadly, she won’t accept that as an excuse.”
He wanted to tell Annie how ridiculous that all was, but he stopped himself. He knew Annie worked for a ludicrously unreasonable woman, and clearly she was used to jumping at every one of Finola’s impossible demands.
Annie pulled in a deep, calming breath.
Clearly Finola had instilled real fear in Annie.
But why would Annie put up with it? Surely, getting fired would almost be a relief. Annie had mentioned helping out her grandparents financially, but still, even that didn’t merit dealing with this kind of total anxiety.
And what other awful things could Finola do, aside from fire her?
He thought of the receptionist. And of Jessica Moran. The way they had been, empty shells. Could Finola somehow do that? As crazy as it seemed, Nick believed she could. Or maybe she could do even worse, and just make Annie disappear.
Nick glanced at her, her hair tangled, her skin still the color of milk. She worried her lip with her teeth; from her distant look it was evident she was still trying to figure out a way to get to work.
Yeah, it was definitely more than the fear of being fired that motivated Annie. This was genuine fear that pushed her to risk life and limb to go to work on what should be a day off anyway.
Finola had some kind of control. Dangerous control. Whatever Finola had done to the others in her employment, she wasn’t doing it to Annie.
But rather than saying that, he suggested calmly, “Maybe you should listen to your messages. Maybe she’s telling you not to come in because of the weather.”
Even he knew that was a long shot.
Annie looked at the phone still clutched in her hand, nibbling her bottom lip as she decided what to do. But before she could make up her mind, the phone began playing the Rolling Stones again.
She blanched, her skin growing even paler than it already was. Her gray eyes huge. But she managed to gather herself and answer it by the time Mick sang, “You get what you need.”
“Hello.” Her voice sounded thin, meek, and Nick was irritated on her behalf. She shouldn’t be this afraid of anyone, much less her employer.
“I—I’m at home,” Annie stammered, then fell silent.
Nick didn’t react to her lie, which, from the hesitation and the quaver in her voice, sounded like a lie. But he agreed she shouldn’t admit to Finola that she was at his apartment. Finola would find out they were a couple at some point, but Annie could not handle that admission right now. And truthfully, he didn’t know if it was safe for her to say anything yet.
“The battery on my phone died and—and I didn’t realize.”
Nick grimaced. Oh yeah, definitely not a good liar.
They both sat silent as Finola clearly went into a long-winded tirade of some sort until finally Annie started to answer her again, each response meek and contrite.
“I understand.”
“I’m very sorry, Finola.”
“No, it won’t happen again.”
“Yes, I’m at home.”
“I’m not sure.”
“No, he didn’t even come into the theater.”
Nick frowned at her last comment. He’d be willing to bet the “he” Annie referred to wasn’t Tristan.
“No, he didn’t say where he was going.”
“I’m not sure.”
“Okay. All right. Thank you.”
Annie lowered the phone from her ear and pressed the touch screen to end the call. Then she just stared at it held limply in her hand.
“Is everything okay?” he finally asked when it became clear she wasn’t going to say anything.
“Yes, she was angry that I’d missed her calls, but she seemed to let that go.”
“What did she want to know?”
“Mostly about you. How long you stayed after I told you she had to cancel. Where you went. If I knew anything about what you did.”
Nick nodded. “It was wise to avoid telling her anything right now.”
“Ever.”
He frowned. “What?”
She shifted to face him. “I’m not telling her about last night, ever.”
“Well, we certainly don’t have to tell her exactly
when
our relationship started, but we can’t avoid telling her something.”
when
our relationship started, but we can’t avoid telling her something.”
Annie began shaking her head even before he finished speaking. “No.”
Nick regarded her, not sure how to feel about what she was telling him. But she continued to shake her head, her eyes focused on the bed rather than him.
“Annie, what are you saying?”
“This,” she paused, then stopped, clearly struggling to find the words. She breathed in deeply. “This can’t continue.”
Hurt and anger swallowed him, stealing away his own breath.
Annie met his gaze when he didn’t speak. Her gray eyes glittered with tears. “I don’t want to end it.” She shook her head. “God, I don’t. But there isn’t any other choice.”
He fought back the deluge of emotions and said as calmly as could, “Of course there is a choice. There’s a choice to pursue it. To just—be together.”
She shook her head again.
“Yes. Yes we can.” He reached for her hand. Her fingers were stiff and cold in his, but she didn’t pull away.
“Nick,” she said her voice so soft and shaky that he had to lean closer to hear her. “I can’t. I want to be with you. But I can’t.”
Nick didn’t know what to say, fearing his hurt and frustration would make any responses curter than he wanted, than she deserved. In fact, he knew from watching her with Finola that she shut down when anyone threatened her. And God knows, he never wanted her to feel threatened by him or his reactions.
But was she really going to let Finola play this big a role in her personal life? Why? Why?
Hurt crushed him, but his detective side became alert. Again he was aware her reaction to her boss was far from normal. He’d be damned if he wasn’t going to figure out what was going on at that magazine.
But he wasn’t going to lose Annie in that process.
“I know you are afraid of Finola,” he finally said, when he was sure he could speak without letting any of his aggravation show.
He gently squeezed her fingers.
“And I know our relationship has put you in an awkward position at work.”
She opened her mouth to speak, but he raised a hand to stop her. “I’m not saying we have to do anything yet. But Annie, Finola would figure out soon enough that I wasn’t ever going to be genuinely interested in her.”
“That wouldn’t help us either,” she whispered, and Nick couldn’t understand what she meant.
“Annie, I’m not going to let you just walk away from this, just because your boss is a spoiled diva who is used to getting whatever she wants.”
Annie wished being a spoiled diva was the only problem. She would have no problems fighting Finola for him, if that were all she was. But Finola wasn’t just that. And spoiled and diva just made the demon all the more frightening.
Still as she looked at Nick, knowing he couldn’t possibly understand, her already broken heart shattered. Annie didn’t want to give this up; a happily ever after with a man that she’d come to care about so intensely in such a short time.
But she didn’t have a choice.
“Annie,” he rubbed his thumb over her cool fingers, his touch soothing and arousing all at the same time. “You’ve got to explain why Finola has so much control over you. It can’t be just because you are worried about losing your job. Frankly, it seems to me losing your job would be a godsend.”
A godsend. Ha, yes, the perfect term. But even God couldn’t help her get out of this job. That clause was actually written in the fine print of the contract she’d signed. Her soul was her collateral for a high-paying, high-profile, much-coveted job. And there was no getting out of the deal until her terms of servitude were complete. And that was seven more years of service to Finola White.
She glanced at Nick, then dropped her gaze back to their joined hands. She believed Nick cared for her and that he was being sincere in his desire to make it work by whatever means. But would even he wait seven years for her?
Would he even make it seven years, if he denied Finola what she wanted? Finola was not a person—demon—to be crossed, and if she was crossed, someone was going to pay. Annie was, of course, the easy target. But would Finola go for Nick too?
Annie liked to believe that was a no. That there had to be a contract between Nick and Finola. That he had to sign over his soul before she could banish him. But Finola seemed to do what she wanted. And there was still the fact that she had the right to banish Annie to Hell. Annie suspected stealing Finola’s love interest was definitely a deal breaker.
In fact, there was no suspecting involved. She knew.
So, no matter how good Nick’s fingers felt caressing her skin. No matter how sweet his kisses were. How passionate his lovemaking was. How he made her smile, and laugh and believe that maybe true love did exist, she had to walk away. And make sure he understood that she was serious.
“Annie,” he said, his voice deep and hushed, another thing she loved about him. “I know you are very worried about Finola’s reaction, but she is just your boss. She can’t control your life.”
That was where he was wrong. But she didn’t say so. What was the point? It would just lead to more questions.
But when she didn’t answer, maybe he mistook her quiet for acquiescence, and he pulled her into his arms, his hold feeling so strong and safe. His warm skin spicy, the masculine scent lulling her again into the false sense of security.
Maybe she was acquiescing. Her arms came up to hold him back. Just for a little longer.
But this was just a magical little stitch in time. Soon to be gone, melted away like the snow cocooning them outside. When that magic melted away, she was going to have to make him believe she didn’t want him.
God, how would she do that? It was so darned hard to think with her hands stroking him, his chest, his bare shoulders, his hair. Her body growing hungry for him. And his hands touching her in return.
Right now, she couldn’t think about it. But she knew this really was just a stolen moment. Soon cold reality would set in. But today, in the gray aftermath of last night’s storm she just wanted to love him a little longer.
Chapter Twenty
N
ick held Annie close, her skin flushed and warm from their lovemaking. The intensity of it, even now in the sleepy afterglow, astounded him. Even when he’d been buried deep inside her body, neither of them moving, just connected as intimately as a man and woman could be, there had been a wild passion between them. Something so powerful and bonding.
ick held Annie close, her skin flushed and warm from their lovemaking. The intensity of it, even now in the sleepy afterglow, astounded him. Even when he’d been buried deep inside her body, neither of them moving, just connected as intimately as a man and woman could be, there had been a wild passion between them. Something so powerful and bonding.
He’d made love to her slowly. Not wanting to rush. Not wanting to stop touching her smooth, perfect skin. But the unhurried, gentle caresses and kisses had been totally soul-wrenching.
Looking at her as she lay curled on her side, her breathing even, her hair tousled, her skin back to its warm, creamy hue, he knew he was going do this every day of his life. This was the woman he would wake up with every morning and go to bed with every night.
He’d never even allowed himself to think about having children, or being a father. In fact, he had always shied away from that idea. At first because of his job, then later because he had wondered if the job had somehow affected his sanity and then because of not even pursuing a relationship anyway. He’d decided that maybe things like marriage and children just weren’t in the cards for him.
His gaze roamed Annie’s pretty, sweet face. But now he knew, without a doubt, that he wanted that with her. To have children. To marry. To do all those things that he was afraid to do before.
Damn, could he really feel all this about Annie so soon, with such certainty? Then he found himself smiling. Yes, he was certain. In that same way he was when he was sure he’d caught the right man in a case. In the same way he just knew when a perp was lying. Or when a witness was hiding something.
In the same way he knew that prickling feeling meant there was something more going on in a situation. Something beyond rational thought or reason.
He lay very still, telling himself no. That feeling was just something weird that happened to him every now and then. It wasn’t real, just a silly sensation of a tired, overworked mind.
His gaze drifted away from Annie’s lovely sleeping face to the creature tattooed on his shoulder. He’d gotten that “thing” on his shoulder during his roughest time, telling himself he’d never forget what he’d seen, even if others wouldn’t believe him. But now he wished he hadn’t. He didn’t want to remember it any longer. He wanted to believe in a normal, happy life without any of the shadows of the past.
His gaze returned to Annie. And he had found what would make him happy, happier than he’d thought possible. He wasn’t going to lose her. Ever. He’d do anything to be with this woman.
He was glad to see her so peaceful after being so upset earlier. She had dozed off almost as soon as they’d finished making love. A damned near tantric session, if he did say so himself. But unlike Annie, he didn’t feel sleepy in the least. In fact his body hummed, brimming with excitement, energized to the point of almost antsy.
He held her sleeping form a moment longer, breathing in the citrusy scent of her hair, and absorbing the sated warmth of her skin. But still he couldn’t seem to settle down, and he was afraid his fidgeting would disturb her much-needed tranquility.
Carefully he inched away from her to get out of bed. Maybe a shower would soothe him. Really, a workout was probably a better solution, but the clanking of his weights would echo though his apartment and make too much noise. And the snow made going for a run almost impossible.
So shower it was. Hot water would relax him, and he always found the shower to be a good place to think. He needed to think about Annie and how to handle her fear and hesitation to deal with Finola. He also hadn’t lost hope of discovering what was going on at
HOT!
HOT!
Hell, bringing down Finola White, who was still the most logical suspect, would also solve his issues with Annie.
Easing the top drawer of his dresser open, he pulled out some clean boxer briefs and headed to the bathroom. Whatever was going on at the magazine was not only affecting Annie’s personal life, it was now affecting his too. And he planned to uncover all of Finola White’s dirty little secrets.
It had been on the tip of Annie’s tongue to ask Nick where he was going, but completely satisfied lethargy kept the words from ever reaching her lips. Instead she remained still, watching Nick move around the room through lazy, barely opened eyes, thoroughly enjoying the view, even though she had no energy to react to it.
Half-dead, she would still love the sight of him. His muscles rolling under his golden skin, his tight rear end darn near perfection, and his arms and legs long and powerful.
He was breathtaking. She sighed, letting her eyes drift closed after he’d disappeared into the other room.
She smiled slightly, even that motion somehow lazy and slow, but she didn’t care about her languor. She simply felt too good, and it didn’t take too long before she had fallen back into a light doze. That kind of in-and-out sort of sleep where reality and dreams seemed to meet, and Annie found herself floating as if she were lounging on a soft, billowy cloud.
She smiled. Her grin widened, enjoying the strange weightless feeling. She hovered and drifted as if there was no gravity to keep her anchored to the ground.
She looked around her, amazed at the vast emptiness that surrounded her, which was more awe-inspiring than overwhelming.
But then, she was no longer alone. Nick was sharing that vastness with her. And again she realized she wasn’t worried or nervous or afraid. She was totally happy, at peace. The feeling was so wonderful.
Nick pulled her into his strong arms, his gentle hands caressing her as they both began to soar, upward. Light as a feather.
“Stiff as a board.”
Annie’s body reacted instantly to the melodic, yet somehow menacing voice suddenly echoing through the air all around them.
Startled, she released Nick, and as soon as she did, she began to plummet, her body not longer weightless but desperately heavy like thick chains and weights dragged her downward.
“Nick!” she cried, but he’d disappeared and there were no strong arms, no gentle hands to save her.
She fell and fell like Alice down the rabbit hole. But she wasn’t Alice and she wasn’t falling toward Wonderland.
She was going somewhere far more terrifying and evil and eternal. And very, very real.
The melodious voice surrounded her again, speaking with singsong glee, “You are going straight ... to ... Hell.”
Annie jerked upright in bed, and a small cry escaped her. She looked around herself, panting. Her heart pounded so hard in her chest it actually hurt.
It was a nightmare. Just a nightmare. But it wouldn’t be, if she wasn’t careful. Hell was real, and she was teetering at the brink.
She had to leave. Now.
She pulled in a few more slow, deep breaths, willing her heart to stop racing and her breathing to slow down. Finally after another few moments of forcing herself to tamp down the fear strangling her, she pulled herself together enough to realize she could hear the water running from another room.
Nick must be in the shower.
She quickly slipped out of bed, rushing around the room for the second time today in a frantic search for her clothes. This time she found them move easily and hurried to tug them on.
She didn’t bother going to the window to see if the plows had cleared the streets yet. It didn’t matter. She had to leave even if it meant slogging through blocks and blocks of heavy, freezing snow.
Nick was her apple. Her temptation. And she had to put some space and clear thought between them.
She tiptoed quickly to the living room, locating her purse and coat. Wishing she’d worn pants and blouse to the play rather than a short sheath dress, she braced herself to step out into the wet, icy snow.
But as soon as she heard the squeak of a faucet being shut off, she forgot the elements, realizing she had to make her escape before Nick reappeared and convinced her to stay just a little longer.
She unlocked the dead bolt, then twisted the doorknob and she was in the stairwell that led down the several flights to the street.
As she circled down and down to each floor, she was again reminded of the descent to Hell. More fear chilled her to the bone even before she stepped outside.
She had to keep them both safe. And the only way to do that was to act like the last twenty-four hours had never happened.
When Nick wandered back to the bedroom, toweling off his wet hair, and saw the empty bed, he knew Annie had left.
“Damn it,” he muttered, snatching up his dress pants from last night off the floor and pulling them on. He turned and headed to his apartment door. Taking the stairs two at a time down to the small foyer, he shoved open the door and peered up and down the wintery street.
He squinted against the blinding white, trying to see any hint of Annie, but there was none. The street was still eerily deserted.
And Annie, out there in heels and a short dress, was nowhere to be seen. Growling both at her disappearance and at the snow blowing in the open door, biting at the shower-warmed skin of his bare chest and feet, he finally shut the door with more force than necessary.
Damn it, didn’t she know her just disappearing was his worst fear, his worst nightmare?
He climbed back up to his apartment, his ascent no slower than his descent. Once inside, he looked for his cell, which was on the nightstand, untouched since last night.
He flipped it open, ready to call her. But then he realized he didn’t have her number. The only one he had was for her reception desk.
But as he stared, frustrated, at the small screen, he saw the icon that indicated missed calls. He scrolled to it and saw he had several calls from a number he vaguely recognized. Finola. She’d called him too.
He debated calling her back, starting the ball rolling toward discovering all the secrets of fashion’s reigning queen, but he didn’t think he could focus on being a detective when he was worried about Annie.
He returned his dresser to grab a thermal T-shirt and some jeans. If she could go trekking out into the arctic tundra, so could he. And he might not have her number, but he did know where she lived.
Annie didn’t want to devalue the tremendous hardships of the people who’d survived the brutal conditions of Everest or other extreme physical endeavors, but she was willing to challenge any of them that hiking through snowdrifts and slush piles and scaling mounds of snow piled high by plows in nothing but a pair of four-inch heels was damned near on a par with their feats.
And even if it wasn’t, it had been incredibly hard for her. But the time she reached her Greenwich Village apartment, her feet were numb to the point she was a little afraid to see what color her toes were.
Not to mention how her legs stung painfully from the cold and damp. Although they were at least a healthy pink. Okay, more a windburned red, but they were still getting blood.
She hobbled down the hall toward her place, her equally frozen and numb fingers barely cooperating as she dug around in her purse for her keys.
Finally she found them, and even though she was shivering uncontrollably, she managed after several frustrating attempts to unlock the door.
She just stepped inside and started to lean over to pry her shoes off, honestly dreading what she might discover inside the now waterlogged leather, when a familiar voice called what would have been an almost comically familiar greeting, if she wasn’t so frozen, and so unready to deal with the speaker.
“Annie, is that you?”
Annie’s paused, standing on one aching foot, her hand braced on the wall for balance, the other grasping the heel of her shoe.
Bobby. Really? She supposed she shouldn’t be surprised to find him here, but somehow, probably because she’d moved on, she’d just imagined he’d be simply gone. Not very realistic, now that she thought about it, but then she hadn’t exactly been the queen of realistic for the past several hours.
“Oh God, Annie,” he said, coming into the hallway, finding her in the same awkward stance.
She looked up, realizing as she now blinked at water dripping on her face, that she was totally soaked. The cold had simply frozen the snow and ice to her hair and clothes. But now, in the blessed warmth of her apartment, she was melting.
Melting. Meltdown was a better word, and she was dreadfully close to that as well.
“Annie, where have you been?”
Annie frowned at Bobby for a moment, forgetting her miserable state.
“I was ...” She shook her head, feeling strangely lightheaded and confused.
Bobby stepped forward to place a steadying arm around her, being more perceptive than Annie could ever recall.
“Come on,” he said in a soothing way, helping her hobble into the living room. He settled her on the sofa, her aching muscles crying out with something between pain and pleasure at being allowed to relax.
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