Mr. Right Next Door (13 page)

The damned cat had bit him!

Not that Nick could really blame the cat. Nick had shot her after all.

He was still having a hard time believing that one.

“Son of a bitch,” he muttered, as he tried to pull the makeshift bandage off.

It was stuck in the mostly-dried blood around the wound and it stung like crazy coming off the inside of his forearm.

Nick would have sworn the cat had taken a hunk out of him, from the way it hurt, but it was just a deep, double-furrowed scrape, not as bad as what he’d done to the cat, he had to admit, trying not to be mad at the cat for taking her revenge.

The scrape started bleeding again, and he couldn’t find anything but a washcloth to put over it. One more thing to clean blood out of.
Perfect.

He needed a first-aid kit and he didn’t have one with him.

He was heading for his phone to call Harry back when he became vaguely aware of footsteps coming quickly down the hall. Before he could even react, the door to his room was flung open and Kim came charging in, breathless, cheeks flushed, dogs nowhere in sight.

“What happened?” Nick said, afraid it was something awful, that he’d screwed up and Eric had gotten to her.

“You jerk!” she yelled, shoving him aside and walking over to the window.

“What?” He hadn’t done anything since she left that would upset her. Not a thing.

She stopped at the window, stuck two hands in between the slats of the blinds and pulled them in either direction to make a spot she could look through.

Right down into her own apartment window.

“You absolute jerk!”

Okay, Harry was right.

She was mad.

“Ahhhhhhh!” she groaned, then shoved him in the chest with both hands, sending him staggering backward. “So, you’ve been watching me?”

Nick nodded.

She took a menacing step toward him and shoved him once again.

Back he went, staying on his feet, but barely. “Kim—”

“And when you say you’ve been watching me, you mean you’ve really been watching me, right? I mean, I walk around my living room and my kitchen in the morning in my little baby-doll pajamas, because, hey, it’s my living room and my kitchen. I have blinds and they’re angled up because the sun comes in that way and I like the sun. And when I first moved into my apartment, I looked around and saw that there was no one who could see in anyway, except someone staying in Mrs. Baker’s daughter’s bedroom, and her daughter moved out years ago. So I was perfectly safe. I could have paraded around naked in my living room if I wanted and there was no one to see,” she yelled. “Until you came along!”

She shoved him again and, this time, there was no room to stagger backward, because there was a wall behind him. He bumped against the wall and stood there, with her three inches away, eyes blazing, her hands slapping him in a decidedly girlie way on the side of his arm, like she really wanted to hit him, but this was all she’d allow herself to do. And he should be grateful.

“You, Mr. Secret Agent. Mr. I’m Just Trying to Protect You—”

“Okay, I did it, but I didn’t want to,” Nick tried. “It’s just part of the job, and I mean…I didn’t like it, I swear—”

“Liar!”

She smacked him in the face then, her palm connecting solidly with his jaw.

She drew back a step, shook her hand out, like her palm stung from the blow. He tried to take it like a man and not protest.

He deserved it, after all.

When he looked at her, he saw that tears had filled her eyes once again, and she looked not so much mad, as hurt once again.

Dammit.

“Me in my slinky robe? Me wrapped up in a towel, coming out of the shower? Putting lotion all over myself? How could you do that to me?” she cried.

“I’m sorry. I swear I am. We just had to know what was going on in there. He could have been hiding in there. You could have been hiding him and we had to know.”

Her tears starting falling then.

“Kim…” He reached for her, and she smacked his hands away.

“I am not the bad guy,” he yelled. “I’m a government agent doing my job, which is to try to protect you and everybody else. The other guy, the one you were so crazy about, he’s the bad guy. Not me.”

“No,” she said. “You’re just a guy who I thought was my friend. Someone I trusted. Someone I laughed with. Someone I thought was…”

She fell curiously silent, then seemed madder than ever.

“Someone you thought was what?” he said.

“Nice,” she said, the word like a smack in the face.

“I am nice. I’m a nice guy. Just ask anybody.”

“And honest,” she said.

“I’m as honest as I can be and still do my job.”

“I trusted you,” she cried.

“And I’m sorry about that. I swear, I am.”

“Worst of all, you made me like you,” she complained. “Why did you have to go and make me like you?”

“I like you, too,” he admitted. “I shouldn’t. I didn’t mean to. Because I knew I was lying to you and I knew you’d end up getting hurt in this whole thing and I really, really didn’t want to hurt you. But I couldn’t leave you here, waiting for that criminal to show up, either. So there wasn’t a whole lot I could do. I had to get close to you—”

“Close to me?” she whispered.

Nick nodded. “To protect you. And I had to get you to trust me—”

“And you did. You’re very good at that and you did it.”

“I didn’t want that man to hurt you any more than he already had,” Nick tried to explain.

“So, you hurt me instead?” She nodded. “I get it. Really, I do. I was just stupid enough to trust you both. And you—you just had to be another jerk who lied to me about everything!”

She turned on her heel and stormed out, just as quickly as she’d stormed in.

“
Dammit,
” Nick muttered.

He’d gone and done it now.

He’d made her hate him.

L
ater that night Nick sat by his window, as he so often had, and listened grimly to the news Harry delivered.

“I don’t know if it was him or not who searched her apartment a few days ago. I’m thinking not. But we picked up a paper trail for an alias that turned out to be him, flying out of San Francisco this morning to Atlanta—”

“Atlanta?” Nick nearly exploded. “How long ago?”

“He landed more than an hour ago—”

“Which means, he could be here any damned minute,” Nick said.

“I know. I’m sorry. We just figured out the guy was him. I don’t know if he rented a car or what. I don’t know what kind. We’ve got people checking right now.”

“Dammit, Harry—”

“I know. I know. I’m sorry. I’m sending a copy of the surveillance photo we got of him at the airport to your laptop right now. He’s growing a beard and has colored his hair. It’s almost blond now. He got off the plane wearing a pair of khaki shorts down to his knees and a Hawaiian-print shirt, really ugly and bright. He’s like a damned neon sign. I don’t know what he’s wearing now, but he’s got to be headed this way.”

Which meant Nick had to go see
her.

Even if she did
hate
him.

He had to talk her into letting him into her apartment.

Even though she did
hate
him.

And he had to stay there, cooped up with her, until either the bad guy showed up or somebody caught him.

Even if she did
hate
him.

He hoped she didn’t have the dogs with her. Or Mrs. Baker’s hell-bent-on-revenge cat.

The animal trio hating him would make for a perfect evening.

“So…you’ll get in there? To her apartment?”

“Yeah, I’ll do it. Even if I have to break down the door and tie her up to get her to let me stay there. I’ll be inside.”

He wasn’t leaving her alone with her pirate on the way.

“Okay. I’ll talk to you as soon as we pick up his trail. You’ve got three agents watching the house. Just yell if you need us.”

Nick just growled at him as he hung up, feeling good and sorry for himself.

He really hadn’t wanted to hurt her. Not that he expected her to believe him.

He didn’t expect her to make this easy, either, but it had to be done.

He had a job to do and he was going to finish it, as much for her sake as anyone else’s.

And then he’d pack up his clothes, bloody paw prints and all, and leave.

End of story.

He’d never see her again and she’d never have to see him.

She could forget all about him and he’d…He’d…

Well, Nick didn’t know exactly what he’d do.

Forget her, too, wouldn’t he?

He felt oddly unsettled at the thought.

Of course he’d forget her.

She was just a woman. He’d met tons. He’d forgotten them all and she was just…pretty. Exceptionally pretty. And kind of funny, in a good way. And sweet, in a completely naive way, and kind. But it’s not like those things were a damned crime. So what if she tended to trust people, maybe too easily, but maybe just because most people in her little town were trustworthy?

So what?

Trusting people shouldn’t be a crime, either.

And yeah, he’d miss her, but again…so what?

Just a pretty woman, he told himself, grabbing his gun, his spare gun, his second spare gun and his phone. The bad guy was coming.

Nick was going.

Finish the job.

Catch the bad guy.

Leave.

Forget about her.

That was his plan. That was always the plan and it had always worked.

It would work again.

Nick was sure of it.

He slipped out of Mrs. Baker’s house without running into Mrs. Baker or being accosted by the cat. He hoped the beast was still sedated and would be until he left. Then he slipped across the backyard, signaling to the agent stationed across the street so nobody would come chasing after him or shoot first and ask questions later—like he’d done to the cat—and made it to Kim’s door.

Taking a breath, he lifted his hand and knocked.

“Kim,” he called out, not wanting to scare her. “It’s me.”

Surely he was better than the alternative—Eric.

“Go away,” she called out through the door.

“I can’t—”

“Sure you can. You turn around and walk the other way.”

“Kim, Eric landed in Atlanta nearly an hour ago. Let me in.”

“So? You can watch from your window. After all, you’ve got a great view.”

“No. He’s in town and I’m going to be in there with you until we catch him. Now let me in, before your neighbors get worried and call your brother.”

At that, the door down the hallway opened and a young woman stuck her head out. It was all Nick could do not to pull out his gun, before he realized it was likely one of Kim’s neighbors.

“I was just about to do that. Call her brother. Maybe you didn’t know, but he happens to be the biggest, meanest police officer in this town.”

“Yeah, I know,” Nick said, trying to look as nonthreatening as possible. “But Kim and I are fine. We’ve just had a little misunderstanding, that’s all.”

Kim’s neighbor, a tiny brunette, glared at him.

Nick turned back to the still-closed door. “Kim…honey?” She’d really hate him for that. “Your neighbor’s worried about you. She’s going to call your brother in a minute if you don’t open up the door and tell her everything’s okay.”

She wrenched open the door, looking like a woman about to commit murder herself, grabbed him by the arm and none-too-gently pulled him inside. Then told her neighbor, “Sorry, Lizzie. Didn’t mean to take our fuss out into the hall. But you don’t have to worry. I am perfectly capable of handling this man all by myself.”

“Well, if you’re sure—”

“I’m sure,” Kim said, closing the door.

Nick stood there, not sure where to go from here, not wanting to make a wrong move and make things any worse than they already were.

Kim stood there, arms crossed, glaring at him.

She was dressed in her slinky robe, hair piled up on her head, cheeks flushed, a fine sheen of moisture on her perfectly soft skin.

He caught a whiff of something in the air…something he’d smelled on her before. Something she put in her bath or the the thing she used to wash her hair or something. That smell was all over the room, wafting out of the open bathroom door, he feared.

Which meant, she’d probably just gotten out of the tub, dammit.

He wanted to lay his head down on something hard and cry or maybe bang his head against whatever he could find.

Her, just out of the bath?

And it was worse now, because he could smell her and her fresh-from-the-bath smell. He had a much better view, here in the room with her, than he had from his own room next door and the sight of her was…

What was the right word?

Agonizing? Good, in a terribly painful way? Giving him all sorts of ideas on which he couldn’t act?

“Well?” she asked.

Well?

He was lost.
Well…what?

“You wanted in, you’re in,” she said, then stood there, glaring at him.

The robe was a pale, peachy color. It shimmered in the light as she breathed in and out, pretty curves pressing against way-too-thin fabric, making his chest hurt, his throat go tight, making it hard to breathe, to think, to do anything at all. He was afraid to move, afraid to say anything, because whatever he said would be absolutely wrong. He was sure of that.

But they couldn’t stay here like this.

“You want to go put something on?” he suggested, his voice sounding odd and tight.

“Why?” she asked.

Why?
“Because,” he said, at a loss to get out any more than that.

“Because…why?”

“Because you’re not dressed,” he managed.

“So?”

“So…you run around half-dressed in front of people all the time?”

She shrugged, as if it didn’t matter at all. “Nothing you haven’t already seen, right, Nick? I mean, no use covering up for you, is there?”

He got it then.

She was still pissed and she was not going to make this easy.

She was going to torment him.

“Okay.” He nodded, accepted, thought about begging her to put something on, anything, but doubted she’d do it just because he asked. “I just…need to be here. In the apartment. With you. Just in case.”

“Fine,” she said.

“Sorry. If anything happened to you while I was supposed to be watching you, I would never…I can’t let that happen.”

“Fine,” she said. “Watch me.”

She walked into the bathroom, the robe pooling out behind her as she went. He could just imagine how it looked from the front, the ends of the robe parting, bare legs peeking through as she walked.

He was very, very happy she was going the other way.

Maybe she’d go into her bathroom or her bedroom and just stay there, not have to deal with him at all or him with her.

That would be good.

That would be perfect.

He could handle that….

But no…she was back. Walking toward him, the robe billowing out behind her, indeed parting in front, pretty, bare legs peeking out, just as he’d known they would.

Nick swallowed hard and looked away.

Tried to, anyway.

“Kim, I really am sorry. I swear, I…”

She had a bottle of lotion in her hand, he realized too late, and she stood by the coffee table, propping her foot up so that the robe split high on her thigh, falling to either side of it, while she started rubbing lotion on herself.

On one, perfectly toned and tanned thigh, to be specific.

His mouth went dry.

He coughed or maybe kind of choked, trying to clear his throat.

He wondered just how far she was going to take this little payback of hers? And how he was going to withstand it.

It was like she was moving in slow motion. He wasn’t sure if she was or if his brain had simply slowed down to the point that it could only process so much information at a time. Maybe he was a minute or two behind real time now with what he saw or comprehended.

He saw a dainty looking hand, nails perfectly shaped, not too long and graced by a French manicure, followed the slow drag of that hand up and down her thigh, like a caress.

“Kim, please,” he said. “I need to be able to think—”

“So think.”

“I have to stay alert.”

“You look pretty alert to me,” she said.

“For Eric. Alert to someone breaking in here. Not to you and your legs.”

She smiled up at him. “All part of the job, right, Nick? I’m sure you can handle it.”

Then she went back to working on her thigh.

When her hands moved up under the robe, he started shaking, literally.

It was hard to believe. His heart was pounding.

Maybe he was having a heart attack, he decided. Maybe he was old enough.

He wanted to touch her so bad, it was all he could do to keep from grabbing her and begging her to forgive him.

She’d gotten to him in a way he didn’t let women get to him and he was in trouble here. Lots and lots of trouble.

She started working on the other leg, calm as could be.

He thought about his hands replacing hers, smoothing over her skin, lingering here and there, caressing, teasing, touching everywhere. Thought about her aching to touch him the way he ached to touch her.

Could she possibly feel that way? Or was she just mad?

“I have to keep a professional distance,” he began.

“Really?”

“Yes. I do. If I’m too distracted by you, I can’t protect you the way I’m supposed to, the way you deserve.”

“Well, you’re all the way across the room, Nick. Surely you’ve got all the professional distance you need,” she reasoned.

“You know what I mean—”

“Not really. I mean…I know I was practically naked, here in my own apartment, feeling safe as could be because it is my own home, and I wasn’t safe. You were spying on me. That part, I know.”

Her hands crept back under the robe again, moving high along that pretty thigh, in a place he’d love to have his hands, if he could stand it.

“I’m sorry about that. I really am. I was just trying to do my job.”

She smiled sweetly at him. “And I’m just trying to keep my skin from getting too dry. That’s all. I got a lot of sun on the cruise…. But I guess you know that, right? Because you were watching me there, too. Did you like the bikini, Nick? Because I had to really work up my nerve to put it on in public, but I did it and now, well, I wish I hadn’t. What did you think? Was it too much? Or too little, I mean?”

“Please don’t do this,” he said, ready to beg.

“Why?”

She picked up the bottle of lotion once more, put a dab of it on her hand and then started warming it between her palms. Then her left hand slipped beneath the right side of her robe high along her collarbone, her upper arm, along the top of her breast.

He watched every stroke of her hand beneath the robe, couldn’t have looked away if his life depended on it.

Truth was, he’d thought about this more than anyone would ever know. Thought about her like this almost constantly since he’d first seen her on the ship. He’d tried not to, but what man could spend so much time watching her and not think of her like this?

She was perfect. A physically perfect woman and, even worse than that, she was nice. Really nice. Sweet, even. Happy. Charming. Quick to laugh. Kind to old ladies and wounded cats and grumpy secret agents like him.

She was damned near perfect in every way and he would have cut off his right hand for the right to touch her and have her want him to do it, have her touching him in return, kissing him, letting that robe drop to the floor for him.

“I’m dying here, Kim. What do you want me to do? You want me to say that I wasn’t just watching you? That I felt something? That I felt a lot. That I want you? Is that what you want me to say?”

“It would help,” she said, holding the bottle of lotion again, ready to go to work on the other side, no doubt.

“Well, I do. I want you like crazy. Satisfied?”

“Not nearly,” she said, her chin coming up defiantly, a fine sheen of tears glistening in her pretty, blue eyes before she turned around, presenting him with her back.