Overnight Male (8 page)

“H
I, HONEY
! I’
M HO-OME
!”

Only when Joel heard Lila’s voice in the living room—followed by the slamming of the door behind her, which he was absolutely certain must have been accidental—did he realize how late it was. He’d been in his bedroom working at his laptop with only minimal breaks ever since he’d heard her leave for school that morning—following the slamming of the door behind her, which he was absolutely certain must have been accidental—and now it was…

He turned his wrist to glance at his watch. Wow. After six. She was supposed to have been home two hours ago. He launched himself into a full-body stretch, scrubbing his hands through his dark hair and removing his glasses to rub his eyes. His stomach grumbled hungrily its neglect, and he absently dropped a hand over the untucked navy blue T-shirt he wore with his jeans. He stretched some more and stood, donning his glasses again before padding barefoot toward the living room to greet her.

They had been in Cincinnati for three days now, and each evening had been more difficult than the one preceding it. In spite of how they’d parted ways on campus the day before, assuring each other they would talk when they regrouped, by the time evening had arrived and they’d sat across from each other at the table, they’d barely been able to share information. Not because they had nothing to say. Not even because they weren’t getting along. Yes, their relationship had been strained since leaving D.C., but save for the occasional exchange like the one yesterday about college life, they’d managed to be civil to each other and behave in a reasonably professional manner.

Until nightfall.

Something just…happened…when the sun went down. Things between them just…changed. Joel didn’t know why, but whenever he and Lila were sharing the same air in the evenings, that air seemed to become heavy and stifling and dense. Not exactly noxious—well, not quite—but not sustainable for life, either. It was hard to breathe around Lila once the sun went down. Which made it hard to communicate. Hard to think. Except about things he shouldn’t be thinking about. Like what two people living together often did once the sun went down.

During the day he was alone, with plenty of work to keep him occupied, just as Lila was. But in the evenings—and at night—she was home, too, shattering not only his solitude, but his peace of mind. And she seemed no less immune to the tension, because she was no more communicative, no more cooperative than he was. She seemed to have as much trouble articulating her thoughts as Joel did. And she seemed to find it as difficult to analyze their individual discoveries as he. As a result, three days into the investigation they weren’t much further along than they’d been when they arrived, something that only added to their frustration. Which, consequently, made the tension in the air multiply. Which started the cycle all over again.

Not that there had really been much information for them to share yesterday that was a revelation, anyway, since most of what Lila learned on campus the day before had only served to back up what OPUS already knew. Joel was hoping that today, however, by approaching Chuck Miller, the first of their suspects, she might have learned something that would provide them with a breakthrough of some kind. Or, at the very least, something to focus on other than the awkwardness that descended on them whenever they were alone together.

“So…Jenny,” he began as he made his way out of his bedroom, stumbling over her assigned name, just as he always stumbled over it when he had to call her that. “How was school today?”

He halted in his tracks when he saw her, his gaze falling on the creamy band—none too narrow—of bare back that was revealed between her jeans and her brief black sweater as she bent to place her backpack on the floor. Had the waistband of those jeans been any lower, he was certain they would have revealed more of her backside than she’d be comfortable having him see. As it was, he was treated to the sight of two
very
alluring dimples on each side of her spine at its base. He knew her attire was part of her cover and nothing more than a deliberate ploy to wreak havoc with the college boys she was investigating, but Joel was no less immune than some randy kid would be.

That was made all the more obvious when she spun around quickly enough to send her sweater flying off one shoulder, even though she immediately tugged it back into place again. Because thanks to even that quick wardrobe malfunction, he now knew she wasn’t wearing a bra under her sweater, just as he was reasonably certain there were no panties on earth minuscule enough to hide beneath jeans as low as hers. And having the knowledge ricocheting around in his head that she wore so little made other parts of his body react in ways he’d just as soon not have them reacting. He was just thankful his shirttail was long enough that he didn’t have to worry about Lila being able to witness his quickly rising, ah, mood.

Although the apartment claimed two bedrooms, it was uncomfortably small, as suited a couple of struggling college students. The tiny galley kitchen in whose entrance Lila stood was barely a dozen steps from where Joel leaned in his bedroom doorway. Between the two of them was the living/dining area, a near-perfect square of scuffed hardwood floor and beige walls, furnished, as furnished apartments usually were, with really ugly furniture in varying shades of brown. The kitchen cabinets were also brown, as was the aged linoleum on the floor in there. The bathroom was the only room in the place that boasted anything remotely resembling color. If one could consider yellow as pale as a stick of butter a color. The tiles, it went without saying, were tan.

“What’s for dinner?” she asked by way of a greeting, turning back around again before Joel had a chance to reply. She punctuated the question by stepping into the kitchen to investigate the cabinet contents, with the slamming of several doors that he was absolutely certain must be accidental.

“Whatever you want to have delivered is fine with me,” he said without moving from his position. “Or we could go out and get something.”

“You didn’t cook?” she asked, turning to look at him again. But this time it was slowly enough that none of her clothing went missing. Alas.

“
You
didn’t cook?” he immediately replied.

“I
don’t
cook,” she told him.

“I don’t cook, either.”

She shifted her weight to one foot and crossed her arms over her midsection, hiding that expanse of naked flesh. Alas. “This could get problematic,” she said.

“How so?”

“One of us needs to be able to cook.”

“Why?”

“Because if we order in all the time, we’ll draw attention to ourselves.”

“No, we won’t. We’re college students who are either too lazy or disinclined or lacking in knowledge to cook.”

She wanted to argue, he could tell. Not that that was surprising, because Lila had wanted to argue about everything since discovering that the two of them would be working together. That was the one method of communication they
had
managed to master. She knew as well as Joel did that it made no difference what their eating habits were. She just wanted to pick a fight with him. And he wasn’t going to rise to the bait. Which, he knew, would make her that much more determined to fight about something else.

Ah, well. Looked as if it was going to be business as usual this evening, after all.

“Aren’t you going to ask me why I’m late getting home?” she asked. “I mean, I
am
late. I told you I’d be back by four. You’ve probably been worrying for hours.”

To be deliberately obtuse, he replied blandly, “Are you? I hadn’t noticed. What time is it, anyway?” He turned his wrist to look at his watch again. “Wow, you are late,” he added dispassionately. But he said nothing more.

Okay, so maybe Lila wasn’t the only one who’d been finding opportunities to pick fights, he conceded. There was just something about her that always made him feel horny.
Ornery,
he immediately corrected himself. Irritable, he further amended. Just a shot in the dark, but that probably had something to do with the fact that, simply by looking at her, he felt himself reacting in ways he didn’t want to react. In ways he’d sworn he
wouldn’t
react. Not until he met the woman with whom he intended to spend, if not the rest of his life, then certainly the next big chunk of it. Lila Moreau wasn’t one for relationships. She wasn’t one for companionship, either. Or even friendship. No, the only-ship that woman could be counted on to board would be one that passed him in the night. Before slamming into a giant iceberg.

For a long moment neither of them spoke, only glared at each other from opposite sides of the apartment as if each was daring the other to look away first. And although Lila didn’t look away, she did finally say, “How about if I order a pizza?”

So Joel figured he could concede the next point by being the one to break eye contact first. “Fine,” he said as he removed his glasses to rub his eyes again. By the time he put them back on, Lila had already retrieved the Yellow Pages from atop the fridge and was hastily flipping through them. “But I only want veggies on my half,” he added. “Whatever they’ve got.”

“I’ll have the meat lover’s version on my half,” she decided. Doubtless just to be contrary. Or maybe to remind him what a predator she was.

“So what did you learn at school today?” he asked when she hung up the phone.

She sauntered with great self-importance into the living room and collapsed onto the ugly brown sofa. “Well, it was a helluva lot more than that the capital of Nevada is Carson City, lemme tell ya.”

Joel covered the half dozen steps necessary to fold himself into the ugly brown chair next to the ugly brown sofa. Leaning back, he propped his feet on the rickety—and ugly brown—coffee table and wove his fingers together in his lap. “Such as?”

“Not only did I make a new friend named Chuck Miller, but I was invited to a frat party this weekend. At the very house where you wanted to be rushed, but you didn’t on account of you’re such a big geek and joined that other one instead.”

He narrowed his eyes at her, stifling the disgusted growl he felt threatening. He hated sharing information this way, as if they really were Jenny Sturgis and Ned Collins, struggling college students and quarrelsome lovers. He knew OPUS protocol dictated they stay in character at all times during the investigation, and they could certainly make their points through double entendres and carefully phrased remarks. But he didn’t see why they should. There was no way Sorcerer could know they were here, and even if he suspected they were, there was no chance he knew where they were living. That information had been carefully guarded, so he was confident they weren’t under surveillance and were perfectly safe to speak frankly.

Nevertheless, hoping he didn’t sound too uncaring for a guy whose girlfriend had just been hit on, he replied, “Terrific. I can’t wait. When are we expected?”

“
I’m
expected tomorrow at seven,” she said. “Your name wasn’t included in the invitation.”

He threw her an oh-I-don’t-
think-
so glare and said in a phony, chirpy voice, “Gosh, Jenny, but I’m your boyfriend Ned. I go everywhere with you, remember?”

She, too, poured on the syrup when she replied brightly, “Golly willikers, Ned, I don’t want you to come with me. I want to meet some new boys. Besides, you’re a terrible, um, dancer. You wouldn’t know the first thing about getting down.”

Oh, he knew more than she thought. But he kept it to himself. “I’m a better, um, dancer than you think. You’re not going to this party alone.”

She sobered and met his eyes levelly as she told him, “You’re not coming with me. Those frat boys can be dangerous.”

He laughed in earnest at that, dropping the pretense. “Oh, come on. It’s a frat party, not Kim Jong-il’s summer retreat. How dangerous could it be?”

“I’ll have more fun without you,” she said. Then she, too, abandoned the ruse. “Look, Joel, I’ll be able to learn a lot more if you’re not there.”

He told himself to correct her for slipping out of character, since he was the one in charge and was responsible for maintaining protocol. But he really didn’t care. They were safe, and there was no chance anyone was listening in. And quite frankly, he felt silly. Hey, James Bond never assumed alternative identities.

So he only asked, “How do you know you’ll learn more without me there? I could be valuable backup.”

She settled herself more comfortably on the sofa—which was suddenly much less ugly than it had been a little while ago—then propped her feet up on the coffee table within inches of Joel’s. She’d kicked off her shoes, so her feet, like his, were bare, but that’s where any similarity ended. Lila’s feet were half the size of his, and her toenails were painted bloodred. Her toes were crooked, he noticed, the big ones of each foot bending slightly inward, the third of each rising slightly above the rest. Strangely, Joel found the imperfections sexy as hell.

“If you tag along,” she said wearily, “it will have to be as my date. A woman with a date in an environment like that is generally left alone. A woman
alone
in an environment like that is generally surrounded. Especially if she’s had too much to drink.”

“You don’t drink,” Joel reminded her.

“They don’t know that. And I fake inebriation supremely well.” She grinned. “As a drunk chick, I’ll be led immediately to parts of the house you’ll never see, plagued as you are by the equipment you’re carrying around. I’ll have access to the guys’ private quarters.” She smiled as she added, “And to their bedrooms, too.”

Joel clamped his teeth together tight at her mention of his equipment, since that equipment was in no way plaguing him. In fact, at the moment it was functioning way better than it generally did, thanks to her inadvertently having flashed him the way she had in the kitchen. Though if she kept sniping at him, that probably wasn’t going to be the case for long.