Extreme Danger (McClouds & Friends #5)(64)

This was silly. They couldn’t stand there having a staring contest all night, and having the door open to the night made her twitch. She stepped back, and gestured him ungraciously into the apartment.

He closed the door behind himself. The room was so dark. She stood there, rigid with uncertainty. Nick flipped the light on. She flinched, putting her hands up to her eyes. Since that weekend, turning lights on when it was dark outside made her feel scarily exposed, like being in a fishbowl, even with the blinds closed. She’d been creeping around in the dark and she had the bruises on her shins to prove it.

He stared at her fixedly, his thick, straight dark brows knitted into a scowl. “I told you to go blonde,” he said.

Her chin went up. “What are you going to do about it? Highlight me by brute force? Tie me down and do foil tips?”

His eyes flashed. “If I had you tied, it’s not your hair I’d go for.”

She was struck dumb for a moment. She took a step back, raised a shaking finger, waggled it back and forth. “Uh-uh. Don’t start with me, Nick. Don’t even think about it.”

He lifted his shoulders in a casual shrug, but the intensity of his gaze was unwavering. “Your hair looks pretty,” he said. “I like it.”

Her hand flew up to touch the short ends before she could stop herself. “Don’t flatter yourself,” she said. “What you’re looking at is a miracle rescue.”

That appeared to roll right off his back. “You should change the color, though,” he said blandly.

“I doubt those guys would recognize me,” she said. “I wasn’t wearing glasses, I had lipstick all over my mouth, and I was bare-assed under that slutty blouse. Probably all they ever saw was my chest and butt.”

She instantly regretted the thoughtless words when Nick’s gaze fell directly to her chest and butt. She was so not up to intense male scrutiny right now, and particularly not his. It would be difficult for her to feel any less schlumpy than she did right now, clad in her billowing flannel buttoned-up-to-the-neck granny nightie. And those hideous, squinchy black rectangular eyeglasses perched on her nose, the ones her girlfriends had persuaded her to buy because they gave her face “structure.” Her nice, normal ones had been forever lost on Frakes Island. Her hair was a mad, staticky cloud of dark curls, her face was wan and pale, completely bare of any help cosmetics might have given.

In short, she looked as plain as a mud fence. And she hated it.

“I recognize you just fine.” His voice vibrated with intensity. “And if I do, he would.”

She shivered. “Well, whoop de doo,” she said, with fake bravado. “I recognize you too, in spite of your new hairdo. So there. Go blond yourself, why don’t you. I dare you. In fact, I’ll make a deal with you. Bleach your hair, and I’ll bleach mine. Sound good?”

He looked away, and his mouth betrayed him for a brief instant, twitching before he could flatten it into a tense, hard line again.

“Nick, what are you doing here?” she demanded. “This is a bad idea. You should go.”

He frowned, and his jacket creaked as he folded his arms over his chest. “I just thought I’d check on you.”

“Ah.” She let out a long sigh, waited. “I see.”

“And so? How are you, then?” he prompted.

She swallowed. “I’m awful,” she whispered.

He reached out to smooth a lock of her hair back, his eyes deep and somber. She flinched away from his touch.

He let his hand drop.

“That’s what I figured,” he said.

She winced. “That bad, huh?”

He shook his head. “No. You’re gorgeous, Becca.”

“Oh, please.” She twitched aside the kitchen curtains to peek out the window, a gesture that had become compulsive. “Get real.”

“No, really,” he persisted. “You look like a beautiful woman who’s hiding. But you can’t hide from me. Not now.” He moved up behind her and kissed the back of her neck. “I’ve watched you burn like a house on fire. You can’t cancel that out of my head. Don’t even try.”

She shuddered at the tender touch. “Look, Nick.” The words burst out of her violently. “Don’t bother to come on to me, OK?”

He kissed her nape again. “Why not?”

“Because I know that story. I know how it ends. I am not going to do that to myself again. So go. Just piss off. Good-bye.”

His snort of laughter exploded against her sensitive neck, hot and ticklish. “Tough chick,” he murmured. “I’m devastated.”

“You are not. Do not condescend to me, you bastard.”

He stroked her shoulders and the heat of his palms burned right through the flannel. Gripping her, with gentle, implacable strength. “Heartless Becca,” he murmured. “You mean, all my heroics count for nothing? I’ve got no points racked up with you at all?”

She wrenched away so violently she almost lost her balance, and wrapped her arms tightly around her shaky, uncertain self. “Let me get this straight—this owing you sex in exchange for my life thing. How long is the statute of limitations on that?”

He circled around in front of her, eyes gleaming. “It’s indefinite.”

She blinked at him, outmaneuvered. “You manipulative jerk.”