Extreme Danger (McClouds & Friends #5)(67)

She thought of another random detail. Maybe he was on a roll, maybe he’d tell her more. “How is it that you speak Ukrainian?”

“My mother came from there,” he said. “And my father’s family. He was second generation. My great-grandparents came over in the teens, before the first world war. My dad was bumming around the world in the seventies, after he was discharged from Vietnam. He made it all the way to Kiev to see where his grandparents had come from. He met my mother, married her, brought her back here. I learned Ukrainian from her. Russian, too.”

“Oh.” The sudden influx of personal information was dizzying.

The lasagna was steaming on the counter. She placed it on the table in front of him. “That’s it for my larder,” she said. “Eat.”

He looked alarmed, but he dug right in. “I cleaned you out? Damn. I’ll take you to the supermarket. Buy you some groceries.”

The idea of doing something so mundane as grocery shopping with him struck her as both surreal and wonderful. Her heart twisted.

Anger soon followed. She stared at him, polishing off her food. Just look at her. Fatuous fool. Cooking for him, getting all soft and teary over pathetic crumbs of attention from him. Shame on her.

“Stop it, Nick,” she said crisply. “We’re not shopping for groceries, any more than we’re going to have sex. Stop jerking me around. Is that why you came here? For entertainment? To get me wound up, watch me bounce off the walls? Is that a stress reliever for you?”

He rubbed his eyes, shaking his head slowly, and she noticed how red-rimmed and shadowed his eyes were. His face was drawn.

“I’m not here for entertainment,” he said. “I don’t understand it myself. I’ve been trying to stay away from you—”

“Trying?” She was utterly baffled. “Away from me? But I thought…it seemed like you never wanted to see me again.”

“Yeah. I tried. It was convincing, huh? I shouldn’t be anywhere near you.” The volume of his voice was low, but its raw intensity slashed across her nerves. “Zhoglo’ll get a line on me soon. Not many guys answer my description who can do what I do. I’m more findable than you. Harder to kill, maybe, but easier to find.”

“Thanks for that heartening observation,” she muttered.

He ignored that. “When he finds me, he’ll want you. You’re not a bit player in this drama, no matter how much you want to be. Not anymore.” He grabbed a handful of her nightgown in his fist and pulled it until she stumbled closer. She grabbed his shoulder to steady herself. “So I should stay the f*ck away from you. Simple, huh?”

She stared down into his eyes. Her fingers dug into the muscles of his shoulder. “Evidently not,” she whispered.

He grabbed her other hand, and laid it on his other shoulder, shaking his head. “I just wanted to be with you,” he said, sounding almost bewildered. “Just for a little while, to make sure you were OK. I drove around for an hour, trying to make sure I wasn’t followed. I’m reasonably sure I wasn’t. But even so. It was stupid. I’m sorry.”

“Oh, Nick,” she whispered. She could hardly breathe.

“Do us both a favor, Becca. Throw me out. Tell me to f*ck off. I can’t seem to do it on my own steam. I need help. So help me. Please.”

The contradictory double level of his plea was exquisitely painful. Tears slid out of her eyes. “You’re asking the wrong girl.”

He let out a rough sound and jerked her closer, between his knees. He pressed his face against her breasts.

Her arms slid around his neck of their own volition. Her hands cradled his head and her fingers slid through the silken brush of buzzed-off hair. She dragged in a breath, inhaling his scent.

“I will not have sex with you.” She whispered the words, slowly and deliberately. “You hear me, Nick?”

There. The gauntlet was flung down. Even though the melting heat between her legs made her almost certain that she was lying.

Damn it. She had to at least try to resist him. On principle.

She felt the change in his face against her breasts as he smiled. “I hear you,” he said. “So? What do we do now? We’ve done the food thing, so what’s left? Arguing about money? I’ll give you shit about your credit card bills and you can bitch me out about my speeding tickets.”

“No, thanks.” As if she were going to play-act at being a real couple with him, even as a joke. The very suggestion seemed freaky.

“How about we bleach your hair?” he suggested. “I’ll go get you a box of the stuff at the RiteAid.”

She recoiled. “You are never laying hands on my hair again!”

“OK,” he said meekly. “So? Dominoes? Got a Monopoly board?”

She didn’t have the heart to throw him out, after that halting heartfelt confession. She was such a fool for the fluttering combination of anticipation and doom. The glow of hot excitement between her legs.

“You can watch some TV with me,” she conceded. “It you want. Something bland and undemanding. But don’t try any funny stuff.”

“OK. No funny stuff. Roger that. I love TV.”

His suddenly cheerful tone told her that he’d reached the same conclusion she had. He was over the hard part. It was just a matter of waiting for the right moment now.