Under Pressure (Body Armor #1)(37)

“Ah, so it’s scruples?” She tsked and asked with an overdone dose of sympathy, “You’ve never had a one-night stand, huh?”

“I never said that.”

No, he hadn’t, which only confirmed that it was something about her that had him refusing.

“Not that it would apply anyway,” he added. “We’ll be together for more than one night, maybe even weeks.”

Weeks? Good grief. Could a woman die of unrequited lust? “So it’s that you need me to wine and dine you first? I can give it a try. That is, if you’ll add wine to that grocery list. No, wait. I bet there’s some here in the penthouse somewhere.” She looked over his very fine body and murmured, “I’ll see if I can find it.”

The provocative words brought him closer. “You keep pushing and pushing.” He stood right next to her feet, which hung over the side of the bed. “I’m taking off now. Enoch is here. To give you privacy, he said he’ll stay in the office on the computer. I guess he can loop in to his own files from any location. He’ll work—here, with you—until I return.”

No, and no again. “I don’t need a babysitter.” What she needed was some private time to reflect, to mope, to do whatever the hell she wanted to do—without an audience.

Leese crossed his arms. “I’m not so sure about that. Half the time I think you’re plotting to run off. The rest of the time I figure you’re plotting something worse.”

Cat tried to stare him down, but blast him, he was right. Out of necessity, she did do a lot of plotting.

Hoping to placate him, she said, “What if I promise I won’t leave?”

“How do I know your word’s good?”

Slowly, she scooted to sit on the edge of the bed very close to him. “Okay, I’m not going to take offense at that. Like you said, we haven’t known each other that long. But you could look at it this way—where would I go? Tesh is out there, keeping watch. Others might be too. I know it. I feel it. Obviously I don’t have a death wish or I wouldn’t have worked so hard to stay safe, right? Sahara made me a terrific offer. I want to move forward with my life, not always be on the run. Believe me, it gets old quick.”

He considered that. “So right now, staying put is your best option?”

Her only option, but not a heinous one. “That’s how I see it.” She glanced back at the closet. “I was going to play a little. Shower with the good stuff, do my hair.” She pulled forward a hank of dull, dry hair. A deep conditioner would really come in handy. “Like you said, we might be here a week or so.”

“More than a week.”

No, she wouldn’t even consider that. “Since this will be my current residence, I want to explore the place.” She deliberately pouted at him. “I’m not comfortable doing any of that with Enoch hanging around.”

After studying her, Leese must have decided she told the truth, because he patted her knee and stepped away. “I’ll be gone a couple of hours, tops. The elevator and the stairs will be watched. If you do try to sneak off, someone from here will follow you until I can catch up.”

“I’ll be here,” she promised him. Then, since she’d gotten her way, she teased, “Waiting for you.”

Given how he inhaled, it was a direct hit. He waffled a second more, then blew out a resigned breath. “Be good, okay?”

“I’m always good,” she countered as he went back through the door and closed it. Deflated, she whispered, “Just not good enough.”

*

NEEDING SOME RELEASE, even in the way of violence, Leese half hoped someone would approach him. If he couldn’t screw away his tension, maybe he could demolish it.

Unfortunately, he got through the phone store without a single incident. When he stepped out again, the area remained clear of any threats.

Enoch had given him the keys to another car at the Body Armor agency, this one a nondescript sedan. To keep anyone from tinkering with it, he’d avoided the parking garage and instead pulled up at an empty spot near the curb right out in front of the store. As soon as he got seated inside, he locked up and pulled away. Still vigilant, he used one of the new low-tech flip phones to make a call.

Miles Dartman, a fighter and a friend, answered on the third ring.

Since Miles wouldn’t know the number, he said, “It’s Leese. I’m using a different phone.”

“Hey, Leese, what’s up?”

“Not a lot.” He still talked to the guys often enough that a call from him wasn’t surprising. “Work.” A woman. “Saw you won your last fight. Congrats on that.”

“By decision.” His disgruntlement was loud and clear. “I needed a knockout.”

Didn’t they all? It was never ideal to leave the decision in the hands of the judges. “You creamed him.”

“But couldn’t finish him.” After a bitter huff, Miles said, “You didn’t call to hear me bitch. Hell, I don’t want to hear me bitch. How about a change of topic?”

“Sure.” Leese turned the corner, heading for the grocery. “I was wondering if you’d have time to do me a favor.”

“Probably,” Miles said. “I won’t fight again for a while and I have a few minor injuries to nurse. What and when?”