Under Pressure (Body Armor #1)(43)

When it came to her fascination with him, she was already so involved she almost didn’t recognize herself. It always helped her to draw. Even doodles. This time, though, she composed a picture of Leese from the back, standing at the counter, preparing dinner.

Ink wasn’t an ideal medium for this because she couldn’t really shade. With pencils or chalk, she’d have emphasized all those gorgeous muscles and innate strength. But she made do, using small lines and squiggles to add texture, leaving some spots lighter, layering others for depth, and by the time Leese turned to her, arms folded over his chest, plates on the table filled with fragrant chicken, broccoli and rice, she’d all but finished.

Her imagination had delivered what sight couldn’t.

“Let’s see it.”

She wasn’t a shy or modest person, but what Leese thought mattered. And shoot, she’d only been quickly sketching, not doing a portrait or anything. Would he understand? Was he a natural-born critic?

For all she knew, he might be offended by the way she’d drawn him. He could—

“You’re blushing.”

Yup, she was. She could feel the heat in her cheeks. Scooting off the stool and keeping the picture turned toward her, she said, “It’s nothing. Just a doodle. If you want, I’ll actually draw you something. Later. After I’ve gotten some supplies, maybe.”

His eyes narrowed the tiniest bit and a small smile curled his mouth. “No way. You’ve made me curious.” He strode to her.

“Leese—” She waffled between wanting to run or maybe just scrunching up the paper. Both reactions felt infantile, so instead she stood there, flushed, as he took the sheet from her and studied it.

“You drew me naked.”

Cat cleared her throat. “Yeah, I know, see—”

Caught between humor and disbelief, he said, “You drew my ass.”

Leaning around to see the paper, Cat inhaled. “Yup.” And a very sexy ass it was, as taut and sculpted as the rest of him—at least in her head.

He glanced at her. “Who the hell cooks naked?”

Another deep throat clearing, and she said, “I didn’t start out with the idea of losing your clothes.”

He lifted one brow.

“It’s just...you were moving around and stuff, and I could see your muscles flexing through your clothes, and I sort of... I went with it. My imagination, I mean.” Feeling defensive, she tried to reclaim the picture but he held it out of reach. “It’s not like your clothes hide a lot.”

That made him laugh. “My clothes hide a hell of a lot more than that dress you’re wearing.”

“I’ll change after dinner.” She went on tiptoe to get the paper, but he just lifted it higher. “Give that back to me.”

“No.” He smiled down at her. “Sign it, and give it to me.”

The request completely took her by surprise. “Seriously?”

“Yeah, why not?” He looked at the pic again, then grinned. “You made me look really good.”

What a way to pique her curiosity. Sticking close to him as he headed for the table, she asked, “It’s not accurate?”

“I’m not telling. You’re too curious as it is.” He laid it on the table and handed her the pen. “Sign it, then let’s eat before everything gets cold.”

*

AS THE EVENING faded away, Cat had to admit in some ways it had been fun. What a concept, her having fun while people who wanted her dead searched for her.

She didn’t delude herself; the threat remained. But for once, while being insulated from harm, she could block it from her mind and think about other things.

Like Leese.

Was there anything he couldn’t do? On top of being a stellar fighter and meticulous protector, he was a patient teacher, an understanding listener, a gorgeous man, honorable role model and a damn fine cook.

She’d all but inhaled her food, even the broccoli, which had been cooked just right and seasoned in a way that made it delicious.

Or maybe it was sharing the meal with Leese that made everything taste better.

His dinner conversation stayed light, steering clear of anything that might have ruined her appetite. He’d talked about his fight training, being very humble while answering her many questions. He’d told her about his family, how he’d grown up poor, always dressed in hand-me-downs. And he asked her questions, about her goals in life, her classrooms of kids, her favorite art projects.

More than once she’d caught him eyeing her meager cleavage.

Despite her lack of assets, he wasn’t immune to her, but he was pretty darned honorable. Much as she might tease him, she understood his reservations and respected him for them.

Didn’t make it any easier to accept.

And no way would she stop teasing him. Not yet anyway.

After dinner, she insisted on helping with the dishes, which didn’t take long, then they settled on the couch to watch a movie. It was getting late, but she was far too restless to sleep.

As Leese used the remote to thumb through the movie menu, he said, “You sure you’re not tired?”

She yawned and said, “Not yet.”

He glanced at her, tucked back a loose hank of hair and smiled. “Your eyes look so different.”

“It’s the makeup.” She battered her lashes at him, then thought to ask, “Do you think it’s gruesome of me to wear a dead woman’s dress and makeup?”