Under Pressure (Body Armor #1)(45)

Cat released the breath she’d held. Heaven help her, behaving would be tough, especially when he was so gentle and attentive.

The shower came on, but she knew Leese wouldn’t linger. Leaving on only one small light, she turned back the covers on the bed, plumped the pillows, then crawled in.

Damn it, she felt like a virgin all over again and sex wasn’t even on the agenda.

But truth be told, the idea of sleeping up close and personal with Leese was more exciting than sex had been with other men. She thought about that kiss he’d given her earlier, and her toes curled.

She was a mass of taut nerves and anticipation when Leese stepped out of the bathroom wearing only his boxers.

Why hadn’t she left on more lights?

He set his neatly folded clothes on a chair. Put a gun and a few other things she didn’t recognize on the nightstand and, after turning off the bedside lamp, he got into bed.

The mattress dipped, making her body turn toward his, but she didn’t get a chance to take advantage of that because Leese’s arm came around her, drawing her against him.

“Is this how you sleep?” he asked. “On your back, the blankets in a death grip?”

Sounding strangled—with lust—she said, “No.”

“So what do you prefer?”

Being under you. Or over you. She scolded herself for making things worse. Get a grip, Catalina.

“Usually on my side.” And she still sounded strangled.

“Left or right?”

How could he be so damn friendly about everything? “Right.”

“Okay, so how’s this?” He settled on his back, then with one muscled arm behind her head, tucked her in close so that her head rested on his shoulder, her arm draped over his lower chest and her feet brushed his hairy calves.

Cat barely bit back the moan of excitement. “Perfect,” she croaked. For torture.

After a perfunctory kiss on her forehead, he let out a deep breath. “Great. Let’s get some sleep.”

Oh sure. That’d be easy. Not. Heat radiated off him, intoxicating her with his unique scent. It took all her willpower not to brush her nose against him, to resist taking a small bite of his sleek skin and to still her twitchy fingers from exploring his body.

To distract her hormones, she said, “You were going to tell me what happened to Scott and his girlfriend.”

“It’s a long story.”

“I need something, damn it!” Feeling more than a little irascible, she said, “Think of it as a bedtime story.” The words no sooner left her mouth than she gasped at her own insensitivity. “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded,” she promised. “I just thought talking a little would help to redirect my thoughts.” From sex. From Leese. Feeling like an ass, she sighed. “Okay?”

Leese gave her another one-arm hug and agreed.

Hopefully he needed the distraction too, because she wasn’t into suffering alone.

“Like I said, I don’t know all the details. But my understanding is that they were out on Scott’s yacht. Something happened—no one is sure what—but they found the yacht floating at sea, blood everywhere, but no bodies.”

Okay, so definitely not a bedtime story. With her heart breaking for Sahara, Cat closed her eyes. “Scott’s blood?”

“Both of theirs. It’s believed they were attacked and their bodies thrown overboard. Sahara did an extensive search, but was never able to find anything. She hasn’t given up though. She’s kept a PI on retainer ever since then.”

“How awful for her.”

“Yeah. Not knowing for sure what happened makes the loss even harder to take. When her brother went missing, she stepped in to run things. After he was declared dead, she inherited the business. She loves it, but she’d hand it back over in a heartbeat if Scott reappeared.”

Wondering if there was any hope of that, Cat asked, “You think he might?”

“No.”

So tragic. She understood well the awfulness of not knowing. “Thank you for telling me.”

“No problem.”

In her own case, if she knew she’d be on the run for a year, or even five years, she could deal with it better than wondering when, if, it’d ever end. With no light at the end of the tunnel, she couldn’t plan, couldn’t organize.

Couldn’t reclaim her life.

Would her job still be there if she was able to return? Weeks ago, she’d used a pay phone to call the school and take a leave of absence, but that would only last so long before they’d find a permanent replacement. And what about her house? She couldn’t pay any bills, couldn’t maintain the property, couldn’t collect the mail from her mailbox... Would the city declare it abandoned?

When she heard Leese’s breathing even into the deep rhythm of sleep, she forgot about her problems and peeked up at him.

Only a soft blue light shone from the alarm clock radio, putting his features in deep shadow. Lethargy pulled at her, and after daring one soft kiss to his ribs, she closed her eyes...and quickly faded.





CHAPTER EIGHT

A LOUD SCREECHING shot Leese out of a sound sleep. He was on his knees, gun in hand, in an instant. Searching out the threat, he flashed his gaze over every dim corner of the immense room, but found nothing.

Beside him, Cat stirred. “Leese?”