Page 39

B y the time we got to my house, after escorting Max home, I was leaning against the window, dozing. The adrenaline spike had puddled somewhere around my feet, and the rest of me was just limp.

Jake touched my arm, and I realized the car had stopped moving and he'd shut off the engine. "Whaaa? I'm up. I'm up." I blinked and tried to open my eyes real wide, so he wouldn't know I'd been sleeping. I looked around and saw that we were parked a few houses down from mine.

He grinned at me. "It's okay, Sleeping Beauty. Your secret is safe with me. I promise not to tell anybody that the tough trial lawyer snores."

"I do not snore! And I wasn't even asleep! Just . . . just resting my eyes," I said, hearing how lame I sounded even as the excuse came out of my mouth.

He laughed. "That's what I meant. Give me your keys."

I automatically rummaged around in my purse for them, then stopped. "My keys? Why? And this isn't my house. I live?—"

"I know where you live. But I'm not pulling up in front of your house just yet. And I'm going to check things out before you go inside, that's why," he said, not smiling anymore. "If your stalker found out where you live, he might be here."

"Stalker? What do you mean, stalker? I was hoping this was a teenager playing a prank," I said, my voice getting a little squeaky.

"I understand denial, but that's what you thought about the phone call the other day, right? Do you really believe in coincidences like that? And the stuff painted on your car was pretty damn hostile for a prank," he said flatly.

I grabbed my keys and clenched my fingers around them. "You're right. Denial is officially over. This painting episode is really personal. A lot like the conversation I had with your psycho girlfriend, actually. Does Gina have as much expertise with a paint can as she does with a nail file?" I folded my arms and glared at him, daring him to defend her.

He didn't.

"Hell, I don't know. Don't you think I've tried to call her about it? But she's not answering her phone, and I'll be stuck on a case for Langley Cowan tomorrow."

"Well, I think—" I stopped in mid-sentence, when his words penetrated the tiredness swamping my brain cells. "Langley, Cowan? You work for Langley, Cowan? As in Addison Langley the freaking Third, Langley, Cowan?"

"Yes, and why are you yelling at me?"

"I'M NOT YELLING AT YOU," I yelled, then I clamped my mouth shut.

After I counted to ten, I tried again. "Okay, I was yelling at you just a teensy bit. Why didn't you bother to mention that you worked for Langley Cowan? Are you spying on me for Addy?"

He turned to face me, and this time it was his turn to look surprised. "What are you talking about? Why would I be spying on you? Why would Addison possibly want to spy on you?"

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe because he keeps harassing me about sending my new client, Charlie Deaver, to my competition. Maybe you've heard of her? Sarah Greenberg? She's friendly, too, in a velociraptor kind of way."

"I don't know what the hell you're talking about, but how about we wait and discuss it some more once we're safely inside of your house? May I please have your keys now, or do you want to sit out here in the car all night?"

I bit my lip, considering.

"I haven't necked in a car since high school, but if you have romantic designs on me, that's fine, too, Vaughn," he said, smiling that wicked smile of his.

I handed my keys over, fast.

"Too bad. Well, maybe another time," he said, then he climbed out of the car. "Stay here," he said.

When I protested, he shook his head. "Please, December? Just give me five minutes."

The "please" got me. I nodded, then I locked the car doors after he'd shut his. No sense being foolhardy when I might have a stalker with a keen sense of the anatomically impossible. Somehow, that made my brain remember the lubricating lotion and the four pillows. Officially grossed out, I twisted around in my seat to watch Jake walk down the street toward my house. It was nine p.m., and nobody was outside walking or watering lawns. I cracked the window a sliver to get some air, and the sharp smell of newly mown grass wafted in. My new neighbors were lawn fanatics in a big way. (Because it's so normal to work all week long, then get up early Saturday to mow a bunch of grass that will just grow again. Bluck.)

Jake stepped off the sidewalk to cut through the yard. The wrong yard.

Emily's yard.

Then he disappeared behind Emily's house.

Crap. He's got the wrong house. I should have made sure he knew which one was mine.

So I'll just have to go help him out.

Just go walk down the street, possibly into the clutches of an axe-murderer with a kinky sex fetish, and help the big, bad Navy SEAL turned P.I.

Getting out of the car now.

Damn .

Okay. Getting out of the car now .

I stared at my hand, which didn't seem to remember how to unlock the car door, let open pull the handle to open it. Then I shook myself all over like a wet dog, to shake off my fears.

NOW I'll get out of the car.

Nothing.

It's a new pair of Ralph Lauren boots if you'll just suck it up and get out of the stinking car, I growled at my stubborn self.

Magically, the car door opened with my fingers attached to the handle.

Another non-believer touched by the power of quality footwear.

I climbed out of the car and headed toward my house, my feet hardly dragging at all. As I reached the sidewalk bordering Emily's yard, the shadows deepened. The sounds of the neighborhood at dusk magnified.

The butterflies in my stomach turned into vultures.

Somebody grabbed my arm, and I shrieked at the top of my honed-from-the-treadmill lungs.

"Will you hush?" Jake said. "What is wrong with you?"

I quit shrieking and punched him in the stomach. "What is wrong with me? What is wrong with you , you . . . you moron ? You scared the crap out of me!"

He shoved his hands in his pockets and made a tsk, tsk sound. "Which is why I wanted you to stay in the car, remember? Bad guys? The thing I do for a living, not you?"

"Right, but you were going to the wrong house, genius," I said, smirking.

"No, I was circling behind Rick's house to approach yours undetected," he said, which ruined my whole smirking mood.

Then another thought occurred to me. "How do you know Rick? And how do you know where I live, anyway? You are spying on me for Langley, Cowan, aren't you? And, um, what about my house?"

"What about your house?"

"Well, er, is there anybody there? Any intruder?"

He tilted his head and looked at me, narrowing his eyes. "Any reason I should tell you, after you questioned my intelligence and accused me of being a spy? Oh, there's also the part where you didn't want to make out with me in the car."

No way was I going any further with that conversation. I snatched my keys out of his hand and stomped up the sidewalk to my house. Damn alpha males, anyway. I'd been a fool to leave a nice, gentle man like Mike.

Who would have hid behind me while I searched the house.

Okay, so bravery wasn't his strong suit, especially after that incident with the mouse and the hip waders, but he wouldn't make every nerve in my body jump, jangle, and jitter.

"Argh! Again with the alliteration," I muttered.

"What are you doing?" Jake asked, somehow right at my elbow, which caused me to nearly jump out of my Nine Wests.

"Stop sneaking up on me! It's very clear what I'm doing," I said, not looking at him. "I'm calmly talking to myself like a total nut job. Then I'm going to unlock my door and go inside as soon as my hand stops shaking enough that I can get the key in the lock. What does it look like I'm doing?"

He didn't say a word, just reached around me and fitted his hand over mine to guide the key into the lock. Opening a door had never seemed like foreplay before. My mouth dried out, but I pretended it was because of the savage sinus stalker.

Jake leaned forward and pushed the door open, bringing his chest in contact with my back. (Did I mention he has serious muscles?) I stood there for a moment, dazed by the heat of his body and hoping I didn't swallow my tongue.

He chuckled. "Vaughn? Are you planning to step inside soon? The house is secured, but I can go first."

I stumbled forward. "No, I'm good. I mean, I'll do it. Well, not that I'll be doing it. I mean, not that I'll do it in a 'do me' kind of way. I mean, I'll do it in a 'walk in the door' kind of way."

When he stopped at the door and didn't follow me inside, I turned around, afraid of what might pop out of my mouth next. Not in a "do me" kind of way??? I am a babbling idiot.

"Are you okay, Vaughn?" he asked, amusement and something warmer in his tone.

"I'm good. Really. It's just been a seriously long day. Thank you for everything. Really. It was great of you. I should probably invite you in, but as you can see, I don't have any furniture, so it's the card table or the air mattress," I said, then I nearly dropped my briefcase.

"Not that I was inviting you to the air mattress or anything. It's just that those are my only two pieces of furniture, so I was sort of listing them, you know, and then I didn't want you to think I was being a bad host, not that I needed to invite you on the air mattress to be a good host, but—" I had to stop to suck in a huge breath.

"Vaughn?"

"Yes?"

"Call me in the morning if you need to go anywhere, and Wrench will call you about your car, okay?"

"Okay. Um, thanks, Brody," I mumbled, not quite able to look at his face.

"Good night, Vaughn," he said, and then he turned and ambled back down the sidewalk, whistling. I thought I heard him say something like " summa cum laude" as he left.

But that was probably just my imagination.