Stripped (28 page)
She could fault him squarely for that. For this weirdness churning around inside her now. If he hadn’t posed the question, if he hadn’t kissed her to the point she couldn’t think straight and had agreed to come here…
Looking up, she caught his stare. His gaze burned, strengthening that unidentifiable pull on her lungs. The sudden, ferocious need to have his mouth on hers and his hands on her body, rose fast and hard. They’d avoided almost all contact since that incredible kiss against Kate’s door. Now and again, when their bodies had drifted closer, they’d hooked pinkies. Shared a few intimate smiles, and more than a few laughs at Derek’s enthusiasm. But as she held Brandon’s unblinking, unsettling stare, she realized the scarce contact wasn’t enough. She wanted more. A lot more than she had any business considering, and likely more than he’d care to give.
As if he too shared that intense need for closeness, he moved off the wall, approaching in much the same way the cub had stalked the toy. He hunkered down in front of her, his large hand moving alongside
hers in the lion’s fur. Behind him, Derek and Kaycee entertained a second cub.
“Pretty cute, huh?” Brandon murmured. Their hands brushed.
“Adorable.” She twined her pinkie around his.
Brandon’s eyes never left hers as he lifted his hand, raising hers, and slowly slipped his fingers between hers. Taking advantage of the fact all other eyes focused on the laughing little boy and the growling cub, Brandon scooped up the lion in her arms and set it gently on the tiled floor. He leaned in close, his mouth hovering at the base of her ear. “I want you, Natalya. I don’t give a damn about what you think I don’t realize. I want you.”
By sheer force of will, she silenced a whimper. She closed her eyes, swallowed hard.
He leaned away and pulled her to her feet before she could fully recover from the chaotic trembling of her stomach. This time, he didn’t let go of her hand. His palm fit snugly against hers, his strong fingers comfortably possessive. “Derek, are you hungry? We’ve got time to go to Rainforest before I have to go to work.”
Derek bounded to his feet. “Can we go to Sue’s now?”
“You don’t want to go to Rainforest?”
“No. We can go next day.”
“You sure, buddy?”
“Yeah.”
Brandon extended his free hand to take Derek’s. “Okay. We’ll go to Sue’s. I have to stop at the hardware store and pick up something first though.”
Natalya shot him a curious look.
“Chain. Sue’s dog is a master at getting off his tie-out.”
To Natalya’s surprise, Derek turned his nose up at Brandon’s offered hand. He passed behind them, appearing on Natalya’s opposite side. “Boys hold girls’ hands. Mommy says so.” Though it was the first time her nephew had reached out to her, Derek fitted his tiny palm against her fingers as if he had been doing it all his life.
Oh!
He had no idea he’d just connected with his aunt, but Natalya reeled under the casual gesture. She didn’t know what to do, what to say. If she should say or do anything at all.
Brandon gave her other hand a tight squeeze. “You’re right, little man. Boys hold girls’ hands. Tell Miss Kaycee thank you.”
He peeked around Natalya and waved at Kaycee. “Thank you.”
“Anytime, Derek. Come back and see us whenever you want.”
“Thanks, Kaycee,” Brandon called as they headed for the door. “I owe you one.”
“Just send me an invitation.”
Invitation? Natalya squinted at Brandon. “Invitation to what?” she asked once the door closed behind them.
Brandon shook his head, but his face told a different story. His color paled, and his gaze held just the faintest touch of… fear? No. Couldn’t be. Must be something else. Brandon’s arrogance didn’t know the meaning of fear.
“Nothing,” he answered a little too fast.
It was something. Something he didn’t want to share. She shrugged it off. In a few days she’d be far from here. Where he went, with who, wasn’t her business unless it related to Dmitri, and nothing Dmitri did involved invitations.
Outside the casino, the sun beat down, making Natalya glad she’d worn shorts. She turned her face up to the bright light and basked in the warm rays. Derek exuberantly swung her hand, half-skipping, half-walking as they made their way to Brandon’s car.
“What time is it anyway?” she asked as they crossed the street.
“One thirty.”
“Ugh. I need to be getting home. I need a shower, and I’ve got to get ready for work.” She needed to check in with Kate and make sure her costume was ready. Not to mention, she needed to beat Brandon to the club, so she could talk to the props department before he had the opportunity to discover her plans.
While Derek crawled into the backseat and buckled himself in, Brandon set both hands on the car’s frame, trapping Natalya in place. His eyes spoke intimate promises. “You can use mine.”
“No, really, I need to get home.”
“Chicken.”
She squinted.
A teasing smirk twisted the corner of his mouth.
“Begawk.”
Natalya pushed at his chest, refusing to give in to the laughter that bubbled to the surface. “I’m not chicken. I have a job that’s important. Remember?”
“Mm. I remember I’m your boss. I won’t fire you for being late.” He leaned forward and nuzzled the side of her neck with his lips. “Especially if you’re in my shower.”
Shivering, she pushed harder, her laughter impossible to contain.
“Brandon, c’mon, I wanna go,” Derek complained.
Natalya’s tormentor quirked an eyebrow and cocked his head. “Well?”
She gave up, the temptation of Brandon’s hardening cock against her thigh too great. Yeah, she wanted that. Wanted him. Shower or otherwise. “Fine. But I’m not staying more than an hour.”
“I’ll take what I can get.” Shrugging, he backed away, giving her room to climb into the car.
She slid inside, buckled her seatbelt, and plucked her cell phone out as Brandon started the car. Sergei was just going to have to give up his little afternoon rendezvous and help her out. He’d have to bring the costume Kate laid out and meet her at her condo early. No way could she ask Brandon for a ride to work.
Brandon glanced at her hand as she tapped out a text message, but he didn’t comment. He dropped the car into drive and pulled out of the lot, turning north.
While they waited for the light to turn green, her phone vibrated with the message:
Got it. Go away. Busy.
Natalya frowned.
Be nice, Sergei Moretti.
His answer disturbed her sense of normalcy. The screen flashed with the solitary word:
Stefan
.
Light green, Brandon stepped on the gas as he bent to flip on the radio. She quickly deleted the text messages and looked up in time to see a flash of movement beyond his hunched shoulder. Barreling down the east-west street, an older, silver pickup blew through the light. Impact imminent.
“Brandon!”
Her scream snapped him upright. “Son of a bitch!”
He jammed his foot on the brakes. Natalya’s seatbelt snapped tight, locking her in place. The truck roared past, clipping the Mustang’s driver-side front bumper. They spun. Horns blared. Somewhere glass shattered, and a sickening
thud
echoed.
As their momentum slowed, and they skidded to a halt facing the oncoming traffic, crying broke out in the back seat. Natalya glanced over her shoulder to find Derek’s attempt at buckling himself in had failed. His booster chair slid forward, tossing him into the back of Brandon’s seat. Blood flowed freely from his nose.
She threw off her seatbelt and lunged over the seats. “Sweetie, it’s okay.” Clamping her fingers over his nose, she pinched. Solid cartilage beneath her fingertips offered relief. He hadn’t broken it. Thank God.
Brandon’s muffled curses overpowered Derek’s tears. As best Natalya could, given her position over her headrest, she slid her other arm around Derek’s shaking shoulders, offering comfort while Brandon navigated them out of the middle of the intersection to the curb.
His door opened, then slammed shut. Natalya hefted herself over the seat a little more, far enough she could push Derek’s hair aside to check his head for additional injury. To her immense relief, no red marks identified bruises to come, and no further blood trickled over his face. “It’s okay, buddy. You’re just fine. Some stupid idiot didn’t see the light turn red.”
He swiped his fingers over his eyes, curbing the falling tears. An ever-so-slight nod said he understood.
“Let’s see if it’s stopped?”
“Okay.”
Tentatively, she lifted her fingers. Stared at his nose. When nothing happened, she let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding and ruffled Derek’s hair the way she’d seen Brandon do countless times throughout the day. “You okay, kiddo?”
He nodded with a sniffle.
“Don’t sniff. Breathe through your mouth.”
Obediently he opened his mouth and took a deep breath.
Good thing little boys were resilient. Good thing too, that Kate hadn’t been sitting beside her son. She’d be in hysterics. Blood had never been her strong point.
Brandon’s door opened, and he slid into the seat, storm clouds on his face. He gripped the wheel with both hands, ground his teeth together, then exhaled audibly. “Are you two okay?”
“Yeah, we’re fine. How’s the car?”
“Banged up, but driveable. Truck bailed. No one else is involved. I’ll walk in a report later.”
“Okay.”
Natalya slid back into her seat, intending to retrieve a Kleenex for Derek, when she noticed blood on Brandon’s hand as well. She furrowed her brow and leaned over the console, her fingers investigating the back of his hand.
He turned his palm up, revealing a long gash across the meaty part of his thumb. “Headlight.”
“Let me get you a Kleenex.”
She reached down for her purse, only to find the contents scattered across the floorboards. Her Sig lay in plain sight. She silently swore, and hurried to shove the gun back into her purse before Brandon could notice. Tissues in hand, she straightened, passing one to Brandon.
The lift of his eyebrows said she was too late.
T
At the same time, if that dickhead had been paying attention to the lights, Derek wouldn’t have been hurt, and the Shelby’s front end wouldn’t look like Swiss cheese.
Then there was the matter of Natalya’s gun. He hadn’t said anything about it yet, not really wanting to hear the answers. He was pretty damn convinced she couldn’t produce a concealed carry license—that would’ve shown up on her file. Right now, don’t ask don’t tell sounded damn good.
So did a beer.
While she wandered around his living room, investigating the sparse knickknacks on his shelves, he went to the fridge. “You want a beer?”
“Water would be great.”
His hand throbbed as he reached into the fridge and grabbed a cold Corona. He glanced at the cut, disgusted. He knew better than to try to pry loose a bent fender with his bare hand, yet he’d done it anyway, losing his grip and slicing himself open on the shattered headlamp. It’d
heal, but it’d hurt like a bitch for the next couple of days. Good thing he’d used his left. He used his right for everything else.
He ran the cut under the water, his annoyance increasing when the long gash refused to stop bleeding. Out of patience, and lacking the initiative to walk to his bathroom for his first aid kit, he ripped off a paper towel, jammed it against the cut, and clamped his fingers closed. With his free hand, he filled Natalya’s glass. Beer between his teeth, her glass in hand, he returned to his living room where he set everything on the table and sank into the couch with a heavy sigh.
The first cold swig balmed his annoyance enough his frown smoothed. He leaned back, careful to keep his injured hand away from the cream-colored cushions and hooked his right ankle over his left knee. Natalya milled around the shelves that framed his flat-screen television, her head tipped in curious interest.
“That’s quite the baseball collection.” She picked up his favorite, an autographed Jose Canseco.
“It’s not really anything special. There’s not much money in it.”
“I don’t know much about baseball, but I know this name. How’d you land this one?”
A smile drifted across his face. “I was in a frat at A&M. Bunch of us went out to the Rangers stadium, drunker than skunks, on opening day. I about fell out of the stands jumping after that thing.”
Her soft chuckle deepened his smile. The memory of what had happened two weeks later stirred. But it stayed still for once, lulled to sleep by the lift of Natalya’s mouth. She put the ball on its tiny wooden stand and picked up the picture of his family.
“Your family?”
The canker that never healed gnawed at his heart. He nodded, seeing his sister’s shining face though Natalya’s back blocked his view. “Yeah. They’re gone now.”
This letting her into his personal life reminded him of new shoes. Comfortable at first, but the longer they were worn, they rubbed blisters.
He itched to distract her. To start some conversation that would draw her attention off his things, pull her nose out of his past. He didn’t talk about this crap with anyone, not even Mayer. Certainly not the women who flitted through his life.
At the same time, while she threatened to rub him raw, a certain mysterious curiosity kept him from doing what instinct directed. Would those blisters form? Or, would taking this leap come with some sort of parachute?
Along with the wondering came his mind’s logical reminder that if he intended to pull her secrets forth, he must forge a bridge. So he told himself he was allowing her to get comfortable. With his things. With his space. With
him
. Quietly, he added, “They were killed when I was twenty.”