Touch of Evil (10 page)

I'd watched his face go from angry to amused to hopeful, but finally ended with absolutely ecstatic. He stood up and started grinning broadly. "Wow!

Plumbing and lights. A definite step up from my last place!"

I couldn't help but laugh at his enthusiasm. "So, do you want to see it? You might change your mind. It's pretty simple—not like some of the highdollar lofts over on Wazee or in Cherry Creek." His face grew serious. "I wasn't kidding, Ms. Reilly. Consistent electricity and water really are a step up from the dive I was in. Noise, dust, dirt?

No big deal. I don't even care what the rest of the apartment looks like. I'll manage. If it's not too high, I'll take it, sight unseen."

I shook my head. "First, I'm Kate. Ms. Reilly is for my customers, not the people who live

downstairs from me. Next, I can't do 'sight unseen.'

Not only is it illegal, but it's not fair to either of us. I'll give you the tour, and you can decide if it's worth it. I'm only charging what I have to get to pay the bills for the place. I'm not trying to get rich off the tenants. I want people who will live here for years and be happy, so I don't have to keep interviewing new people." I smiled, but it was with a healthy dose of chagrin. "I'm not very good with people."

His reared back in surprise and his face showed honest confusion. "Really? I think you're terrific with people. Heck, you're even nice to someone like me."

I just shook my head and stood up. "In this building, Tom, there is no 'like me'. I know that Connie works with some people with lycanthropy, and the people I know don't have jerky attitudes. It's not like it's your fault. It's like being born with blue eyes or with Down Syndrome. You just are a werewolf. I mean, you're not dangerous or

anything, are you?"

He was staring at me very intently with flared nostrils. I guess I passed whatever test he was throwing out, because he grinned. "Well, my shift commander says I'm a pretty dangerous pool

player and I'm dangerously competitive in sports and running, but that's about it."

I smiled and then turned, twitching my finger for him to follow and threw open the stairwell door wide enough for him to catch it after me. "So, unless you somehow manage to kick my ass at pool—which is highly unlikely, beat me at volleyball, or don't pay the rent, you're probably safe here. Okay?"

I could feel him walking behind me up the

staircase, just far enough back not to step on my heels, but just close enough that I could sense his presence. It made me shiver, in a nice way. Yeah, I could do this every day. "Sounds good to me," he said lightly. "I probably won't beat you at volleyball. I can't play to save my soul. But I may take you up on a game of pool or running, if it won't get me kicked out. I run every morning in the summer." He reached out past me when we reached the

landing and opened the fire door. Walking past him, I couldn't help but notice the amazing musky cologne he wore and he stood so that I had no choice but to brush against him as I went through. I don't think either of us minded.

The apartments are pretty much standard issue. None of the terrific features in my place are in them, with the exception of one wall of brick and glass that looks out over the roadway. I just couldn't bear to cover it up. If you stand just right, you can see the mountains between the buildings across the street. I waited in the living room while he wandered around, opening cabinets and closets and flipping switches. When he returned, he was shaking his head and muttering to himself. I couldn't hide my disappointment. I just had a feeling he would be a terrific tenant, and hoped he'd take it.

"You don't want it? Something not work for you?" I tried to keep my voice neutral and professional.

He held up his hands in panic. "No, no! I love this place. It's absolutely perfect. I was just feeling a bit in awe. I am totally amazed that you did these renovations yourself! "

I felt my back go up just a bit. "Why? Because I'm a woman?"

He snorted and rolled his eyes and lightly

squeezed my bicep. "Hardly. Your arms and shoulders are a pretty good indication that you could pull it off. But it's a very professional job," he said seriously. "There are no paint splatters or crooked wall outlet covers or dinged cabinets that usually happen with one-person jobs. It's tough to do stuff like this single-handed."

Well, I couldn't argue, but I blushed anyway. It had taken a lot of time to get it right. I shrugged and tried to be modest. "I've really been enjoying it—learning how to do wiring and drywall and painting properly, finding a way to manage it alone, and then getting each thing just right." I looked up and around the room. The satiny warm ivory paint was a bit sterile, but not nearly as bad as flat white, and the multi-colored Berber carpet would go with anything. With one big bedroom, a full bath, separate dining room/eating nook, kitchen and office—at least that's what I called the smaller second room—it was just the perfect size for a single person. It really is a nice apartment. He took a deep breath, held it and winced a bit.

"So, how bad is it? What's the monthly rent?" I laughed, because it was the same reaction that both Connie and Chuck had given me. Apartments in converted lofts are exclusive and 99.9% of them in LoDo are therefore expensive. The only reason mine aren't is that I just can't justify charging it. It's all that Catholic guilt in my system, I guess. I named my price, and smiled as his jaw

dropped and the pent-up air exhaled in a rush. I'm well aware it's about half what the other lofts are getting. "I pay the utilities, unless they get out of hand. It's cheaper for me to have a single meter into the building for water, gas and electricity. You get a parking space in the garage with the apartment, but since you said you don't need it, I might park my motorcycle there. The security deposit is one month's rent, and you get it back when you leave. I keep it in a separate account and don't use it for anything, even damages. We'll handle that

separately if it happens. If you find anything that needs fixing, please tell me before you call someone, if there's time. I'd rather try to do the work myself to save money. If I have to pay too much for outside help, I can't afford to keep the rents where they are. Of course, if I'm out of town, do what you need to so it doesn't get worse."

"For this place? The place I checked a block over was half this size and wanted more than twice that! Jeez Louise, get me a lease before you come to your senses and change your mind!"

I laughed, because he was the first person I'd ever met who used that antiquated expression. 'Jeez Louise' is something Mom used to say almost daily. I picked up on it when I was a toddler. It drove my dad insane listening to me walk around the house, screaming it over and over at the top of my lungs.

"So it's in your budget? I don't want you to have to choose between your bed and food every

month. I've done that. It sucks."

"Hell yes! That's right square in the middle of my budget. I can probably even pick up the stuff I had to hock to get the deposit for the other place!" He raised his eyebrows and gave me a wicked grin.

"There's even enough left in my pocket to treat my new landlady to an early dinner, if she's willing." I felt my mouth go dry and my heart rate speed up. I hadn't been out with a man other than my brother since Dylan and I ended. "Uhm—I don't know, Tom." I couldn't think of a way to refuse gracefully without him thinking it was because he was a lycanthrope. Plus, I really did like him and I was starved. "Where could we go with you looking all gorgeous and me looking like—" I held out my hands and looked down at my painted arm and clothing. I could see some wisps of red hair from the corner of my eye that were a lovely shade of warm ivory. "—well, this?" He laughed, so apparently I hadn't offended him.

"Hardly gorgeous. But for saving me almost five hundred bucks each and every month, and letting me get my beloved microwave out of pawn, I could probably wait a few minutes for you to shower and change. I'll just bet that you'll end up stunning. You're already damned gorgeous, even with paint all over you." He stared at me with a look that seemed to burn right through my clothes. It gave me goosebumps on my goose-bumps.

Eek! What does a girl say to that? "Okay, then. Well—uhm," I managed to stammer, "Do you want to do it here or come up to my place?" He fought not to smile, and I blushed furiously and put my hands over my face. "Oh God! That came out so wrong!" I peeked through my fingers. Fortunately, he was keeping a straight face. "Do you want to wait down here?"

His dark eyes twinkled merrily. "Sure. I can figure out where to put the furniture, if I can borrow the measuring tape on the table downstairs." The blush was growing the longer I looked at him. Please God, let this not be the way dinner would go, too. "No problem. My place is upstairs. I'll shower and change and be back down in a few minutes."

His smile was warm and inviting. "I'd say 'take your time', but I really hope you hurry. I'm really enjoying talking to you."

I didn't bolt up the stairs, but damned close. Before I forgot in all the excitement of actually putting food in my rumbling stomach—with

Tom—I dug for a moment in my desk and tucked a copy of the lease form into my purse.

I tried to figure out what to wear before I went in the shower, and finally decided to keep it semiprofessional. He was going to be my tenant, after all. I managed to find a scoop-necked silk shell in soft yellow that was ironed. The white and green embroidered roses went well with the dark green slacks. I opted for my black flats because it was sort of nice to be able to look a guy in the eyes for a change. The hair and arm took some work to remove the latex paint. I finally had to resort to a green kitchen scrubber, leaving the side of my face a little pink. By the time I'd finished that, there was only time to blow-dry my hair, spritz myself with some cologne, and throw on enough makeup that I didn't look dead. It wasn't perfect, but it would do. After grabbing my purse, checking the elevator once more and then locking my front door, I nearly skipped down the stairs to the second floor. I had to admit, the result was more than I could have hoped for. Tom was crouched down, busily measuring walls and writing figures on the back of an envelope when I walked into the empty

apartment. He heard me arrive, and turned his head back and up so he could look at me. His eyes got wide and his jaw dropped and then he actually fell over. Yeah, I know he was off balance to begin with, so it shouldn't make me so freaking happy. But it did and I smiled.

"Wow!" he exclaimed as he quickly got to his feet and dusted off his pants. "You look amazing! " I shrugged. "Thanks. It's nothing special, but it's clean. I just got back from a long trip and haven't had time to run the laundry."

He walked past me and held open the door.

"Boy, I can't wait to see your 'first-string' clothes then." As I turned to leave, he put his head close to my neck and sniffed. It made my stomach lurch pleasantly. "Mmm. I like your perfume and shampoo, too. Most people don't consider picking complementary scents."

When he saw my surprised expression, he smiled lightly and shrugged. "Hey, when you have as good a nose as we wolves do, it's a big deal."

"Ah," I replied in a nicely noncommittal way. I followed him down the stairs and made sure that the entry door was locked before we exited into the garage. Our footfalls echoed against the low ceiling.

"So, where would you like to go? It's still pretty early." It was only 3:38 according to my honking big diver's watch. It's not particularly ladylike, but it has a nice big lighted dial that I can actually see while flying at night and changes automatically to whatever time zone I'm in. Very cool feature. He waggled his head and thought for a moment.

"Well, if we walked slow, we'd get to the Old Spaghetti Factory just about opening time."

"Wow! What a terrific idea. I haven't eaten there for ages!"

His eyes were twinkling and he started to open his mouth to say something, but then stopped and shook his head with a chuckle.

" What? " I asked suspiciously. "What were you going to say?"

"Promise you won't hit me?" He was grinning fully now and holding up his hands as if to ward off a blow.

I crossed my arms over my chest. "Yeah, well—we'll see when you tell me."

He chortled, low and inviting. "I was going to ask if we were going to have dinner in bed. That could be a lot of fun."

I managed to close my dropped jaw before a big bug flew into it. Bed? Huh? My mind searched for whatever the double entendre might have been. He was obviously teasing by the rolling laughter that was almost bending him double. I liked the sound of his laugh. It was deep, genuine and, well, happy. I hadn't heard happy in a really long time. I missed it.

Wait—bed! Yay, I finally got the joke! The Old Spaghetti Factory is famous both for being the former trolley station and for having really unique seating arrangements. You can sit in an actual trolley to eat, or a bathtub, and there's even a four poster brass bed to sit on. You have to be quick to get that one, though. It's a favorite of families with little kids. The staff lets you bounce.

I couldn't help but smile and shake my head because he was leaning against the wall, wiping away tears and heaving for breath. "You should have seen your face, Kate! It was priceless! You just about swallowed that beetle!"

I swatted at him and he ducked. "Keep it up, laughing boy. You'll be eating your spaghetti through a straw tonight."

5

We were third in line at the restaurant and only had to wait about fifteen minutes for it to open. A few people lined up behind us as we chatted about living the walking life in Denver. A person actually doesn't have to drive here. The buses run on time and unless you need to go to the 'burbs, you can pretty much live your whole life in a two square mile area and never realize you hadn't left.

"Shhh! He'll hear you. Do you really think that's him?" The words caught my attention, because they were followed by so much girlish giggling that I had to look to see the ages of the speakers. They were a little older than I'd thought, in their early twenties. They noticed that I noticed and stepped a little farther from the entrance. But I have good hearing, and while Tom was looking at the menu pasted behind plexiglass on the wall, I listened in.