Touch of Evil (14 page)

technically even have to move into my building. You can stay here if you want."

"Oh, hell no!" said the blond. "My wife would shoot me dead if she ever found out I let Tom stay in this hellhole!" He held out his hand to me. "By the way, since Tom is being rude and didn't bother to introduce us, I'm Marty, and this is Paul." I shook his massive hand and gave as good as I got, which earned me a startled look and then an appreciative nod. I was too far away from Paul, so I nodded a greeting, which was returned.

Tom looked embarrassed and stepped forward.

"Oh, hey guys! I'm sorry. I should have introduced you right off. Kate Reilly, this is Marty Bell and Paul Tolwake. They work out of the Northglenn station. Guys, this is my new landlord."

"Damn, Tom!" exclaimed Paul with jealous admiration in his voice. "You do manage to fall into the sweetest deals! Now that's a landlord! If only I didn't live a mile from the firehouse already—" Tom and I laughed, while Marty guffawed and punched Paul lightly on the arm. "Pfft! And if only you didn't have a jealous wife and four kids, too!" He shook his head and turned to Tom. "C'mon, let's get this stuff back upstairs."

I held up my hand to stop them. "Hey, I've got the truck right here. Why don't we go ahead and load the boxes? It's just a few blocks to my building, and then you've got some of your stuff already there."

Tom looked at me hopefully. "Really? You wouldn't mind?"

Paul nodded thoughtfully and glanced at his watch. "I don't have much more time today, guys. I promised to pick up my sister's kids from the doctor and take them back to school. It's the only way she'd let me borrow her truck tomorrow to move the furniture. I can probably stay a few more minutes, though."

With four of us working, it only took about half an hour to load the boxes into Edna. Tom's every other sentence on the way back to the building was spent thanking me for the apartment, thanking me for calling Keith, thanking me for helping with the boxes. I was just starting to enjoy the wanton gratitude when we arrived. Damn!

I was really glad he'd purchased file storage boxes from the office supply store. Having boxes that stacked neatly, with removable lids and handles, was a nice treat. I'd have to remember that the next time I need to move things around. After discussing the best method, we decided to put all the boxes on the freight elevator and take them up to my apartment. Then I could block open the door and turn it off so we could unload it easily. As a bonus, carrying the boxes down one flight of stairs would be a lot easier than carrying them up. With careful arranging, all the boxes fit in the elevator, with just enough room for us. I wiggled backward into the space, so I was squished

between the steel grate and the boxes, and Tom entered face first so we could talk. But when he kicked out the block in front of the door with his foot, it slid shut with a dull clang and latched, but nothing else happened. I realized the motor was still turned off. I fished in my pocket and removed the key, handing it to Tom.

"Turn on the elevator, would you? It's the keyhole under the fire alarm."

He turned his head and spotted it. He took the key and tried to reach around. But he was stuck tight between the boxes and couldn't move. He bent, he twisted, but it was just out of reach. He looked at me and bit his lower lip. "Uhm, Houston, I think we've got a problem."

I dropped my head into my hands. "Yeah, I can see that. Why do I get the feeling you planned this?" He chuckled. "While I can think of worse places to be stuck with you, I'd like to think I have a bit more tact. Any ideas?"

I sighed. "Actually yes." I could put in the key, but it was going to be slightly uncomfortable and more than a little embarrassing. "All I ask is that you hold still and not make any sudden moves. I promise I'm not getting fresh."

That raised his eyebrows. "Well, now you've got me curious. Please do proceed." I took a deep breath and wiggled forward until we were touching along the full length of our bodies. His eyes bored into mine from inches away, and he chuckled low and deep. Then he noticed my discomfort and tried to make light of it. But the tone was too honest. It wound up sexy enough to make my face red. "Well, so far I'm liking your idea." It took more than one try to talk, which made me even redder. "Just don't move. Please?" I slid my arms between the grating and his muscled hips, holding onto the key carefully so it didn't drop. I wouldn't get another try at this. I realized that his wonderfully broad shoulders and chest were in the way, and I couldn't quite see where I needed to be.

"Well, okay, I was wrong. You do need to move. Can you pull up your arm up so I can see the panel?"

"I think I can manage that." He slowly wormed his arm upward until it touched the ceiling of the elevator, and then lowered it down over my

shoulders, lightly stroking my hair on the way. Flames beat at my face from the inside and I couldn't meet his eyes.

"Is that better?" Tom's voice was getting husky and the silk shorts didn't leave anything to the imagination.

I glanced down under his arm and could see the keyhole, along with other things that made my stomach clench unmercifully. "Much," I whispered, and then coughed when the word caught in my throat. "I mean, yes, that's better. Thanks. It should just be a second now."

He twisted and moved his head slightly, which made it easier to see. But his nose also nestled in my hair and his reply was warm and moist against my neck. "No hurry. Take your time." The shiver went all the way to my toes.

Eek! I held my breath and reached forward

quickly, trying desperately to concentrate on the key, instead of his amazing cologne tickling my nose, the feeling of muscled legs against mine, and the little moan that huffed into my ear when I made the final, desperate attempt. The key went into the lock and I turned it on in one triumphant movement. But I'd forgotten about the initial bounce at startup when the car was fully loaded. The jolt knocked me backwards. Tom caught me before I hit my head. We wound up squished against the back of the elevator. He was pressed against me in ways that my body was very happy about.

I noticed that he didn't try to untangle us for the short trip, and I was embarrassed to admit that I didn't try either. I think he very deliberately nibbled my ear as we scuffled around trying to catch our balance. I could be wrong, but I was sort of hoping I wasn't.

When the door finally, thankfully, opened on the third floor, part of me was sorry. But the more staid, rational part of my brain was screaming to get out of the car, and he could tell.

I nearly kissed the carpet when I exited the car, but instead turned into a flurry of energy. That happens when I get stressed. I found the big chunk of iron that I used as a doorstop during

construction, blocked open the elevator, unlocked the apartment door, nearly ran down the stairs to open the other apartment, and ran up the stairs again. My heart was beating nicely by the time I'd returned, and I knew that part of it wasn't from the stairs.

Tom was wandering through the apartment,

which I don't normally let people do. But it was better than a warm and fuzzy moment after being wrapped around each other. I didn't think I could handle that.

"Okay, let's get moving," I declared with a loud clap of my hands. I grabbed two of the boxes and spun around to take them downstairs.

"Kate—"

"No time now, Tom." I said the words behind me as I tore out of the apartment again at a fast walk. I saw him shake his head from the corner of my eye and grab a pair of boxes.

I worked like a madwoman but even still, it took nearly an hour to unload the boxes and take them to his new apartment. I did try to follow the directions he'd written in pen on the boxes, placing some in the kitchen and some in the bath and others in what would be the bedroom.

"These are the last two," he commented on the way past me down the stairs and the thought made me nervous. Could I really stand to have a guy that was giving me this bad a case of the whim-whams right downstairs? What was I thinking! And what was I going to do when he stepped back through the door? I felt really guilty that my first thought was to slam the door shut and lock it. But that would be rude and, in reality, I really didn't want to. As Mum always said: When in doubt—cook! I retreated to the kitchen where I felt safe. Some food really would hit the spot. Dinner had been a long time ago. I thought about diving into the freezer stock, but eggs sounded good. I like food that's heavy on protein—with the exception of my pasties and the occasional rum raisin ice cream. Stick to the ribs, but simple. Dylan had complained endlessly—and insisted on eating out most of the time. French food, with fancy sauces. Things I could never possibly have replicated in the kitchen. Just thinking about Dylan brought my mind back to the message, and I glanced at the clock. It was already after ten. To go, or not to go. What a really sucky question!

I heard Tom bounding up the stairs, which he must do a lot of. He has the best-looking butt I've ever seen. My mood improved measurably with each step he took, and that scared the crap out of me.

He tapped on the open door lightly before

poking his head inside.

"Come on in."

He poked his head into the kitchen and smirked.

"I guess you're hungry?"

I shrugged one shoulder and cracked an egg into a bowl. "I haven't eaten since dinner. I was feeling a little lightheaded."

His voice was completely neutral and I didn't turn to see his face. "Ah. Is that why you were moving at a dead run?"

I didn't answer. I just grabbed a whisk and started to scramble the eggs. "I can make some for both of us, if you want. Are you hungry?" I felt him behind me before I realized he'd moved. I felt my heart skip a beat when he stroked one finger down my arm. "Kate? Could you look at me, please?"

The scent of his cologne was driving me insane. I put my hands down on the counter and took a slow breath. He backed up and gave me some room to think.

I turned and looked into those warm, drowning deep eyes. I had to be honest with him. "I just can't do this, Tom. I'm not ready to get close to another man."

He stepped forward, closing the small gap of space that made me feel safe. My heart started pounding again like a triphammer. "You can't lie to a werewolf, Kate, even if you can lie to yourself." He leaned forward just a bit. I could feel his chest brush against my shirt with each inhale and my body responded almost without registering in my brain. I was suddenly flushed, my breathing fast and shallow. Then his nostrils flared and my stomach did a flip-flop when he abruptly pressed his lips against mine. It wasn't what I'd expected and I didn't know how to react. His hands reached for my waist and pulled me tight against him. I stopped breathing. My mind was numb, but my body knew exactly what it wanted. I melted into his embrace and kissed him back, meeting his probing tongue with my own.

Strong hands circled my waist and one slid up my back. His finger caught briefly in my braid and pulled a few hairs out of the loose band.

I allowed my hands to explore the muscles of his chest as I leaned in closer. I could feel a hint of his incredible strength as he tightened his grip around me. Time stopped as his mouth worked over mine. His lips and tongue were warm and soft and his increasingly urgent breath in my ear made tingles thrill across my skin. Yesterday's intruder could have come in and looted the place. I wouldn't have known—or cared.

Tom let loose first, taking half a step back. His hands remained on my waist and his eyes were slightly glazed.

I had to force myself not to whimper. I wanted this man. Oh how I wanted this man. It took a second before I was able to speak. Even then my voice was a little breathy. "Apparently I'm not very good at lying to myself, either."

His grin was a triumphant flash of white teeth and deep dimples. My mind was on leading him upstairs to the loft, but my stomach would have none of that. It growled—audibly.

Tom laughed out loud and shoved me gently in the direction of the stove. "Eat. Then we'll exercise." Somehow I didn't think he was referring to a run anymore. I really hoped we were talking about something much more entertaining.

"Why don't you put on some music while I cook?" I suggested. My voice was still a little shaky and it made him grin.

He wandered into the living room. The sound system is in a huge oak cabinet that sits next to the stairway. I would never have bought a stereo that elaborate but a friend on the volleyball circuit was in dire financial straits after her husband left her. She sold it to me for about half of what it was worth, but more than I could afford at the time. The sound quality is phenomenal and the acoustics of the apartment make the most of it.

"What do you want to hear?" he asked. I didn't bother turning around. I just started cracking more eggs into a bowl and grabbing anything that might work in an omelet from the fridge. I found peppers, onions and some ham to go with the cheese. I grabbed a spatula from the old crockery cookie jar on the counter where I store them.

"Whatever."

I expected the music to come on right away. When it didn't, I turned my attention from omelet preparation to see what Tom was up to. I found him staring at the picture wall—at one particular photo. Dylan's. All of the humor had left his face. He looked more serious than I'd ever seen him. He didn't bother to look at me. He seemed to know that I was staring. "Is this him? Your old fiancé?" Honestly, I had forgotten it was there. "I should've taken that down." Hell, I shouldn't have hung it up in the first place. I still wasn't quite sure why I had.

"But you didn't."

"It'd leave a hole in the wall." I tried to make it a joke. Of course it fell flat. I turned the heat off under the eggs and walked over to where he stood. He made an inclusive hand gesture that took in my one-woman demolition and make-over of the building.

"A woman who could do all this, afraid of a little spackle? I don't think so." He tried for humor, but there was definitely tension underneath.

I stopped when I was standing barely an inch away from him and stared into his chocolate brown eyes.