Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
“Do you have a hollow leg? I’ve never seen a woman eat so much.”
“I eat when I’m nervous.” She moved the plate of food away and caught a smile lingering on his lips before he got rid of it.
“What else do you do when you’re nervous?” He hid his hands in his pockets as his gaze fell to her lips, which induced a strange twitch of emotions in her chest.
Think about you naked, apparently.
“I dance.”
“You what?”
She rolled her shoulders back and wiped her mouth with the linen napkin. “When I’m waiting on an important call from the studio, or nervous to open a letter of . . . normally, rejection from a director about a script . . . I dance.”
“Like, at a club?”
“No, like in my apartment while wearing fuzzy socks and jamming out to Led Zeppelin or something high energy.”
“Huh.” He faked a cough and turned his back. “Are fuzzy socks mandatory?”
“Oh, for sure.” She rose, feeling much better after having eaten.
She’d hopefully killed any residual effects of the drugs by shoving a ton of food into her mouth.
“Do we have a long drive ahead of us? I’d love a shower, but I won’t have anything clean to put on, so I guess I’ll wait.
” She nervously patted her thighs as she waited for him to face her.
“Going just south of the Poconos. Not too bad of a drive.”
Her heart pitter-pattered in her chest. “And will you be staying with me at this location while you and your people decide what to do with me?”
“I’m on babysitting duty. We both need to stay out of the spotlight until we have a plan.” He finally turned and looked at her.
“Why you? I mean, if you were bait before, why wouldn’t you want to be found again?”
“We need to cover all of our bases before I offer myself up,” he said dryly.
“Oh. Well, I hope you believe me when I say I promise your secrets are safe with me.”
“Promises don’t go a long way with me, I’m afraid.”
“Did someone burn you before?” She closed her eyes, wishing she hadn’t voiced her thoughts.
“Trust has to be earned, sweetheart.”
The huskiness of his voice had the hairs on her arms pricking to attention. “That goes both ways.” She opened her eyes and asked, “How long will we be holed up together?”
“Hopefully, only a few days. I’m not looking forward to this.”
“Yeah, me either, Captain Commando.”
“If you did your research, you’d know SEALs don’t like that term.”
She lifted a brow. “What makes you think I don’t know that?”
He grunted and turned away, whispering under his breath, “Why couldn’t you work for a medical show?”
“Big enough for you?” Luke leaned inside the doorframe of the kitchen that connected to the living room in the so-called “safe house” they’d arrived at ten minutes prior. The home sat on several acres of land and had a six-foot fence surrounding the property.
“Could be bigger,” she said.
“Forgive me, Miss Beverly Hills. Forgot who I was talking to.” He flipped his gaze to the ceiling.
“It was a joke.” She sighed. “I live in a tiny studio in New York. Basically, anything with two levels is massive to me. I told you I’m not rich.”
“I still don’t get it.” He strode across the room to where she stood, her back against the large kitchen island. “Why change your name?”
“I’ll tell you if you tell me who you are,” she said without dropping his gaze.
His eyes were like a pair of blue magnets, pulling her to him and straight out of her comfort zone.
He continued to stare at her for a gut-agonizing minute, the tension building between them so much it had her palms going to the counter on each side of her.
And then he sidestepped her and went straight to the fridge, and she expelled a breath.
“I had the place stocked with food, and I got you some stuff.” He grabbed two bottles of water and surprised her by tossing one her way. He sucked down nearly the entire bottle then said, “Come with me.”
She put her unopened water down and followed him out of the kitchen, down the hall, and up the set of stairs that split at the middle, branching both left and right. The house was decorated like it was stuck in the ’90s, with pastel wall colors and brass everywhere.
“Why didn’t your people use this place to lure those men to?”
He stopped walking midway down the hall, and she nearly collided with his frame. Muscles strained atop muscles—but not in the bulky kind of way . . . in the annoyingly good-looking way.
She flipped on the nearby light switch so she could better see his eyes and try to get a read on him when he faced her.
“You’re not going to stop trying to get information out of me, are you?”
“I’m a curious person.”
“Which makes it hard for me to believe you’ll keep what happened to yourself.” Frustration passed over his face. He started to turn, but she caught his arm.
“Just give me something to go on, okay? I have so many stories spinning in my head, and it’s making me a little crazy.”
His gaze shifted to the floor, and she wondered if he were actually contemplating opening up. Her heart raced, but she wasn’t sure if that was due to the feel of his arm beneath her palm or her desire for answers.
“We couldn’t use a government-owned property, which this is. And hotels and such run the risk of casualties.”
“And you didn’t want witnesses,” she added, but he didn’t confirm.
He shifted out of her grasp and continued down the hall.
When she followed him into the room, her heart leaped into her throat.
“You got me a computer?” There were shopping bags on the bed, but it was the MacBook sitting next to them that held her eye like a flashing beacon.
His hands disappeared into his pockets as his gaze cruised the room and then found her eyes. “Sorry about tossing yours. I figured you could write while we’re here, so you don’t lose your mind from boredom.”
She almost hugged him.
Almost.
“Thank you.” She stood in front of the bed and smoothed her hand over the top of the silver laptop. “Why am I guessing what’s on your bed is a lot different? Probably heavy artillery.”
“You do want to be kept safe, don’t you?”
“Yes, but do you really think anyone can find us here?”
His eyes tightened a little. “No, or I wouldn’t have brought you to this place.”
Good. “Are these bags full of clothes?”
“I didn’t know your size, so it looks like they bought out the store.”
She peered into the closest bag and smiled as she reached for one of the items and held it. “Fuzzy socks?”
“That was a last-minute addition. In case you get nervous at all and feel like dancing.”
“Hm.” She shifted the bags out of the way so she could sit, then began nervously fiddling with the pair of pink socks. “This is surprising.”
“Well, I owed you a computer, didn’t I?”
“No, the computer’s not surprising.” A grin teased her lips.
“That, you should’ve done.” She lifted her attention upward, her lip catching between her teeth at the sight of him.
“But the socks . . .” She let her words drift for a moment.
“The socks make me think you have more going on”—she waved her free hand in a small circle in the air—“beneath that hard exterior of yours.”
He cracked a smile. “Do you always judge a book by its cover?”
“When it comes in a package like yours.” Her gaze dipped below his belt and a warmth crept up her pale skin, and she knew she’d be red.
“Do you want to grab a shower, and then we can eat?” he asked.
“Uh, sure.”
“Did you happen to get my purse and phone back from those men?” Although she was sure he wouldn’t let her call anyone.
“My people must have them. Sorry.”
Just great.
“I’m three doors down on the right if you need me.”
Her focus slowly skirted up, landing on his arms, but she couldn’t get herself to meet his eyes.
“Do you think there’s any makeup in these bags?”
“Why would you need makeup?”
“Right. I guess I don’t.” Considering she only wore mascara, it was insane that she suddenly wanted to add a little color while she was hidden away.
“I’ll cook after I shower.”
“You can cook?” she asked, finally forcing her eyes to his.
“As long as it’s microwavable or comes in a box.” He winked and left.