None of the Mauritolla delegation turned or acted surprised in any way to hear a man’s voice. Good.
CHAPTER 4
Quinn watched the streets of New York blur by as the taxi took her and Cain away from the headquarters after they’d finished work for the day. “Explain to me again why we’re going back to my apartment, rather than the hotel?”
The hotel with all the other members of his team. Wasn’t there supposed to be safety in numbers?
“We want to act as normally as possible.”
“Normal doesn’t include having a man in my apartment,” she muttered at the window.
“Oh?”
Quinn scrunched up her face. Shoot. She’d said that out loud. Again. What was it about Cain that had her blurting out her thoughts like this? If she didn’t know better, she’d think interest had sparked in his deep voice, but she refused to turn his way. Resigned to the next few hours, she remained quiet the rest of the ride home.
George, the super for her building, stood outside working on a window. “Hey, Quinn!” he greeted when she stepped onto the sidewalk. “Thanks again for those Broadway tickets. Sally loved it.”
She grinned. “I’m glad.”
He glanced at Cain with avid curiosity, but she kept going inside.
“Tickets?” Cain asked as they hiked up four flights of stairs.
“I did a personal interpreting job at a party for the French delegates, and they gave them to me as thanks. Sally had mentioned wanting to see that show. No biggie.”
Cain’s grunt told her he wasn’t so sure, but she wasn’t in the mood to argue with the man.
She unlocked and opened the door to her apartment cautiously, semi-expecting her place to be ransacked, like in the movies. But her apartment was exactly as she’d left it. Relief surged through her in a wave. The mere thought of strangers going through her things gave her the heebie-jeebies.
She put down her laptop bag and purse by the door, kicked off her shoes, and moved further inside, flipping on lights as she went. Wrung out didn’t begin to cover her current state of being. “So this is what? Friendly dinner with the new colleague?”
It didn’t escape her that Cain filled her small one-bedroom apartment more than was comfortable, taking up her breathing space.
He didn’t comment. Instead he searched the place thoroughly, not that it took him long. Even after five years here, she still kept it pretty basic. Bed and dresser and night stand in the bedroom. Couch, coffee table, and TV in the living area, and a small kitchen table in the kitchenette. Even the décor was still the generic stuff Delilah’s team had furnished the place with at the time—reds and tans. She liked it well enough, so she didn’t bother to change it. Cain took off his jacket and draped it on the back of a kitchen chair before he dropped casually onto her couch and loosened up his tie.
She ignored the pitter-patter of heart at the sexy image he presented and lifted an eyebrow. “Make yourself at home.”
He ignored her sarcasm. “Nice place.”
“Thanks.”
“Not a lot of pictures.”
Especially of family. Damn observant man. “I’m camera shy.” She’d rather not hear his psychoanalysis of her life. “Can I get you a drink? Water? Iced tea? Beer?”
He let her change the subject. “Beer sounds good. Thanks.”
Quinn spun on her heel, headed into the kitchen, and pulled a bottle of her favorite beer and a pitcher of iced tea out of the fridge, then got down a glass.
“I assume you’ll get a taxi back to the hotel?” she called.
“I’m not leaving.”
She paused pouring the tea into a glass.
“Why not?”
“As your new fiancé who moved here from Paris and got a job with you to be closer, it would look odd if I went and stayed with a bunch of men. Don’t you think?”
Quinn snorted and opened a canister of sugar which sat on her countertop. “Good one.”
Silence greeted her. She stopped spooning sugar into her glass and glanced over the counter to find him watching her with patient expectance.
She scowled. “Hell, no.”
“I’m afraid so. We need to appear normal. You need protection. There’s no chance I’m leaving you alone.”
“Has it escaped your notice there’s not enough room here?” She waved at the apartment. “Where do you think you’ll sleep?”
“In your bed.”
Her heart kicked it up a notch and her body screamed yes, but her mind balked. “You really don’t value your life. Do you?”
Was that a smile tilting the corners of his mouth?Nope. Not sexy. Do not think of him as sexy. She chanted the mantra in her head, refusing to acknowledge how she was failing miserably to adhere to her own instructions. The man was sex appeal wrapped up in a fabulous package. Instead she narrowed her eyes. “What? You think I’m funny?”
“I think you’re fighting the inevitable.”
“I think you’re delusional. It’s sofa city for you, sweetheart.”
Cain broke out in a full-bellied laugh. His smile transformed his face from broodingly handsome to drop dead gorgeous, and heat pooled low as fierce attraction swept through her in response.
“I don’t think anyone’s ever called me sweetheart before.”
She didn’t doubt it. She pointed her spoon at him. “I’m serious. You’re not sleeping in my bed.”
“Your fiancé would.”
She spread her arms wide. “No one is here to know the difference.”
“Honey, we’re dealing with demons.”
His calm logic only infuriated her more. If rumors were to be believed, demons could see through walls. Quinn gritted her teeth. “Fine,” she spat. “But I sleep on the left. Touch me and I’ll cut off your hand. And you’d better not snore.”
He held up both hands. “I make no promises.”
“Grrrr.” Quinn growled her frustration and refused to acknowledge the panic tingeing the emotion. What if she did something really stupid? Like jump Cain in her sleep?
She moved around the counter, shoved Cain’s beer at him, then yanked her cellphone out of her purse. She’d had a crappy couple of days. She needed pizza. Her favorite place picked up on the second ring. “Hi, Tony. It’s Quinn. Yeah, I’ll need the usual, please.”
She glanced at Cain, who listened with raised eyebrows. “Make that a double order. Thanks.”
Quinn bolted upright in bed, gasping for air. Her nightmare, the one she had every night, dissipated as consciousness returned. But fear of a different sort seized her in the dark of the middle of the night—someone was in her room, in her bed. Without zero hesitation, she whipped out the knife hidden between her mattress and box spring and was on top of her intruder, knife at his throat, in a flash.
She froze as recognition slammed into her. Daniel Cain lay under her as she straddled him, his hands held up in a surrender-like gesture. Only the blaze of his pale blue eyes told her he hadn’t surrendered. The sound of her panting breaths was the only noise in the room.
“Quinn?”
“Oh, god, I’m so sorry!” she mumbled.
As fast as she’d jumped him, Quinn rolled away, careful not to nick him with the knife. She sat with her back to him, legs dangling off the side of the bed, and stuffed her weapon back into its hiding place before dropping her head into her hands.
“If you didn’t like my beard, all you had to do was say so. No need to shave it off for me.”
His unexpected teasing pulled a huff of a laugh from her. “Normally, I don’t like beards on men.”
“But you like mine.” An interesting tone of satisfaction layered his words. The rustle of sheets told her he sat up.