Man of the Hour (17 page)

“I was only teasing, Kirry,” he said gently.

She let out a long sigh. “I’m not laughing,” she muttered.

“Get your stuff and we’ll drop by my apartment and get my stuff.”

She hesitated. “Maybe he’ll give it up.”

He shook his head, and there was weary wisdom in his eyes. “Not a chance.”

Lang’s apartment was on the sixth floor of an old downtown hotel, and the decor was Roaring Twenties. It was dark and cramped, and Lang’s belongings barely filled one suitcase.

“That’s all?” she asked uneasily, lifting her eyes to his when he’d
changed in the bedroom and came out with one suitcase and a long suit bag.

“That’s it,” he agreed. “I travel light.”

“But you must have more than that!”

“I do. It’s at Bob and Connie’s place.”

“Oh, of course. I forgot. You wouldn’t want to carry heirlooms around the world with you.”

“Speaking of heirlooms,” he said slowly, “what did you ever do with the emerald I gave you?”

She averted her eyes. “Do you really think I’d keep something that reminded me of you, after the way you dumped me?”

“Yes, I do,” he said.

She glared at him. “I meant to throw it away.”

“I wouldn’t have blamed you,” he assured her. He smiled. “But I’m glad you didn’t hate me enough to actually do it.”

“It’s a pretty ring,” she commented.

“But you don’t wear it.”

“It’s part of the past. I wanted to start over. I went to university and when I came out, with a major in public relations, I walked right into this job. I’ve been very lucky.”

“You’re alone,” he remarked.

“I wanted it that way,” she said shortly. “When I’m ready, I’ll start looking for a husband.”

“Have anyone in mind?” he asked carelessly, gathering his stuff.

“Mack,” she said triumphantly.

He raised an eyebrow and grinned. “Do tell.”

“Mack’s settled and financially secure, and good company.”

“You’d shrivel up like a prune if he touched you,” he scoffed. “I’ve seen the way you draw your legs up when he comes close.”

“You have not!”

“Kirry, you don’t know a damned thing about modern surveillance techniques, do you?” he asked dryly. “Maybe that’s good. I’d hate to make you inhibited when you dance around your bedroom in the nude.”

She gasped audibly and went scarlet. “You Peeping Tom!”

“Accidental, I swear it,” he said, holding up a hand. “It was the mirror. I had the camera just a little too far to the left….”

She aimed a blow at him, and he sidestepped just in time.

He laughed delightedly. “I thought you were spectacular,” he said deeply. “All pink and mauve and blond. A nymph caught cavorting among the ferns. I didn’t sleep all night long.”

She glared at him. “I hate you.”

“Kirry,” he said softly, “I didn’t see much that I haven’t already seen before. I know, you don’t like remembering that, but it’s true.”

“If I’d known what was going to happen later, that you’d believe those sick lies of Chad’s…!”

“You’d never have let me touch you. I know that,” he replied, his voice quiet and somber.

She wrapped her coat closer around her gi. “I’m ashamed of that night, anyway.”

That stung. “I can’t imagine why,” he said matter-of-factly. “We were engaged. Most engaged people make love, and it isn’t as if we went all the way.”

“They make love when they actually plan to get married. That’s why you always held back before, wasn’t it, because you never had any intention of marrying me?”

“Once or twice, I thought about it,” he confessed. “You were hungry for that damned ring, for the proposal. I humored you, because you wanted it that badly. But I knew that I’d be no good as husband material until I got the wanderlust out of me. I tried to tell you that, but you were so young.”

“Young and stupid,” she agreed. “And desperately in love.”

He averted his eyes. “In love, hell,” he said curtly. “You wanted to sleep with me.”

“Of course I did, but it was much more than that,” she argued.

“You were only eighteen,” he returned, moving toward the door. “It’s ancient history now, anyway, and we have more important things to think about.”

“Sure.” She opened the door for him, refusing to look up.

He went out, let her move past him and then turned off the lights and locked the door. Later, he’d have a talk with the manager about his brief absence, to make sure the man knew that he was only leaving temporarily. He’d pay the rent up in advance, too, just in case. With any luck, Erikson was going to be a bad memory in the near future.

Kirry held his clothes bag while he unlocked the apartment next to hers and opened the door. It was smaller than hers, but not much. It had a better view than hers did of the Alamo, and it looked as though it had just been decorated. It was done in greens and browns, and somehow it suited Lang.

“Yes, I like this,” he remarked as he looked around. He glanced back at her. “We live close enough to share kitchen duty. You could cook one night and I could cook the next.”

“That would be nice,” she said.

“But you can’t sleep over,” he added sternly. “No use begging, it won’t work. I don’t allow women into the bedroom. It’s too hard to get them out.”

She smiled faintly. “I’ll bet it is.”

His eyebrow jerked. “Want to find out why?” he asked sensually.

“I have a pretty good idea,” she replied, dropping her eyes. “You’re a hard act to follow.”

He turned back toward her with his hands deep in his pockets. “So are you,” he replied honestly.

Her eyes scanned his broad face and she had to bite down hard to keep from begging him to kiss her. That way lay disaster, she reminded herself. She knew better than to encourage Lang.

She turned. “Well, I’ll let you get settled. I’m tired and I want to go to bed.”

He followed her to the door and opened it for her. “I’ve already checked out this place,” he said. “The bedroom where you sleep is on the other side of the wall of mine. If you rap on the wall, I’ll hear you. I don’t sleep heavily, ever.”

“Thanks. That’s nice to know.”

“Wear a gown, will you?” he asked on a groan. “I have to keep you under surveillance for your own protection. Don’t make it any harder on me than you have to.”

She glared at him. “I’ll wear body armor, in fact,” she said with a curt nod of her head. “Good night, Lang.”

“Sleep well.”

“I want a nice hot bath and…” She hesitated, her eyes shooting to his.

He sighed with resignation. “Okay, I’ll cut the camera off when I hear water running, will that do?”

“You don’t need a camera in the bathroom!” she exclaimed.

“That’s odd, the last man we protected said the same thing,” he told her frankly. “We got some very interesting pictures of him and his lady….”

“How is it that you’re still alive?” she asked, exasperated.

“Not for lack of effort by irate taxpayers, that’s for sure,” he said with twinkling eyes. “Sleep well, little one. I’ll be as close as a shout if you need me.”

“You’ll get a shout if you don’t turn those cameras off,” she informed him.

“Spoilsport,” he muttered.

“I don’t watch you take baths,” she assured him.

He didn’t smile as she expected him to. His dark eyes held hers until she felt her knees buckle. “Want to?” he asked softly.

S
he glowered at him. “Fat chance,” she said smartly. He shrugged. “Your loss,” he informed her with dancing eyes. “Keep the door locked.”

She gave him a speaking look.

“Overkill, huh?” he teased as he went to the door and opened it. “How about riding in with me in the morning?” he suggested. “I can guarantee you won’t see your blue sedan buddy while I’m around.”

“He might take that as cowardice,” she said simply.

“Listen,” he replied, leaning back against the door, “you can push your body just so far before it gives out on you. Stress is dangerous. Don’t let it get to the point that your nerves are shot. If you go in with me, it will take some of the pressure off. Don’t you even realize how tense you are lately?”

She felt the coldness of her own hands with irritation. “Yes,
I know, but I don’t want to make him think I’m afraid, even if I am.”

He smiled. “He won’t. He’ll assume that I’ve taken you over. It’s the way that kind of man thinks.”

“Well, I guess I could ride with you,” she said. “As long as you don’t really try to take me over.”

His dark eyes narrowed and wandered over her as if they were caressing hands. “Could I, Kirry, if I worked at it?” he asked, and there was something unfamiliar in the glint of his eyes.

“Sorry, I’m immune,” she replied pertly.

“To measles, maybe,” he agreed. “But not to me. You still blush when I look at you, after all these years.”

“Skin hysteria,” she countered. “My pores are all allergic to you.”

He chuckled. “Remember when we went to the park that time, and wound up with six lost little kids in tow? They wanted to know why you had freckles across your nose and I told them it was because you were allergic to ice cream.”

“And they almost cried for me.” She smiled back. “Oh, Lang, we had such good times.” The expression in her eyes became sad. “You were my best friend.”

He winced. “And you were mine. But several years ago, I was a bad marriage risk. You must have known it. There was so much I wanted to do with my life, things I couldn’t have done with a family.”

“Yes. Like joining the CIA.” She dropped her gaze to his broad chest, because she didn’t want him to see the remnants of the
terror in them. She hadn’t known exactly where he was for years, except when Connie and Bob, with whom she was still friends, let slip little bits of information about his work. She’d worried and watched the whole time, afraid that he was going to be killed, that he’d come home in a box. The reality of seeing him again that first day he’d come to work for Lancaster, Inc. had knocked her legs out from under her. She was still reeling from the impact of knowing that he’d given up the old life. And wondering why he had.

“Kirry?” he asked softly, interrupting her memories.

“What?”

He shook his head. “You weren’t even listening, were you?” he mused.

“I was thinking about how it was while you were away,” she said involuntarily, scanning his eyes. “I read about covert operations in the newspapers and wondered if you were in the middle of them, if you were all right.” She laughed. “Silly, wasn’t it?”

His face hardened. “That was what I wanted to spare you.”

“You wanted to spare me the fear?” Her green eyes wandered over his broad face. “And you thought you had. Of course, I stopped loving you the minute you walked away from me, right?”

He leaned back heavily against the wall. “Right,” he said doggedly. “You hated me when I left.”

She smiled sadly. “I thought I did,” she agreed. “But it wasn’t that easy to put you in the past, Lang. It took a long time. There
were so many memories. Almost a lifetime of them.” She turned away. “I guess it’s different for men. It’s only physical with you.”

“Why do you say that?”

“It’s true. Men think with their glands, women with their hearts.”

“That’s stereotyping,” he accused. “Men feel things as deeply as women do.”

“You wanted me, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do anything about it,” she said. “If you’d loved me enough, you couldn’t have walked away.”

“You let me walk away,” he said shortly. “You could have opened that damned letter I sent you!”

“Did it say something besides goodbye?” she asked, her voice harsh. “I thought it was another accusation, that you figured you hadn’t said enough about my lack of character and morals.”

He stuck his hands into his pockets. “I knew about Chad by then. I’d had time to get my priorities straight.”

“I didn’t know that,” she reminded him. “All I knew was that when you left, you held me in contempt and never wanted to see me again. You said so—explicitly.”

His eyes narrowed with painful memory. “I’d never had to handle jealousy before,” he said. “It was new to me. Besides that, I felt betrayed. Chad was my best friend.”

“Oh, why rehash it?” she muttered, turning away. “You wanted a way out and he gave you one. That’s it in a nutshell. I hope you enjoyed your stint with the government, Lang. What I can’t understand is why you gave it up and came back.”

His dark eyes slid over her hungrily. “Can’t you?”

She ignored the caress in his voice. “I’m tired,” she said over her shoulder. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“That you will.” He opened the door. “And you’re riding in with me, whether you want to or not.” He closed the door on her openmouthed expression.

She picked up a vase and almost—almost—flung it at the closed door. But it would only mean a cleanup that she was too tired to do. Arguing with Lang wasn’t going to change anything, and she didn’t have enough nerve left to dwell on a dead past.

She started past her answering machine and noticed that it was blinking. She didn’t want to listen to the messages, because one of them was probably Erikson. But her job sometimes infringed on her free time, because clients often called at night when they had more time to talk. She couldn’t afford to ignore the calls.

Grimacing, she pushed the Replay button.

The first message was from Mack, reminding her that he was bringing in a new client for her to work with the next morning and to be on time. The second was a wrong number.

The third, as she’d feared, was Erikson. “One night, your bodyguard won’t be close by, and I’ll get you.” He purred. “What are you going to do then, Your Highness?”

The line went dead. She took out the tape and replaced it with another one. That nasty little remark might come in handy in court if Erikson made a wrong step. She slipped it into a drawer and went to bed, to toss and turn all night.

When Lang rang her doorbell the next morning, she was dressed in a neat lavender dress with a patterned scarf. He was wearing a gray sport coat with tan slacks and a red-and-white striped shirt. He looked very nice, but she pretended not to notice.

“Here,” she said, handing him the tape from her answering machine. She told him what it was.

He slipped it into his pocket with cold eyes. “He’ll overstep one day soon,” he promised her. “And when he does, I’ll be right there waiting.”

“He’s sick, isn’t he?” she asked.

“Sick, or just plain damned mean,” he replied. He waited while she locked her door and escorted her out to his car in the parking lot.

“Wait a minute,” he said, holding her back before she could open the door.

He went around and did a quick check of the car, even under the hood. Satisfied, he opened the door and helped her inside.

“What was that all about? You don’t think he’d go so far as to blow up your car?” she asked.

He shrugged as he pulled out into traffic. “Caution is worth its weight in gold sometimes, and you never know which way a man like that is going to jump.”

“I see.”

He glanced at her with a smile. “Don’t look so worried. I can defuse a bomb.”

“Can you really?”

He nodded. “If it’s a simple one. There was this case in Europe, when we were…” He hesitated. “Well, that’s classified. But I had to defuse a bomb, just the same.”

“Is that something they taught you?” she asked, curious.

He chuckled. “No. It’s something I learned the hard way.”

Her eyes were saucer-big. “The hard way?”

“Sure, by getting blown up.” He glanced at her expression amusedly. “Kirry, it was a joke. I’m kidding!”

She made a futile gesture with her hands. “I never could tell when you were,” she said, shaking her head. “I guess I’m hopelessly naive,” she muttered, glaring down at the purse in her lap. “At least I can fall down pretty good, though,” she added brightly.

“Sure you can. And when I get you through the basics of self-defense, you’ll be a holy terror on the street. Grown men will run from you screaming,” he promised. “I can’t imagine why you haven’t done that before. Every woman should know how to take care of herself. They should teach it in school.”

“They have enough to do in school without that.”

“No kidding, it could be part of gym class in high school, physical education. Mothers could stop worrying so much about their girls if they knew how to foil an attacker.” He glanced at her. “That includes an overamorous date.”

“I have heard of date rape, thanks,” she returned.

He chuckled. “In our case, I was the one with all the worries. You were one eager woman.”

“Go ahead, rub it in,” she grumbled, shifting away from him.

“How can I help it? You were beautiful, and you wanted me. You could have had anybody.”

“Not quite, or you’d never have gotten away,” she said, tongue in cheek. It was getting easier to handle the old rejection, now that she and Lang were friends again.

“Think so?” He parked the car just outside her office building, glancing around. “No Erikson,” he said, nodding. “Good. Maybe he’s terrified and gave it up.”

“Right,” she said dryly.

“I could get testimonials from people I’ve protected who’ll tell you I’m terrifying,” he informed her haughtily. “This last guy, in fact, said that it was a miracle we still had a country with people like me guarding it.”

She laughed. “The man whose bathroom you bugged?” she asked.

“They said to watch him all the time,” he replied. “So I watched him.
All
the time.”

She just shook her head. Then she remembered that he was watching
her
all the time, too. Her eyes spoke for her.

“Not in the bathroom,” he said. “Not when the door is opened or closed. Scout’s honor.”

“You were never a scout,” she countered.

“I was until I started my first fire.” He sighed, remembering. “Unfortunately it was in the scoutmaster’s living room, on his carpet. Never could get him to understand how that accident happened. It was Bob’s fault, anyway,” he added darkly.
“Bob was the one who gave me the stuff to do it with and showed me how.”

“Did Bob like the scoutmaster?”

“Come to think of it, he didn’t.”

She chuckled. “I see.”

They got out of the car and Lang’s hand slid into hers as they walked toward the building. He felt her jerk and his fingers contracted. He stopped and looked down at her.

“Too good to hold hands with the hired help, are we?” he murmured dryly.

She felt his big fingers caressing hers and his thumb found its way to her soft palm. It was starting all over again, the magic she’d felt when he came close.

“No,” she answered softly, looking straight up into his eyes. “But I don’t want to relive the past.”

“Not even with a different ending?” he asked softly. “A happy ending this time?”

Her heart skipped. It was just a game, she told herself. Lang was playing and she was letting herself take him seriously.

She began to laugh and tugged at her hand. “Let me go, you tease,” she murmured.

He looked stunned. “Kirry, it’s not…”

The sudden roar of a car engine caught his attention. He jerked Kirry onto the curb just as an old, dark-colored sports car swept by on the road.

“Lunatic,” Lang said angrily, glaring after the car. If it had been a blue sedan, he’d have gone right after it.

“Careless drivers are everywhere,” she said, brushing down her skirt. “I’m all right. He missed me by a mile.”

“Not quite.” He was pale. His eyes went over her like hands. “That was too close.”

“At least it wasn’t our friend Erikson,” she said.

Lang nodded, but he wasn’t convinced. He took her arm and escorted her into the building.

Later, he took out his laptop and plugged in with a secret access code. He called up Erikson’s name and did some crosschecking. He closed the terminal a few minutes later feeling angry and sick. Erikson had two vehicles. One was an old black sports car.

Kirry had a long day. Part of it was taken up with a staff meeting and the rest would have dragged on endlessly, because she was caught up with all her current projects. Mack had promised her a new client first thing this morning, but the client had a conflict in her schedule, so they’d postponed it until the next day.

Betty stopped by her office that afternoon. “How’s the new client?” she asked with a grin.

“I don’t know. She didn’t show. Mack said we’d try again tomorrow morning,” she replied.

“I was going to suggest that we go out to a movie, but I guess that’s not a good idea, with Mr. Nasty on the prowl.”

“Lang would have a screaming fit,” she agreed.

“He’s good-looking,” Betty ventured. “And there’s no competition there.”

“None that I can see,” Kirry replied. “In the old days, it was a different story. When Lang and I started going together, he’d just broken up with his current heartthrob. She was a dish, too, a model. Lorna McLane.”

Betty frowned. “Lorna McLane?”

Kirry stared at her. “What do you know that I don’t know, Betty?”

“The name of the client who didn’t show up this morning. It’s Lorna McLane.”

Kirry sat down. “What does she want with us?”

“She’s worked her way up the ladder to an executive position at a local model agency that specializes in south Texas location work. Mack says that she wants us to coordinate a fashion show for her, publicity and all.”

“Well, we can’t afford to turn down something of that magnitude,” Kirry said. “Besides, she and Lang were all washed-up before he and I even started dating. Not that it would matter anymore,” she added quickly when she noticed Betty watching her. “Lang and I are just friends now. He’s our security chief. That’s all.”