Page 21 of A Spy is Born
I stare at his forearms as he screws the shade back into place—his shirt sleeves are rolled up, exposing dark skin over taut muscle. There is something very sexy about this guy. Is it the power he exudes? All the secrets he keeps, seeping out of him in a pheromone perfume of danger and protection?
He keeps secrets safe.
I turn away as he climbs down from the chair, to keep myself from checking out his ass. Temperance puts the chair back under the table with a scrape of legs against tile and then starts to move toward my bedroom.
He knows his way around my apartment.Did he put whatever that was in that light socket or did someone else? The invasion of it strikes me as I follow him. Someone is listening in on me. Or are they filming? A surge of nausea pulses at the thought.
Temperance enters my bedroom, and I'm glad I took the time to make my bed and tidy up before heading for the premiere. He goes to my bedside lamp and flips it over, the shade tinkling against the bulb. Archie lifts his head and watches him for a moment, then nuzzles back into the blankets. Temperance pulls out another device and slips it into his pocket.
Replacing the lamp, his gaze finally reaches mine. The golden brown is soft, almost amused. He gestures with his chin for us to move back into the living room. I go first this time, feeling him at my back, the experience sending trills of sensation up and down my spine. I'm afraid and turned on, and confused…and somehow feeling all kinds of safe.Wtf?
Temperance points to my sneakers by the door, and I grab them, moving to the couch to put them on. He waits for me, standing, his arms crossed over his broad chest. Moments later, we are down in the garage getting into my car. He pulls out a screwdriver and leans toward my stereo. I wince as he pries the front off.It's a lease.
Reaching behind the plastic casing, he pulls out one more device, slipping it away into his pocket with the other two.
He then climbs out of the car. I follow, locking the doors in our wake, with a flash of lights and a beep of assurance.
I hold my tongue as we take the elevator back up to my apartment. Temperance waves a fob over my door, and it opens. Did he take mine? No, it's in my hand, along with my car fob. Temperance holds the door for me, his eyes meeting mine again.
Anyone can get into your apartment, his gaze warns.
I suck my bottom lip between my teeth as I pass him. He nods toward the couch, and I sit down. Temperance holds up a hand—stay here—then leaves, closing the door behind him.
I stay on the couch, staring at the closed door, my hands fisted by my side, chewing on my lip. Is he coming back? Am I supposed to sit here all night? Is he watching me? My eyes scan the living room. There could be devices anywhere. Were they just listening? Or also watching? And who the heck is they? Are there more?
I'm starting to go stark raving mad when I hear the lock turn. Standing up, I hold my breath, bracing myself for whatever might come through the door. My training kicks in, and my heartbeat actually slows down. I can fight.I can kill.
Temperance steps into the apartment and smiles when he sees me, giving a small nod of approval. I've dropped into a fighting stance without even realizing it. He closes the door. "Next time," he says, “don't stand in the middle of the room. You're better off tactically where I can't see you."
"Are you a danger to me?" I ask. "What are those things you took out of here?"
"TMZ." He answers my second question first, referencing one of the largest celebrity gossip sites. He strolls toward me. The collar of his white shirt is open and he looks like a businessman after hours. If businessmen spent a lot of their time at the gym and walked like they knew all the secrets of the world…which most of them think they do.
I jut my chin up, as good a defense as any punch in my world, and narrow my eyes. “TMZ? The tabloid news site?” I ask.
"Yes, they want dirt on you. That's a good thing. Means you've made it." He pauses on the far side of the coffee table for a moment and then looks toward my kitchen. "I'd like a glass of water."
I'm thrown off, but my hostess instincts kick in. "Right, of course," I say, moving toward the kitchen. "Sparkling or still?"
He smiles at me. "You worked as a waitress, right?"
"Yeah, one of the worst of all time, I'd say. And I think my former boss would agree."
"Still water is fine," he says, his voice is smooth and rough—how does he do that? The man should be on the screen, not behind the curtain.
I grab a glass out of the cabinet and fill it from a bottle in the fridge, turning to hand it to him. He takes a sip, looking around the kitchen. "Nice place," he says.
"It's a rental. That apparently you have a key to."
"Locks are no protection," he brings his gaze back to mine, sending another thrill through me. I cross my arms over my chest. "But don't worry," he smiles. “I’m watching out for you."
That does not make me feel better for some reason. Like having the devil watch your back for just a small price…your soul.
"So…” I lean against the counter, hiding my concerns. "You came by to get those…what were they?"
"Listening devices. No video. They stopped that after the last lawsuit burned GTB to the ground."
I nodded, remembering the case—Holly Manster won a big enough settlement to shut that gossip site down after they published video footage from inside her house exposing her extramarital affair.