Flirting With Disaster (12 page)

A deeply dismaying thought occurred to her. “You didn’t know, did you? Tell me you didn’t know he was gay the whole time, because if you knew and let me make a complete ass of myself, I’ll have to disembowel you.”

Sean choked on his coffee, set the mug down, and wiped off his mouth with the back of his hand. There was no mistaking his expression anymore. He was definitely smiling. As she watched, the smile kept getting wider.

“You think this is
funny
?”

He shook his head and covered his mouth with his palm.

“It’s not funny,” she insisted.

Though it was, maybe, just a little bit. A new dress, new lingerie, and all that effort to sleep with a gay guy. You either had to laugh or cry. There was no real middle ground.

“He doesn’t
look
gay!” she said, and Sean’s shoulders began to shake. His cheeks went pink, and his eyes were so warm, so lively and compelling, she gave up and started egging him on. “Come to think of it, though, he smells gay. I think he had pomade in his hair.”

Sean tipped over sideways on the couch, overtaken by silent laughter, and the sight of him there—that deep dimple peeking out from beside his fingers, his infectious amusement—all of it filled Katie with a clean sort of pleasure that lit her up and made her smile back at him without reserve.

Who
was
this guy, and what had he done with Granite Man? He was … bright, somehow, brighter than she’d known he could be. She hadn’t thought Sean Owens capable of smiling, much less laughing until he collapsed on Caleb’s couch, but he was. How could she help but like him for it?

So she sat there and watched him, grinning through her bewilderment, until eventually she remembered that when she smiled big like this, her snaggletooth showed and she looked—according to an offhand comment Levi had once made—as if she’d been lobotomized. She
dialed back the smile to a more attractive wattage, and the act reminded her of Judah for some reason, and of the (b) point in Sean’s report. Then she didn’t feel quite so much like smiling.

“I shouldn’t make fun of him,” she said. “Not if some psycho’s threatening to murder him.”

Sean pushed himself up and wiped his damp eyes with the hem of his T-shirt, giving her a glimpse of flat stomach that she would have given back if she could only figure out how. That thin line of golden hair disappearing into his jeans … she shouldn’t have seen that. It wasn’t something she could manage to un-see.

“I don’t know,” Sean said. “I get the impression he d-deserves it.”

“To be killed?” she asked, still marginally dazed. Sean and Judah hadn’t exactly hit it off, but surely Sean’s wishing Judah dead was a tad extreme.

“To be m-mocked,” he said. “For wearing hair p-product.”

Katie gave him half a smile, relieved. “Ah. Because real men don’t.”

“Exactly,” Sean said, his dimple making a brief, flirtatious reappearance. “It’s on the b-books. One of the Man Laws.”

“Last time I checked, though, it wasn’t a killing offense.”

Sean spread his hands. “
I
d-didn’t send those threats.”

“No? Who did?”

“That’s what we’re g-going to ffind out.”

The comment sobered her up quickly. He couldn’t mean—“You think we should start working the case again? You and I?” She didn’t know whether she liked the idea or not. Judah still hadn’t opened up, and she’d gotten used to the idea that the case was over, even if her relationship with him wasn’t.

But she certainly didn’t want him to end up dead. He was arrogant and insensitive, but also pretty funny, and he could be thoughtful when he worked at it.

“Don’t you think it’s out of our league?” she asked.

Sean shrugged. “I don’t know how sserious any of this is,” he said. “The m-messages aren’t explicit threats. They’re k-kind of odd, and odd messages go with the territory, I think. B-but I have to admit I’m damn c-curious about the whole situation. Enough to drive to Buffalo to t-talk to the guy again.”

Katie looked at the report on her lap. “Curious” didn’t seem an adequate word to describe
whatever impulse had driven Sean to poke around in Judah’s online life and hack into his personal accounts to compile all this stuff. He’d never stopped working the case. She’d never properly started, and he’d never stopped. It suggested an intensity that fit with his usual manner. “Is that a problem for you? Insatiable curiosity?”

She hadn’t meant anything sexual by the remark, but when Sean smirked and said, “Mmm-hmm,” she wasn’t altogether sure
he
didn’t.

A coherent response eluded her.

Sean must have taken her silence as a sign that she was reluctant to get involved with Judah again, because he said, “I just want to t-talk to him. He hasn’t c-called in the police or any other agency, so far as I can tell. I don’t think
he
thinks his life is on the line, but he hired us for a reason. I want to know what it is, and why he’s been hounding the office all week trying to get you to c-come back.”

“Who told you he was hounding the office?”

“Your brother.”

“Does Caleb know about this?” She lifted the report.

“No. I wanted to talk to you ffirst.”

Sean wasn’t stuttering so much anymore. Because he’d relaxed, or because talking about the job distracted him? She didn’t know, but she filed the observation away to think about later.

“It
is
pretty strange.” Judah kept telling her he needed her, only her, but it wasn’t as if she brought any special skills to this security guard stuff. Despite what had happened in Louisville, she’d assumed there was some kind of ongoing sexual component to his interest. “Do you suppose he’s bi?”

The report didn’t contain any hard evidence that Judah was gay. It was difficult not to draw that conclusion, though, when you read all the accounts Sean had assembled from men who’d claimed to have had sex with the singer over the years—about a dozen gritty stories of hot, fast, unexpected encounters in locked dressing rooms and dark parking lots. Desperate sex, rather than fantasy sex, and the accounts rang true in the details, especially when you read them all together like this.

“Do
you
suppose he’s b-bi?” Sean tossed out the question casually, but his eyes held hers. His eyes asked her something different.

He wanted to know what had happened in that room between her and Judah, and it was
no idle curiosity. Sean
cared
what had happened in that room.

Katie didn’t pause to consider her response. “Either I’m terminally unfuckable, or that man is gay.”

This time, when the smile came, it crept up on her slowly, and it made it surprisingly difficult for her to pull enough air into her lungs. “Sweetheart,” Sean said, “you are the farthest thing from terminally unfuckable I can possibly imagine.”

That was when she knew for sure Sean wasn’t flirting with her. Sean was coming on to her.

“Let’s go to Buffalo,” he said.

“Okay.” At that moment, she would have followed him anywhere. “But don’t tell Caleb.”

“Don’t tell Caleb what?” her brother said from behind her.

Her eyes shot to Sean’s, desperate for reassurance.
Tell me he wasn’t just listening in on that horrifically embarrassing conversation
.

Sean shook his head a fraction.
Thank God
.

“Don’t tell Caleb what?”

“Can you get Sean a refill on his coffee?”

Caleb fixed her with his most determined ex-military-guy look, but she just said, “Please?” and he gave up and went into the kitchen.

Katie looked at Sean. “Let me handle this,” she whispered. “I don’t want him to know what the messages say. Not yet. Besides, he won’t like how you found out about it. Caleb doesn’t believe in breaking rules.”

Sean’s eyes were wary, his whole body considerably tighter than it had been moments ago. After a few seconds, he nodded.

If Caleb knew someone was threatening Judah’s life, he would fabricate a reason to send another agent to New York. He wouldn’t come right out and admit he didn’t want her to go, but she’d know he was protecting her, and she didn’t want to be protected. She wanted to go to Buffalo with Sean.

Partly it was the way he’d just smiled at her, and what he’d said, and the way he’d said it. Okay, mostly it was that. And a little bit his stomach. And the kiss. And the moment on the bed, with his mouth by her ear and his face scratching over her neck.

But it was Judah, too. Sean’s report had stripped off some of Judah’s layers and revealed
aspects of his private self. She didn’t like the thought of some other agent showing up and badgering him into spilling his guts. He’d hate it.

He would talk to her, though. He wanted to trust her.

And why not her?
Be your best self
. This was part of it, wasn’t it? Stepping up to meet the challenges head-on?

Caleb came in and handed Sean a fresh cup of coffee. “Don’t tell Caleb what?” He perched on the arm of the couch, looking at Sean rather than at her, a determined set to his jaw.

Katie sighed. “Sorry, Sean. I suck.”

Sean looked at her expectantly, but he didn’t say anything. He was giving her some maneuvering room.
Awesome
.

“Look,” she said to Caleb. “I don’t know how to tell you this. It was Sean’s idea, but I know I should have stopped him. I figured I could keep the credit card statement out of sight, and you’d never need to know about it.” She wrung her hands, drawing out the drama a little.

“What’s she talking about?” Caleb asked Sean.

“The hotel,” Sean said. He was guessing, but it was the right guess, and he said it with total assurance. “We had a p-pretty pricey room in Louisville. I wanted us to be in the ssame hotel as Judah.”

“You shared a hotel room?” Caleb asked.

“Yes,” Sean replied.

Katie waited for him to reassure her brother that the room had been a double, and nothing had happened, and Katie had been throwing herself at Judah at the time. He didn’t. He just met Caleb’s eyes, direct and confident, as if to say,
Yeah, I shared a room with your sister, and what happened in there is none of your damn business
.

If she wasn’t careful, she could really start to like this guy.

Caleb frowned. “How much did it cost me?”

They were talking man-to-man, and she let them, only half-listening as Sean filled Caleb in on their plan to pick the case up again. She sank deeper into the couch, thinking about Judah.

Gay
. It fit. Not in an “oh, my gaydar went off” kind of way, but more in the way he held himself back. Alone in his room with her, or even in the hall behind the stage at the High Hat, Judah had been performing his attraction to her. On the phone, over voice mail and email, he was still performing, but she’d caught him in a few moments of honesty, and they had a different
timbre to them.

She had no idea why, but he really did want her back on the case.

I need you
. He kept saying it, and if any words were her Kryptonite, it was those.

“Hey, Leadfoot? What t-time do you want to go?”

She was staring out the window at the woods, wondering if she’d ever get the apology Judah owed her. What made a man his age incapable of apology? How did anyone remain so privileged, so clueless about how to be a good human being?

“Katie?” Caleb said sharply, cutting into her reverie.

“What?”

“Sean’s talking to you.”

She blinked and dragged herself into the present. Her mind had wandered, comfortable to let Caleb and Sean sort out the rest of the lie she’d manufactured, and now she was disoriented. Stupid daydreaming brain, always getting her into trouble.

“Did you just call me ‘Leadfoot’?” she asked Sean.

“I have to c-call you ssomething,” he said.

“Most people call me ‘Katie.’ ”

Sean nodded. “What t-time?”

She calculated how long it would take her to pack, shower, eat something, and reassure Caleb that she wouldn’t get devoured by wolves while she was away. “I can pick you up around nine,” she said. “I’ll drive.”

“Now see, that’s one of the things we’ll have to sstraighten out if we’re going to be p-partners again,” he replied, spreading his arms like wings along the top of the couch cushions. “I’m going to be the one who drives.”

“I like to drive,” she protested.

Sean looked at Caleb. “Back me up.”

“You’re a terrible driver,” her brother said.

“You traitor!”

Caleb picked up her empty coffee cup and carried it into the kitchen with an amused smirk that told her he was pleased with Sean and pleased with himself.

Men
.

“If you’re the partner who drives, I get to be the partner who picks the music,” she
announced.

“My c-car, my music,” Sean said, gathering his jacket off the arm of the couch and standing up.

“Come on,” she complained. “What does that leave for me?”

He stepped closer, blocking some of the light and replacing it with a couple hundred pounds of man as he shrugged into his jacket. It had a deep navy satin lining that matched his eyes, and she remembered its buttery softness beneath her fingers when she’d touched his arm. Supple leather over hard muscle. She’d be willing to bet that jacket had cost a mint. A strange luxury for a security guard to have a jacket like that.

But what did she know about Sean, really? Next to nothing. He was so serious and stern again, she almost wondered if she’d imagined him smiling. If his laughter had been a mirage.

“What?” she asked.

Sean didn’t speak. Not until he’d crossed the room and opened the door to let himself out.

One foot outside the house, he finally said, “You can be the p-partner who packs heat.” His mouth twitched with a smile he didn’t quite allow onto his lips. “I’ll be b-back at nine, Leadfoot.”

It was 293 miles from Camelot to Buffalo, most of it a straight shot northeast along I-71 and I-90. Five hours in the car with Katie. Plenty of time to talk strategy about Judah. Plenty of time for the two of them to get to know each other better, now that they were talking.

Thirty-four miles in, and Sean already knew he was screwed.