Kat Attalla Special Edition (18 page)

He could also run away from her. Maybe not physically, but he tried to place an emotional distance between them. She knew he cared. Deep inside, Erik was capable of emotion. She put on Erik’s t-shirt, grabbed a blanket from the bed and followed him. “You did say this was the safest place to be,” she reminded him and flopped down on the couch.

He stoked the fire, keeping his back to her while he worked. “You know, your brother was right about you.”

“What did he say?”

“He said you were stubborn and you never know when to give up.”

Funny, he used to tell her to assert herself more. She wondered what he would think of her now. “Well, if scientists gave up after every little setback, we’d still be living in caves. Not that you wouldn’t look fetching in a loincloth.”

“Did you cause this much trouble the last time you were under protective custody?”

The NSB never sent her an agent that looked like him. “I’ve been easy on you, Sanders.”

He let out a hearty chuckle. “Easy? I’d hate to see what you do when you go all out.”

Victoria
snuggled into the sofa, surrounded by a velour blanket to ward off the chilly memories. Most of the agents assigned to her after she’d left the research lab considered her a first class pain in the gluteus maximus. Conversely, she’d considered them an unconscionable pack of liars.

“Are you going to tell me about it or what?” Erik asked.

“Why?”

“I thought women liked to purge their emotions.”

It was
Victoria
’s turn to laugh. “As much as I appreciate your pitiful attempt at sensitivity, I am not looking to relive the most humiliating experience of my life.”

He sat next to her and slipped his arm around her shoulder. “It couldn’t have been that bad.”

“Care to wager on that?”

“An agent was using you to get information?”

“A man trying to seduce secrets from a klutzy scientist would have a funny side at least.” She rested her head on his shoulder and let out a soft sigh. In Erik’s arms, colors seemed a shade brighter and smells that much sweeter. Did climactic sex enhance the senses or did the senses enhance the climactic sex? Another scientific question she would have to explore in the next few days.

“Well, don’t stop there. We have a wager. Lay your cards on the table.”

“Oh, yeah? And what do I get if I win?”

His grin raised her pulse. “Anything you want.”

“Anything? I’ll take that bet.” Cuddling closer, she reveled in the warmth of his body. “My superiors knew that I wasn’t happy. I disagreed fundamentally with the direction of the project. I spent my days working in an old-boy’s network and stuck inside a think-tank with a bunch of men twice my age. I wanted out.”

“You should be flattered that they didn’t want to lose their top brain.”

A sad smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. “Yeah. So those geniuses came up with a brilliant plan to get me to stay. A plan, I might add, that only a group of men could have come up with.”

“A raise and the corner office?”

“No.”

“A sports car with a surround sound system?” He got a laugh for his effort.

“No.”

“I don’t want to know this, do I?”

“Hey, Mr. Sensitive, we have a bet here. No backing out.”

“Go ahead. I can take it.”

She wriggled even closer. “My esteemed colleagues came up with the insightful conclusion that my restlessness was caused by sexual frustration and that I needed—in their words—to get laid. However, given the sensitive nature of our work, and my less than exciting personality, the local pick-up bar wouldn’t be a prudent place to seek Mr. Right.”

“Don’t tell me….” His pained groan echoed her own sentiment at the time. “The brass recruited an NSB agent?”

“I didn’t know he was an agent. He was just a guy I met at a reception. I guess they figured if I suddenly felt the need to start spouting state secrets, there would be no damage to national security with an inside man.”

* * * *

A knot of anger tightened in Erik’s stomach. He thought about some of the things he’d done in the name of undercover work. Parts of his job hovered on the brink of unscrupulous, but he’d never involved a known innocent in the course of an investigation. And, until today, he’d never become intimately involved with anyone related to a case. “Did your brother know about this?”

“Not at first. And to be fair, he took me aside and told me the minute he found out. But I still blamed him for a long time.”

“Is that why you quit?”

“No. And unfortunately, I can’t explain that part because the project is still considered classified. But it was enough to get me released from my contract.”

He admired her sense of loyalty despite what they’d done to her. Even after she’d left, she’d lost two more years of her life.

Victoria
tapped playfully against his chest. “I can tell by your silence that I have won this wager.”

“Do you miss doing research?”

“Funny you should mention that.” She turned and straddled her legs across his lap. “Since I won the bet and I get whatever I want … I’d like to engage in a little research.”

He slid his hands under her shirt and cupped the narrow expanse of her waist. “Tori, don’t do this.”

“Are you welshing on your bet?”

“No, just trying to summon that ‘pitiful’ sensitivity you think I don’t possess.”

“Then start by being sensitive to my needs. I need you, Erik. I won’t try to hold you when this case is over, but while you’re here, I will not be denied.”

“Were you always this single-minded, or is it a habit you recently acquired?”

“Like I said earlier, I’m being easy on you.”

Too easy. He imagined a future with her and discarded the selfish notion. She deserved more than sporadic and unplanned visits between cases. Hell, the minute he started thinking about a future, he knew he was in trouble.
Victoria
possessed an inexplicable ability to break through the granite wall he’d placed around his emotions. Evidently, you could get blood from a stone. But then, overcoming the laws of nature was her specialty.

* * * *

Victoria
put away the last of the breakfast dishes. Her task finished, she leaned against the counter and let out a sigh. She thought about last night. Although she would honor her word and not try to hold him when the case ended, she didn’t want to let go.

How could she fight the NSB mentality? What was it with these NSB men, anyway? She once asked Steven why he’d never married. He rattled off some babble about the difficulty of maintaining a relationship when his work took him away half the time. That sounded good to her. After all, absence made the heart grow fonder, according to the poets. She tossed the dishtowel down on the counter. As she stepped into the hall, Erik came out of the bathroom, a black t-shirt flung over his damp shoulder. As he walked towards her, he struggled with the snap on his jeans.

“Need help?” she asked.

“No.”

Her gaze wandered over his flat stomach to the soft hair peeking out near the zipper. “Are you one of those macho men who won’t accept help from a woman?”

“With your help, we won’t get out of here before noon.”

“Oh, right.” She ran her hand down his damp chest, pausing at the scar on his side. “What happened here?”

“I got shot,” he said, as calmly as if he was informing her of the time.

Her stomach muscles clenched, but she tried not to show her initial fear. “Rough crowd of guys you hang with.”

He shrugged in embarrassment. “I got this souvenir from a woman.”

“No kidding?” she said with a laugh.

“Don’t sound so impressed.”

“That’s what happens when you assume we are the weaker sex.”

He shook his head. “I won’t make that mistake with you.”

She pressed against him, receiving a deep groan for her efforts. His arm encircled her waist. He smelled of sandalwood and soap. The combination played erotically over her senses. “I’m sorry. Did you want me to get all teary-eyed and tell you to quit your job?”

Not that he would, she thought. Her brother had spent the better part of twenty years in the NSB, so she knew the type. While she wished Erik worked in a safer field, she knew he would hate a desk job. The work was a part of him, a part of what she loved about him. His total lack of fear gave her more courage than she ever thought she possessed. She glanced up at him. His expression held a mix of question and concern.

“Tori….”

“It was a rhetorical question.” She took the shirt from his shoulder and tugged it over his head. “If I have to behave, I don’t need temptation.”

He pushed his arms through the sleeves and smoothed the combed cotton fabric over his chest. What the man did for basic black defied description.

“Are you ready?” she asked.

“I don’t know. Am I? What were you planning today?”

“Is that all you’re going to wear?”

He glanced down at his outfit. “What’s wrong with it?”

“Don’t you want to wear a turtleneck or something?”

“I’ve got my jacket.”

“It’s not that. You have an epidermal hematoma on your neck. I thought you might want to cover it up.”

“A what?” He strode to the hall mirror and took a close look at his neck. “Dammit, Tori, you left a hickey on me.”

“I don’t recall you complaining at the time.”

“You’re supposed to leave these where they don’t show.”

She shrugged. “Next time I will.”

He spun around and glared at her. She laughed despite his serious expression. “You know, the minute I saw you in the airport in
Burlington
, I knew I was gonna have problems.”

“Me?” she squeaked out innocently. “I’m a mild-mannered geek scientist. Ask anyone at work.”

“You’re a hot-tempered, hot-blooded woman and trouble with a capital T. I should have let Daniels deal with you and stayed out in the van doing the surveillance.” He took in her amused expression and shook his head. “Never mind. I wouldn’t do that to my partner.”

She shrugged off his comments. He said one thing, but his actions were entirely different. If he wanted to play the macho man, she wouldn’t stop him. Last night she saw his tender side. Damn, she would miss him when he left.

* * * *

After yesterday’s fiasco at the game, Erik was reluctant to go out in public with
Victoria
again. She asked for one half hour. Why argue? They both knew he wouldn’t deny her anything. The town center bustled with activity. They parked the car in a nearby lot.

Holidays had never meant much to him in the past. They were marked by the overtime pay in his bi-weekly check. Commercialization replaced the religious meaning. He’d lived through thirty-two Christmases without once feeling the desire to celebrate. Why the sudden pang to paint himself into this Currier and Ives portrait?

The answer to that unsettling question stood a few feet ahead, bundled in a ski parka, with a wool cap and mittens. He’d watched her change this past week from shy and unsure to sexually bold and sensually confident. He liked the changes and the fact that he was responsible in a small way.

No change came without side effects. For a man who’d made a career of working undercover, he found comfort in living in a place where everyone knew his business. It should have made the job easier. Strangers stuck out in the small town. But the football game proved that even here, Becker could get to her. He should have taken her up on the suggestion that they spend the day in bed. With his partner popping in and out all day, he declined.

“Where are you dragging me?” he finally asked her.

“Where any normal person goes the day after Thanksgiving.”

He grabbed hold of her arm and spun her back towards him. “Forget it. I don’t do malls.”

“Me either. I’m on a mission for the perfect pine.”

“A Christmas tree? This early?”

“When do you get yours?”

“I don’t.”

Her eyes clouded over. Not with pity, which would have pissed him off, but with genuine sadness for what she felt he missed. Until recently, he would have disagreed. He liked his career. Friends were scarce, but he didn’t care. Relationships required work and usually weren’t worth the payoff. Casual friends, casual sex, an unencumbered life.

An empty life, if he could find pleasure in something as mundane as shopping for a tree. He never should have stepped beyond the professional bounds. He’d put his career in jeopardy, but worse, by losing his objectivity, he’d put
Victoria
’s safety in jeopardy too. She believed his withdrawal was due to guilt. He should feel guilty. Instead of feeling bad, he could only think of getting her alone again.

They rounded a corner to enter an open lot with trees in a variety of sizes and types. “Blue Spruce or Aspen Pine?” she asked.