Kat Attalla Special Edition (5 page)

“So, what can I do for you, Dr. Jansen?” Marlene asked.

“First of all, you can call me Victoria. And then you can give me something that makes me look like a
Victoria
instead of a Dr. Jansen.”

The stylist smiled. “Leave it to me, and I’ll make you look like a
Victoria
’s Secret model.”
Victoria
sighed. She wasn’t expecting miracles.

* * * *

Erik stood near the checkout counters while Daniels scouted the aisles with a shopping cart. He hated running surveillance in the small town—no back-alleys or crowded shops to disappear into. To make matters more challenging,
Victoria
seemed to know everyone in town, and she stopped to talk to each one of them. If she planned a meeting with Becker, she played the best-damned cover he’d ever come across.

Under any other circumstance, he’d have been bored stiff, but in this case, the object of his attention fascinated him. He stole another glance at her haircut. He didn’t usually care for short hair on a woman, but the style she’d chosen looked utterly feminine. The result made her look more like a coed and less like a professor.

From the dry cleaners, to the salon, to the bank, and finally the supermarket, she finished her rounds with no sign of Becker. Maybe he’d lie low for a while, especially if he suspected a setup at the airport. However, the agency’s sources reported that Becker’s clients worried that he couldn’t deliver. That could push a man to take risks.

Either way,
Victoria
wasn’t meeting with Becker this afternoon. While she checked out, Daniels joined him in the parking lot.

“Unless she wants to melt her
Rocky Road
, I’d say she’s heading home next,” Daniels said.

“I’ll drive.” Erik caught the keys his partner tossed him.

“I hope you’re hungry. Looks like you’re having salmon for dinner with a nice bottle of Port for dessert. Make sure you have a shirt that wears red wine well.”

Erik shot him a nasty glare. “What makes you think she’ll invite me to dinner?”

“Someone’s coming. She picked up two salmon fillets.”

“Maybe she likes fish.”

“Maybe she likes a man with a big tool box.” Daniels chuckled at his own joke.

“Let’s go before she comes out and spots me. The woman didn’t earn a Ph.D. by being a fool.” Erik got in the car and slammed the door.

* * * *

Victoria
ran her fingers through her hair for the tenth time. What possessed her to choose the short style? Did she honestly think she would look like the twenty-year-old model in the picture? She gazed at her reflection in the glass of the kitchen window. The simple style flattered her more than her boring old blunt cut. As she swiped at the wisp of bangs one more time, she noticed that she no longer saw her hazy reflection but the face of Erik Sanders.

Her heart skipped a beat when he waved to her from the far side of her back yard fence. Admit it,
Victoria
. He’s the reason you allowed the hairdresser to talk you into a style that she swore would make you look like a lingerie model.

Her family always told her “be more assertive”. Well, she planned to assert herself tonight. No talking about physics. No Charlie Chaplin-like spastic moves. She would remain cool and composed and let Erik talk about himself. Now, she needed a plan to invite him to dinner.

She started to unload her groceries. “Do you like salmon?” She shook her head. If he said no, the conversation would end. “I don’t suppose you’re free for dinner?” Too insecure sounding, she thought as she placed canned goods in the cabinet. “Would you like to have dinner with me?”

“Yes to all three.”

She dropped a can of tomato soup in the porcelain sink and whirled around. Her jaw went slack. She must have left the back door open when she brought the bags in from the car.

“I didn’t hear you come in,” she said on a rush of air.

“Then you weren’t inviting me to dinner?” he asked.

“No … I mean yes….” Her cheeks grew hot. So much for cool and composed. Utter humiliation prevailed. She prayed for a complete loss of consciousness.

He took a step closer. The scent of musk engulfed her. “I accept.”

“You do?” she squeaked out.

His rich laughter echoed around the kitchen. “Don’t look so surprised or I might think you don’t really want me.”

“I do want you … to stay for dinner, I mean.”
Breathe,
Victoria
. He said yes. The hard part is over.

Smile lines creased the corners of his mouth. “What time?”

“Whenever you’re finished.”

He glanced down at his work clothes. “I need to stop home and get changed first.”

“Do you live in Wakeburn?”

“No.” An odd expression crossed his face. “South of here. Outside of
Windsor
.”

“Oh, then you tell me what time.”

“About seven?”

She brushed at the bangs on her forehead. The knot in her stomach unraveled. For the first time in her life, she’d asked a man on a date. Not the most eloquent invitation, but he accepted. “Seven will be fine.”

“Good, then I’ll see you later.”

“You’re done here?” she asked, trying to mask her disappointment.

“I finished before you left. It just has to dry out down there.”

She tipped her head in confusion. “Then why did you come back?”

He shrugged sheepishly. “I was hoping you’d invite me to dinner.”

“You don’t eat too often, do you?”

His gaze swept over her, and a genuine grin of admiration spread across his face. “Not with such a beautiful woman, I don’t.”

Her heartbeat accelerated. She was determined to overcome her shyness. She couldn’t live her life in a self-imposed exile forever. The past belonged in the past. She had a new career, a new life now. If she didn’t have a lot in common with Erik professionally, so much the better. Whatever his intention, at least he didn’t have a hidden agenda. “Seven o’clock then.”

“See ya later, Tori.” He stroked a finger along her jaw line, sending a current of excitement through her. The tingling sensation remained long after he disappeared.

* * * *

Erik climbed in the van parked around the corner from
Victoria
’s house. He’d showered and changed at the hotel outside of town and arrived back at six thirty. Daniels gave him the once over and smirked.

“White shirt could be dangerous, pal.”

“Shut up.”

Although he categorically denied that this dinner had any purpose other than to discover more about Dr. Jansen, suspect, Erik couldn’t stop his thoughts from wandering to Tori Jansen, woman. Her endearing shyness couldn’t be an act. Even if she could control her expressions and gestures, she couldn’t fake a scarlet blush.

“Anybody call the house?” Erik asked.

“No, but she’s been busy tying up the line. She placed three calls to a
Burlington
number for instructions on how to make some fancy French salmon dish.”

“Sounds great.”

Daniels raised both eyebrows in a suggestive imitation of Groucho Marx. “Stuffed with oysters. Do you know what they use oysters for, pal?”

“Added flavor, I presume.” Erik tossed his partner a bag. “Well, here’s your Big Mac.”

Daniels removed the wrapped hamburger and waved it towards Erik. “You know, if I had been the one to go in and destroy her basement, you’d be eating a cold burger tonight.”

“As I recall, I lost the coin toss.”

“Just watch your step. Those who forget their history are condemned to repeat it.”

“I haven’t forgotten a damn thing,” Erik snapped. He remembered clearly what happened the last time he’d let his guard down. “You just keep your eyes open for Becker.”

“You don’t think she’d plan a meeting and a date in the same evening, do you?”

Erik considered the possibility that Becker wouldn’t show up at all. Not at
Victoria
’s house. He’d spent the better part of the afternoon wracking his brain for answers to the many inconsistencies in this case. Something was wrong. Perhaps something else caused Becker’s quick turn around at the airport.

“Call in to headquarters and have them review the security tapes from last night.”

“Why?”

“We might have the wrong woman. Tell them to check if another passenger wore the same flower.”

“I wonder if you’d consider that if she didn’t want to jump your bones.”

“Just make the frigging call,” Erik snapped.

“Chill. It was a joke.”

He rarely lost his temper over good-natured ribbing, but when it came to
Victoria
, he had no sense of humor. He opened the door of the van. Tucking a bottle of wine under his arm, he stepped onto the pavement. “And Daniels. You don’t need to listen with the headphones tonight.”

The older man chuckled. “How else would I pass the time?”

“Jackass,” Erik muttered. He slammed the door and strode down the quaint, tree-lined street. He filled his lungs with the clear, crisp autumn air. A refreshing change from the sleazier areas his work had taken him.

Hunter green shutters and trim framed
Victoria
’s small white cottage house. A picket fence surrounded the property, and iron lanterns bordered the gate. A welcoming home in a quiet community. Put a wooden swing on that front porch and it would look like the cover of the Saturday Evening Post.

Jeez. What happened to his brain cells? This place wasn’t home, and it never would be. He lived in a series of hotels and he liked it that way. No strings, no ties, no hassles. So why had he conned the professor into opening her home to him twice in one day?

* * * *

Victoria
sucked in a large gulp of air and opened the front door. Her practiced poise nearly deserted her. Erik, dressed in jeans, white
Oxford
shirt and leather jacket appeared the epitome of male sexuality. The porch light cast a glow over his hair and added a silver glint to his deep blue eyes. All in all, he looked breathtaking.

“Something wrong?” he asked, as she stared in silence.

“You look different in your clothes.” He chuckled, and she realized what she’d said. “Your street clothes, I mean.”

“I knew what you meant.” He offered her a bottle of wine.

“Thank you.” Their fingers touched for a brief moment, but the warmth lingered. The spicy scent of his aftershave heightened the impulses from her olfactory nerves.
Oh, darn,
Victoria
, forget the scientific reason, the man just smells good.

After a few awkward seconds he asked, “May I come in?”

“I’m sorry.” She stepped aside to allow him to enter. “You’ll have to forgive me. I seem to forget myself when you’re around.”

Erik grinned. “That’s good.”

“How so?”

“Better than you being indifferent to my presence. At least from my point of view.”

She would never suffer from indifference in his presence. Her hormones took over when she so much as thought about him. “Dinner’s not ready yet. I didn’t think you’d make it to
Windsor
and back that quickly. Especially during rush hour.”

“
Windsor
?” he repeated.

“Didn’t you say you lived outside of
Windsor
, or did I misunderstand?”

He shook his head. “No, you heard right. I couldn’t wait for your company.” Although his compliments sounded sincere, she rarely received flattery from men.

“Make yourself comfortable. I have to check on something….”
Victoria
left the sentence hanging and backed herself into the kitchen. She wiped her sweaty palms on a dishtowel and inhaled deeply. The wild rice still needed fifteen minutes to steam, the salad wasn’t made, and the salmon still required several minutes of prep time. All of which she’d planned to have done prior to his arrival. Now she would have to cook and entertain at the same time—and pray she didn’t mess up either task.

* * * *

Erik circled the cozy living room. Oak bookcases with a built-in desk filled one wall of the room. Albert Einstein graced the screen saver of her high-tech computer system. He shook his head and chuckled. Only another physicist would choose that image.

The fireplace smelled of pine. Heat radiated from the burning embers. He took a couple of logs from the wrought iron basket on the hearth and placed them on top. In less than a minute, the fire roared to life again.

He silently cursed his stupidity. He should have checked the distance from
Windsor
to Wakeburn. When she’d asked him where he lived, Windsor was the only town he could remember passing on his way up from
Boston
last Saturday. He never tripped up on small details, but then he never felt guilty about fabricating his past while working undercover either. How had she managed to touch his conscience when he believed he didn’t possess one?