Undercover Passion (7 page)

 

Daniel followed Abby into her apartment, his best investigative antennae on the alert. It was a nice place, very much as he would have expected.
The furniture was casually modern. Books filled the shelves. A Lichtenstein reproduction decorated one wall, an original picture of two small children eating ice cream cones was placed on another. A large Armani porcelain figure of a 1920s flapper filled one corner of the room.

“Nice,” he said, gesturing toward the fashionably dressed statue.

Abby smiled. “A gift from my parents when I finished my master's thesis.”

He turned to look at her. He'd assumed she was well educated but he didn't know much more about it. “What was your subject?” he asked.

“The applications of transcendental meditation on modern psychological modes of auditory perception.”

He grimaced. “No wonder they gave you an award. It was enough just to memorize a mouthful of a title like that.”

“My parents always gave me awards for goals challenged and met. It was their way of motivating me.”

He cast a cynical look her way. “Was all that really necessary? You seem pretty self-motivated to me.”

She stopped what she was doing and looked back at him. “Thanks for noticing,” she said quietly, smiled and went back to filling a kettle with water.

“Are you hungry?” she asked him. “I can whip up an omelet in no time.”

He hesitated, tempted. He really was hungry. But he'd probably better not eat anything here. The last thing he wanted was to accidentally take the mystery substance, whatever it was.

“No, thanks,” he said, wandering through her kitchen, trying to seem merely restless as he took in everything he could manage, trying to find something that could be the catalyst of the odd behavior she was exhibiting. “But you go ahead.”

“Oh, no,” she said with obvious regret. “I can't eat anything.”

“Why not?”

“I'm on a diet.” Pulling off the jacket of her suit, she made a slow pirouette before him. “Tell me the truth. Do you think I'm fat?”

The thin lacy shell didn't hide much and the shape of her full breasts just happened to be the sort of shape he liked the best. He winced, forcing back the natural reaction that tried to start up
his libido again. There was to be no more lusting in this relationship. He had to remain completely detached and totally professional.

Still, he had to admit she had certain attributes that were bound to linger in his memory for quite some time.

“Fat? Oh, no.” There could be no mistaking the honesty in his tone. “You're just right.”

She pouted provocatively, looking up at him. “I'm fat,” she insisted.

Either he was going crazy or she wanted more than reassurance. She was yearning toward him, aching for him, and it was all there in her eyes. Wasn't it?

His mouth was going dry. “You're crazy.” He turned away, hands shoved into his pockets to keep from reaching for her. “You should eat something.”

She sighed, and he wasn't sure if it was with disappointment that he obviously wasn't going to take her nonverbal invitations for some light intimacy, or if it was just with hunger.

“I might as well see if I can get this stain out,” she said. “Keep an eye on the teakettle, okay? I'll just go down to the laundry room at the end of the hall. I'll be right back.”

He waited until she was out of sight, then went into action. Working quickly, he opened cabinets one after another, then the refrigerator, looking for anything that might constitute a substance to bring on this lovesick fog thing. Nothing jumped out at him. He hesitated over a small piece of cake on a plate in the refrigerator. It had obviously been nibbled on. Something about it reminded him of Alice in Wonderland and he shrugged. Why not? He pulled a small evidence bag from the stash he always kept in his pocket and broke off a piece to take to the lab.

The water came to a boil and he poured it out into the waiting teapot, then stepped quickly to the bathroom, doing a fast raid of the medicine cabinet and taking two more samples, though he didn't hold out much hope for either one.

“I think this new spray I bought is doing the job.”

Abby's voice came to him from down the hall. Surprisingly, it stopped him cold.

“That's great,” he called back.

He looked down at the sample bag in his hand and for just a moment he felt guilty. He was snooping around behind her back. This wasn't a good thing.

But it was a necessary thing. And a part of his job. After all, the investigation had come first. His friendship with Abby was a by-product of the research he was doing.

What the hell was wrong with him? Just get on with it.

He set his jaw. One more room to check and he didn't have much time.

Her bedroom was dark. All he needed was one quick look at what she had on her dresser, and then he would be back out in the living room, acting innocent. Reaching around the corner, he didn't feel a light switch. He took a couple of steps into the darkness, reaching out to try to make contact with a toggle or a dimmer switch, judging just about where he would think one would have to be.

But instead of the wall, his hand came in contact with something furry. He saw a pair of golden eyes at the same time he heard the high-pitched screech as something came hurtling at his head.

“Hey!” he yelled out, batting it away, and something dark went scuttling from the room.

“Daniel?” Abby was coming down the hallway. “What's wrong?”

He got out of the bedroom in time, but he couldn't hide the scratch across his cheek.

“What have you got in here? A tiger?” he demanded, wiping a line of blood from the wound.

“Oh, no!” she cried.

He looked up pathetically, expecting sympathy and coddling, but Abby was rushing right past him into the living room, searching for the animal.

“Ming! Are you okay?”

She found the cat behind the couch and pulled her out, petting her and cooing. He knew it was a petty thing, but the fact that her first concern was for the cat really annoyed him. Especially when he could have sworn that cat was looking at him smugly over her shoulder.

“How many people keep an attack cat in their apartment?” he asked grumpily, dabbing at the wound with a tissue as he came in and sat down in an armchair.

“You scared her.”

“She leaped at me out of the dark. I had to defend myself.”

“Oh. You are bleeding, aren't you?”

She finally realized, did she? He was gratified to see a look of sympathy on her face. About time.

“Ming is sorry,” she said, her tone just a touch sarcastic. “Aren't you, kitty? It would be a shame to have that handsome face all scratched up.”

Putting the cat down, she went to the kitchen cupboard and took down a bottle of disinfectant, reaching for cotton balls at the same time.

He stared after her, startled. For just a moment there, she sounded like her old self, as though the love bug had worn off.

But as she dabbed at his wound, she chatted cheerfully, intimately, giving him looks that left no doubt as to where her emotions lay. Maybe he'd imagined it. Or maybe she just loved her cat so much, mere romance couldn't meet the standard set there.

“Come on,” she said when she was done. “I'll pour you a cup of tea.” She sighed. “If I wasn't on a diet, I'd add some cookies to the menu for good measure.”

He followed her back into the kitchen, enjoying the way she seemed to fling herself about in the room, casually competent, supremely at home. There didn't seem to be any self-consciousness about her as she worked under his gaze.

“Maybe that's your problem,” he said, just to
say something. “Maybe you're light-headed from lack of food.”

She turned back toward him, frowning. “I didn't know I
had
a problem.”

“Oh, you've got a problem all right.” He grinned at her.

“And what is that problem?” she asked, hands on her hips.

He raised one eyebrow. “Me,” he said softly.

He held her gaze with his. Something quivered in her, vibrating like a tuning fork. He wanted to kiss her again. All he had to do was reach for her. She wanted him to.

But he held back. A slight furrow remained between her brows. She was wondering why.

So was he. Deliberately, he pulled his gaze away from hers.

“I really ought to get going,” he said abruptly.

She was shaking her head. “Can't.”

“Why not?”

“Your shirt is drying. You'll have to wait.”

He supposed she had him there. He grimaced. Oh, well, he'd tried to do the right thing.

“And anyway, the tea is ready. Sit down and have some with me.”

He looked toward the teapot. He'd watched every move. She'd used nothing but commercial tea bags, sealed in their packets. He supposed he might risk having some.

“You can't exist on tea alone,” he noted, still trying to dig into what she'd been putting into her system. “Especially when you won't take vitamins.”

She turned back to the counter and began pouring out the tea into stoneware mugs.

“Oh, what do you know about it?” she said lightly. “I'll bet your eating habits are horrible.”

He nodded slowly. He had to agree with her there.

“For instance,” she went on, turning to hand him a steaming mug, “what did you have for breakfast this morning?”

He stopped, his back against the counter. He didn't have to think hard. This morning had been like every other morning. “Nothing.”

She put her hands on her hips, making her breasts press against the fabric of her lacy shell in a way that made him swallow hard.

“And what did you have for lunch?”

He thought for a moment. “A cold beer.”

“And?”

He shrugged, giving her a rueful grin. “That was it.”

“Ahh.”

“That was all that was in my refrigerator.” He was teasing her now. “Beer is liquid bread, after all. Very nutritious.”

“Dream on!”

“Wait. I did have something else.”

“What?”

“I found an old Twinkie left over from—”

“Ugh! You are in sad shape.” She picked up a packaged bar from a sack on the counter and handed it to him. “You've got to eat this right now.”

He turned it in his hand. “What is it?”

“A nutritional bar. From the new clinic line.”

He looked up sharply. “I thought you told me there were no products like this.”

She shrugged innocently. “I hadn't heard about these. They're brand-new. We haven't even worked out the marketing for them yet.”

His fingers tightened around it. Interesting. He looked at her out of the corner of his eye. “But you've been testing them.”

“Sure. They've been testing them for the last few weeks.”

Very
interesting. This could be it.

“Uh-huh. Sure, I'll take one.” He dropped it into his pocket. “I'll have it later.”

“Good.” She smiled at him. “Then you can let me know what you think.”

“What? You haven't tried them?” Did that mean this theory was down the drain? He felt a definite letdown.

But she gave him a slight reprieve. “I haven't tried
that
flavor. The only one I've had is the peanut butter and chocolate chip.”

“Oh.” He relaxed. “Okay. I'll test it out and let you know.”

“Why won't you try it right now?”

“Can't be done.” He shook his head, looking wisely at her. “I never mix tea with nutritional bars.”

She gave him an exasperated look, but didn't urge him any more. They took their tea to the living room and sat on the couch drinking and talking softly for the next half hour. Daniel sat in one corner and Abby curled up at the other end, her feet tucked under her. The sound of the dryer
could be heard in the distance. Ming peered out from behind a chair, keeping an eye on Daniel, her golden eyes unblinking.

And Daniel talked about anything he could think of to keep from looking over at where Abby sat looking cute and inviting and definitely under the influence of something unnatural.

 

Watching Daniel slowly sip his tea, Abby had an overwhelming urge to start kissing his neck. It looked so good, the skin so smooth and golden against the rougher texture of the suit coat. She didn't dare let herself look at his chest too often. Who knew what she might get the urge to do there? It took her breath away.

She closed her eyes for a moment, truly shocked at herself. She didn't do things like this, didn't think these sorts of thoughts. But the impulse was there, and she couldn't deny it.

And what was wrong with him, anyway? A surge of annoyance swept through her. She'd set the scene. The lights were low. She had light jazz playing softly on the stereo. A cinnamon-scented candle was flickering on the coffee table, throwing intriguing sparkles of light around the room.
She'd given him pearl-essence tea, which the health food store guy had assured her had properties important in the art of seduction. She'd laughed at the time, sure she would never need it for that. But now here she was.

And…nothing.

The man could have been sipping tea with his maiden aunt. He was spending a lot of time staring at the far wall and he was talking on and on about some pirate movie he'd seen. This was not what she would have imagined an evening with the two of them sitting on a couch could be.

She had to do something to pull him out of ignore mode. It was too bad she didn't have more experience at seducing a man. In fact, she'd never tried it before.

But this was different from all the other times in the past that she had liked a man and never had the nerve to do anything about it. She didn't want to let this one slip through her fingers. She was just going to have to follow her own instincts, such as they were. Slowly, she stretched out one leg until she could nudge him with her bare foot.