I’d stopped my tirade standing in the middle of his kitchen, my arms straight down, my hands clenched into fists, the ice bag dripping and I was trying not to cry. I’d been brought up by a man without a wife who loved me to death but also wanted a boy. Crying wasn’t something that was tolerated. Crying was sissy.
I took a shaky breath to control my emotions and I think my bottom lip may have trembled. Lee assessed that the shouting was over and took a step toward me, grabbed the bag of ice, threw it in the sink and slid his hands around my waist.
“Cupcakes?” he asked.
I hauled in another shaky breath.
“Yes, cupcakes.”
The wrinkles next to his eyes creased.
“We need to get you some food.”
I nodded in agreement.
His grim thoughts were gone and so was his anger. His face had changed, the tightness relaxed, something entirely different there.
One of his hands went to my temple by where Terrible Teddy socked me in the face and Lee tucked my hair behind my ear. Then he let his hand rest against my hair with his thumb splayed and gentle on the underside of me cheekbone. His gaze rested on my cheek for a couple of beats then he looked in my eyes.
“First, maybe we should do the nap,” he said quietly.
I ignored his soft touch and his words, which held a little promise of what might happen before or after the nap (or both).
I’d had enough.
I needed a bottle of red wine and a darkened room and the Disco Nap to beat all Disco Naps. And not one that happened with Lee next to me, preferably one that happened with Lee not even in the same state as me.
“I’d like to go home please,” I requested, trying to sound calm and rational, over my tirade and unaffected by his intimate gesture.
He changed the subject.
“I told you this morning to stay in the condo,” he said this with just a hint of soft menace but more accepting-yet-frustrated-annoyance (yes, I could read all this in his tone, I’d known Lee a long time).
“I don’t often do what I’m told,” I noted.
He shook his head, likely a gesture to indicate he thought of my stupidity as irritating but cute (at least I hoped so).
Then he brushed his lips against mine (that counted as a half a kiss too, which put me at four kisses from Lee in one, single day).
“These are really bad guys. They may seem like imbeciles, but they’re not nice guys,” he said. “You don’t mess with these guys.”
“They’re scared of you,” I told him.
“I can probably protect you from them, I likely can’t protect you from yourself. What did you think you were you doing?”
“I was looking for Rosie,” I said out loud.
“I thought I was looking for Rosie.”
“If I find him first, then I don’t owe you anything.”
“You owe me for this afternoon.”
“That wasn’t that hard, you just walked in and took me out. That’s only worth, say, me making you a batch of cookies.” His lips twitched. I decided to change the subject. “Please take me home.”
He shook his head and watched me for a beat.
“Leave Rosie to me,” he demanded.
I didn’t respond. I may have been shot at, stun-gunned and kidnapped which would make any logical-minded person back off. Not me. Now, I was on a mission. I was going to find Rosie, beat the crap out of him, turn the diamonds over to Terry Wilcox and then move to Bangladesh to avoid Lee, and, possibly, Terry Wilcox.
“I don’t like what I’m seeing,” Lee said. “You look like you looked when your Dad told you that you couldn’t go to Vegas to see Whitesnake in concert.”
Hmm. That was a good concert and very worth the month’s grounding I got when I returned.
Lee’s arm around my waist brought me closer, in direct, full-frontal contact.
“You better be worth the trouble you’re undoubtedly gonna cause,” he said softly, his lips very close to mine.
Somewhere along the line I got mesmerized by his dark brown eyes.
“Of course I’m worth it,” I whispered.
Damn it all! I was losing control and beginning to flirt.
I tipped my head back and licked my lips, my tongue touching his lips as I did so.
“Jesus,” Lee muttered.
The door buzzer went.
He ignored it, his hand at my face moved back to tangle in my hair, his other arm tightened further at my waist.
I went up on tiptoe to get closer.
The door buzzer went again, this time, whoever was pushing it didn’t let up.
“Maybe it’s Rosie,” I said.
“Shit,” Lee let me go and walked to the door.
Two minutes later, the entirety of both our families walked through the door.
“We’ve decided we’re going to have a celebratory dinner,” Kitty Sue announced as she came in.
“You decided, the rest of us were all just hungry,” Malcolm said, starting to smile at me then the smile froze on his face.
Indeed, everyone stopped dead when they saw me.
“What happened to you?” Dad shouted.
Hmm. I hadn’t seen my face but clearly it looked as bad as it felt.
Malcolm Nightingale’s sons looked like him, even now that he was getting older, he looked fit and lean and his face was still handsome and interesting. He kept in shape by running, a lot, sometimes traveling around the country to do marathons.
Tom Savage was tall, with a still-handsome face, sky blue eyes and most of the time, he could be very charming. He had salt and pepper hair and had been built like a defensive lineman when he was young. Over the years, that had given way to just a bit of a pot-belly fueled by beer and his obsession for Mexican food.
He turned to Lee. “You hit her?”
I took in a sharp breath at this insulting question and so did everyone else.
Lee stared at Dad for a beat and then I watched as his face closed down. He leaned his h*ps against the kitchen counter and crossed his arms on his chest and didn’t deign to answer.
Dad loved Lee, Dad thought about Hank, Lee and Ally like Malcolm and Kitty Sue thought about me. I knew Dad even admired Lee.
But Dad was a cop and he knew things about Lee and his past that I didn’t know, things of which he didn’t approve. Things that made Lee being involved with his daughter not a happy circumstance to celebrate.
Regardless, I had the weird and irrational desire to kick Dad in the shin.
“No, he didn’t hit me. Jeez, Dad,” I said.
“Of course he didn’t hit her, Tommy. How could you think such a thing? What happened?” Kitty Sue, ever the diplomat, brushed off Dad’s idiotic remark and came toward me.