“No worries, princess.”
She shakes her head at the nickname I have for her and slides past me. The door shuts. I don’t know why that name suits, but it does. It was intended to be negative. Spoiled little rich girl. Grew up with rich stepparents, speaks with a refined accent, wears pricey jeans. But it doesn’t seem to be providing the distance I need and now it sounds almost affectionate.
I grab the coffee, drink it quickly, burn my mouth and pray the caffeine brings me back to my senses. Get the info and get out. That’s my new motto. Get out before she can draw me deeper. I dart a look around and go for the paperwork on top of the kitchen cabinet again but the letter isn’t there now. There goes that lead. I stuff the papers back and do a half-hearted search of the cupboards in case it’s in there. Looks like I’m going to have to turn my attentions to charming Jess and hopefully getting her to open up enough to give me a way in.
About fifteen minutes later, she emerges, make-up—and defences—in place. She scurries past me in a blue towel, barely looking my way and goes into the bedroom to dress presumably.
I clench the edge of the kitchen side until my knuckles burn. A door—a thin, easily broken down door stands between me and the woman who is likely now peeling off that towel. I’m willing to bet her skin is still damp. My mouth dries as I consider how it would taste. I’d lick my way up those legs to the apex of her thighs, then I’d throw her down on the bed and sample between her breasts. I don’t need to have done it to know it would taste like heaven. Her mouth is amazing enough. I think her skin on my tongue would be the undoing of me.
“Shit.” I turn and slam my palm on the counter but the sting does nothing to calm my thoughts.
“What’s wrong?”
I whirl and shove my hands in my jeans in a bid to hide my erection. “Nothing. Just burnt my mouth on the coffee.”
Her hair is piled on her head in some messy bun thing, revealing the arch of her neck. My scalded, dry mouth is tingling at the idea of tasting it. Those leather trousers hug her rear again. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear she dresses to tease me but let’s face it, she could probably wear a sack and I’d still find her hot.
“Sorry, I was never very good at making coffee.” She tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
“You want to go for breakfast?” I spill out. I had meant to work up to it. I’m so off my game, it’s not even funny.
“Oh, um…”
“As a thank you, for… you know”— I motion to my bloodied T-shirt and grin— “saving your life.”
Even under the make-up, I see a blush pervade her cheeks. “I really am grateful…” Jess twists her fingers together and I spy a battle raging in her eyes. Part of me wants to scream at her to run. Send me away. Then I’ll have no choice. I won’t be able to complete the job. But why does she deserve to get away with stealing?
“Sure, okay. Let’s go for breakfast.”
“Great.” A huge lump of guilt jams in my throat.
She grabs her coat off the couch and goes to shrug into it. I snatch her wrist and frown. “How did you get these?” Bruises are scattered all along her forearm, marring her skin.
She blinks and glances at the purple marks. “Oh, it must have been when you… you know, pushed me.”
I drop her arm. “Shit.”
“It’s okay, you saved me, remember?”
“I didn’t realize you’d been hurt. You should have said.”
“It’s only bruises. I didn’t really think about it. I was more concerned for you.”
I skim a finger along her arm, bitter regret burning in my stomach. “You’re really something, princess.”
Jess laughs. “Why? Because I didn’t complain about a little bump?”
I shake my head. “That’s no little bump.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’m not that easily hurt.”
“Somehow I doubt that.” I’m beginning to doubt there’s a dishonest bone in her body. Which is dangerous territory. Why would my client waste money sending me after her if she didn’t take the money? She’s clouding my judgment somehow, emitting some weird brainwashing signals.
“Are we grabbing some food or not? Any later and we’ll miss any chance for breakfast.” She says this with a smile but there’s wariness in her eyes. I need to play this more carefully or she’ll clam up completely and I’ll never find out anything.
I grab my leather jacket while she stuffs some money and her keys into hers. “Damn.” I pluck at my T-shirt and she laughs.
“You do look a little dodgy all covered in blood.”
“I’m not exactly covered… but it does look bad. Do you mind if we stop at my place so I can grab a change of clothes?”
“Your place?”
“Yeah.” I’m not sure intended for this to happen either. It’s one step too close to her seeing everything. If she realizes I’m investigating her, I’m screwed. But I’ve got to use this chance to dig deeper. “Unless you’ve got something…”