Miles Dartman, a fighter and a friend, answered on the third ring.
Since Miles wouldn’t know the number, he said, “It’s Leese. I’m using a different phone.”
“Hey, Leese, what’s up?”
“Not a lot.” He still talked to the guys often enough that a call from him wasn’t surprising. “Work.” A woman. “Saw you won your last fight. Congrats on that.”
“By decision.” His disgruntlement was loud and clear. “I needed a knockout.”
Didn’t they all? It was never ideal to leave the decision in the hands of the judges. “You creamed him.”
“But couldn’t finish him.” After a bitter huff, Miles said, “You didn’t call to hear me bitch. Hell, I don’t want to hear me bitch. How about a change of topic?”
“Sure.” Leese turned the corner, heading for the grocery. “I was wondering if you’d have time to do me a favor.”
“Probably,” Miles said. “I won’t fight again for a while and I have a few minor injuries to nurse. What and when?”
As briefly as possible, Leese gave the bare-bones update about Catalina as a client. “I don’t want to go into detail—just know that I need someone I trust to stick with her for a few hours while I take care of something.” Cat was the type of woman who, if cooped up too long, would get stir-crazy. Hopefully, if he got her a few of her own things, she’d settle into the situation without as much conflict.
And maybe she’d be less inclined to seduce him too.
He was as far from a saint as a man could get, but he didn’t want to take advantage of her.
So regardless of what she said, Leese planned to go by her house and get some of her belongings for her. If Cat was right, he just might be able to kill two birds with one stone.
“I’m not saying no, but isn’t Justice there with you?”
“He was. Now he’s otherwise occupied, and I trust you more than him anyway.”
“Trust me to keep her safe, or to keep my hands to myself?”
Locking his back teeth, Leese admitted, “Both.”
When he finished laughing, Miles said, “You’re a couple of hours from me. When do you need me there?”
“Day after tomorrow would be good. Think you can swing that?”
“Shouldn’t be a problem. Let me get the address from you.”
Once Leese finished giving him directions, he added, “One more thing. I don’t want you to tell her why you’re there.”
“Because...?”
She’ll know what I’m doing, and she thinks I’m such a terrible bodyguard that I’ll get murdered. No, he wouldn’t admit that to Miles. “Like most women, she’s a worrier.”
“Uh-huh. And hot?”
He pulled into the lot for the gigantic grocery-slash-department store. “Yeah, she is. She’s also been through hell and I don’t want to contribute to her anxiety.”
“So I’ll be keeping watch over a hot, tortured worrier, but she can’t know why I’m there, and I can’t come on to her.”
“That’s about it.” Used to being heckled by his friends, Leese didn’t take offense. “Think you can be here by noon?”
“Sure. Should I plan on spending the whole day, a few hours, or what?”
“Whole day. She’ll enjoy the company.” Maybe. “I’ll treat you to dinner.”
“Sounds good. See you then.”
After he disconnected, Leese looked around, but from what he could tell, no one had followed him. Had Sahara’s ploy really worked? Possibly, but he wouldn’t buy it just yet.
If he got back to the Body Armor agency without incident, then maybe, just maybe, he’d start to believe.
For now he only wanted to concentrate on feeding Catalina a good, healthy meal that she’d enjoy. And if he could resist her, that’d be terrific too.
*
WHILE SOAKING IN an enormous tub filled with scented bath bubbles, her hair covered with a deep conditioner, her face caked with a mud mask, Cat sipped the best bourbon she’d ever tasted.
Gawd, it felt good to pamper herself again.
Until now she hadn’t realized how much she missed primping. And alcohol. Yup, she missed that too. Not that she was a lush. Far from it. What she’d told Leese and Sahara was true—it didn’t take much to give her a buzz. But it felt so good to be comfortable enough, secure enough, to imbibe and not worry about putting herself at risk.
For too long she’d had to be sharp, on guard, always watching for an attack.
Sighing in pleasure, she examined her fingers and toes and decided a mani and pedi were also in order.
When the water started to cool she drained the tub and turned on the shower to rinse her hair and face. She felt soft all over—and liked it.
Using a round brush, she blow-dried her hair into loose waves. Scott’s girlfriend had loved her beauty products, and Cat found an array of makeup to choose from. She wrinkled her nose at most of it, but did play up her eyes with shadow, coal liner and two layers of mascara, then slicked pink gloss over her lips. She knew from experience the gloss wouldn’t last; she almost always licked it off without thinking. But she liked the way the makeup enhanced her eyes.
Wrapped in a towel, she finally examined the closet and found so many beautiful clothes that she felt guilty for her excitement. After all, Sahara’s brother and his girlfriend had both died.
Cat bit her lip, then gave in and went through the clothes, finding a few pairs of skinny designer jeans that fit once she rolled up the hem. She tried on sweaters, blouses, shirts, sweatshirts—enough to last her for a good long while. The yoga capri pants, in multiple colors and patterns, worked perfectly. She even found socks, two nightgowns, a robe and slippers.
Then she withdrew a slinky black dress made of stretchy material meant to hug the body and show off curves. Ohhhh, nice.
Never mind that she lacked the usual curves necessary to really make the dress work. It was snug enough to ensure a decent fit.
Skipping panties and knowing she couldn’t wear a bra, not with the cut of the dress, Cat pulled it on over her head, then tugged and adjusted until her breasts were cupped by just enough material to emphasize her meager cleavage. The hem dragged the floor like a train, but a side slit cut up along her leg nearly to her hip, leaving her almost indecently exposed.
Now that she had the dress on, she didn’t want to take it off. Not yet.
What would Leese think? She grabbed up her drink to sip again, then poured another before deciding she’d leave the dress on. Just as she appreciated the pampering, she also liked the male attention. It had been even longer since she’d had that—at least from a good man.
In her old life, she’d never have worn anything this daring, but she’d owned similar quality gowns. Even being apart from her family, she’d celebrated special occasions with them. The last time had been her oldest brother’s birthday at a swanky restaurant. Each of her brothers had brought a date, but she’d gone alone.