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  She didn’t know him well enough—and he’d said nothing more than those few words of explanation—to know if that odd note in his voice meant anything.

  Perhaps he didn’t want to be doing this—going to this thing with her—anymore than she did.

  She steeled herself, wondering what had happened to all her vaunted determination and resolve. Get over yourself, Lil, she muttered inwardly.

  “I’m sorry you had to do the penguin suit,” she said, trying to break the tension even as she wasn’t sure she wasn’t the only one feeling it.

  He glanced at her as he headed toward the next room, the smaller den that served as her home office, his expression un-readable.

  “It’s just another disguise,” he said, and kept going.

  She wasn’t sure what that was supposed to mean. Clearly he wasn’t happy about being here, so she decided his was the best approach and kept things on topic from then on.

  “No windows in the den,” she pointed out.

  He nodded, and indeed his check in there was quicker. Then came the small dining room, the same routine as in the living room for the single large window. The kitchen took longer; there was a sunny garden window in the breakfast nook, with sliding panels that opened for venting, and he frowned until he walked over and saw there was no easy way to access it from outside.

  When he then headed down the hall toward the bedrooms, she realized with a jolt what he was going to find if he stuck his nose in the master bathroom. She’d left it quite a mess, including some sexy underwear she’d firmly decided against wearing, which she now wished she had put back in the drawer instead of leaving it until she got home.

  Stirred now, she followed him as he opened the door to her only occasionally used guest room. If he was bemused by the bunk beds and animated character décor—her young niece and nephew were the most frequent occupants of the room—he didn’t show it. He merely walked over to the single window, again checked the lock and looked out, then came back.

  And headed toward the last remaining rooms, the master suite.

  At least I made the bed this morning.

  Not that it seemed it mattered; as he walked over to the sliding glass door that led to the balcony, he didn’t even glance at the big, white, cottage-style bed she’d bought as compensation for living for so long with Daniel’s heavier, darker tastes.

  In fact, he seemed to be studiously avoiding looking at it, she thought. Which obviously had to be a silly assumption on her part, there was no reason—

  “This won’t work,” he said.

  No, it won’t, she thought. She was having no luck at all in her effort to ignore the effect this dangerously elegant man was having on her, no matter how silly or ridiculous she told herself she was being.

  But she hadn’t expected him to say it, especially so baldly.

  “That balcony is too easy to get to, from above or the side. You need something more secure than this lock.”

  For an instant she was more grateful than she’d ever been in her life that his back was to her.

  “I do?” she asked, figuring she could manage the two simple syllables without giving away her stupidity; when she heard the slight quaver in her voice she knew she should have kept quiet.

  He didn’t miss it, either. He turned his head, his gaze narrowed as he looked at her. With one of the greater efforts of her life, she steadied herself.

  “You mean like a burglar bar? I’ve been meaning to do that.” She was proud of how she sounded that time. Business-like, cool, calm. Herself.

  After a second he shook his head, apparently deciding he’d imagined whatever he thought he’d heard in her voice. Or in answer to her question, she wasn’t sure which.

  “No. Those are useless against a pro. He’ll just pop this little hook lock and lift the whole door out of the track. I’ll get a pin for it, put it in tomorrow.”

  “A pin?”

  He pointed to the top of the slider, where the moving panel and the stationary panel overlapped at the center. “You drill a hole through both frames. Put a heavy steel pin through both. Then you can’t lift the door out or open it.”

  “Oh. What if I want to open it?”

  “It’s on a short chain fastened to the frame, so you can take it out and not lose it. But,” he added, “don’t.”

  “Don’t what?”

  “Open the door.”

  She blinked. “Don’t open the door?”

  “Don’t open it. Get some pots or something, put them all along that railing, so anybody coming over will have to make noise. Then stay off the balcony. In fact, stay away from this—” he gestured at the expanse of glass “—altogether.”

  “Excuse me?” Irritation was starting to spark in her now. She’d been tolerant so far, but this was starting to go over the top.

  “You heard me. Stay away from all the windows, and at night keep your lights to a minimum or curtains and blinds closed.”

  He couldn’t know the nerve he was hitting, she told herself. But that didn’t stop her from lifting her head and resorting to her most imperious voice. “I beg your pardon, but are you implying that I should become a prisoner in my own home, and in the dark as well?”

  “No.”

  “Well, that’s a relief,” she muttered.

  “I wasn’t implying at all. I was ordering.”

  That did it. She drew herself up to her full height—and augmented by three-inch heels, she was a respectable five foot eight, only four or so inches shorter than he.

  “I’m sorry,” she said coolly, “but I quit taking orders from anyone in my personal life the day I left my husband. And you,” she added sourly, “are beginning to sound a bit too much like him.”

  He went still. Something flashed in his dark eyes, something hot, grim and dangerous. It was all she could do not to take a step back from him.

  “I am,” he said, his voice low and harsh, “nothing like your ex-husband.”

  No, he wasn’t, Lilith thought, regretting her words. Tony would never take out his anger or frustration on someone weaker than he. She opened her mouth to apologize, but he’d already turned and walked away. She told herself she should be thankful; at least he’d blown her silly thoughts right out of her mind.

  As she stood there, watching him go, she wondered where she’d gotten the idea that he’d meant much more than just that.

  Chapter 11

  “I didn’t do it!”

  It was the standard, instinctive answer of any kid who was caught doing something he shouldn’t have done. Tony knew that. It had never done him much good as a kid; with him, his father had operated on the assumption of guilty until proven innocent.

  Lucy, on the other hand, had been able to get away with almost anything simply by giving their father that look, those big brown eyes turned on him liked a beaten puppy. The old man would just melt. Tony had tried hard to be mad at her for it, but she had used it on him as well, and he hadn’t been immune.

  And ever since she’d been killed, he’d been hard pressed to be tough on a kid. Any kid. But he had to be a little tougher on this one. Until he was sure.

  “I didn’t do it, honest!” Billy Wells exclaimed again when Tony didn’t immediately respond. “I heard my mom talking about how she fell, and I came up here to see if Lilith was okay.”

  “And why,” he said, purposefully stepping close enough so that he towered over the nine-year-old, “should I believe you?”

  “Because it’s the truth!” Billy looked up at him, and the fear in his eyes was real. “I did that other stuff, the fire and the flat tires, but I didn’t do that! Mrs. Tilly is a grumpy old bi—bag, but I like Lilith. She’s nice to me, and my mom. I wouldn’t try to hurt her.”

  He believed him. Whether it was the fear, or the urgency in his quavering voice, Tony believed him. But that didn’t mean a warning wasn’t in order, given the boy’s admissions to other questionable actions.

  “I’m going to find out who did,” he said. “And if
I find out you had anything to do with it, you’re going to see me again, and you won’t like it.”

  “I didn’t,” the boy insisted for the third time, but more calmly now. Then, as if sensing the immediate crisis had passed, he looked at Tony with a touch of curiosity. “You a cop or something?”

  “Or something,” he said, wondering about the change, wondering what had given the kid that kind of knowledge. “I work for Lilith’s boss.”

  “Oh. That Redstone guy? My mom says he’s a bazillionaire.”

  “Probably.”

  “Wish he’d give us some of it.”

  “He gives it to people who work hard to earn it.”

  The boy frowned. “Not to people who need it?”

  “If they’re willing to work for it. Then he’ll help more than anybody you’ll ever meet.”

  “Maybe my mom could go to work for him. She works hard. She’s got like three jobs.”

  Tony’s brow furrowed. “That’s a lot.”

  “She’s always tired. And worried. If she could get just one good job, then we could stay here, and not have to move all the time.”

  Tony heard a female voice call the boy’s name. Billy’s head turned, and he spoke quickly.

  “I gotta go. I promised I’d be back in five minutes. She gets worried if I’m late. Like my dad could ever find us here.”

  Then he was scampering down the stairs, leaving Tony pondering those last words. It didn’t take much to guess what was behind them. No wonder Lilith was considering getting his mother hired at Redstone. He could put in a word himself, he thought, even as he realized he was grasping for distraction from the night ahead, something he was anticipating with an odd sense of eagerness and dreading at the same time.

  But his belief that the boy had been telling the truth also meant he was facing the greater possibility that Josh was right; if the boy hadn’t strung that wire across this landing, if it hadn’t been a childish prank that could have turned lethal, then the chances that someone was truly after Lilith rose dramatically.

  And his gut-deep reaction to that put him even more on edge.

  A few minutes later, when Lilith came out her door and he saw the way that damned red dress moved when she did, when they got down to his car and he watched her get in, saw the slim ankles above the red shoes she wore, imagined how her legs must look in those spiky heels, he knew the confused feelings were appropriate.

  He was not, Tony thought, going to make it through this night. A night of rich, sophisticated, high-society types, and most of them would probably be gaping at him and Lilith, wondering what on earth a classy lady like her was doing with a guy like him.

  Probably figure I’m after her money, he thought. And the fact that thanks to Harlan McClaren, one of Josh’s first investors and the canniest financial adviser on the West Coast, he’d never have another money worry in his life, didn’t change that. He still looked the way he looked, and he was going to stand out in this crowd like a wolf in the flock.

  If it wasn’t for Josh…

  But it was. This was all for Josh, so he had no choice. That’s how he had to look at this. It was for Josh, and therefore imperative. He’d shut off his feelings before, often, so he would do the same now. And he would handle this as if it were nothing more than any other security assignment.

  It would work, he thought. As long as he never looked at the woman now sitting beside him in the car.

  It had taken everything he had in him not to grab her and kiss her when she’d opened the door, standing there in that long column of vibrant red. Not the sexy number she’d worn to the Christmas party the first time he’d seen her, but an elegant, shimmering strapless dress with a lacy, short, jacket-thing over it that sparkled with crystals or something.

  This was closer to the real Lilith, he supposed. He wondered if she realized what a dichotomy the two presented: the sexy, slinky, low cut dress, and this stylish, tasteful, screamingly chic gown. This was the cool, unflappable Lilith, untouchable in his mind.

  Untouchable, except that that was the first thing he’d wanted to do. Touch. And more. A lot more.

  The atmosphere in the car was a little tense. His fault, he thought, he’d snapped at her, and for no good reason. She had every right to be upset at this invasion of her privacy.

  Not to mention your high-handed orders, he told himself ruefully.

  He’d overreacted. Again. He’d been reeling from the sight of her, and when he’d seen the vulnerabilities in her home and visualized the worst happening to her, he’d gone over the top in addressing them.

  And her.

  But when she’d said that about him being like her ex, he’d lost it. And ironically, it wasn’t even the comparison to a wife beater that hit him so hard; he knew it wasn’t anywhere close to true, and he knew on some level that Lilith knew it as well.

  It was every other way it wasn’t true that hit him. He truly wasn’t anything like Daniel Huntington. He wasn’t smooth, suave, sophisticated, polished or anything someone born to the manor as Huntington had been was. Oh, he could act it, and put on a pretty good front, but that’s all it was, an act. Underneath he was still Tonio from the streets, and he was beginning to think he always would be.

  And now he had to walk into a roomful of people just like Huntington—hopefully most without his particular predilections—and pretend he belonged.

  And he had to do it with the woman who personified that world to him. Also pretending he belonged.

  Something, he realized, he hadn’t explained to her yet. At least he was driving, so he didn’t have to look at her. He drew in a deep breath and took the plunge.

  “Since I’ve already made you so angry, I might as well finish the job. We have to talk about tonight.”

  “I’m not angry.”

  He flicked her a sideways glance. “You could have fooled me.”

  “Oh, I was angry. But it was a reflex, an old reflex I thought I was over. You didn’t deserve it, you were only doing your job. That I feel that job is unnecessary is irrelevant. I’m sorry.”

  It was as pretty an apology as he’d ever gotten. And he had no idea what to say. Her ex probably would. He’d accept gracefully, charmingly and everything would be smoothed over with consummate skill.

  Finally, he decided the only thing he could do was talk normally, as if they’d reverted to the time before tonight, and hope she’d understand. “Think of it as Homeland Security on a smaller scale. Parts are annoying, but the final result is safety.”

  He sensed her looking at him, but had to negotiate a turn.

  “Interesting analogy,” was all she said, but in the slightly more relaxed tone of her voice he read her understanding of his unspoken acceptance of her apology. For a moment silence spun out, until she asked, “What about tonight?”

  He’d almost forgotten. And now he had to hit her with something that would likely be even more annoying than the orders given for her security.

  “We—Redstone Security, I mean—try to maintain a very low profile,” he said.

  “I know,” she said. “I know you try to keep interaction even inside Redstone to a minimum, in case you have to work on the inside.”

  He nodded. “Good thing bad apples at Redstone are about as rare as five-leaf clovers. You’re cleaning up after the only one ever found at Headquarters.”

  “I know. But it must be exciting, to travel all over the world. Redstone is just about everywhere, in some form.”

  “It has its moments.”

  “Liana told me you returned only a few months ago from a job in Rio de Janeiro.”

  Beck, he thought. What was it about love that made you turn into a fount of information you normally wouldn’t share with anyone?

  “Yes,” he said.

  “She said you cleaned up a mess that even Draven had doubts that one man could handle.”

  “Logan Beck talks too much.”

  She laughed, and suddenly he understood why the ex-cop couldn’t seem to keep any
thing from his redheaded siren. Who wouldn’t say anything to keep a laugh like that coming?

  “So, what about tonight?”

  “That low profile means that tonight, I’m not Redstone Security.”

  “All right,” she said.

  He waited, silently, for her to get the point.

  “What are you, then?”

  He knew she was smart; hell, he knew she was damn near brilliant, so it had to be just that the possibility would never in a million years occur to her. He couldn’t blame her. On appearances alone it was likely no one would believe it. A classy, pure lady like Lilith Mercer with a street thug like him?

  “And to think I could have been an accountant, wrestling with spreadsheets instead of this,” he muttered.

  “You?” She almost yelped it. “An accountant?”

  “Is that so impossible?” He wasn’t sure whether to be offended or not. “I have a perfectly good business degree.”

  It must have sounded in his voice, because she hastened to say, “Oh, please. It’s just that I can’t picture you being happy behind a desk.”

  Since he’d used the same argument with Josh when he’d asked for the chance at Redstone Security, he felt his irritation fade.

  “I wasn’t. I tried, for nearly a year. In Marketing and Distribution, like a good little worker bee.” He grimaced. “Don’t get me wrong, that office at Redstone is a lot better than most places, but it just…”

  “Wasn’t you,” she finished. “I can’t imagine you being anything but miserable.”

  “I was. But I thought I owed it to Josh.”

  She shifted in her seat then. “All anyone he’s helped ever owes Josh is to make the absolute most of the chance he’s given them. That’s all he ever wants or expects.”

  “I know. Now. Then I thought I was letting him down.”

  She was quiet for a moment. “I’m guessing he figured out how unhappy you were.”

  He flicked a glance at her again. She was smiling, knowing as all of Redstone did, what came first with their boss.