Chapter 5
“You sure don’t pull punches, do you?” She bit her lip. Was Joe as attracted to her as she was to him? At least her judgment wasn’t totally off. He was a very dangerous man. To her.
“That’s not an answer.”
“I did call Mrs. Vito, but she’d moved and I only had her house number. She’s an older woman and I’m not even sure she has a cell phone.”
He nodded, giving nothing away. She had no idea if he believed her or if he thought her an opportunist out for a buck or, worse, out for intrigue and drama.
“Look, you keep the key. Do whatever you want with it. I suppose we ought to turn it over to the police now that I have killers after me.”
“What makes you think those men want to kill you? They specifically said they wanted you alive.”
“I think it was the guns that clued me in. And the way they shot my place up while I hid under my bed.”
He snapped his eyes to hers, his glass of bourbon whiskey halfway to his mouth. She’d probably hoped to make him spill some of the expensive poison. Maybe she was a bit of a drama queen. But only compared to him, a regular Joe.
“Why don’t you go back and pick up with the story where you found the key and papers and put them aside for safekeeping. How long ago was that?”
He set the glass down without taking a drink. His words were measured and he sounded as calm as if he were telling her how to lace her shoes. Condescending as hell and it got her blood up, but it didn’t dampen her attraction to him. No, she was notorious for wanting the wrong guys, wasn’t she? His condescension only heightened her desire, made her more determined to capture his interest in all the most unprofessional ways possible.
What was wrong with her anyway? Her mother would have told her she’d laid off men for too long, but it had only been six months. Maybe ten. Hell, it could have been a whole year by now.
And she picked a dandy friggin’ time to have her libido do a takeover. But he was a very fine man, not just to look at. He made up for with intrigue and a solid core of macho confidence what he lacked in superficial charm. But he did have a sense of humor. She’d seen sparks of it.
She’d seen sparks of his interest too. She’d bet anything he had volcanic passion hiding under that stoic façade. She was betting her life, wasn’t she? He was there to protect her, to save her from some wannabe mobsters. And maybe to save her from herself, too.
“Okay. A couple of weeks after I made the purchase, maybe a month, I was visiting with my friend Sunny. She lives in San Diego—she’s my best friend since we were both two feet high—and I was telling her about this old mobster’s wardrobe and she told me that Salvatore had just gotten out of jail. It was all over the news. I never watch the news—not the real news anyway. Only entertainment news. It’s my world.” She paused to smile and assess. Her tongue had loosened considerably with the wine and she ought to watch it. But since when had she been a guarded person? She had nothing to hide, did she? Why behave differently around Average Joe?
Because he’s not so average, he’s dangerous to you. He’s the kind of guy who could take your heart and squeeze the life out of it if you let him.
She almost laughed aloud at herself, but caught the laugh in time and took another hasty sip of wine.
“Go on,” he said, sitting still and studying her, listening as if she were a geology professor lecturing on rock formations. He’d be interested in rock formations. He reminded her of a wall of granite, completely implacable. She supposed that was a good thing for a guy in the business of rescuing damsels from danger. Her heart flitted around happily in her chest thinking of how he’d rescued her, protected her.
“Yeah.” She put her empty glass down.
“Would you like another glass of wine?”
She shook her head. “Not on an empty stomach.”
“We have food. There are a couple of steak dinners on board. Ben the Bang wouldn’t go anywhere without setting up dinner.”
“The pilot doubles as the chef?” She laughed. He gave her a smile—almost. She wanted to squirm in her seat.
Joe rose without further comment and walked back to the kitchen area. She sat watching and trying to cool herself off. She might not know Joe very well, but one thing she did know for sure was that he was not the kind of guy who appreciated a woman throwing herself at him. She might even try sticking to business since it was clearly what he wanted to do. He’d made that clear with the way he handled the key on the chain around her neck, in spite of his innuendo. He’d sent her the message that he wasn’t interested in playing her games.
Little did he know she wasn’t playing games. Not really. She was perfectly sincere in her desire for him. She’d been holding out for six months, maybe a year—a long-ass time—for . . . something. For a special guy. For the man her mother had told her didn’t exist.
But Mae could prove her mother wrong now. He did exist. And he was walking toward her right now, ready to serve her dinner. How much further behind could their passionate lovemaking be?
“I hope you like your steak medium rare.” He put a plate of steak, potatoes, and green beans in front of her along with a napkin wrapped around some silverware, then sat down with his own food. She made no move to eat, her heartbeat too fast. The excitement killed her appetite—for food anyway.
Before he picked up his fork, he studied her.
“You need to eat something. You look like you’re trying out for the role of a holocaust survivor.”
She laughed. “Thank you. I think you just told me I’m too thin. A girl never gets tired of hearing that.”