She was smart. He’d thought of that too.
“It’ll be too tempting. I’m willing to wait a while until they realize the police aren’t around.”
“Why wouldn’t you just trap them at the warehouse?” Her voice had gone up an octave as she spoke.
“Because you have too much to lose there, Mae. I don’t want to risk your wardrobe. I promise I won’t let them get to me. I swear it.”
“I don’t want you to engage them anywhere, Joe. Not without police backup. I don’t like this plan.”
“I told you I can take care of myself. It’s Sal and his thugs who’ll be in trouble when we have our encounter.”
Mae wiped her mouth with her napkin, taking her time, then she rose. He stood.
“Let’s go to bed, Joe.” She whispered the words and he could swear she was purring. The warring inside him fired up again. She held his gaze with a sultry look as she walked around the table to stand as close to him as a person could without touching.
With every fiber in him he wanted to touch her, to take her into his arms and drag her against him, to shove his hips against hers and show her what she did to him. As if she didn’t know.
But she did know. She was seducing him and he wanted nothing more than to follow her to her bedroom. She slipped her hand into his.
“Come with me.” Her soft words lured him forward. It would be so easy to lose himself in his attraction to her, to have another mind-blowing night of sex. No, lovemaking. It would be lovemaking if he let it happen.
And that was why he couldn’t let it happen. Because there would be nothing easy about a relationship with Mae Monday, Hollywood costume designer. He had to hold the line, had to tough it out.
“Mae, I can’t spend the night with you. It was wrong—I can’t make the same mistake twice.”
“Mistake?” She looked devastated, like he’d slapped her.
“It would be unprofessional.” He sounded lame in the face of her incredulous stare. “I need to do my job. Or else I’m no good to you.”
“On the contrary, I think you’d be very good—”
“Not if you’re dead.” He watched the blunt statement slam her. He reached out without thinking and clutched her to him. As if he could protect her. But he wasn’t in the business of protecting a woman’s heart, he was there to ensure her physical safety. He’d had to make a decision. Do his job and guard her life or give up the mission to another team operator.
And in spite of all his bravado about self-discipline and strength and professionalism, he couldn’t do the smart, by-the-book professional thing. He couldn’t hand her off and leave her life to someone else to guard. He felt the responsibility as if it had taken root, wrapping around his bones and strangling his heart with irrevocable need.
* * *
The next morning,Joe drove Mae to the studio and dropped her at her building. The drive had been silent and as they sat in the idling car at the door, she made no move for a few beats. He wanted to reach out, but didn’t feel like he had a right.
“Joe, you take care of yourself.” She leaned forward and he knew she was going to kiss him, knew he should withdraw, shut off all intimacy, but he couldn’t. Instead he leaned into her, catching her face in his hands, and crushed his mouth to hers. He only allowed himself a brief consuming kiss and it would need to last him. He ended it and backed away, his chest tight, his breathing sharp and ragged.
The tragic look on her face almost did him in, almost made him change all their plans, made him want to hijack her entire life and drag her back to Boston like some Neanderthal. But she recovered, going warm and dreamy as she pushed her door open.
“I’ll be back. 11:30,” he said.
She nodded, still bemused.
He watched her slip from the car, walk to the door and disappear inside her building. She would be safe here. He would take care of Salvatore Vito one way or another, today.