He’d been a lying bastard when he told her that. A toss-out line that had gotten him a reaction he hadn’t expected. “Listen…” Maybe it would be better to just rip off this Band-Aid right now. “There are things you need to know about me.”
She rushed forward and caught his hand. “I already know plenty. I know you helped me. I know you’re still helping me. And I know that I can count on you.”
Yes, she could. Because looking into her eyes right then, he knew he would do just about anything to keep her safe. “You can.” Gruff.
“Go make your phone call. I’ll, um, hit the kitchen again, if you don’t mind. I’m starving. The last forty-eight hours have been rough, but things are better now.” She leaned up and brushed another kiss over his cheek. Like that was the most natural thing ever.
Why the hell did it feel so good?
She turned and made her way back to the kitchen. The woman hadrunaway from him before, when she’d thought he was an FBI agent who might arrest her.
Now she was humming—humming!—as she walked through the cabin.
Hell. He yanked his phone out and put it to his ear. His foot tapped as he waited for Eric to answer the call. On the third ring…
“Two calls in one day?” Vague alarm. “Is everything okay?”
No, nothing at all was okay. A woman was kissing him on the cheek—the freaking cheek—and now he wanted to take on an army of bad guys for her. Obviously, he’d gone way too long without getting laid. A situation that would change, ASAP. He could not keep thinking with his dick. His dick was an extremely poor planner. “Preston Guidry.”
“And that would be…?”
“The man who is causing trouble for Jacqueline.” He kept his voice low as he stalked toward his studio. He’d left on his music, and the classical strains drifted in the air. Mozart’sA Little Night Music.Mozart always helped him to focus. “He’s in New Orleans. One of those jerks who pretends to be squeaky clean, but he’s rotten inside. Get your people to find out everything you can on him. And from him, you’ll learn about her.”
“Your Jacqueline.”
She is mine.He’d stopped in front of the painting he’d started. Her amazing eyes stared back at him. Her eyes were all he’d done so far. Capturing the expression in her beautiful eyes had been one of the best challenges he’d had in ages. “She owns a bookstore down there.” And there was more he had to say. “The last name I gave you before is probably bogus. Turns out, she’s the granddaughter of Fabian Fletcher.”
“What?”
He had to pull the phone a few inches away from his ear. “Jeez, man, get a grip.”
“You have Fabian Fletcher’s granddaughter with you?” Eric seemed stunned.
Join the club.“Yes.” Hadn’t he already said as much? “That Preston ass found out who she really was, even with a fake last name, so I’m sure you can connect the dots with your team and get the intel we need, too.”
“Fabian Fletcher,” Eric repeated the name. “You know…” Eric cleared his throat. “I’m sure you know it’s rumored he turned on his last employer. That he stole twenty million dollars, all supposedly in one hundred dollar bills.”
“And hid the money in a safe that only he could crack. Yeah, yeah, I’ve heard the story.” Plenty of people had. “Total urban legend,” he dismissed.
“Maybe. Maybe not.” Speculation filled Eric’s voice. “I would think a guy like you would be very interested in this, ah, particular urban legend.”
Remy stared at the eyes he’d painted. Jacqueline’s eyes. “A guy like me? You mean someone incredibly heroic and kind?”
“Uh, no, that wasn’t what I meant.”
Remy hadn’t thought so. “I’m hurt.”
“Are you?” Doubtful. “Or are you using this woman who fell out of the sky and straight into your lap like a gift from above so that you can get yourself a twenty-million-dollar payday? Damn. You always did have the craziest luck in the world.”
That luck had saved Remy’s ass more times than he could count. His left hand lifted. His fingers hovered over the eyes he’d painted. “Told you, that story about the cash is just an urban legend.” The music kept playing. “Don’t worry about it. Just focus on getting me the intel I need.”
“Remy…”
“I’ll have to leave this cabin soon. It’s been compromised. I’m sure I saw one of the bastards sent to hunt her in the woods earlier.”And I think he saw Jacqueline.“I figure I’ll just gostraight to New Orleans and kick Preston’s ass for Jacqueline, but I would like more intel before I stage my war.”
“War?”
“Um.” Noncommittal. “So how about you get that info, ASAP, would you? Thanks so much.” He hung up the phone, put it down, and reached for his brush. He didn’t have her eyes just right. He hadn’t captured the emotions that could blaze so vividly in them. He dipped the brush in the paints on his palette. Tried to add the flecks to her gaze.