Cindy Dees - Her Secret Spy

“Why me?” he protested. “I’m on an op and she stumbled into the middle of it...” He left out the part where she was the op.

Bastien threw him a withering look that said he’d thought better of Max than to abandon a lady in need. Max huffed. “All right already. I’ll walk her home and make sure she’s safe overnight.”

“You’ll stay with her?”

Max frowned. “If she’ll let me. And if not, I’ll spend the night outside her place and keep an eye on her. She’ll be safe.”

“Promise?”

“Yes, Bastien. I’ve got her back.”

The cop stared at him intently for a moment and then nodded, accepting his word. “All right. I got me a date to get back to, then. Can’t keep the ladies of New Orleans waiting for all this hotness.”

Max rolled his eyes as the cop strolled away; then he turned his attention back to the problem at hand. Rather, the damsel in distress at hand. Dammit. He really didn’t need to pull babysitting duty when he should be out hunting bad guys. Or maybe being the bad guy would be more accurate.

A soft hand touched his sleeve, and he reacted violently, spinning to face Lissa, who pulled back sharply at his abrupt move. He carefully stilled his entire body and pitched his voice to calming tones. “The police asked if I’d mind walking you home. Would that be all right with you, or would that frighten you?”

“Why on earth would that frighten me? You saved me. You’re my knight in shining armor.”

Oh, God. He was so not a good guy. Were it not for some random creep attacking her, he’d be the one scaring her. He would be the one stalking her without her knowledge, the one peering in her windows with a telescope, the one bugging her house and cloning her computer and cell phone. He would be the one putting that haunted expression in her big dark eyes.

He shoved a distracted hand through his short hair. “Look. I’m going to be honest with you. The police have asked me to keep an eye on you tonight since you won’t accept their protection. Does that freak you out?”

“No freakage. But I hate to impose on you. Keep you from your family...?”

She left it hanging as a question. “No family,” he replied shortly.

“Job? Pet? Girlfriend?”

“None of the above. Correction, I have a job, but I work for myself. Set my own hours.”

“Perfect! You can stay at my place. We’ll make a party out of it.”

Did she have to sound so damned tickled about having a slumber party with him? There was no way he was spending the night in her apartment with her. He might be a cad, but he wasn’t that giant a cad. “I think the police have pretty much wrapped up here. We can go soon. Where do you live?” As if he didn’t know already. Ha.

“I live over the curiosity shop down the block. But I was on my way to the store. I’m out of food. And Mr. Jackson—well, he’s not patient about missing supper.”

He frowned. He’d seen no evidence of a man of any kind in her life. He glanced down to verify that her ring finger was naked. It was. “You have a boyfriend?”

She blinked up at him rather owlishly. “What?” A look of dawning comprehension. “Oh! You mean Mr. Jackson?” Gay laughter. “I’ll introduce you two when we get home. He’s gonna love you. C’mon. I need tuna fish and mayonnaise. He loves my homemade tuna salad and asked after it this morning.”

Something deflated inside Max. Had he actually been a little attracted to her? Hell, how could he not be? She was fascinating in a strange kind of way. The woman had an eccentric style that had nothing to do with regular conventions of society or fashion. A hint of...death...clung to her. Or at least a knowing of it. And yet, within that overriding impression of darkness, a discordant note of happiness was audible. It was entirely at odds with her darker self.

Either that, or the long months undercover had finally gotten to him, and he was losing his marbles. He did a quick mental craziness check. Nope. It wasn’t him. There was something special about her, something alluring, that called to him. Hell, tempted him. This was the way he felt when he found a lost art masterpiece. The discovery brought out the greedy poet inside him.

Or maybe his reaction to her stemmed from the fact that he’d just saved her life. Yeah, that must be it. That had to be why he felt so protective all of a sudden. He was a lot of things, but compassionate was not one of them. And yet here he was, walking his own personal damsel in distress home.

Frowning, he fell in beside her as she strode off down the street. For a woman who’d just been attacked and nearly killed, she’d recovered her mojo damned fast. Either that or she was a fine actress.

“Are you okay?” he asked, blatantly throwing out a trial balloon to gauge her mood and mind-set.

“Why wouldn’t I be? You’re here now.”

Well, hell. It kinda made a guy want to puff out his chest and put a little swagger in his step. He glanced down at her and caught her staring sidelong up at him. Their gazes met, and something crackled between them. He could almost see the energy forming a complete circuit between them. Sheesh. His imagination was working overtime tonight. He was a trained covert operative, for goodness’ sake. He didn’t do crackling sexual attraction, particularly not with civilians.

But then she reached out to touch the energy. Her fingertips exactly traced the invisible lines arcing back and forth between them. Crud. Could she physically see the attraction between them? Did that mean she was crazy, too, or was it just him losing his mind? Either way, charges zinged through his body, drawing him to her as if they were opposite poles of human-size magnets. The pull was inexorable and irresistible. And hot. Shockingly hot.

Lust for this woman shot through him along those strange ley lines of sexual energy, and it was all he could do to keep his hands off her. Only the sure and certain knowledge that he would be no better than that sicko stalker behind them kept him from seriously contemplating dragging her up against him, kissing her until she begged him to bed her, burying his body in hers and inhaling all that crackling sexual energy flowing from her into him.

“I’m not a superhero, you know. I’m just a guy.”

“You’re my superhero.”

Huh. He liked the sound of that. Enough that he ordered his raging libido in no uncertain terms to take a hike. Enough that he volunteered to hold the basket for her as he trudged around a local convenience store behind her.

Grocery shopping was a domestic task he had never done before with a woman. It was surreal. Terribly domesticated. So very normal. He had to admit it held a certain charm. Weird charm but charm nonetheless. Or maybe it was just the company he was keeping that made it seem so damned fantastic.

Gah. This was an anomaly. He would deliver her to Bastien in the morning, she would make her statement, the bad guy would go to jail for a good long time and Max would get back to his regularly scheduled life as an undercover agent. Stalking her.

In a state of minor shock, he carried her plastic grocery bags back to Callista’s Curiosities of the Magical and Macabre and dutifully stood at Lissa’s side as she fumbled at the door with a big old-fashioned key.

“You should let me install a decent security system and a good lock on that door,” he commented.

“Is that what you do? Security systems?”

“Something like that.”

The door lock surrendered just then and granted them access to an incredibly cluttered space. Floor-to-ceiling junk crammed the store. It was enough to make a person feel a little claustrophobic. “Hell of a name this place has. Quite a mouthful.”

“I call it C2M2 to myself,” she replied.