Kat Attalla Special Edition (25 page)

She hated job interviews. Not the series of interrogations from six different department heads. Not the endless questions about past experiences that needed answers vague enough to protect the secrecy of the research, yet specific enough to make her sound competent. The worst part was the uncomfortable business suit and tight shoes. If she could survive that, she could handle anything.

Two days and six interviews later, they made her an offer to head up a project for a communications satellite. She would have full backing from the
Institute
of
Technology
and students who were actually interested in what she could teach them. In fact, everything she’d envisioned her career would be.

She swiped the key through the lock again, and the door clicked open. As she stepped inside, she bumped into a room service tray.

“Damn.” She reached for the wall switch behind her, and the room flooded with light.

Another awkward accident, and Erik wasn’t even around. Her preoccupation with him must be responsible, she decided. She slipped off her shoes and wriggled her toes into the plush carpet. Relief at last. She glanced at the tray. A silver ice bucket held a bottle of champagne. A small card with “Codename: Romeo—congratulations” written in bold letters rested on the white linen tablecloth.

Steven, with all his connections, must have known she’d gotten the job five minutes after they made the offer. She checked out the label. Her brother sprang for the good stuff. She grinned. If he knew how much they offered, he would have charged it to her room.

She removed her suit jacket and draped it over a chair then reached for the bottle. Bubbly named for an old French monk. No matter how expensive the champagne, it was a poor substitute for how she wanted to celebrate. She shrugged her shoulders and removed the foil covering. Why not? She had something in common with the monk. She wasn’t getting any sex either. With a loud pop, the cork flew across the sitting area and into the bedroom.

A grunt echoed around the room.

Air rushed from her lungs. She backed herself against the wall and desperately reached for the door handle.
Champagne
spilled over the top of the bottle and trickled over her fingers. She tightened her grip on the glass.

“I knew you’d be mad at me but I didn’t think you’d be violent.”

“Erik?” Her voice was barely a whisper. She sucked in a large breath. Her pulse raced out of control.

He stepped out of the bedroom holding the cork in his hand. His sexy grin did nothing to slow the rapid cadence of her heart. “You said your door would always be open. I had to get the manager to let me in. If not for my agency ID, I’d still be sitting in the hall.”

“Erik?” Was she dreaming? No, she still felt the pain in her leg where she’d bumped into the tray.

She stared at him, still unwilling to believe her eyes. When the sidewalk Santa promised her a special treat this year, she’d laughed it off. But here he was, the only gift she wanted, standing less than ten feet away.

“How long are you here for?” she asked.

He leaned against the wall and folded his arms across his chest. “Anxious to get rid of me?”

“I just want to know if I should make it fast or make it last.” She crossed the room and threw her arms around his neck. The bottle of champagne, still in her hand, rained down over the two of them.

He laughed. “Hey, that was expensive stuff.”

“I’ll lick it off you.” She flicked her tongue across his lips, tasting champagne, tasting him. He felt so damn good.

“Tori, you’re supposed to make this hard on me.”

She put the bottle on the writing table and reached for his belt buckle. “I’m working as fast as I can.”

“Although I like your literal translation, I meant you were supposed to make my life difficult for not calling you the past month.”

She shook her head. “I told you. No questions, no explanations.”

Erik took hold of her hands and turned to pin her back to the wall. “Maybe I want to explain.”

* * * *

Despite the offer she made their last night together, he hadn’t expected this kind of reception. By now, he should know her better. She spoke her mind and she didn’t play games.

“All right. Explain, but make it snappy. Thirty days is too long to be without you.”

On that point he agreed. Expressing himself in words had never come easy. He was a man of action. But if he didn’t talk now, he might never get the words out. “First, congratulations on the job.”

“How did you know I got it?”

“I didn’t, but they’d be fools to pass on someone with your intelligence. No one knows the physical sciences better than you.”

“I should have listed you as a reference.”

She ran her stocking clad foot along the inside of his leg. Once again she proved that every action caused a reaction. If she kept this up, he would forget his name, let alone what he wanted to tell her.

“And I would have given them a glowing recommendation of your research skills.”

She laughed, a sound he’d missed dearly. Her eyes glazed with desire. The smell of champagne and perfume engulfed him, driving him to distraction.

“You’re so good, in fact, I’ve decided to donate my body to science.” He slowly slid down the zipper on her skirt. The wool garment dropped to the floor. A groan rumbled deep inside. He hadn’t expected to find the lace garter and thong beneath her severe business suit. Not to mention the black stockings. She was liable to give him a heart attack, and he would donate his dead body.

“And a fine specimen they’ll be getting.” She snaked her arms around his shoulders.

“Well, there are conditions. I’m only willing to work with one particular scientist.”

“Who might that be?”

He brushed a kiss over her lips. “You.”

“I don’t know, Erik. Research projects can go on for several years. That’s a big commitment.” An undercurrent of uncertainty tinged her voice. She might accept any terms, but apparently, deep down, she wanted the whole shooting match.

“Could be even longer. I’m not always available twenty-four hours a day.”

“Neither am I. I just accepted another project.”

“I’d be willing to make time. Would you?”

She pretended to give the matter serious thought. “I could be persuaded.”

“In the name of research?”

“No. In the name of love. You do know I love you, right?”

“Yes.”

“And you love me too?” she asked.

“Yes.” Her elbow playfully landed in his ribs. “Yes, I love you.”

“Better.”

“Well, before you make a decision like this, remember that life will be a series of good-byes.”

“And a series of welcome homes,” she countered. Obviously impatient with talk, she grabbed at his t-shirt, pulling it free from his jeans. Not an easy maneuver while he dripped with champagne.

“You sure about this? There’s a lot of stress involved in this kind of relationship. Worrying when you don’t hear from me.”

“I wouldn’t worry. I’d know you’re all right.”

“How?”

“Because if something went wrong, then I would hear.”

“You’ve got it all worked out.” Practical, logical Tori covered all the angles. Nothing he could say would scare her off. She was stubborn and too damn smart to lose a debate. He’d met his match. He might as well surrender.

“I’ve thought about it a lot. I don’t need to be with you every second of the day. As long as I know I’m here….” She pressed her hand over his heart. “I’ll be fine.”

“You’ve been in my heart since I first saw you flat on your ass in the airport in Burlington.”

“It’s nice to know I made a lasting impression.” She wriggled in closer and grabbed at the belt buckle with renewed determination. “So what made you change your mind about us?”

He recalled his meeting with DeMarco. “You could say I saw the future and it wasn’t appealing.”

The sterile picture the bureau chief painted was more than enough to push Erik to do what he should have done last month. He might believe Victoria deserved someone better, but his mind revolted at the thought of her seeing another man. She belonged to him, and nothing he could do would ever change that.

“So, what are your plans for Christmas?” he asked.

“At the rate I’m going, I’ll still be trying to get your clothes off.” She yanked on his jeans with such force that she sent them both tumbling to the floor.

Her eyes filled with tears as she struggled for a breath between her laughter. “I know you’ll be all right at work, but are you sure you’ll survive me?”

“Maybe not, but it would be one hell of a way to go.” He claimed her mouth in a deep kiss.

The End

MURPHY’S LAW

Chapter One

Lilly McGrath refused to surrender. She ran down the narrow pathway and rounded the corner. She slipped on a small rock, and only her hand gripping the edge of the stucco building stopped her from tumbling head first onto the road. Her ankle throbbed, but she kept going.

Her mind raced as fast as her heart and faster than her feet.
Who was he
? In the past month she’d crossed paths with him a dozen times in almost as many towns. He’d nearly grabbed her in
Lisbon
. If not for that besotted Portuguese fisherman who wanted to make her his wife, she’d probably be dead.

The man was good; she’d grant him that. When she calmed down, she’d take pride in the fact that her ex-boss sent the best.

She darted into an old church and hid in the empty confessional. The stale air in the tiny cubicle and feelings of claustrophobia left her gasping for a normal breath. Why did she think
Europe
would be safe? No matter where she ran, he always turned up. She never got a chance to find work. The ten dollars in her pocket wouldn’t get her a bus ticket, assuming she could lose him again. And just this morning she’d discovered all her credit cards had  mysteriously been canceled.

She finally caught her breath and cursed her own folly. When would she learn?

To keep her mouth shut? Mr. Santana hadn’t hired her for her brilliant mind. He hadn’t wanted her to notice the inconsistencies. When her apartment had been blown up, she realized that she should have kept her opinion to herself.

Her father had warned her she would end up in trouble if she moved east to work in
New York
. “Farm girls from
Iowa
have no business going off to work in the big city. They should marry and raise a crop of babies,” he’d told her. Wouldn’t he just gloat if he saw her now?

The thud of heavy footsteps heading in her direction came to an abrupt halt. She sucked in a deep breath as her body broke out in a nervous sweat. Someone yanked at the curtain.

“An dio. Mi dispiace,” the flustered, white-haired woman sputtered and pulled the curtain shut again.

Lilly stared at the black sheet of fabric, paralyzed in fear. After a few terrifying seconds, she realized that the local woman making her weekly visit to the parish priest posed no threat. Lilly must have lost her pursuer, but not for long if she didn’t get moving. She couldn’t risk going back to the hostel for her clothes. He apparently knew where to find her again.

If she were prone to flights of fancy, she would believe Mr. Santana had sent a psychic. That man seemed to know exactly where she’d turn up when half the time she didn’t know herself. How did he always find her? She’d made no calls and only used her credit cards just before leaving a country.

Lilly pulled a bandanna from her neck and wrapped it tightly around her ankle for added support. She couldn’t remain in the church unless she planned to make a confession to the Roman Catholic priest. Now that would be a story to tell. If she lived long enough, she might do just that.

She stepped out the door and glanced down the narrow street. Only the tourists braved the blistering Italian sun. Wary, but less nervous, she made her way along the maze of streets into the town center of
Genoa
. Eager bargain hunters filled the shopping market, allowing her to blend in with the crowd.