Loving You (7 page)

Rain in LA wasn't pretty
.

Water choked in the gutters blocked by trash, and broken neon signs flashed in darkly ominous colors off the puddles stretched across the streets
.

Fancy cars with fancier drivers splashed through the rivers in the street, splattering anyone who happened
to be close to curbside. But since leaving her home behind her to live on the streets, Tasha'd found ways to keep dry. Huddling in doorways with thick arches overhead, and crouching beneath boxes piled up in an alley, and stretching out under the freeway overpasses
.

She kept her mouth shut and her gaze down. She steered clear of the boozers—she'd had enough of that life, thanks, before she ran away from a home she rarely thought about anymore. She begged for quarters and cashed in cans at the recycling center—and sometimes, when it got too cold for her pride to keep her warm, she stopped in at one of the missions downtown. There she could get a hot meal and clean sheets, and all for the price of listening to some do-gooder telling her she'd be better off at home
.

But what did they know? Even sitting here shivering in the cold rain was better than what she'd left behind
.

The old woman stopped her car under a streetlight and pulled a map from her glove compartment. Tasha spotted her right away. A pink Cadillac, especially an old one, was going to attract attention. From her vantage point in the doorway, Tasha saw a cluster of guys across the street, eyeing the old woman and no doubt making some quick plans
.

Her gaze shifting back to the woman in the car, Tasha felt a small twinge of worry. Why, she wasn't sure. She'd learned long ago to look out for number one. So why was this one woman's safety suddenly an issue? But Tasha had also learned to listen to her instincts. Sometimes they were all that kept you alive
.

Grumbling, she stepped out from beneath the archway and was instantly pelted by tiny, icy knives of rain. She pushed her sodden, dirty hair out of her eyes and
squinted into the driving rain. Still furious at both the woman and herself for caring, Tasha stomped to the driver's side window
.

The woman rolled it down, telling Tasha right away that she didn't have a single ounce of self-preservation. She had to be at least sixty, but she wore her long gray hair in a thick braid that lay across her left shoulder. Her face was lined, but she didn't look … used up, like so many people Tasha knew did
.

“Lady,” Tasha said, bending low enough to look into the woman's soft blue eyes, “you'd better get out of here. Quick.”

“I will as soon as I figure out where I am,” the woman said, smiling. Then her features softened into concern. “You look half-frozen, honey.”

The warmth of the car nearly singed her skin, the shock of it went so deep. She'd been cold for so long
, frozen
didn't even come close to describing her anymore. But that wasn't the point. Tasha glanced back over her shoulder and noticed that the guys were starting to move. Turning around again, she said quietly, quickly, “You see those guys behind me?”

The woman looked, then shifted her gaze back to Tasha. “Yes.…”

“They're looking to take your car and they won't much care what happens to you in the taking.”

Those soft blue eyes went hard, and just for an instant Tasha thought maybe the old lady wasn't such a dummy after all. But that thought was shot to hell the minute the woman said, “Okay then, you'd better get in so we can go.”

“Huh?”

Reaching across the front seat, the woman unlocked
the passenger side door, then sat back and repeated, “Get in. We'd better hurry.”

“Lady,” Tasha said, “I'm not going anywhere.”

“The name's Mimi,” the old woman said and gave Tasha a direct stare that seemed to look deep enough to see her soul—if she had one. With their gazes locked the woman said, “I'm not going anywhere without you.”

Crazy. That's what she was. Crazy. Too nuts to be out on her own. Tasha looked over her shoulder again. The three men stepped off the curb, moving as a single entity. Danger pulsed off them as clearly as the shattered glow of neon dusting them with a weird red light
.

“Lady…” she tried again
.

“Get in or help me fight them off,” Mimi said flatly
.

Frustrated, torn between wanting to run and wanting to get into the warm, dry car, Tasha blew out a disgusted breath, then sprinted to the other side of the car. The minute she was inside and the door slammed behind her, Mimi stepped on the gas. The old Caddy peeled away from the curb and sent a fantail of dirty water spraying over the three men like a tiny tidal wave
.

Their curses rang out loud and clear and only got louder when Mimi stuck her left arm out the window and gave them a prom wave
.

“Tasha!”

Her eyes flew open and she jumped, startled, as she turned to look at Molly, standing in the open doorway, one hand on the brass knob.

Tasha slapped one hand to her chest and said, “Christ, you scared me to death.”

“Join the club,” her friend said. “Thought you were
in a coma or something. I called you three times.” She frowned. “You okay?”

“Fine,” she said, and released the last wisps of memory before rejoining the present. “What's up, anyway?”

“What's up is … Tassel Loafer was here.”

Tasha's insides went cold and still. Weird. She was pretty sure her heart had stopped beating, too. She swallowed hard. “When?”

“Pretty much now.” The deep voice came from right behind Molly, and as he stepped into view, Tasha knew her heart had started again. Because it was practically skipping in her chest. That couldn't be a good thing.

Heck, she'd seen handsome men before. Rich ones, too. Just never here. In the shop. In her world.

And the faster she could get rid of him, the better.

C
HAPTER
5

Nick took a long look at the redhead and damned if she didn't look better in daylight than she did by porch light.

Her skin was pale, creamy, but for the sprinkle of freckles across her nose and cheeks. That full mouth of hers was thinned into a dangerous grim line, but it didn't detract from the whole picture. Her thick shoulder-length hair was pulled up into a ponytail high at the back of her head. The dark red mass, streaked through with blond and pale red strands, fell down against her slender neck, and Nick felt the urge to reach out and touch it. Just to see if it was as soft as it looked.

Then her meadow green eyes narrowed on him as she stood up to her full, less-than-impressive height, and Nick figured touching of any kind might get his hand bitten off.

“Hey,” the dark-haired woman said as she turned to gape at him. “I told you to wait outside.”

He shrugged. “I didn't.”

“Yeah, I can see that.” Blowing out a breath, she turned back to the redhead and said, “I'm sorry, Tash. I didn't know he was following me. Those tassels are pretty damn quiet.”

“I cheated,” Nick said. “Wore Reeboks.”

He damn sure didn't like being called Tassel Loafer. Might be time to pitch those puppies, he thought, Gucci or not.

“It's okay, Molly,” the redhead said, and gave him a look she probably saved for spiders, just before she squashed them.

Nick never took his gaze off her, even when her friend said, “You want me to stay?”

“No thanks, Molly. I'll be fine.”

When the dark-haired woman turned to leave, Nick spared her a quick look and caught the gleam of warning shining in her eyes. Jesus. Did he have
serial killer
tattooed on his forehead?

He forced himself to smile at the dark-haired woman with the hard eyes. “I don't need you to stay, either.”

“Cute,” she said, but her tone told him she didn't mean it. “I'll be right outside if you need me,” she told the redhead. Then she was gone, into the hideously pink and strictly female lair of the beauty parlor.

Seemed as though he'd caught them all flat-footed. Which was, he admitted silently, just what he'd been aiming for. He could have called first, he supposed. Mimi Castle was in the phone book. He'd checked. But if he'd called, the redhead would have just told him to stay away. And if she was going to do that anyway, he'd just as soon make her say it in person.

Hell, just looking at her had been worth the trip. Her T-shirt defined curves that were incredibly generous considering how tiny she was everywhere else. And her worn, faded jeans clung to her short but shapely legs like a second skin. She wore sandals on her feet and a silver ankle bracelet that matched the toe rings peeped at him from beneath the hem of her jeans.

After indulging in a good long look, he lifted his gaze to the slogan on her shirt, then up to her eyes. His lips quirked. “Nice to see you again.”

“What do you want?” she demanded.

“Now what kind of hello is that?”

“The kind you get when you walk into my house without an invitation.”

Nick stepped into the tiny office and watched her back up. He frowned to himself. He wasn't trying to scare her, for God's sake. Hell, he
liked
women. And they generally liked him back. Until her.

And he'd never frightened a woman in his life.

“Wasn't exactly uninvited.” He jerked his head in the direction of the shop. “Your friend…”

“Molly.”

He nodded and gave her his most charming smile. “Molly. Well, she told me to wait and—”

She backed up another step until she'd placed the small, incredibly organized desk in between them. “—and you took that to mean ‘Come on in, stranger.' Sure. I could see how that would happen.”

“Okay, look.” Nick gave up on the charming smile and tried for harmless. “I can see we got off on the wrong foot, but there's no reason why we can't behave like adults.”

“Does that usually work?” she asked, throwing him off-balance a little.

“Huh? Does what work?”

“That little smile,” she snapped. Narrowing her eyes on him, she continued, “Flash a dimple and I'm supposed to curl up and whimper?”

He blinked at her.

“Because I'm just too busy to do any adoring today.” Deliberately she picked up a sheaf of papers from
the center of the desk, effectively dismissing him. “So if you'll excuse me…”

Nick closed the door of the office and leaned one shoulder against it. She wasn't making this easy and damned if he didn't resent it a little. This was his life here, hanging by a thread over a media chasm filled with popping camera flashes and frenzied reporters. And to do a damn thing about saving his own ass, he was forced to deal with a tiny tyrant who, he thought, watching her, wasn't nearly as calm and cool as she was trying to appear.

Her hands shook as she straightened an already perfectly neat desk. She aligned papers and envelopes into tidy rows and flipped the pens and pencils around until they were arranged on the spotless blotter according to length.

And through it all, she studiously, determinedly, avoided noticing he was in the room.

Nick really didn't have a clue how to handle this. He'd never had to work so hard to get a woman to simply
talk
to him. Hell, he'd never even
had
to do the talking himself.

A twinge of shame had him admitting that she'd been right. All he'd ever had to do was flash a smile and suddenly doors were opened and women were willing. So okay. Made sense that something this important was going to require a little work on his part, right? But she didn't have to be such a hard-ass about this. He waited for her to stop fiddling with the damn desk before asking, “Does that usually work?”

“What?” She glanced up at him.

“The ice maiden routine.” Nick shook his head while keeping his gaze locked with hers. “I mean, if
you're waiting for me to tuck my tail in and run, you've got a long wait coming.”

She stood up straight, planted both hands on her hips, and cocked her head, swinging that ponytail in a dark red wave. He'd struck a nerve. Satisfaction rumbled through Nick, and it surprised him just how good it had been to throw her own words back at her.

“What is it you want?” she asked, and before he could answer, she added quickly, “I've already told you Mimi's not here.”

“But you didn't tell me when she'd be back.”

She swallowed hard and shifted her gaze away from his. “I don't know exactly.”

“You're not a very good liar.”

Her head snapped up and she glared at him. If he'd needed proof that she was lying, that was it. She was too damn defensive.

“You don't know anything about me,” she said flatly.

“I know I make you nervous.”

She snorted a laugh and folded her arms beneath her breasts. “No ego problems with you, are there?”

Nick grinned. She looked so pissed, it was hard not to. “Don't hear you denying it.”

“I'm not nervous,” she countered, “just annoyed.”

“Then my work here is done,” Nick said.

“So you'll be leaving.”

“Just as soon as you tell me when Mimi will be back.”

“I
still
don't know.”

“Take a guess.”

“Look.” Clearly flustered, the redhead blew out a breath and huffed it back in again. “Mimi comes and goes as she pleases, okay?”

Oh, she was nervous. And it wasn't just him causing those nerves. There was something else going on here, Nick thought. Something she didn't want to think about, much less talk about. And though his curiosity was piqued, he told himself to let it go. What did it matter to him what secrets the redhead wanted to keep? All he was concerned about here was the noose around his own neck and the kid who was waiting to knock the trapdoor out from under his feet.