Undercover Husband Page 13
“Waiting for you so we could have that talk.”
He went to the kitchen cabinet above the microwave and reached for the Jack Daniel’s.
“About what?”
“About why you need that.”
When Yuri used that mild-mannered tone, Roman could hear a big brother lecture coming on. “It’s been a long night.”
“Since when did that ever bother you?”
“Since this is the end of a big case and I’m bushed.”
Roman carried a glass and the bottle over to the table. They both sat down opposite each other.
Yuri reached for the bottle and set it on the floor. “I’m not buying it. Let’s talk about Brittany Langford.”
Just hearing her name made Roman’s stomach clench. “Why? Tonight I closed the book on her case.”
His brother shook his head. “Once upon a time I thought you carried a torch for Angela. But after what I saw go on between you and Brit at the airport, I realized two things. You’re in love with Brit, and Angela was never in the running. All this time you’ve let everyone think you were nursing a broken heart when it simply isn’t true.”
“Is that a fact.” Dammit, Yuri. Don’t say any more.
“My mind’s been going at warp speed all night. I figured that if you didn’t leave New York because of her, then you left for another reason. I also figured that since you’re willing to walk away from the woman you’ve fallen in love with, then that means you’re in to something that owns you.”
Shut up. Yuri.
“About four this morning I asked myself what force or power could rule your life so exclusively, you’d go against nature.
“Around five, the answer came as clear as a bell. I don’t know why I didn’t see it years ago. Here I was, looking beyond the mark when all the time it was right in front of me. It’s always been in front of me. You’re an agent.”
Putting on the greatest acting performance of his life, Roman lifted one eyebrow. “And you’re full of it this morning.”
“I haven’t worked out which branch, probably CIA.” He kept on talking as if Roman had never said a word. “From the time I taught you how to crack a safe when you were just twelve years old, you always did imagine yourself a spy.”
Big brother—you’ve outdone yourself this time.
“It must have happened while you were in the military. You believed all that cock and bull Green Beret stuff and went for it! If you had confided in me, I would have told you not to bother. You’d only end up being disillusioned because you couldn’t right our corrupt world like you did when we were kids playing at being grown-ups, fighting the common enemy.”
You’re right, Yuri. It wasn’t anything close to what I’d fantasized about in my teens.
“I realize you can’t tell me anything, but your silence condemns you. Besides, I see the truth in your eyes. So why don’t you get out before it’s too late? There’s more adventure and excitement in marriage than you’ll have ever experienced in the CIA, or whatever it is you’ve joined.
“Roman—don’t you know you’re going to age too fast living a double life with no wife, no children, nothing to show for it but the proverbial bullet in your back one unlucky day for all of your idealistic efforts? A woman is a great deal more satisfying to embrace at night than a standard issue handgun in a lonely hotel room. Especially a woman like Brit Langford.”
With your mind like a steel trap, they should have recruited you instead of me.
Yuri’s expression grew solemn as he stared deep into Roman’s soul. “I know I’m right. What worries me is thatyou might pass her up and never know what real joy is all about. Think on that.”
He gathered the bottle from the floor and placed it dead center in front of Roman. “Pretty pitiful substitute.” Then he stood up. Over his shoulder he added, “Don’t go to bed yet. Jeannie and I need a ride out to the airport in a few minutes. Since there’s no reason to celebrate, we’re heading home. I’ll tell the family and anyone else I can that Eric was joking. More the pity.”
If you only knew it, you’re speaking to the converted, big brother. I’m going to get out, just as soon as I can tell them. Soon, Yuri, you’ll be dancing at my wedding.
CHAPTER NINE
“MA’AM? I’ve brought in the last box, but it’s not labeled. Where would you like me to put it?”
Brit was on her knees putting cleaning supplies away under the kitchen sink when she heard the mover. It was one of her last tasks. She’d spent the whole day getting her condo straight once more and was exhausted.
“Just a minute.”
She pulled her head out from under the drainpipe and stood up, only to gasp when she saw Roman standing there in a white T-shirt and jeans molding his powerful body, carrying a carton. Her legs started to buckle and she leaned against the sink for support.
His eyes wandered over her face and hair which she’d swept up on her head to keep it out of her eyes.
She looked a complete mess in a well-worn pair of Levi’s and an old T-shirt. No lipstick.
It had been four days since that agonizing moment at her parents’ front door when she’d had to say goodbye to him. Four days that she’d been a zombie at work, that she’d gone without sleep or an appetite because she was in so much pain over never seeing him again.
“W-what are you doing here?”
“Helping you move in,” he murmured suavely, setting down the box. “The men unloading didn’t get the word that we aren’t married. Since they thought I was your husband, they told me they were through and asked me to sign the work order. I guess I’m so used to the role, I didn’t think twice about putting my initials to it. I hope that was all right.”
She moistened her dry lips, trying not to stare at him too hungrily. “Of course. You were the one who hired them in the first place. But as I told you the other night, you’ve already done too much. I can’t afford to pay you for any more help.”
His sudden grimace told her she’d said something to displease him.
“I’m not here as a private investigator, but as a friend, Brit.”
From the clipped sound of his voice, she was very much afraid she’d offended him in some way. It was the last thing she wanted to do.
“To be truthful, I’m thril—” She stopped mid-word as a flush stole over her face. “I’m happy you’ve dropped by. Honestly. It’s just that you work so hard, you deserve a little time off.”
The lines in his face relaxed. “Because of the way I make a living—which by now you know all about—helping you get your place in order is like going on vacation.”
“Not quite.” She couldn’t prevent her mouth from curving upward. “You’re an accomplished liar, Roman Lufka, but I won’t say no to an offer like that.”
“Good. But as far as I can tell, I’m too late. Everything looks just as before.”
Miraculously the tension between them seemed to dissolve. Maybe she was mistaken, but she thought she saw a gleam in his eye that wasn’t there before.
“There are a few more things to do, but the bulk is done.”
He studied her features. “What about this box I brought in? There’s no writing on it.”
She frowned. “I thought I marked everything. Go ahead and open it.”
He was so attractive, so fascinating to watch, she forgot she was supposed to be getting her kitchen in order.
“It looks like some canned goods.”
“Now I remember. I had a couple of cases of soup. Oh—and a supply of cat food for Tiger!” .
“That’s right,” he murmured quietly. “I’d forgotten about your transient peL” He lifted his head, darting her an unfathomable glance. “Have you seen her yet?”
“No.”
She turned toward the sink so he wouldn’t see how much Tiger’s nonappearance had disturbed her and finished putting the last cans of polish and cleanser away. It was silly, really, but she was afraid the cat might have felt abandoned and had gone off for good.
Brit whirled around. “Roman—” she cried joyously. “Tiger did come back!”
She hurried through the kitchen to the dining room. After drawing the curtain aside, she undid the lock on the sliding door and opened it.
“Is that Tiger?” Roman asked, standing so close behind her she could feel the heat of his body.
“No—” she whispered in surprise, still light-headed from his nearness. Reaching down, she picked up a tiny, furry, striped kitten. “But it looks like it could be one of her babies. Oh, Roman. It’s adorable. Look how little it is, how helpless...”
“Well it seemed to know where to come to get love. Maybe your Tiger brought it here.”
Brit raised her eyes to Roman. His bent head was only inches from hers. She could feel his breath on her cheek. “Do you think?”
“Stranger things have happened. Someone told me that cats often choose their owners, not the other way around. If Tiger had something to do with this, it was because she knew her baby would be safe with you.”
Roman’s mouth was too close. She yearned to taste it again. She loved him too much. Swallowing hard, she backed away, the kitten still in her arms.
Out of the periphery she saw his chest heave. “Unfortunately your landlord doesn’t allow pets.”
He’d just brought up the problem she’d been struggling with. “I know. I’ve been taking a chance feeding Tiger. But I couldn’t possibly allow this dear little thing to fend for itself.”
Already Brit loved it and couldn’t imagine parting with it, not when its delicate pink tongue was licking her fingers.
“Oh...she’s hungry and I don’t have any milk. Do you think she’s too little for the cat food?”
“Probably.”
He took the kitty from her hands and examined it. “I’m afraid she’s a ‘he.’ What are you going to name him?”
“Clouseau,” she answered automatically before she realized what she’d said.
He laughed out loud. The sound reached to that inner core of her. “You mean the infamous, ridiculous French Inspector Clouseau?”
Mortified, she gripped his forearm lightly and looked up at him. “Roman—I didn’t mean anything by it. You know I didn’t. You’re the antithesis of him, but because you’re a P.I., the name just popped into my head. It’s an absurd name really.”
“Clouseau it is.” The impact of his white smile was devastating. “I’m not complaining. For all his bungling, the Frenchman was legendary.”
Now the kitten was licking Roman’s hands, obviously looking for food.
“I have an idea. Why don’t we take him to my house? We’ll stop at a pet store on the way and get him the things he needs, including a little bed. He can live in the kitchen until he’s trained, then we’ll go from there.”
Brit stared up at him in disbelief. “You wouldn’t mind the idea of a kitty underfoot?”
“No. I’ve always wanted a pet, but because of my work, I couldn’t have cared for one properly. To be truthful, it would be nice to come home to something alive and warm, provided you come and take care of him when I’m on a case and can’t get home.”
“Of course I’ll come. Every day if necessary.” Much as she loved the kitten, her emotional outburst sprang from the deep-seated desire to be with Roman. Four days’ separation had felt like four years.
In her heart she knew she’d pay a heavy price if she became more involved with him, but right this second she didn’t care.
“Then it’s settled,” came the low-toned response.
Brit—you’re insane. The whole point was to make a complete break from Roman because he’s in love with another woman. Don’t get any ideas that he wants to see you!
He’s only offering to help you out with the kitty until it’s a little older because he’s such a wonderful human being. You won’t be seeing each other coming and going. If that’s what you’re hoping, then you’re headed for disaster. You’re delusional.
“I’m usually home in the early mornings. If you would come after you’ve finished work, I think we’ll have our bases covered.” He continued to rub behind the kitten’s little ears. “You’ll need a front door key. Remind me to give you one when we get home. I’ll drive while you hold Clouseau, then I’ll bring you back here later. Shall we go?”
“Yes,” she murmured, her heart racing in her chest because she was going home with her husband.
In one short week of living with Roman, that was how she’d come to view him.
As far as his house, it represented home to her. In comparison, her condo felt like a motel. “I’ll just lock up and turn off the lights.”
By eight o’clock that evening, the kitty was sleeping in a flannel-lined basket in Roman’s kitchen. He’d drunk his milk and eaten his kitty chow. Roman had taken him outside, then brought him back in for the night.
Standing there watching him with Roman, Brit felt like Clouseau was their baby, fresh home from the hospital.
They’d picked up a pizza on the way home from the pet store. Brit was so full, she couldn’t manage another bite and felt so contented, she wanted to lounge on the couch in the living room. She wanted to lie in Roman’s arms...
It was time to go home.
She turned to ask him if he would drive her when the phone rang. He excused himself to take it in his study. It seemed like he was always on call, his life not his own.
But she could never begrudge him his line of work, not after knowing he’d taken her case on faith, without hesitation, calming her fears.
Most likely one of the P.I.s was calling him to check in, or to ask for backup. Roman’s colleagues were his other family, a specially chosen, dedicated few, who were the real heroes of this world in Brit’s mind.
Eric had gone after Glen Baird without thought for his own welfare. As for Roman, his brilliance in masterminding the entire setup with such speed and forethought had saved her life!
She’d already put the first installment of her bill in the mail. But it seemed such a pittance for the return. She had her life, her sanity back. The only thing missing was her heart, which was his, if he but only knew it.
While she waited for him to get off the phone, she wandered into the living room. A stack of photos on the coffee table caught her interest. They wouldn’t have anything to do with Roman’s work. All his cases were locked away in files in his study.
The pictures had to be personal. Maybe Yuri and Jeannie had left them. Or maybe they were pictures of Angela.
This wasn’t her home. She had no right to rummage around in his things, but her need to see the woman he couldn’t forget, overcame the dictates of her conscience.
Before she lost her nerve, she dashed across the room and took a cursory glance at the top photo.
A small cry escaped her lips. Her hand shook as she lifted it for closer inspection.
Her wedding pictures!
Phil had been the photographer. He’d snapped Roman seconds before embracing her after Sid had pronounced them man and wife. She remembered the smoldering look in Roman’s eyes before his mouth closed over hers. The camera had caught that look of desire.
How could a man only pretending to be in love appear so sensuous and hungry?
Intellectually she knew it had all been an act, but Brit started to tremble as she relived heart-stopping memories, making it difficult to breathe.
She looked at the next picture, then closed her eyes tightly. It was one of her, caught a second before Roman’s mouth descended. Phil had captured the image of a woman in love. Had Brit’s eyes really blazed such a hot blue?
Quickly she turned to the third picture.
Dear God—the way they were kissing each other, anyone could be forgiven for believing the two of them were passionate lovers.
Am I really the woman in that photo clinging to Roman as if he were my whole life?
“I see you found the pictures.”
Roman’s low, vibrant
voice caused them to slip from her hands. She hadn’t heard him enter the living room.
Warm-faced, she knelt down and started to gather them up from the carpet “I came in here to wait for you and s-saw them on the table,” she explained awkwardly.
“I left them out purposely so I wouldn’t forget to give them to you. Sid brought them by. Everything to do with your case is yours and has been itemized on the bill so you’ll know exactly what you’re paying for.”
The world started to spin as the tiny hope that maybe he treasured them, too, was snuffed out.
The words were like a dagger plunged straight into her heart.
She got to her feet in a daze.
Jeannie’s words came back to haunt her. Don’t listen to what anyone says about Angela.
Brit took a fortifying breath before putting the pictures in her purse. She’d made the greatest mistake of her life coming here tonight, agreeing to help take care of Clouseau. But she was committed and couldn’t go back on their bargain.
Pasting a smile on her lips, she turned to him. “If you can take me home now, I’d like to get back to my condo. I’m expecting a call from Denise. She and Rod are flying in tomorrow and I’m going to pick them up at the airport.”
He nodded. “I would have offered, but something has come up and I have to leave town for a week.”
“A new case?” She feigned a bright voice.
“No. Something vastly different. I have to go.”
To New York most likely. To her.
“Lucky for me you’re already planning to check in on Clouseau every day. Would you mind watering the plants one time while I’m gone?”
“Of course not.” She desperately fought to stave off tears which were threatening.
A whisper of a smile formed on his lips. “It’s kind of nice knowing my wife is going to be around a while longer to keep an eye on things while I’m gone.”
“Ex-wife,” she amended, needing to get away from him as fast as possible, before the pain exploded.
“You have to be divorced to wear that tide,” he said over his shoulder as he headed toward the door leading to the garage from the foyer.