Killing Time (13 page)

“What did you do besides take a nap?” he asked as he took two drinks out of one sack and slid one in front of her.

“Took a shower, and examined your house.”

“Did you figure out how everything worked?”

“I think so. Nothing’s broken, at any rate.” She sat down in the chair she had occupied before, and he put a hamburger and a paper sleeve of fries in front of her. With controlled greed she began unwrapping the hamburger, but good manners dictated she wait until he was sitting down and ready to eat before she took her first bite.

They ate in silence, dipping the salty fries in ketchup. Reflecting on how many calories she had consumed that day, Nikita estimated she needed to run about ten miles just to break even.

“When it gets dark, we’ll retrieve your rental car,” he finally said.

“Is it safe for your father to have my car on his property?”

“No one will know it’s there. No one will know where you are. I did some shopping for you today, bought you some clothes that will let you blend in better, something to cover your hair, sunglasses.”

Those things would help. They were simple measures, but in their training agents learned that people often didn’t pay close attention to the people around them, so she should be fairly safe. She was lucky in that no one really knew her, other than Knox. This was still a small town, however, and his neighbors would certainly notice a strange woman entering and leaving his house.

She had come prepared for the eventuality that she might have to change her appearance, though. In her suitcase were some handy items from her time.

“How would I look as a blue-eyed blond?” she asked, grinning at him.

13

Half an hour later Nikita came out of the bathroom and did a slow turn in front of him. “What do you think?”

Knox had been watching news on the video screen, but he slowly got to his feet, staring at her. “Hubba hubba,” he said, his deep voice going dark, his eyes getting that heavy-lidded look again. “I like. I like your dark hair better, but this is good. Real good. How’d you do it so fast?”

Distracted, she said, “It’s a polymer product that coats the hair with a different color; it won’t come off if your hair gets wet, but a simple shampoo will dissolve it. No bleaching and redying involved.” She paused.
“Hubba hubba?”
She thought that meant something good, especially if she factored in the change in his voice tone. She could feel her cheeks getting hot as she reacted to the way he was looking at her.

“It means
yowzer.
”

She took a quick breath. That explanation hadn’t helped any. “And that means—?”

“It means you look delicious.”

That word she knew, but it meant something tasted wonderful. Obviously the slang in this time gave it a different meaning, unless . . .
oh.
Now her cheeks were really hot and she moved a step away from him, uncertain what to do. She wasn’t a Naive Nancy, she had danced this dance before, but she’d been in her own time. Getting involved with him wouldn’t be on the same level as stupidly getting involved with a
suspect,
which would be grounds for dismissal if not outright prosecution. In many ways Knox was like a fellow agent, but while the Bureau knew fraternization was going to happen, the official policy was still that it wasn’t a good idea.

But how ethical was it to become sexually intimate with someone, knowing all the while one was here for only a short time? That was if everything worked right, SAR brought her some replacement links, she didn’t get killed in the line of duty, and all the other possibilities. Her trainers in ethics classes had been realistic: sexual contact with people from other times was, given human nature, inevitable. Paradoxically, however, casual sex was perhaps more ethical than forming an emotional bond with someone from another time when you knew you would be transiting out.

She didn’t think she’d had a casual thought about Knox Davis since first meeting him.

He closed the space between them, putting one hand on her waist; the heat of his hand burned through her clothing. “I’ve already thought of all the ramifications,” he said, still in that slow, deep voice that affected her as potently as an aphrodisiac. “I know that, if everything works out, you’ll be leaving. I know that I’m going to do everything I can to get you naked, but if you don’t want to, all you have to do is say no.”

In that instant, like hitting a solid wall, she realized that while she couldn’t be casual about him, he could easily feel very casual about her. The trainers hadn’t covered that possibility, instead focusing on any unfair actions by the agents.

Here she was, worried about behaving ethically—and he was worried about getting laid.
Men!

There was a wonderful phrase that had stood the test of time; she took great pleasure in giving him a noncommital smile and saying, “I’ll get back to you on that.”

He tipped his head back and laughed, his hand tightening on her waist. “You do that,” he said in amusement. Then he kissed her again, and it was just as it had been earlier, slow and devastatingly intimate. This time, though, they were both standing; it was the most natural thing in the world to move close to him, to put her arms around his neck and rise on tiptoe so the fit was even better. She felt the shudder that rolled through him and suddenly the kiss wasn’t slow, it was hungry and demanding, hot with insistence.

His scent and taste washed through her, awakening every female instinct and hormone she possessed. His penis was erect, pushing hard against her lower abdomen even before he slid his hand down to her bottom and lodged her even more solidly to him. How easy it would be to go to bed with him, she thought dimly, struggling to concentrate on anything except the pleasure igniting along her neural pathways. Whatever it was about that laid-back charm of his, it was lethal to her good intentions.

She fought for common sense and self-control, managing to put a breath of air between their lips, and murmured, “Shouldn’t we be leaving?”

“Not just yet. It isn’t good dark yet.”

“Good dark, as opposed to bad dark?”

“As in, there’s still enough light outside to see.” He pressed a quick kiss to the corner of her mouth, nipping lightly at her bottom lip.

Resolutely, she wedged her hands against his chest. She didn’t have to push; just the position of her hands had him sighing with regret and easing back.

She took a few deep breaths, steadying herself, and dropped off of tiptoe. “I’m sorry; that was unprofessional of me.”

“You keep saying that.”

“It
is
unprofessional.”

“Agreed. But you’re sorry about it, and I’m not. Hell, after everything else we’ve done today, a little unprofessionalism feels like a breath of fresh air.”

Meaning, at least now he wasn’t being forced into breaking laws and betraying the focus of his life, so why not have a little sex? That thought gave her the strength she needed to put more distance between them; she wanted to have sex with him for a lot of reasons, but to be his consolation prize wasn’t one of them.

“Just so you know my position,” she said, “I obviously find you very attractive. But I won’t be here long, so any relationship I have here is, by definition, casual. I’ve never had casual sex in my life, and see no reason to start now.”

He whistled softly between his teeth. “That puts me in my place, doesn’t it?”

Now she felt faintly guilty. “I don’t mean to be insulting; it’s just . . .”

“Hush.” He touched one fingertip to her chin. “You don’t have to apologize, or make excuses. If the time was right—no pun intended—I think we could have something solid between us.”

The really sad thing was, she thought so, too. Her career kept her so busy she didn’t have much time to devote to finding Mr. Right, or even Mr. Maybe. Now she had all but fallen into the lap of a definite Mr. Maybe who might even be Mr. Right, and she couldn’t stay.

As fascinated as she was with this time, with all its energy and explosion of ideas and technology, she preferred her home time. Some travelers talked about picking an interesting time and staying, but she’d never understood how they could walk away from their families and friends, from everything they knew. Of course, she had to consider that perhaps they had no friends and their families were why they wanted to leave, which was even sadder.

Knox said, as though he were reading her mind, “But if you stayed . . .”

“I can’t.”

“Can’t, or don’t want to?”

“Never see my family again?” she asked softly. “Could you do that?”

“It’s just my dad and stepmother, but . . . no. I couldn’t voluntarily walk away and never see them again.” He reached out and fingered a lock of her newly blond hair. “Is there anyone other than family waiting for you?”

“A lover, you mean? No. I have friends, both male and female, but no one I’m interested in romantically.” Since this seemed to be question-and-answer time, she lifted her brows in query and said, “Do you?”

“Not now.”

Meaning there had been, but after seeing the photograph in his bedroom, she had expected that. “I was in your bedroom looking around.” Snooping, yes, but she wasn’t embarrassed. He had to have known she wanted to look at everything. “The woman in the photograph?”

She could almost feel him withdraw, his gaze turning inward, but into his memories rather than in anger. “Rebecca. She was my fiancée. She died seven years ago.”

Sympathy had her touching his hand. “I’m so sorry. Yes, I know I say that a lot, but this is different. Has there been anyone since?”

“Just the occasional casual sex you’re so set against, but no one close.”

Seven years, she thought, and he was still emotionally faithful. This was a steadfast man. “You must have loved her very much. She would be honored.”

His gaze refocused on her. “That’s a quaint expression, and a . . . sweet thought. Thank you. Yes, I did love her, and the grief was almost more than I could take. But it fades, after a while, and the cliché about life going on is true.” He looked past her out the window. “On a different subject, by the time you change clothes, it’ll be dark enough for us to leave.”

And he had discussed his personal life as much as he intended, she thought as she got the shopping bags and took them into her bedroom. She didn’t mind backing off a subject that was sensitive to him. Or perhaps, because he was a man, he thought they had already plumbed the depths and there was nothing else to talk about.

That thought made her smile, and she turned her attention to changing her appearance even more.

With only the light coming from the hallway to illuminate the room, she pulled the curtains closed over both windows, then turned on the lights in the room and closed the door. Opening the shopping bags, she pulled out a baseball cap, two pairs of jeans, two T-shirts, a pair of athletic shoes, and some socks. Just to be certain, she looked at the manufacturers’ labels in her new clothing, and shivered with excitement. Prewashed, softened, bleached—yeah, yeah, yeah. As she’d suspected, they were
cotton.
She’d never been able to afford even a single cotton shirt.

Hastily, she stripped down to her underwear. The two pairs of jeans were identical, so she grabbed the pair on top, tore off the tags, and pulled them on. The waistband was a little loose, but the length was good, and she loved the way the soft fabric felt on her legs. It felt substantial, without being restricting, and
comforting.

That was a slogan the manufacturer could use, she thought in dizzy delight.
The comfort of cotton.

She chose the pink T-shirt over the green one, and tucked the bottom into the waistband of her jeans. Surveying herself in the bedroom mirror, she squelched a squeal of joy. She looked . . . she looked so
twenty-first century
!

Even people who had met her that day would find it difficult to recognize her, with the different clothes and change of hair color. The color she’d chosen was a warm golden shade that went well with her skin tone. She also had colored contacts in her purse that would change her eye color to blue, but since they would be out after dark, she didn’t think the contacts would be needed. For the daytime, the sunglasses Knox had bought would hide her eyes anyway.

She pulled the baseball cap onto her head and stared at herself. Her own mother would know her, of course, and her sister, but her father and brother would probably pass by without another look.

After putting on her new socks and shoes, she returned to the living room and for the second time presented herself for his inspection. “Well?”

He nodded with satisfaction. “No one will know you. Take off the cap and pull your hair back in a ponytail.”

Nikita obediently started gathering her hair back. It wasn’t very long, not quite shoulder length, so her ponytail was short. He went into the kitchen and came back with a piece of plastic-wrapped wire that he gave her to wrap around her hair. She put on the cap again and pulled the little ponytail through the hole in back, feeling to make certain it was secure. “What’s this wire thing?”

“It’s the tie from a trash bag. I’m short on ponytail holders today, so we have to make do.”

She ignored the dry tone and said, “I need another shirt, or a jacket, to hide my weapon.” She paused, an awful suspicion blooming in her mind. She narrowed her eyes at him. “You
are
giving it back to me, aren’t you?”

He shrugged, something really close to a smirk on his face. “Why do you want it? You have that little laser pen, and it can do as much or more damage as a nine millimeter.”

“Yes, it can, and I’ll use it if I have to. But if I can avoid attracting attention to it, don’t you think that would be the intelligent thing to do?”

“Avoiding attention is the best thing to do, regardless. If you’re seen carrying a weapon, you’ll automatically be marked as law enforcement, which we want to avoid.” He paused. “Your weapon is in the car. Carry it in your purse, not on your belt. On the other hand, it gets cool here in the mountains at night, so you do need something more than a T-shirt. I’ll be right back.”

He went into his bedroom and came out an instant later carrying a faded denim shirt. “Put this on.”

The shirt was his, of course, and deliciously dwarfed her even though she was above average in height. She rolled up the cuffs to her elbows, and left the shirt hanging open and loose. “I’m ready, unless you can think of something else.”

“Just one,” he said, and kissed her again.