Relatively Risky (6 page)

“I like being up.”

It didn't sound so weird this time. Maybe the world needed more up. A change of perspective didn't hurt once in a while.

“Would you like something to eat?” He heard his voice say the words, without a bit of cop in the question. He told himself it was to stop his dad from trying to set him up. He told himself it wouldn't matter if she said no. He told himself a lot of things while he held his breath waiting for her sweet, slightly husky voice to say no.

“Okay.” She looked and sounded as surprised as he felt at her agreement. “I'm a much better witness with food in my stomach.” As if to prove her point, her stomach rumbled. With a rueful grimace she covered it with both hands.

He chuckled, a bit relieved at the out she'd given him. A business dinner was less risky than a date. At least that's how he explained it to himself as he got his feet back on the ground. Trouble was, looking into her eyes as she climbed down to him, he still felt up in the air. She handed him her portfolio, then dropped to the ground and stopped, as if caught by something in his face or his eyes. She met his gaze, not obviously uncomfortable, even as the silence drew out. With the leaf-filtered light playing on her face, he revised her looks up again. No one could call her beautiful—except when she smiled. Her smile changed everything about her face, though if he had to explain why he'd be stumped. Her face was as uncluttered as a kid's. Now that he thought about it, her steady gaze reminded him of a kid's. It seemed to look right through him.

As if he'd made it happen, he realized there were two children standing on either side of her looking right through him. It gave him a bit of shock to see them, so much so he actually took a step back.

“Nell,” the girl said, importantly. She seemed sure of her welcome.

With good reason it seemed. Nell's smile wasn't exactly like the one from this morning, or directed at him, but it still made Alex catch his breath.

She knelt down, her face now level with the children. “Hi, Fancy. Georges. What's up?”

“My cat,” Fancy said, turning her small body to point to a tree in the next yard. The foliage was dense, but Alex did spot a bit of white in among the green. “She won't come down.”

Since Fancy was holding a doll dress, Alex was not surprised. He remembered all too well the attention his sisters had lavished on the various cats that had passed through their lives. Their favorite thing was to dress the cat in baby clothes. This caused the cats to meow piteously. Alex could see the baby carriage at the foot of the tree. He knew just how that cat felt. In fact, at this moment, he wouldn't mind being with the cat.

“She ran right out of the dress,” Georges said, his admiration evident in his face and his voice. “And up the tree.”

“Now she can't get down,” Fancy said sadly.

Won't was more like it.

“I could go up and get her,” Nell said, “but she'd probably just go higher now that she's scared.” She lowered her voice as if sharing a secret with them, “Do you know what a lure is?”

Fancy's eyes got wide and she shook her head. Georges small round face brightened with interest. Alex felt his senses stir at the way her lips pursed.

“A lure is like bait. Fish like worms, so fishermen use them to lure the fish to the hook and catch them. What does your cat like?” Nell asked.

Fancy's small face screwed into a tiny frown as she pondered this. Finally she said, “Tuna?”

“Yes, cats do like tuna. So I'd move the baby carriage where your cat can't see it, then put a can of tuna at the base of the tree and lure her down.”

“Lure,” Fancy said, with relish. Alex could tell the word delighted her. His libido shared that delight, though for entirely different reasons. It gave a little kick every time Nell said it. He looked away, but he couldn't escape the sound of her hushed, husky voice.

“Lure,” Nell said. “And if you don't want her up there again, maybe you should put the dress away. I'll bet your cat is tired of playing dress up.”

“Oh,” Fancy drew the word out, her expression wise and knowing. “Okay.”

She and Georges took off running, their small bodies thrusting through the humid air with youthful zest. At the gate, Fancy turned to cry, “Thanks!”

Nell waved and smiled as she rose from her crouch. The requirements of etiquette satisfied, they disappeared from sight.

“Cute kids,” Alex said, aware the words came out a bit flat.

Once again her gaze assessed him. It seemed to see through him and inside him, all the way down to the parts he wasn't that proud of, to his fear of being back in that kid zone. A familiar panicked feeling rose inside him, one all too familiar. All those eyes, all those gazes assessing him and finding him wanting. All those years of never being quite enough. He wasn't mom, or his sisters' mom. They were both gone and he'd missed them, too. Had never been able to take their place.

Nell's mouth curved slowly into a smile that was new and just for him—though he didn't know how he knew it. Might be deluding himself. Didn't mind. Delusions had their place when a day started out like theirs did. Her eyes reflected the new smile, too. She took her portfolio back, tucking it under one arm. Took his hand in hers, sliding her fingers between his with the innocent trust of a kid and said, “Two questions?”

He couldn't speak yet, his throat was still tight, though tight was easing, as if the palm of her hand was absorbing the panic and neutralizing it. He arched his brows, giving her tacit permission to continue.

“I didn't catch your name earlier?”

“Oh. I'm sorry.” It was habit to pull out his ID and show it to her. “Alex Baker.”

“Homicide.” Her eyes widened briefly.

It felt like she took a step back though she didn't move. So he inched closer. “You said two questions.” The tension inside him was almost gone now. Her face relaxed a bit, her lips trying to curve.

“Where are we going to eat?”

There was a nudge in the question, he felt it, and heard her stomach growl again. He grinned. “Have you ever been to
The Italian Pie
?”

“No, but I love pie.” Her eyes invited him to stay in her comfort zone as long as he needed. With a sense of relief, he accepted. While also reminding himself that he didn't have to worry about kids. Not anymore. Done with that. Having dinner not having babies with her.

With a pause to leave her portfolio on a table by the door, they went outside. Nell waited while Alex inserted the key into the lock of the passenger side of his truck.

“Wow, great parking place. Are you sure you want to give it up?”

He grinned. “If you're going to drive in this city, you have to learn when to let go.”

“I suppose so.”

There was no come-hither or sexual undertone in her eyes, but he felt heat build in his mid-section. They weren't up a tree now. He wanted to kiss her, just to know. No, that wasn't all of it. He didn't know what it was, or why it was, but whatever it was, it dried out his mouth. Left him wanting to know the taste of her. Her eyes widened, as if she'd joined his wave-length. She licked her lips. Not sure if she knew it was provocative. She appeared to decide something and he braced for it.

“If you…” Her voice faded and she had to clear it, the husky sound incredibly sexy when taken with the innocence in her eyes. “If you want to kiss me, I wish you'd just do it,” she said in a rush, “because the suspense is killing me.”

Her chest rose and fell in a quick breath. Maybe that's what made him notice the tiny red circle of a targeting laser right over her heart. He knocked her to the ground. Above their heads, the passenger window of his truck shattered, spraying glass all over his back.

N
ell was
about ready to eat her own arm. Seriously. She didn't get the kiss or the pie. And she'd hit the ground three times in one very long day. An ironic twist on third time's the charm. Third time's the harm? She winced at the cliché, and from the sting of alcohol as the EMT re-cleaned the “blood” on her arm, then gave the same painful attention to her knees.

At the apex of the confusion, Alex presided over a scene filled with flashing lights, yellow crime tape, the neighbors, random ghouls, and one or two press types. He hadn't answered her question—which she couldn't believe she'd asked—but she'd sensed a yes, a little mouth-to-mouth incoming. Instead she got a crime scene she couldn't pedal away from. And some more bruises. She shouldn't have changed into the shorts after the creepy encounter with Dimitri. Felt about five with her thoroughly scrubbed knees and elbows.

At least Sarah was away, meeting with a client. It was a target-rich environment for an artist, but not the best advert for a caterer.

“You hit your head?” the EMT asked, sounding like she was going down a mental check list.

Nell considered the question. There had been a tree root. They ran along the top of the ground. The water table was barely under the ground in the city, except when it rained and then it was above ground. The roots were very Middle Earth and rather cool—until your head got slammed into one. Her back, too. Nell half nodded. Wanted to apologize, though she wasn't quite sure why. EMT was gentle, but it still hurt like a son of a gun. Probably a good thing she hadn't eaten yet, since the pain induced a wave of nausea that popped up beads of sweat along her upper lip.

“So how long have you known Alex?” Her voice was pitched low and Nell saw her glance dart briefly in Alex's direction.

Her cheeks warmed. “Since this morning.” Felt longer, though she didn't say it. So this EMT—Nell's gaze did an up and down—this very attractive EMT, knew Alex.

EMT's eyes widened. “Well, how interesting.”

Nell couldn't argue that. The whole day had been interesting in a bruise-inducing, bat crap crazy, creepy guy overload kind of way. Was this gal a girlfriend? Past, present, or hoping to become one? The hands fell away, the EMT stripped off her gloves and tossed them into the van. If she was a girlfriend, she didn't look bitter or worried. Not that she needed to be. She was beautiful, even rigged out as an EMT. With the added distance, Nell studied her like an artist instead of a girl. Mostly. Might have been a bit of a green filter over her eyes. EMT was everyone's girl—tall, but nicely shaped, and blonde—wait, was there something familiar about her?

“I think you'll live.”

Nell might focus on sketching vegetables, but she also sketched people in their original form. She was capable of doing family facial math, once she dumped the green filter. “Are you related to Alex?”

Her brows shot up. “I'm his sister, Laura.”

Last of the green faded into relief she had no right to feel. Laura's head tilted, the careless knot of blond hair flopping to the side.

“Most people don't see a resemblance.” She didn't sound thrilled Nell had.

Nell wasn't most people, but it wasn't a blessing.

“Nell Whitby.” Kind felt like she should add a qualifier or identifier, but she wasn't Alex's friend, hoped she wasn't his foe.
I'm his witness
just sounded weird.
I'm an artist
was too pretentious. They shook hands. It was something to do in the awkward search for follow-up comments. Neither found one, so this was followed by an extension of the silence, not helped when Alex made a beeline for them, his gaze clearing a path ahead of his body. Nell gave him a careful smile, one with lots of neutral in it. The sister's eyes had turned into lasers. She saw him frown, but at the sister or her?

“You have a sister. Cool.” As in not really cool, but needed something at the end of the sentence so it didn't sound accusing.

“He has six sisters.” Laura's grin was wicked. “And six brothers.”

Nell felt air hit parts of her eyeballs that had never felt air before, as those eyeballs bugged Seven plus six wasn't a difficult calculation, even for a gal who didn't like math. That was a lot of sisters. And a lot of brothers.

“None of us wants to meet or beat daddy's record,” Laura added, perhaps to soothe the bug-eyed shock.

It didn't, though it rather explained the way Alex had looked at Fancy and Georges. And the cat. She studied Alex professionally, okay, not completely professionally, but long enough to decide, “You're the oldest.”

She was not sure how she knew this. It's not like she was an expert on birth order or anything. And she did not know Alex, even though it felt like they were friends who just hadn't met before now.

“You have siblings?” Laura asked.

“She doesn't. Lucky her,” Alex said. “Is she all right?”

Laura stared at her brother for several seconds. “She's fine, Alex. A few cuts and bruises and a tiny bump on the back of her head.” Her gaze shifted to Nell. “But you should see a doctor if you feel dizzy or the
headache
persists. Mine keeps coming back, but you might have more luck.” She shot a look at her brother that was thick with sibling rivalry.

Nell's lips twitched. She'd keep the headache if he'd kiss it better. If he had been planning to kiss her. She kept swinging between certain he meant to, fear he hadn't meant to, and certainty it would have been a pity kiss cuz she'd asked for it. That made her feel dizzy, which didn't help when she noted the sulky curve of his mouth. Pouting shouldn't be so cute. And sexy. The shadow of a beard and the pout, yeah, definitely sexy. She ran finger along her lower lip, wishing…his lashes flickered. In books that meant something. But in books everything meant something.

“She might be a bit shocky.” Laura spoke, rocking Alex back on his heels. She added, “Sibling shock, big brother.” Her grin was wicked, then turned wry. “I'm all too familiar with the condition.”

His jaw clenched. A couple of deep breaths that expanded his chest quite nicely—Nell thoroughly enjoyed the sight from her vantage point—and then he gritted out. “Thank you, Laura. I'll return the favor. Soon.” On this clear threat, he turned to Nell. “Can you stand? Walk?”

Nell blinked, wondering why he'd think she couldn't. She wasn't on a stretcher. And she'd been certified fine by a professional, well, mostly fine. She stood, instead of answering, then dipped her chin to hide the wince as stiffened muscles protested. Okay, walking was more challenging than she'd anticipated. Might involve some zombie-type limping. Alex's hand lightly gripped her arm above the scuffed elbow. The warm grip eased the muscle gripe a little. Might be a good time to do the helpless female routine. Pity she didn't know how. She'd made her best pitch for the kiss, so the ball was in his court. It was just that guys didn't always seem to recognize when the ball was in their court. One might conclude their balls—ouch. Had not meant her thoughts to go that direction.

Didn't want to look or sound desperate, so she proffered a friendly smile. This had the added benefit of requiring her to look at him. It was rather nice looking up into those blue eyes, being in the range of his musky scent. Could make a girl dizzy and not cuz she'd got her bell rung yet again.

Alex's mouth opened. Closed. There was a pause. His hand dropped away, leaving her elbow both sad and chilled. “We need to talk.”

“We could go inside,” she offered. It was cooler and there might be bread or something left over from their last gig. Her stomach—now that it was back in place after dropping to her feet and then jumping up into her throat—had joined the grumble parade with the rest of her muscles.

He didn't touch her again—a change from when they'd headed to his truck on their way to not get pie. Then his hand had rested against the small of her back. It had stayed there even when she turned, it had given her the courage to ask the Question. Maybe he was relieved that he didn't have to answer? Guys were deep into avoidance. The most interesting ones had sure managed to avoid her for a great portion of her life. Her knowledge of them was mostly culled from books, movies, TV, and girl chats with her friends. Some field observation. Amazing what couples got up to in a library.

It was a sad fact that she and Alex would never have met if she hadn't ridden her bike into his car jacking. He'd had to notice her. It had felt like he'd considered the Question before she asked it, but it was also possible her imagination had run away with her. It had been running a lot today.

The running of her imagination led her thoughts to the hot Russian. There'd been, like a second, she'd thought he'd been flirting with her. Yeah, the imagination had been on a roll today. Her practical side, the librarian, agreed that the imagination had been out of control, though that librarian also wanted the kiss. The artist, well, duh, she wanted the kiss, too. She was the one who'd asked the Question.

Her thoughts got her to the front door, helped her sort of ignore the feeling of being heavily watched by the mass of police and sundry others who had collected to observe, assess, report, and block traffic. She got the door unlocked, and Alex pushed it open, angling so she could pass him. With a last look back, Nell noted that the chaos seemed to have gotten worse during the short walk. Saw a TV news crew in the mix now.

“Slow news day,” Alex said, nodding for her to go inside.

“Slow would be nice.” Nell clumped across the wood floor, her ungainly factor increasing exponentially with each loud, painful snap of boots to wood. It was a relief to finally reach the kitchen. These old houses sure had long hallways. Pity the poor servants of the past. “I know you're hungry—”

“Nell.”

The insistence in his tone turned her from the fridge and the edible something in there calling her name. It might have been something with mold, but at the moment, she didn't care.

“I'm sorry, but we need to talk. Could you take a seat?”

She could. Didn't want to. Her tush was still bitter from the triple slam. If she'd known he'd make her sit down without eating being involved, she'd have taken him to the living room and the soft chairs. She eased down, managed to hide most of the wince. Alex seemed distracted, though, studying her with a frown that had her shifting in unease, which also hurt, by the way. “What?”

He pulled out a notebook and a pencil. The artist saw “cop” drop over him like a shroud. The librarian wondered why.

“Can you think of any reason someone would want to kill you?”

Neither artist nor librarian saw that question coming. Her jaw sagged. The cop who pissed off criminal type dudes day and night thought someone wanted her dead? For a second, she replayed her encounter with the creepy guys on the Moon Walk, but even her imagination failed to supply a reason for that to be life threatening. “Not to be rude, but isn't it more likely to be you?”

“The targeting dot was on your chest.”

He had been looking at her chest? She looked down. Targeting dot was most interesting thing to happen there...ever.

“It's not like the shooter couldn't see who to target.”

Okay, it was a fair point that still didn't make sense. She was a former librarian, current wait in a catering company, sometime sketch artist, and author of one children's book. Not the résumé to attract a killer. Or a date. “Maybe I was just the first place the dot landed. It might have been getting ready to move to you. Or it was a mistake.”

It was kind of a pity she wasn't interesting enough to kill. Not that she wanted to be that kind of interesting, but the notion she might be that kind of interesting had Alex looking at her like she was interesting.

Alex frowned. “Mistaken identity does make more sense.”

He didn't have to agree so fast. Could pretend she might be interesting enough to kill. Only he was a guy. He couldn't.

He shifted in the chair, as if settling in for a long haul. “But we need to be sure.”

Making sure was a plan she could support, though she'd be more supportive if there was food involved. She tried to compress her stomach so it wouldn't whine. Been bad enough when it whined while they were up the tree, but in the deep silence of the kitchen? What if it sounded like a different body sound?

He half frowned. Nell could see ideas ticking through his oh-so-blue eyes. She could sort of figure out his thought processes. Thanks to TV and movies and, of course, books. A lot of mysteries had passed through her hands, most of them pausing long enough for her to read them.

“No,” she said.

“What?”

“No one to leave me a large fortune. A pity, but there it is.” Didn't need to be a fortune, just enough to stabilize her situation would be nice, but not so much someone needed to kill her to take it. That was just ostentatious. She held up a hand, ticking off the mystery plot motives. “Don't know any secrets. And I write kids books, not tell-alls.” Didn't need that many fingers. Her life was not that interesting.

This did not stop him from trying to find a crumb of lethal in her life. He found no rocks to turn over here or in Wyoming, where they had actual rocks. When he paused to regroup, she sighed yet again. That left someone gunning for him. She'd suggested it without really thinking about it, but all the sudden it felt real. Scary real.

“What?” Alex asked.

“Well, I just realized that someone might be trying to…kill you.”

He shrugged. “It happens.”

Okay, that was seriously sexy. So wrong to go there, but hard not to when she was weak with hunger.

He tapped fingers on the table top. “Maybe you saw something?”

“Something?”

“Something or someone—you shouldn't. Maybe you sketched the wrong person?”