They’d come, she remembered, courting the new king of the track, and he had eaten it up. Anyone else would have been set for life. But not Craig. With him there had been this huge hole that no one and nothing seemed to be able to fill.
She sighed as she looked at the door she had slammed in Standish’s wake. He’d be back. She didn’t know what she was going to do when he came. She was almost positive that she didn’t have anything that might belong to him. “I guess this is one of those times.”
She looked so small, so vulnerable. It made Dennis forget for a moment that he wasn’t supposed to get involved in anyone’s troubles.
“So, what are you going to do?” he repeated.
For a moment, she’d forgotten that he was here. She’d been talking out loud to herself. But he was here, and he shouldn’t have been. She distanced herself from him. “That’s my problem.”
He’d had a feeling she’d say that. Feisty didn’t begin to describe her. Though it got in his way, he had to admire that. “Living next door to you kind of makes it mine.”
The logic escaped her. “And just how do you figure that?”
Dennis grinned at her. “It’s that neighborly thing again.”
As she had said, it wasn’t his problem. It wasn’t anyone’s problem but hers, courtesy of Craig. She’d find a way out. Tomorrow, when she was less exhausted and could think clearly. After all, she couldn’t give Standish what she didn’t have. He had to be satisfied with that—didn’t he?
Nicole blew out a breath as she looked at Dennis. “There’s such a thing as being too neighborly. Don’t worry about it.”
The woman had more courage than brains. There was no doubt in his mind that she hadn’t seen the last of Standish. “Do you want me to stay here tonight?”
Nicole stared at him. Where had that come from? She was exhausted and hugely pregnant. That should have turned anyone off.
“No.” As soon as she turned him down, something small within Nicole wavered, afraid. She buried it quickly. She was a big girl now, and had been on her own for a long time.
The offer seemed like the right thing to say. Besides, though he was next door, he didn’t like the idea of her remaining alone for the night. Standish might decide that a week was too long to wait and return in the middle of the night. If the man entered through the door, it would trip the alarm system he had rigged, but if he entered through the sliding patio door, Standish could harm Logan’s widow before he had a chance to reach her.
“Would you rather stay at my place?” He kept the suggestion low-key. “I’ve got a sofa that folds out in the den. You could have my bed.”
God, he almost sounded chivalrous, but she knew better. No man was altruistic. They always wanted something in return. “No.”
She was being difficult. It only stood to reason that she’d feel better with someone she knew. “Do you have any other place to stay?”
“If I wanted to.” Her eyes met his. She saw the question he was about to ask. “I don’t want to. It’ll be all right,” she added with an assurance she only hoped was true. Maybe if she said it a few times, she would eventually believe it.
He’d hidden his surveillance equipment while the delivery was being made, but he was going to set it up again as soon as he left her. And it looked as if he were going to be staying up late tonight. He knew that Dombrowski would cover for him while he slept, but somehow, that didn’t seem good enough just now.
Dennis noticed a pen in the corner of the counter. Leaning over the table, he pulled out a blue napkin from the plastic holder and wrote seven digits on it.
“Here.” He held out the napkin to her.
She stared at it, making no move to take it. “What is it?”
It was like trying to lead a mustang to water. He was getting kicked for his trouble. Dennis took her hand by the wrist and placed the napkin into her palm. “My phone number.”
She wasn’t helpless and she didn’t accept aid from a stranger under any circumstances. Despite the meal they’d shared, that’s what they were. Strangers. She didn’t know any more about him than she knew about Standish.
Except that he didn’t make her blood run cold, the way Standish did. And he smelled good.
“Why would I want that?”
This one put a new spin on stubbornness. He wondered if it was her pregnancy that had her behaving this way, or if she had always been so bullheaded. “So you can call me in case you have any strange visitors in the night that don’t go ‘Ho-ho-ho.”’
Nicole frowned at the napkin, but she didn’t crumple it and throw it away the way he half expected her to. Instead, she folded it in half as she looked at him.
“Why would you want to get involved in this?” she challenged.
There was nothing in it for him. She had long since passed the point where she was dazzled by a sexy smile and a drop-dead body. And if she had once wished for love and acceptance, well, that had fallen by the wayside as well. The price tag was too high and the returns too low on the emotional investment that was required of her. Love was a highly overrated emotion. So what was he doing, offering to be her protector?
She was suspicious of his motives. He wondered if she had something to hide, or if she was just being prudent. If that was the case, he couldn’t say he blamed her. Craig Logan might have been a winner on the track, but he was a real loser otherwise. He could understand her being leery of men.
“Let’s just say I’ve always had a secret fantasy about rescuing a damsel in distress.”
Nicole’s frown deepened. Did he really expect her to believe him? “In this case, the damsel probably outweighs you.”
Dennis laughed. She was large, there was no disputing that, but she was also petite and that exaggerated the image. Having seen a photograph of Nicole before she had become pregnant, he knew exactly how stunning she could be.
“I sincerely doubt that. I hit the scales at 185.”
And all of it looked pretty solidly built from what she could see. Nicole shook off the thought. She was being adolescent. “If you think I’m telling you what my scale says, you’re more naive than I thought.”
Naive, now there was a word that wouldn’t have described him, not since he was nine years old. Children of gamblers grew up quickly.
He leaned against the doorjamb and smiled engagingly. “And why would I be naive?”
She glanced at the remainder of their meal. “For getting involved with a pregnant widow whose late husband seemed to have ran afoul of the wrong crowd.”
He lifted a shoulder and let it drop casually. “What’s life without a challenge?”
She didn’t need a challenge. She needed a little smooth sailing for a while. Maybe forever.
“Life is challenge enough,” she murmured, looking out the window. She hoped that Standish would keep his word and stay away for a week. Maybe by then she’d be able to find whatever it was that he was looking for.
It would have helped if he had been more specific. Dennis saw the worried look flitter through her eyes. “Are you sure you don’t want—”
“I’m sure,” she said abruptly, cutting him off before he could try to change her mind. This time, she might just let him. “Thank you for dinner.”
He enveloped her hand between his. It felt small, frail. Her manner had almost made him forget just what a delicate woman she really was. “The pleasure was all mine.”
He