Though he was tall, he was muscular and his hair was a dirty blond. He wore it on the longish side, which led her to believe that whoever he worked for wasn’t a stickler for decorum.
She didn’t particularly want to be on a first name basis with him. That left the door open to becoming more personal than just nodding at one another in passing. And she had all the friends she needed. Or wanted.
“You’re the wrong coloring. And you’re not gaunt enough.” His eyes were still on hers, waiting. Nicole paused, then relented. “All right, Dennis, what is your goal?”
He told her what she wanted to hear. What he might have wanted for himself if he led a more normal life. “What every man wants. To have a good job, to be a success at what I do. To have a family.” That sounded a little too perfect. He paused, then added, “Eventually.”
The honesty surprised her. He was probably too busy sowing oats everywhere. With his looks, he wouldn’t lack for takers. “But not now.”
“No, not now,” he affirmed with feeling. “I still have a long way to go before I ask someone to marry me and share my life.”
Nicole looked down at her plate and wondered where the lobster Cantonese had disappeared to. Could she have eaten it that fast? “Maybe she’ll ask you to share hers.”
If she was looking for an argument, she wouldn’t find one here. “Even better. An independent woman.”
Nicole sombered as she raised her eyes to his. “You’re patronizing me.”
Definitely accustomed to being challenged, Dennis decided. “No, I’m feeding you.” He deliberately drawled. “Like it?”
Maybe she was being too edgy. Maybe he wasn’t anything more than he claimed to be, just a nice man saying thank-you. In her case, that would be a first.
She helped herself to the rest of the lobster. “It’s good.”
Mentally, he took another step forward. “I bought this at Sun-Luck’s.” The restaurant was a popular one at the local mall, one he had seen her enter earlier in the week. “Familiar with it?”
Nicole started at the name, a myriad of emotions crisscrossing through her. It was at Sun-Luck’s that she had told Craig that she was pregnant. It was her favorite restaurant. Once it had been their favorite restaurant. Nicole had picked the familiar surroundings to break the news to Craig.
He’d walked out on her, leaving her sitting with strangers staring at her.
“Yes,” she answered, her tone flat. “I’m familiar with it.”
But not in a good way, he thought. His curiosity was piqued, but he let it pass. He wasn’t here to satisfy idle curiosity, he was here to do a job.
Dennis divided one of the egg rolls and offered her half. Nicole looked at it as if she were regarding a peace offering. After a beat, she accepted it. He couldn’t recall ever seeing such wariness in a woman before.
“So,” he continued pleasantly, as if attempting to smooth over the rough spot he had inadvertently created, “are you planning on staying here?”
The garden apartment complex was occupied predominately by singles and childless couples. Having a baby here set her apart, but then, he had a feeling that Nicole Logan was accustomed to standing out.
Nicole sat up as straight as her condition allowed. “Yes.” The conformation was defiantly uttered.
He picked his way through the minefield carefully. He didn’t want to say anything that would alienate her. “Good for you. Then you’ve turned the second bedroom into a nursery?”
What did he care what she did with her second bedroom? And why was he here in the first place? In her experience, men who smiled the way he did and came bearing gifts were after something.
And she had absolutely nothing left to give.
Her voice was tight, her cadence measured. “Yes, it is.”
This was going to be a lot more difficult than he thought. “Hey, whoa, that wasn’t meant to be a call to arms.”
She placed her fork down, her appetite disappearing. “Why are you asking me these questions?”
Had he come on too strong? Or was it just that she was naturally wary of strangers? The profile he had on Nicole Logan labeled her gregarious. It didn’t seem to jibe with the woman sitting before him.
“It’s called making conversation, Nikki,” he answered mildly.
Nicole stiffened instantly. Craig had called her that. And she didn’t want to be reminded of Craig anymore. “My name is Nicole, not Nikki. Or, in your case, Mrs. Logan.” She rose from the table. Letting him in had been a mistake. “Look, this was very nice of you, but—”
The doorbell rang, cutting into her dismissal. She turned and looked accusingly at the door. It was getting to be like LAX in here.
Hand to the small of her back, attempting to contain the ache that had materialized there, the one that always came these days when she sat too long, Nicole crossed to the door. Exasperated at the interruption and annoyed with herself for allowing Dennis into her apartment in the first place, she forgot to look through the peephole. Instead, she yanked the door open.
There was a good-looking, well dressed older man standing in her doorway. He looked vaguely familiar, though she couldn’t place him. He smiled at her, but his eyes were deader than the promises that Craig had made to her.
“Mrs. Logan?” Dark blue eyes swept over her as the stranger said her name.
Instinctively, Nicole wanted to back away, but she remained where she was. She was vaguely aware of Dennis rising behind her. Nicole looked at the man’s chiseled profile and tried to recall if she had met him on the circuit during the days when she had traveled with Craig.
She couldn’t remember.
Bingo, Dennis thought, recognizing the man as the owner of one of the casinos the Syndicate numbered as their own.
Holding the door ajar, Nicole stood blocking the man’s way. “Yes?”
The man’s smile was cold, isolating her. “I’m here to collect what’s mine.”
Chapter 3
T he man made her feel uneasy, but years of experience had taught her how to mask her feelings. Nicole lifted her chin.
“I’m afraid that there has been some mistake made, Mr.—”
If she was attempting to be defiant, it made less than no impression on him. “Standish.” The name rolled smoothly off his tongue. “Joseph Standish.”
The name meant nothing to her. The dislike Nicole felt was immediate and intense. If the man continued to look vaguely familiar, it was because Joseph Standish, if that was really his name and she doubted that it was, reminded Nicole of the type of people Craig had taken to hanging around with the year before he died. Dangerous people.
People she didn’t want anywhere near her or her unborn child.
“Mr. Standish,” she acknowledged coldly. “I’m afraid that I don’t have anything of yours.”
His lips parted slightly in what could have passed for a smile if it hadn’t been so mocking. His tone remained mild and all the more chilling for it.
“Oh, but I’m ‘afraid’ that you do, Mrs. Logan.” His eyes swept past her and the man behind her to look at the apartment. It had to be hidden here somewhere. “Mind if I take a look around?”
Nicole’s breath caught in her throat. He was going to push his way in. She didn’t want him touching her things. She squared her shoulders. “Yes, I do mind.”
Whether