She pushed away from him, testing the surface tension between them. She was fine. She was whole again. And separate.
Marc smiled. “I liked that.”
“What? My falling apart? I don’t know what the hell’s happening to me,” she said roughly, her ego battering its wings distractedly against the bars of fear that had trapped her. “I’m certainly used to edgy situations. I guess… I guess it’s just that it’s been so unrelenting for the last couple of days. I…”
“The part about holding you.”
The ego-bird flew free into azure skies.
“I’ll go fix lunch.” She leapt up from the sofa, suddenly famished. At the fridge she could feel his powerful presence move behind her, feel the heat of his body warming her back as the cool air brushed her fevered cheeks.
“Back off, big boy.” Amanda clattered sandwich fixings onto the counter. “You and I need to get a few things straight.” He reached for her. She slid out of his embrace.
“I want to know what’s going on and what it has to do with me. And don’t give me that ‘all will be made clear in good time’ crap.” She was feeling her oats, fending off his wicked, crooked smirk, slipping away from his teasing, outstretched arms.
“I appreciate the comforting shoulder.” She pressed a knife firmly into his solid midsection, urging him back. “A lot.” For a brief moment she thought of dropping the pointed barrier between them and allowing their hormones to flow freely. His eyes were so blue, his look so warm, his comforting solidity such a refuge.
Home and hearth.
But this was no such thing. It was one hot, handsome male intent on conquest and one almost-willing female, fighting the powerful lion back onto his platform with an upraised chair.
Maybe she couldn’t make him jump through flaming hoops- just yet- but she could prevent him from leaving his marks on her, at least for now. She had no intention of fighting him back into his cage permanently.
Marc slumped against the counter, looking forlorn as he plucked a slice of chicken from the deli wrapper. He shoved the slice into his mouth. “Are you the bad guy, Ace?”
“What do you mean?”
“Don’t screw with me, Ace. I can handle it. We’ll work something out with the insurance company. David could learn to live with it. After all it was his class that inspired you.”
“What on earth are you talking about?”
“Nobody reacted the way you did, Amanda.” He took off his glasses and pulled her close to him, peering deep into her eyes. Into her soul. Amanda’s pulse began to race.
“I… I really have no idea… what…” She twisted from his grip and clutched the edge of the counter. “Gee… whiz… Marc…” She swallowed, then took a deep breath and turned to face him.
“I don’t know what you mean by that ‘acted-the-way-I-did’ crack. You’re a good-looking guy,” she tossed back, returning to constructing the sandwiches. “Can I help it if I’m particularly susceptible to naked lov…”
She spun back, her eyes wide on him. “Naked… nude… men…models! ” Her body whirled away again as she seized a tomato and began to vigorously slice it. “I’ve never seen such terrific poses. I told you. It was very inspiring.”
She slapped slices of whole wheat bread down firmly, mashing the lettuce and tomato into the chicken slices. She briskly cut the sandwiches in two. Marc quickly retrieved one of the plates and delicately plucked the knife from her hand.
Her rattled brain clutched at another subject. “What are you doing with a gun?” she challenged.
“I have a permit.” He reached to spear pickle chips onto his plate.
“I don’t like guns,” she grumbled.
“I don’t either. But I like the reasons that I have to carry one even less.” He poured them each a glass of milk.
“Promise me, Ace, it ain’t you. I’m taking a hell of a risk here. Be straight with me. I could use your help.”
Her body stiffened. “If I had the slightest…”
Trust.He was trusting her. Even if she hadn’t the remotest idea what he was talking about. She unclenched her jaw and studied the narrowed blue eyes, shadowed by the intent, compressed eyebrows. The tight constriction in her chest slowly ebbed away. “I promise, Marc. It ain’t me.”
With a sigh of enormous relief he pulled her roughly to him and narrowly missed smushing the chicken sandwiches between them.
“I could lose my license for this,” he announced happily, cupping her head in his strong hand and holding her tightly against his chest. The surprise that Amanda felt at his reaching for her was instantly replaced with a wave of pleasure at being plastered securely against Marc’s strong chest.
He released his grip and held her away from his body; his face a confused mask. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to get carried away.” His eyes swept her look of quiet amusement. “No, I’m not sorry. Not at all.” He grinned wickedly. “Okay,” he cleared his throat and his voice changed to one of brusque efficiency. “Good. Now that we’ve settled that, let’s get down to business.”
“Business?”
“Yep… you and me, babe. We’re a team. Welcome to the P.I. biz.”
Amanda frowned. “Does that mean I’m supposed to spy on my friends, now?”
“It’s not spying,” Marc said earnestly. “God, no. I’d never ask that of you. But, Ace, somebody in the class is in a lot of trouble and it may be one of your guys. If we can figure it out before the feds do…”
“The feds?” The lunch dishes clattered into the sink.
At the same moment, Cissy appeared at the broken apartment door accompanied by a middle-aged Spanish man carrying a toolbox. With a concerned nod of greeting to Amanda the superintendent began replacing the broken lock and chain under Cissy’s watchful eye.
Amanda turned back to Marc. “The feds?” she repeated quietly. “Do you mean to tell me this is an international thing?”
Marc chewed on his lower lip and sat back in his chair on the opposite side of the small dining table. “I… I need a few more days before I blab all. Man, this is not the way I usually operate.” His broad shoulders took on the Humphrey Bogart slouch. “You’re putting me off my feed, babe.” He beamed his killer grin. “I like it.”
He shifted into yet another gear as Amanda sat down opposite him. “All I’m asking is that you pay close attention to how the group reacts to my… to Antonio’s poses. We’re going through all this hassle to see if we can elicit a specific response. After tomorrow night’s session, I should know more about whether it’s gonna work or not. You’re sharp. You’ve got a good eye and a great ear. Just tune it my way a bit more. Okay?”
“Flattery seems to be getting you everything you want.”
The edges of the beautiful, sculpted lips shot up. “We’re not at the ‘everything’ mark yet, but we’re sure as hell working on it.” He reached for her cheek again. She drew back.
“Marc… I…” Amanda feared his touch as much as she longed for it. “I’ll do what you ask, but I need more space between us, for the time being.”
“Gotcha.” He pulled his hands back and laid them on the table, palms up. The same gesture he had used in the Village restaurant the night before. Simply there. Open. Waiting for her to make the next move.
She placed her fingers tentatively in his palms. The throb in his wrist visibly quickened as he closed his hand gently over hers.
Cissy breezed over. “Mr. Raymondo is so efficient. I’m going to give him a nice tip.” She giggled at Amanda’s sharp look and Marc’s smiling leer.
“Allow me.” Marc trailed his fingertips over Amanda’s as he left the table. He exchanged a few words in Spanish with the super and tucked a bill into his hand. Mr. Raymondo’s profuse thanks trailed after him as he disappeared down the stairs.