"Dump them in the recycler?" Stefanie rubbed her hands over her face. "I'm shaking. I piloted that death trap across the Atlantic, and I'm sitting here shaking. I was feeling pretty pumped about meeting him. Imagined I'd start this really nice, satisfying relationship. The bastard ex is looking better all the time."
"You're not going to speak or contact anyone about this. As far as Wordsworth is concerned, you're meeting him tomorrow. Were there any plans to confirm the date?"
"Only to cancel. I was to let him know by noon if I had to cancel."
"Stand up a minute."
When Stefanie obeyed, Eve rose as well, circled her, judged build, height. "Yeah, two can play the disguise game. When we're done here, you can play it two ways. You can pack what you need and I'll arrange to have you put in a safe house tonight. Or if you want to stay here, I'll have a couple of cops stay over with you. Either way, you'll sleep better."
"Oh yeah, I'll sleep like a baby tonight."
Eve wasn't the only one putting in overtime. McNab was on a mission of his own. He'd fueled himself up for it with two bottles of home brew, which were currently burning at his stomach lining. He wasn't drunk. He'd stopped short of getting drunk. Because he wanted to be clearheaded when he kicked Charles Monroe's pansy ass.
Unaware he'd become the target of a jealous and slightly queasy e-detective, Charles nibbled on Louise's fingers. They were sharing a late supper in his apartment.
"I appreciate you agreeing to start the evening so late."
"We both have odd schedules. It's wonderful wine." She sipped. "Wonderful food. And I like your home very much. More than a restaurant."
"I wanted you to myself. I've wanted you to myself all day."
"I told you I haven't had much luck with relationships, Charles." She rose to wander to the windows. "I'm single-minded, driven, and haven't given any relationship I've been in the attention it needs. Deserves."
"I think your luck's about to change." He turned her to face him. "I know mine has. Louise." He lowered his head, skimmed his lips lightly over hers, once, then twice, drawing her in. He circled her into a dance, deepening the kiss when her arms came around him. Bringing her closer when she trembled.
"Come to bed with me," he whispered. "Let me touch you."
Her head fell back as his mouth trailed along her throat. "Wait. Just… wait. Charles." She eased back. "I've thought about this. I spent entirely too much time thinking about this today, and last night. Since I first saw you. Part of my problem is over-thinking things."
She stepped away, needing a little distance. "There's such a pull. I haven't felt a pull like this… ever," she managed. "But I'm not going to bed with you. I can't."
He kept his eyes on hers, nodded slowly. "I understand. It's difficult for you to accept the idea of being intimate with me."
"Difficult," she said with a half laugh. "No, I wouldn't say difficult."
"You don't need to explain. I know what I am."
She shook her head. "What you are?"
"Licensed companions don't generally have a lot of luck with personal relationships either. Not real ones in any case."
"I'm sorry." She held up a hand. "You think I won't have sex with you because you're a professional? Charles, that insults both of us."
He walked back to the table, picked up his wineglass. "I'm confused."
"I don't want to sleep with you now because it's happening too fast. Because I think what I'm feeling for you goes deeper than that, and I'd like a chance to find out before… I'd just like to slow down a bit. I'd like to spend more time getting to know each other. I wouldn't be here now if what you did for a living was a problem for me. And if you think I'm so petty and narrow-minded that I'd – "
"I could fall in love with you."
It stopped her short, stole her breath, just the quiet way he said it. "I know. Oh God, I know. Me, too. It scares me a little."
"Good, because it scares me a lot." He crossed back to her, lifted her hand. "We'll slow down." Kissed it. Then her wrist. Drawing her in again, he brushed his lips over her temple, her cheeks.
Her pulse spiked. "This is slowing down?"
"We won't go any faster than you want." He tipped her face back and smiled. "Trust me, I'm a professional."
And while she laughed, the buzzer sounded.
"Give me ten seconds to get rid of whoever that is. And remember my place."
When he opened the door, McNab shoved him back a step. "Okay, you son of a bitch. We're going a round."
"Detective – "
"Who the hell do you think you are?" McNab shoved him again. "You think you can treat her that way? Rub your next skirt right in her face?"
"Detective, you don't want to lay hands on me again."
"Oh yeah?"Maybe the second bottle hadn't been such a good idea, he thought vaguely, but gamely lifted his fists. "Let's try these instead."
"Detective McNab." Calmly, Louise stepped between them. "You're obviously upset. Maybe you should sit down."
"Dr. Dimatto," Flustered, McNab lowered his fists. "I didn't see you over there."
"Charles, why don't you make some coffee. Ian… it's Ian, isn't it? Let's sit down."
"Beg your pardon, but I don't want any goddamn coffee and I don't want to sit down. I came to kick his ass." He jabbed a finger at Charles over her shoulder. "I'm sorry you're in the middle. You're a nice woman. But I've got business with this son of a bitch."
"I'm assuming this has to do with Delia."
As Charles stepped away from Louise, McNab rounded on him. "Damn right. You think because you take her to the fucking opera and fancy restaurants you've got a right to toss her over when something more interesting comes along?"
"No, I don't. Delia means a great deal to me."
Literally seeing red, McNab swung out. His punch found its target, had Charles's head snapping back. He followed through with a short-armed jab to the belly before Charles recovered enough to fight back.
While they circled each other, ramming fists, spilling blood, Louise fled the room. They were rolling on the floor, in a sweaty, grunting heap when she came back. And threw a full bucket of ice water over them.
"That's just about enough." She slammed the bucket down, slapped her hands on her hips as both of them gaped up at her. "You should be ashamed. Both of you. Fighting over a woman like she was a juicy piece of meat. If either of you think Peabody would appreciate this, you're very much mistaken. Now, on your feet."
"He's got no right to hurt her," McNab began.
"I wouldn't hurt Delia for anything in the world. And if I have, I'll do everything I can to make it up to her." Charles scooped back his dripping hair. He was getting the picture now. "For Christ's sake, you moron, have you told her you're in love with her?"
"Who said I was?" His bruised face went sheet white. "I'm just looking out for… shut up. She wants to roll with you when you're working other skirts, that's her business. But she's not a job." He pointed at Louise.
"That's right. She's not."
"And nobody juggles Peabody that way."
"Look, obviously you're under the impression that Delia and I have been – "
"It just happened, Ian." Louise interrupted quickly, shot Charles a warning look. "It wasn't planned. I'm sorry if I'm responsible for this."
"I'm not blaming you."
"I'm as much to blame. Charles and I… we want a chance to make something together. Can you understand?"
"So Peabody's just out of the picture."
"I'm sorry." As the light dawned, Charles got to his feet. "I hope she'll understand. I hope we can still be friends. She's a wonderful woman. More than I deserve."
"You got that part right, pal."
Drenched, aching, and more than a little sick, McNab managed to get up. "You'd better find a way to make it right with her."
"I will. You have my word. Let me get you a towel."
"I don't need a damn towel."
"Then try a piece of advice instead. You've got a clear path. Try not to stumble off of it."