Undercover Protector. Melinda Di LorenzoЧитать онлайн книгу.
to your place. If Garibaldi’s feeling bold enough to come after you at the care facility, I don’t think he’d hesitate to send someone to your home, too.”
In her need to tell Anderson to stop being so nice, the immediate threat had slipped to the back of her mind. Now she wondered how that was even possible.
“Is that what you were saying before?” she asked. “About someone else seeing Garibaldi?”
Anderson’s hands tightened in the wheel. “A patient reported a masked man in the hall on the third floor.”
“My floor.”
“’Fraid so. Not much of a consolation, but I doubt it was the man himself. More likely one of his thugs.”
“The same person in the car?”
“Or working with him.”
She made herself straighten her shoulders and speak in a strong voice. “So what’s the plan, then?”
“I’ve got a room at the Whispering Woods Lodge. We’ll go there, I’ll contact my partners and we’ll decide from there what to do.”
“You know that Garibaldi owns the lodge, right?”
“I do.”
“So you don’t think going there might be a little counterproductive?”
“That’s the whole point. He won’t be looking under his own nose.”
Nadine shook her head. “But if he’s looking for you now, too, he’ll probably figure out pretty quickly that we’re there.”
“My room’s booked under a pseudonym, and there’s a conference of some kind at the hotel, so plenty of random names on the books.”
“Were you also wearing a disguise when you checked in? Because if Garibaldi was casing the hospital, his guys’ll know what you look like and it won’t matter what name you used or how many people are staying there.”
“Trust me,” he said. “I’ve covered my bases.”
“What does that mean?”
“Just that I’ve got a valid excuse for hanging around.”
“What does that—You know what? Never mind. I don’t think I want to know.”
“Probably not.”
But something about the way he said it doubled her curiosity. She couldn’t quite pinpoint his tone. A little amused and a little...something...that made her want to blush again for no good reason. And of course the idea of blushing made her feel prickly yet again.
Fighting yet another sigh, she looked down at her hands. She could swear that just a short time ago, she’d been a happy, well-adjusted person. A favorite teacher. Now she was on edge, pretty much 24/7. It almost made her pity the big, blond cop who sat beside her now. He was definitely not receiving the best of her.
Why does it even matter whether or not he gets nice me or not-so-nice me? I’m his case. He just said so.
But for some reason it did matter. Especially now that she’d thought consciously about it.
She stole a glance at him from the corner of her eye, trying to figure out why she suddenly cared what he thought. He looked the same as he had for the last week. Blond hair, a little too long and several shades darker than her own. Strong jaw, dusted with a few days’ worth of scruff. He had nice, even features. The kind that were deceptively ordinary. But Nadine knew better. The moment he turned on that warm, genuine smile and flashed those drown-in-me eyes of his, he became anything but ordinary.
“Oh!” The word popped out before she could stop it—an exclamation of understanding.
The eyes in question flicked her way. “You all right?”
She forced herself to nod. “Fine.”
“You sure?”
“Yes!” she snapped.
“Whoa.” He shook his head and turned his focus to the road, then added in a mutter, “Just checking.”
She bit back an urge to apologize. At least her short temper served a purpose at that moment. It was the perfect cover for the realization she’d just made. Whether she liked it or not, the reason she cared what her wannabe bodyguard thought about her was the fact that she found him stupidly attractive.
* * *
Anderson kept his gaze fixed straight ahead. He sensed some kind of internal struggle going on with the pretty little schoolteacher.
Oh, she’s pretty now, huh?
He acknowledged the silent, self-directed question with a mental wave of his hand. Yeah, she was pretty. It wasn’t really much of a debate. Just because he hadn’t taken the time to think about it much before now didn’t make it untrue.
Her petite, almost waiflike frame contrasted sharply with the fierceness in her eyes in a way Anderson liked. Her dramatic hairstyle hinted at the fact that under her sharp edges, she might actually have a fun side. He couldn’t deny being curious about it.
And her scar...
He had to hold his head rigid to keep from swiveling to look at it. Of all her features, maybe he liked the nongenetic one best. The puckered marking that sliced across her jawline screamed of a will to survive. Nadine Stuart had been through literal fire and come out alive. Prickly or not, that one thing made her a hell of a lot more than pretty in Anderson’s eyes. It infused him with sympathy, too.
A decade earlier, she probably thought she’d been through the worst. Then came the last couple of weeks. Witnessing her brother get shot. Being dragged into the Garibaldi investigation. Dragged in again, if he was being accurate. Now this. She was stuck under his watchful eye against her will.
“I’ll only keep you here as long as I have to,” he said as he flicked on his turn signal and guided the truck onto the last road before the turnoff that led to the lodge.
Her head jerked his way, and for a second, he actually saw a bit of softness in her chocolate-colored stare. Then she spoke, and her fierceness overtook her features.
“Don’t start worrying about my comfort now.”
He fought yet another stab of impatience. “I’m irritatingly nice. I can’t help but worry about it.”
A spot of color darkened each of her cheeks. “I thought you were working on that.”
“I am.”
“Good.”
“But in the meantime...” He trailed off, unsure what he wanted to suggest.
“In the meantime, what?” she pushed.
Impulsively, he veered off the road, put the truck into Park under the cover of a decent-sized patch of bushes and turned to face her. “I dunno. But we’re stuck together for the time being, Nadine. So we need to do something that’s going to make the bit of time we have to spend together less...confrontational.”
He expected her to argue. To point out the relatively nice way he put things. Instead, she nodded slowly.
“Okay,” she said. “What do you suggest?”
“Let’s start over.”
“Start over?”
“Pretend that we’re meeting for the first time and that it’s because we want to.”
“Are you sure that’s—”
“Worth a shot? Yes.”
She sighed. “Fine. Introduce yourself.”
He felt a smile building. “I’m Anderson Somers. Thirty years old. Single. I’ve been a full-fledged detective with the Freemont City PD for about four years. Before that, I was a patrolman.”