going to run.”
He wondered why. She really appeared to be in danger, and it was clear from her reaction to the memory of those notes that she didn’t take the threats lightly. Yet she chafed at having a keeper. Not that he blamed her. Even if a bodyguard was for her own safety, the lack of privacy, the sense of being watched and treated like a child was bound to rankle with a woman who had been on her own for as long as Natalie had. She was twenty-nine, an independent woman with a career, and now she had a keeper.
No, he’d just bet he wasn’t on Natalie’s list of favorite people right now. He wondered who was. What man topped her list of those she wanted to spend time with?
“Whoa, don’t go there, buddy. None of your concern. This lady is just a client. That puts her off-limits for everything.”
Right now the lady was slipping out some back entrance if the slight screech of wood against wood was any indication. Opening a window?
“Maybe, and maybe it’s someone else opening the window to climb inside, you dolt,” he told himself, sprinting around the corner.
He was just in time to see a pair of shapely legs emerging from the window. He frowned. She was wearing beige sandals that displayed pretty pink toes. When she started to slide out of the window, her narrow skirt caught on the frame and stuck, sliding up to reveal a pair of thighs that could make a man beg to touch.
Vincent breathed in deeply, ordering himself to ignore the lady’s thighs and just concentrate on the task at hand.
“Need a hand?” he asked, stepping forward and reaching up for her.
Her head came up and her eyes met his. To her credit, she didn’t shriek, something she certainly had a right to do. Instead, she stared down at his hands and at her own exposed flesh. If he lowered his hands, he could cup his palms around those rounded thighs.
Natalie gave a frustrated sigh. “Yes, thank you,” she said primly. “I could use a hand.”
“And a lift? You appear to be going out.”
“Yes. I have work to do.”
“All right, let’s go.” He reached up and she squirmed, but it was clear that if he let her continue her downward slide, he’d be seeing a lot more than just her thighs. Right now Vincent didn’t think he could handle viewing Natalie’s nearly naked and undoubtedly lovely little ass. A man only had so much self-control and while he had more than most men, while he had spent a lifetime teaching himself to ignore the dictates of his mind and his emotions, the urge to slide his palms across Natalie’s bare skin would still be there. He couldn’t have indiscreet thoughts about his client interfering with his job.
Carefully, Vincent placed his hands on Natalie’s waist and lifted her from the window. “You were going to walk?”
She shrugged. “It seemed best. If I took my car—”
“I’d see you and follow. I’ll drive you.”
Suddenly, she placed her hand on his sleeve and heat filled him. “Vincent, you more than anyone should understand what undercover work is like.”
He nodded. “Go on.”
“I have a job. I’m trying to help people like Mrs. Morgensen. In order to do that, I need information. I have things I need to do, but I need to be able to fit in without causing a stir of any sort.”
“You want me to be scarce,” he finished for her.
“If that’s possible.” For a minute, he thought she was studying his body, as if she were deciding if he might fit behind a potted plant. “You’re a very large man, Vincent,” she pointed out again.
He tried to blank out his thoughts, to remember that she was just being practical, not speaking in sexual innuendos.
“I know how to become a part of the furniture, Natalie. Believe me. It’s my job.”
She nodded. “All right, then.”
She turned to go. He turned to follow her. Suddenly she whirled and he was closer than he had intended. “One more thing,” she said. Her eyes looked dark and worried.
“Tell me.”
“I might make mistakes, but I won’t be in any danger. Even if I do err and things look as if they’re falling apart, don’t help me. I have to learn.”
“Natalie?”
“What?”
“You’ve been a reporter for a while, haven’t you?”
“Yes, but I’ve never had to play a part. When you’re interviewing Beep-Beep the Clown and the owners of The Party Hat Store, subterfuge isn’t really necessary.”
“You’re telling me you’ve never played a part? You’ve never gone undercover?”
“That’s right.”
“The people you’re mingling with tonight, tell me what type we’re talking about. Dangerous?”
“Not really. Accountants, that type.”
He relaxed. “All right. I won’t worry, then. Will you be pretending to be an accountant?”
She hugged her arms. “Natalie?” he prodded.
“I’ll be pretending to be a woman.”
He chuckled.
“A woman in search of a man,” she said, raising her chin. “Maybe more than one man.”
“And you want me to take you to meet your dates?”
“You don’t have to.”
But if he didn’t, she’d try to go on her own again. Well, what difference did it make? She wasn’t his to order around. He just had to guard her.
“Vincent, if anyone thinks you’re with me, they probably won’t come near.”
He wasn’t so sure of that. She had an earnest look on her face that made a man want to find out what put that expression there. And she had those long, delicious legs that could make a man fight for the chance to have them wrapped around him.
Vincent almost swore. “I’ll let you go in first, but I won’t be far behind you,” he finally conceded.
“It’s the best I could hope for, I guess,” she agreed. “All right, let’s go to The Ladder.”
“The Ladder?”
“It’s—”
“I know what it is. It’s a major pickup place.”
“You’ve been there? Did you get lucky?”
He glared down at her and she gave him an impish grin.
“I’m sure you did. Women probably swarm all over you
