the plug, Judd remarked, “Perhaps that’s why you haven’t married?”
Cordially she responded, “Why couldn’t you be faithful to Angeline?”
“I was.”
She snorted. “You’ll have to do under the cupboards…you wouldn’t think one bag of rice could make such a mess.”
“Changing the subject, Lise?”
“You’re quick,” she said with a saucy grin.
“You’re so goddamned beautiful,” he said with sudden violence.
He couldn’t mean it; flattery must be his standard practice when he was anywhere near a woman. Nevertheless, Lise flushed to the roots of her hair. “Me? I’m a mess.”
“Thank you, Judd. That’s considered a more appropriate response.”
“Maybe in the circles you move in. But I don’t want your compliments, Judd. They’re as useless as your wedding vows.”
He straightened to his full height. “While we were married, I was never unfaithful to Angeline.”
“Tell it to someone who cares.”
“I could make you care,” he said softly.
Her breath caught in her throat. “I don’t think so.”
“Are you daring me, Lise?”
“No, Judd. I’m telling you I’m out-of-bounds as far as you’re concerned. Off-limits. Uninterested.”
“We’ll see,” he said with that same dangerous softness. “You’d better move—this kitchen, as you so rightly remarked, isn’t big enough for the two of us.”
Something in his steady gaze caused her to back up. With as much dignity as she could muster, Lise retreated to the bathroom, where she dragged a brush through her tumbled curls and pulled on a loose sweatshirt over her T-shirt. How to stop feeling sorry for yourself, she thought, poking out her tongue at her reflection. Invite a cougar into your apartment. A starving, highly predatory cougar.
Uneasily she gazed in the mirror. Her cheeks were still flushed and her eyes were shining. Stop it, she told herself. He’s not a knight in shining armor come to rescue you. His breastplate’s tarnished and he abused his vows. Just you remember that.
Unfortunately he was still the most vibrantly masculine man she’d ever laid eyes on. That hadn’t changed. Sexy didn’t begin to describe him. It went deeper than that to a confidence that was bone-deep, an unconscious aura of power as much a part of him as his thick black hair and deep-set, changeable eyes.
Why did it have to be his daughter she’d rescued? She didn’t need Judd in her life. He frightened her, she who could force her way through choking smoke and the crackle of flame.
The vacuum cleaner had been turned off. Steeling herself, Lise went back to the kitchen, said politely, “Thank you,” and reached for the coffee beans, which were in the container marked Flour. But she couldn’t unscrew the lid with one hand.
Judd said, “Here, let me,” and took it from her. In utter fascination she watched the play of muscles in his wrist as his lean fingers undid the jar. “Where’s the grinder?” he asked.
This was all so domesticated, she thought wildly. As though they were married. “In the cupboard by the sink. Ignore the muddle.”
As he opened the cupboard, two cookie sheets clattered to the floor. “You live as dangerously at home as you do at work,” Judd said, and fished out the grinder.
She blurted, “What’s the favor, Judd?”
“Coffee first.”
With bad grace Lise hauled out the pot, shoved in a filter and located mugs, cream and sugar. “You sure like getting your own way.”
“It’s how you get to the top—knowing what you want and going after it.”
“Judd Harwood’s Philosophy of Life?”
Standing very close to her, yet not touching her, Judd said, “You’ve got a problem with that?”
“What happens to the people you climb over on the way up?”
“You see me as a real monster, don’t you?” He grabbed the pot, poured water in it and plugged it in. “The favor’s this. Emmy’s having nightmares. About the fire. She wakes up screaming that someone in a mask is coming after her. I thought if she could meet you, it might help.”
Lise said slowly, “I was wearing an oxygen mask, because of the smoke. And our clothes are very bulky. So I must have looked pretty scary.”
“Would you come to the house, Lise?” Judd raked his fingers through his hair. “I know it’s asking a lot—using your spare time for something related to work. I just can’t stand hearing her scream like that in the middle of the night.”
His voice was rough with emotion. And if he was faking that, she was a monkey’s uncle. Knowing she had no choice, knowing simultaneously that she was taking a huge risk, far bigger than when she’d blundered her way to the attic, Lise said, “Yes, I’ll come.”
“You will?”
“Did you think I wouldn’t?”
“I wondered.”
“I’m not a monster, Judd. When do you want me to come—today?”
“The sooner the better. She gets home from school around three-thirty.”
“Then I’ll arrive at four.”
“That’s astonishingly generous of you.”
His smile filled her with a mixture of feelings she couldn’t possibly have analyzed. She shifted uncomfortably. “No, it’s not. She’s a child, Judd, and I know about—well, never mind.”
“Your parents died in a fire, didn’t they?”
A muscle twitched in her jaw. “I’ve said I’ll come. Don’t push your luck.”
“I’ll send a car for you.”
“I’ll get a cab.”
“Is independence your middle name?”
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” she said mockingly, and reached up in the cupboard for a couple of mugs. But at the same time Judd stepped closer. Her hand brushed his arm, the contact shivering through her. Then, with one finger, he traced her cheekbone to her hairline, tugging gently on a loose red curl, his every movement etched into her skin. “You’re an enigma to me, you know that?” he said huskily.
He was near enough that she could see the small dark flecks in his irises; his closeness seemed to penetrate all her defences, leaving her exposed and vulnerable in a way she hated. She tried to pull back, but somehow his other arm was around her waist, warm and heavy against her hip.
