she scrunched her brows. “Okay, so maybe I was distracted.”
“With fear,” Leese said gently. “Of me.” But first she’d trusted him, so he’d hold on to that.
Now that the heat of the car had warmed her, she gave him back his coat, opened her own and pulled off her gloves. “You seemed one way, but then another when I realized you were working for Webb.”
Despite all they needed to discuss, her understated curves and delicate bone structure drew his gaze. He’d always enjoyed shapelier women, but somehow, with Catalina, he couldn’t imagine anything more perfect than her petite little body. Whatever she lacked in size she made up for with backbone—and wasn’t that just about as sexy as it could get? Leese pulled together his fractured patience. “I already explained—”
“Yeah, yeah. No one hired you directly.” She tucked back her fawn-colored hair and gave him the full force of those expressive blue eyes, currently filled with worry. “But don’t you see? Until you came along, I knew who to avoid. I knew what they looked like, how they acted.” She gave him a frown of pity. “Now I’m not the only one in trouble.”
“What exactly do you think Mr. Nicholson plans to do?”
On a dramatic groan, she dropped back against the seat and closed her eyes. “I don’t even know for sure if he’s the one after me.”
Okay then, he’d work with that. “So who else would you suspect?” In every problem like this, the victims always had an idea about who was after them.
Cat shook her head.
“You think it is him?” he guessed.
“I think it could be.” She covered her face with her hands, but immediately lowered them. “And I know he can be dangerous.”
It was like pulling hen’s teeth, slow and impossible. Holding on to his temper with an effort, Leese said, “Dangerous how? What would he do that’s so bad?”
“To me?” She rubbed her temple. “It’s possible I’ll just go under lock and key. But you?” Her attention flickered over him, then she looked away. “I’m sorry.”
Leese sat back. She actually thought her father would kill him? “If all that’s true, why haven’t you gone to the police?”
For far too long she held silent, staring out the window, her shoulders angled away from him. Plotting? Thinking?
Deciding whether or not to trust him?
Wasn’t easy, but Leese waited.
Finally she answered with a question of her own. “Did any of that research you did on me include the basics on my family?”
Quite a bit, actually. “You have two brothers.”
“Yes. The younger is a half brother.”
Leese nodded his acceptance of that. “Your older brother is a CEO, the younger is still in school. Your mother passed away four years ago.”
“Before my younger brother had even graduated high school,” she whispered.
Feeling her pain, Leese covered her hand with his own. “Your father—stepfather—” he corrected himself before she could, “hasn’t remarried or even really dated.”
She snorted. “True, but not because he’s lovesick over losing her.”
“Maybe not.” Leese wasn’t sure what motivated the man, only that he was, indeed, motivated. “He’s been a jet-setter for a while, but it seems he’s thrown himself into pulling political strings, backing powerful men who, thanks to his wealth, eventually get elected and then return a lot of favors.” He released her hand. That spontaneous kiss was inappropriate enough; he had to remember that she was a client and he had no business getting personally involved.
Wide-eyed, she blinked at him. “Wow. You say what much of the media won’t. But it’s true.”
“Which part?”
She flagged a hand. “All of it, but I was talking about my stepfather. He wields a lot of power. Too much power. Sometimes it seems...he’s untouchable.”
“So what has your wealthy, powerful, untouchable stepfather done that has you running scared?”
Evasive, she picked at a frayed spot on the knee of her jeans. “My brothers, both of them, are good men.”
“I didn’t see anything in my research to tell me otherwise.”
“Bowen will be an amazing doctor one day. He’s always at the top of his class, and he’s...well, he’s brilliant. In so many ways.”
“And your older brother?” Her full-blood sibling.
She smiled. “Holt loves the business. Webb has completely accepted him as his son and someday he’ll inherit everything. Every time I see him, he has a new project that in some way benefits the community, the troops or the poor. He’s pretty awesome too.”
One thing stuck in Leese’s mind. “You didn’t like the family business?” From what Leese knew, her father had grown a highly successful empire supplying enhancements to new tech gadgets. Smartphone covers, special screens, camera lenses—he offered something for everyone, and had distribution throughout the country, as well as in select markets around the world.
“No.” She wrinkled her nose. “I don’t fit the mold. Honestly, though she faked it well, my mom didn’t either. She could attend the fancy parties and appear to enjoy them. The transition was almost seamless for her. But when we were alone, she was herself. Really warm and funny, sometimes too strict and overprotective.” She fell silent, then whispered, “Webb was different when she was here. I think she was a good influence on him.”
“She passed away from cancer?”
“Yes. A terrible disease. Holt does a lot of fund-raising for cancer research. I think it’s why Bowen went into medicine.”
“Do you look like your mother?”
She flashed him a smile. “Everyone says I do. She was really petite too. Same color hair and eyes. I always thought my mom was really beautiful, and I know I’m not, so I’m complimented when people tell me that.”
Justice, who’d been so quiet Leese almost forgot he would be listening, said, “Oh, I dunno. You’re awful cute. I imagine if you dolled up, you could turn some heads.”
She laughed. “Thank you, but I don’t have many opportunities to ‘doll up’ anymore, thank goodness. That’s one of the things I disliked most about wealth. Everyone expected me to look perfect all the time. And I’m just not the type who can pull that off.”
Leese thought she looked pretty damned perfect, even in her tattered jeans, with her hair tangled and windblown and not a speck of makeup on her face. Her mouth, especially, drew his attention. She had full lips and when he’d kissed her—
“Teaching art to kids means wearing lots of smocks, not gowns. Usually the smock ends up being pretty colorful though—paint,
