Under Pressure. Lori Foster
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“I meant Leese and me,” the hulk grouched.
“Justice,” Leese warned. “It’s her decision. Don’t pressure her.”
Yeah, God forbid she be pressured. Such a laugh. She’d had more pressure lately than any woman should have to bear.
Justice plopped down her suitcase and took two big steps to swipe up the bag of food. “Fine.” Rummaging inside, he said, “I’m at least going to eat while she decides.” He withdrew two burgers.
Justice made her feel mean, and that, too, was unusual. “Open the damn door,” she demanded.
Without questioning her, Leese did just that, holding it wide for her.
Justice, not taking any chances on her changing her mind, dug out his fries and malt too. “Glad that’s settled.” He balanced everything in the crook of one arm and deftly used his keycard. “Keep me updated,” he said before going inside and letting the door close behind him.
Leese stood there waiting for her, patience personified.
After a deep breath, she lifted her chin and strode past him.
The suite was lovely, divided into a small kitchenette, a sitting area with two couches arranged perpendicular to one another, a large television, a desk, a round table with four chairs and a small half bath. One of the couches looked to be a narrow rollaway bed. Through open glass double doors she saw a separate bedroom with a full bathroom, including a wide tub and granite shower.
One bedroom. One shower.
Great.
Leese paid no mind as he got everything into the room. He put the bags of food on the table, then carried her suitcase to the bedroom and set it at the end of the bed for her.
Cat watched as he took his own bag to the end of one couch.
A promising sign. Sort of.
“What’s it to be first?” He removed his coat and hung it neatly in the closet. “Food or talk?”
With his coat gone and his hands again on his hips, she couldn’t help focusing on that menacing gun. Had he shot anyone?
Ever?
Recently?
In her experience, most bodyguards were older, thicker. Less appealing. Given her family’s affluence, she’d grown up with them hanging around, always watching her like a prized possession.
She’d tried so hard to leave that life behind, but sadly, she’d taken just a little too long to make it happen.
“Catalina?”
Talking meant explaining, and she needed more time for that. Like...maybe a couple of days. “Food, definitely.” Then if she had to make a run for it, at least she’d have a modicum of energy.
Stripping off her coat, she tossed it toward the suitcase. Given the amount of walking she’d done, the boots were starting to pinch her feet. Hopping on first one foot and then the other, she removed them, letting them drop to the floor by the side of the bed. Enjoying the freedom, she wiggled her toes inside her socks. That felt good enough that she also peeled off the thick sweatshirt, leaving her in jeans, socks and a long-sleeved T-shirt.
She pushed back her hair, freed the band from her wrist and secured a ponytail.
More comfortable, she headed to the table and chairs, unaware of Leese staring until she glanced up to ask if he was ready to eat too.
That hot gaze of his had been all over her body, but immediately jumped to her face. “Let me.” He got close to pull out her chair, bringing with him that irresistible scent of fresh outdoors mixed with man.
She inhaled deeply.
In her old world, men were often well mannered and polite. They were also manipulative and mercenary, focused on a pampered social status that blinded them to the ugliness of reality.
The old world felt a million miles away, and nothing about Leese felt pampered. “Thank you.”
He set out the food, napkins, even opened her straw and stuck it in her malt. “Help yourself,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”
When he walked away, Cat turned to watch. He prowled around the suite studying the locks on the windows and closing the drapes, even in the bedroom.
Then he left.
As the door closed behind him, she froze.
An insidious sensation—fear, worry—crawled into her soul. They were such familiar emotions, usually with her every second.
But not since meeting Leese. Not like this.
The suite that only seconds before felt warm and comfortable now felt isolated.
The door opened again and he strode in, going still when he saw her face. “Hey. What’s wrong?”
Her lungs filled with air, a refreshing breath of reassurance. He hadn’t left her at all. Refusing to be pitied, she choked out, “Nothing.”
His expression shifted from sharp awareness to soft understanding. “We’ll need to work on that habit you have of lying.” In only a few long, casual strides he stood beside her. Looking into her eyes, he asked, “Want to try again?”
Not really. She cleared her throat. “Where did you go?”
“Just checking on things.”
“Like?”
“Staircase, other rooms, windows.”
Oh. He’d once again been assuring her safety? Astounding. Her muscles further relaxed. Acting as if the panic hadn’t happened, she gestured to the table. “Are you going to eat now?”
“Yeah.” He took his seat, still attuned to her yet not intimidating her with his stare. He hesitated only a heartbeat, then said, “I’m not budging, Cat, okay?”
That was the first time he’d called her that. “You know my nickname?”
“I know a lot about you.”
Wow, such a cryptic answer. She wasn’t sure she wanted to ask, especially since he couldn’t possibly know the most important things.
“I also heard Wayne call you that.”
Oh yeah. He didn’t miss much. “So, what’s the plan?”
“Keep you safe.” He took a big bite of a chicken wrap that looked to have tomato and lettuce on it, but nothing else. He followed that up with a drink of tea before adding, “Whatever it takes.”
A not-so-simple answer to a very complicated question. He so easily shook her, mostly because he said things with such conviction she couldn’t help but believe