Secret Agent Groom (The Bridal Circle #2) Page 8

  He grabbed up the security remote from his night-stand and punched in the four digit code. The alarm deactivated, the buzzing stopped, and he could breathe. Now he just had to see what set it off. He entered another code and “bk dr” flashed across the tiny screen. Someone was at his back door. Hopefully, just another kitten.

  Slipping his handgun from under the mattress, Alex moved silently from room to room, quickly checking each as he made his way to the kitchen. No sign of anything amiss. Maybe it was just some local kids, not seeing the car parked in the alley instead of the driveway where he usually put it, and thought nobody was home. He doubted it would be any of the gambling crowd. He wasn’t due to miss his first loan payment until next week.

  He checked the front door, then slipped into the kitchen. The scratching at his back door indicated somebody was out there. Taking a deep breath, Alex crept across the shadowed kitchen.

  Through the window in the door, he could see a brightness filling the sky over Heather’s garage. It gave him enough light to make out two figures at his door. And enough light to identify them. His lips tightened in irritation.

  “Good Lord,” he grumbled and looked for a place to put his gun. He couldn’t exactly put it in his waistband since he was wearing boxer shorts and nothing else. He stuck the weapon in his silverware drawer, slammed it shut, and jerked opened his back door.

  “What the hell are you two doing here?” he growled.

  Heather must have jumped ten feet in the air, while Aunty Em dropped what she was holding and faltered back a few steps. He stared at the tool laying on his porch. A lock pick?

  “I might ask you the same thing,” Aunty Em said, sounding all huffy. “What are you doing, shouting at two ladies?”

  But Alex barely heard her, his gaze had moved on to Heather. She looked ready to faint, her face was pale and her eyes wide. But it was the gentle curves beneath the umbrella-carrying cats and dogs on her pajamas that intrigued him. He felt a stirring in his soul, a fire starting to smolder and he grew even more annoyed—but with himself this time. He turned back to Aunty Em.

  “What are you doing on my porch? Trying—” he looked pointedly at the lock pick still laying on the ground “—to jimmy my door?”

  “Ah...” Aunty Em looked down at the tool, then turned to Heather. “Heather, tell Alex what we’re doing here.”

  “What we’re doing here?” Heather half cried.

  She looked so bewildered and panic-stricken that Alex wanted to either pick her up and throw her over the back fence into her own yard, or take her in his arms and tell her everything was going to be all right. How was it that both choices involved taking her in his arms? He didn’t like what was happening to him. He could not allow it to continue and took a step back.

  “Somebody tell me what you two are doing here,” he snapped, looking from Heather to Aunty Em. “Anybody.”

  But neither responded.

  “Are we chasing another kitten?” he tried.

  “Kitten?” Aunty Em said and turned to frown at Heather.

  The young woman almost visibly leapt at the excuse. “Yes, yes.” She nodded. “I think it’s a littermate to Bonnie.”

  “Bonnie?” Aunty Em asked, still frowning.

  Alex frowned. Heather’s fear plucked at some previously unknown strings in his heart. They tugged at him, tried to wear down his resolve, but he’d be damned if he’d let them win. “And the kitten ran into my house,” he said.

  “It did?” Heather replied.

  “Sure, that’s why you two were trying to break in.”

  Heather and Aunty Em looked at each other while Alex shook his head.

  This whole thing would have been funny, in a surreal kind of a way, if it wasn’t for the danger that Heather was placing herself in. He’d gone through a lot of trouble to get her off his playground and didn’t want her stumbling back on it. She was just too damn vulnerable. Anybody within ten miles would see that she was the weak link in the chain. He had to get her out of here and fast.

  “I’m sure there’s a good reason for these fun and games,” he said, trying to sound as snotty and sarcastic as the image he’d developed over the past several months. “But why don’t we just forget about it? You guys go back home and, since it’s not even four-thirty yet, I’ll go back to bed.”

  Heather bit at her bottom lip, looking both outrageously innocent and alluring at the same time. He held his breath as if that would keep the warmth flowing from her from getting inside him. It didn’t work.

  “You’re right,” Heather said and took a step back as her body seemed to sag in defeat. “We’re sorry about—”

  “Oh, my knee!” Aunty Em cried and half stumbled as she clutched in the vague direction of her left leg. “Oh, my goodness.”

  Alex reached out to grab Aunty Em’s arm. “What’s wrong?”

  “Aunty Em,” Heather cried at the same time as she rushed to the older woman’s other side. “Are you all right? Let’s get you home.”

  Alex tightened his hold of her. “Why don’t I—”

  “I just need to sit down for a minute,” Aunty Em said, and moved her weak, lame body briskly into Alex’s kitchen where she plopped down into a kitchen chair. “Oh, that’s so much better.”

  She hadn’t needed much help, Alex noted with a frown. It was obvious that the two of them wanted to come inside for some reason and the old lady’s burn knee had just been a ruse. Well, at least, they were out of sight from anyone passing by.

  But when he glanced over at Heather in those silly pajamas that highlighted her every curve, his breath came harder and his blood raced. The danger level had increased somehow and he needed to go on the attack.

  “As long as you’re inside, now you can tell me what’s going on,” he snapped. “Unless Aunty Em’s knee is suddenly better and you can go.”

  “What do you mean, what’s going on?” Aunty Em demanded. “You never heard of being neighborly?”

  “Neighborly?” Alex repeated.

  “Yes,” Heather cried in a rush. “We came over to make you breakfast.”

  “You were breaking into my house to make me breakfast?”

  “We weren’t breaking in,” Aunty Em insisted. “We just wanted it to be a surprise.”

  “Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, you know,” Heather said as she opened his refrigerator.

  He turned to look at her and, heaven help him, the sight of her in his kitchen in her pajamas and slippers was almost more than he could bear. He was strong, he was tough. He had stood up to armed felons and never flinched. He had talked desperadoes into releasing hostages. He wasn’t going to let one small little wisp of a woman do him in. If they were determined to make him breakfast before they left, he would let them. Maybe this was some sort of a bet.

  “I’ll have toast,” he said and leaned against the kitchen counter.

  “Toast?” Heather cried, her hands full of eggs, sticks of margarine and bread. “That’s no breakfast. You need something substantial. Something like—”

  “Like what he needs,” Aunty Em said.

  Heather must not have understood either for she just stopped and stared at the older woman. “What he needs?”

  Aunty Em was giving Heather some meaningful looks that seemed to make Heather rather nervous all of a sudden. What were they up to now?

  “And orange juice with the toast,” he added, just to save them the time and trouble of making coffee.

  “Okay,” Heather said and put the food down on the counter. But her voice was vague and he wasn’t sure if she was talking to him or Aunty Em. “Orange juice and toast.”

  “Can you find the orange juice, honey?” Aunty Em asked her. “Maybe Alex can help you.”

  He thought the whole purpose of this visit was to make breakfast for him, but he didn’t mention that as he moved over to the refrigerator. “It’s right over here,” he said and pulled the carton from the shelf in the door.

  “Oh, thanks,” Heather said
, her eyes wide and her voice soft.

  Soft but packing a mighty wallop. He felt a trembling down to his toes. “Sure, no problem,” he said, not about to show any emotion. Not about to feel any—not any more, that is.

  From the comer of his eye he caught sight of Aunty Em gesturing impatiently at Heather. He turned once more to frown at Heather who was now a step closer to him.

  “Could you get a glass from the cupboard, too?” she asked.

  It was a little harder to breathe near her and a little harder to show no reaction, but he could do it. The sooner he finished their little game, the sooner they would leave. It had to be a bet or a dare or some sort of practical joke. He took a glass out of the cabinet over the stove and handed it to her.

  Their hands brushed slightly and a flame leapt along his skin, burning a path from her touch to his heart. He had the almost undeniable urge to pull her into his arms. To kiss that worry from her lips and turn that blush into the fire of desire.

  He took a hasty step back, back to where sanity reposed. “Anything else?” he asked. But his voice wasn’t as brusque and impatient as he would have liked, so he glanced at the clock on the stove. “I hate to rush you all, but I’ve got to be going soon.”

  “Where does a college professor go at 5:00 a.m.?” Aunty Em wanted to know.

  Anywhere where he could breathe and think and be in control. “A meeting,” was all he said though.

  “We’re bothering you then, aren’t we?” Heather asked as she got bread out of the package and slipped it into the toaster.

  Bothering him? “No, of course not,” he lied. “I was getting up soon anyway and it’s nice to have the company.”

  “It’s awful early for an ordinary meeting,” Aunty Em pointed out.

  “Ah, but I don’t have ordinary meetings,” he said. “As an extraordinary professor, I have extraordinary meetings.”

  Aunty Em frowned at him. Or was it at Heather?

  “I wish I could take one of your classes,” Heather said—how had she gotten so close again? “Do you ever teach in the evening?”

  “Not usually,” he said. Retreating back another step would be a sign of weakness—but maybe wisdom too. Except he was already backed up against the refrigerator.

  “What a shame,” Heather said.

  Damn, but she had the most beautiful blue eyes. As wide as the sky, with as much promise and mystery too.

  “So who’s your next target?” Aunty Em asked.

  Heather blinked and those marvelous eyes disappeared for a split second, long enough to break the spell and for Aunty Em’s words to penetrate. “Huh?”

  “We know that you’re not just a professor.”

  Alex turned to look at her, icy fingers of fear climbing up and down his back. They knew? All that work so many people had gone through to establish his cover and now, in the flick of an eyelash, he found out it was for naught. How in the world had his cover been blown?

  “So what foreign power are you working for?”

  “Foreign power?”

  “It’s okay, Alex,” Heather told him. She took his hand in hers and he felt a searing heat wash over him. “You probably got into it accidentally.”

  Got into what? He might be following this conversation better if Heather was fully dressed and not holding his hand, but he doubted it.

  “Don’t make excuses for him, girl,” Aunty Em snapped, then glared at Alex once more. “So who are you working for?”

  Alex didn’t know what the hell was going on but, fortunately, it didn’t seem that Aunty Em or Heather did either. He slipped his hand from Heather’s and took a step around her to pour himself a glass of orange juice just as the toast popped up.

  “Who am I working for?” he repeated as Heather turned. “I’m afraid—”

  Out of the corner of her eye, he saw Heather pull open the silverware drawer. And before he could react, her face turned white as a bedsheet, she let out a bloodcurdling scream and then crumpled.

  Alex caught her before she hit the floor, managing to close the silverware drawer at the same time.

  Heather felt a cold, icy weight on her forehead and a cold wet nose on her cheek. Unfortunately, she knew what both things were—an ice pack because she had fainted and Henry seeing if she was okay. Just her luck, no amnesia.

  “Oh, good, you’re awake,” Aunty Em said. “Alex wanted to call an ambulance, but I told him you’d be fine. Glad to see you didn’t prove me a liar.”

  Heather tried to sit up, glancing around the room with a franticness that she hoped wasn’t obvious. Henry was on the bed with her, Victoria was on the dresser watching and Aunty Em was on a chair pulled up to the bedside. No one else was visible.

  “How did I get here?” she asked.

  “Alex carried you,” Aunty Em said. “You had him really worried, too. Have to say his concern surprised me. Maybe I misjudged the man.”

  No, you didn’t, Heather wanted to say, but she couldn’t make the words come out “Where is he now?” she asked instead.

  “Oh, I sent him home. No use having him underfoot when we’re trying to chat.” The older woman leaned in closer. “So what made you scream and faint?”

  Aunty Em was staring at her expectantly and suddenly Heather knew she couldn’t tell her. Not about the gun. Not about the fact that Alex had to be hiding something. And certainly not about the way her heart raced at the mere thought of him.

  “I saw a bug,” Heather said and looked away. She dared just a quick glance back at Aunty Em, who was frowning, and then reached over to pet Henry. “I know it was silly but it was a big bug and it scared me. I guess maybe I was lightheaded since I hadn’t eaten any breakfast.”

  “Why didn’t you say you needed to eat before we went?”

  “I don’t know. I didn’t think about it.” She wasn’t crazy about this line of conversation. “What time is it anyway? Was I out for long?”

  “It’s not even six. Plenty of time for you—”

  “But what about you?” Heather rushed on. “Don’t you have to write up the day’s schedule for the tree trimming crews at the tree farm?”

  The older woman’s frown deepened and she looked again at the clock by the side of Heather’s bed. “You’re right,” she said with a sigh. “Penny left me in charge when she went to Paris. I’d better go.”

  “Are you sure you can drive home okay?” Heather asked.

  “I’m more concerned about leaving you alone,” Aunty Em said as she got to her feet. “You still look as pale as a ghost. Maybe I ought to call—”

  “No,” Heather cried before Alex’s name could even be mentioned. “I’m fine. Really.”

  Though Aunty Em looked far from convinced, she did leave and Heather settled back down on the bed. Victoria snuggled up on one side of her and Henry on the other. Neither of them seemed to care that she’d made such a fool of herself. Heather only wished she could be as blasé.

  “I just didn’t want Aunty Em to be right,” she told them. “I didn’t want Alex to be a spy or a bank robber or anything bad.”

  It was crazy. It didn’t make any sense. But she wanted to pretend that Alex was just a college professor. Victoria cuddled up even closer to Heather.

  “Heather?”

  Alex! Heather’s heart practically stopped as she sat back up. Her mouth went dry as a desert and her head felt even more wobbly than before. It sounded like he was in her kitchen. What could he want?

  Victoria and Henry dove under the bed and Heather fought the temptation to join them. It wouldn’t be ladylike and not at all polite. But she just couldn’t face him—not after the fool she’d made of herself this morning. If she couldn’t hide under the bed, there was always the closet or the bathroom. Ignoring her spinning head, she scrambled off her bed and into the bathroom, silently closing the door just as she heard his footsteps outside her bedroom.

  “Heather? I’d really like to talk to you.”

  She leaned back against the closed door. His voice was so d
eep and did the craziest things to her stomach. It made her nervous, but not exactly out of fear. It did make her long for things that she only dreamed vaguely about, and that was reason enough to steer clear of him!

  “I was just going to take a shower,” she called out. She ought to turn the water on to make it sound realistic, but the effort was too much for her. She let her fingers clutch at the towel hanging on the back of the door.

  “Could we talk first?” he asked.

  He was so close. In her room now, she knew. She should open the door and come out. She should smile at him and tell him everything was fine. Make some little joke about the gun and her fainting, and then offer to finish making him breakfast.

  Right. She could do all that as well an she could vamp. Her face flushed with the sudden memory uf her idiocy. Vamping indeed! She could never ever face him again.

  “I really haven’t got time,” she called out to him. “I have a teacher’s workshop today.”

  “It’s just barely six.”

  “It’s in South Bend.” That was an hour’s drive. Surely plausible.

  He said nothing for a moment but she knew he was still there. She couldn’t exactly hear him breathing, but she could feel it. What was the matter with her? Maybe she was still dizzy. She tried to let the coolness of the ceramic tile floor ooze up into her.

  “I just wanted to make sure you were all right,” he finally said.

  She was hot all over again. After they had broken into his house, he was checking to make sure she was fine? How could someone that nice be a spy?

  “I’m fine,” Heather called out and stared at the jar of seashell-shaped soap that she had gotten from one of her students. She took a slow steadying breath and told herself she could do this. She was an expert at getting out of scary situations.

  “I faint all the time when I see bugs,” she yelled through the door. “It’s no big deal.”

  “Bugs?” He sounded surprised.

  She bit at her lip and wrapped her shaking arms around her body. “Yeah, it was a huge one,” she told him. “It ran across my foot.”

  “A bug?” he repeated. “You fainted because you saw a bug?”