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“She did not.” Every syllable is razor-sharp. “Though I have no reason to suspect another break-in, I am concerned with keeping her safe. Are you working?”
I look down at my half-naked self.
“I mean, in general,” he continues. “When we met, you mentioned working as a contractor, freelance. Are you on a job right now?”
“Oh. No.” I have absolutely no idea where he’s going with this.
“I’d like to hire you for security,” he says, his back straightening, chin rising, almost defiant about it.
“Seems a little like closing the gate after the cow’s already escaped.”
“Perhaps,” he says, arching a brow. “But there’s more to it than that. I’m being blackmailed.”
I blink. “Are you shitting me?”
“I shit you not,” he says smoothly. Hearing him swear feels wrong, somehow. It clashes with that panache I’ve come to associate with him. The effect is jarring. “The police have been informed. I’ve also hired a private investigator. No threats to my safety or Natalie’s have been made, but I prefer to be proactive. I’d like someone to be present at all times during business hours in case I have to leave the premises.”
“What are you being blackmailed for?”
Nic arches that single brow at me, and that something stirs again. “Not relevant. Are you interested in taking the job? If not, can you recommend someone who might be?”
Time was, Sully would have taken a job like this in a heartbeat. And yeah, I’ve moonlighted as security a few times. My old boss, Jesse, is exactly the guy Nic’s looking for.
I’ve been ducking Jesse’s calls for the last couple weeks. He’s been hinting around that I should come back to work full-time for a while, steady-like, and that is definitely not my jam. I have a feeling he was fixing to make an offer I’d have to refuse, and what can I say, I’m not looking forward to telling him no.
This one-off kind of thing, guarding Nic and the luscious Natalie for the short-term? This job is right up my alley.
“Just security for your office?” I ask to clarify. “Not at home?”
“In my office, during working hours only.” He looks left, toward his apartment door. “It seems a bit redundant to have you in my apartment.”
I prop my shoulder on the doorframe and shove my hands in my pockets, thinking. The job is straightforward enough. Nine to five, high-end office, low risk; all that adds up to easy money. And I’d get to see Natalie every damn day.
Just for the hell of it, I say, “I’m seeing Natalie. Is that going to be a problem?” I have way overstated what so far has been a couple of hours over coffee and an upcoming dinner date, but the suggestion is out there, and I don’t bother to clarify.
Nic’s jaw tightens, and the fleeting idea that he might throw a punch crosses my mind and thrills me. Bring it, neighbor. I wouldn’t mind sparring with this guy. My skin prickles, my hair rising at the sudden tension.
“Natalie is a professional. I have nothing but the utmost confidence in her abilities to behave as such.” He dials that upper-class snootiness up to eleven. “Can I say the same for you, Mr. Hale?”
He couldn’t condescend to me any more if he’d been sitting on a throne.
“No problem, boss,” I drawl. “I’ll behave.”
His eyes narrow.
“Tomorrow morning, then,” he says. “Eight-thirty sharp.”
I nod. “See you then.”
Nic levels a look at me, nods once, and lets himself into his apartment.
Oh, ho. Tomorrow is going to be fun. Something about the guy makes me want to get under his skin. Not a great way to start a new job, but that’s the perk of being a contractor—we only have to live with each other in the short term.
That bit about Natalie hit a nerve with him, I could tell. If he hadn’t come on to me at the elevator, I’d bet my last ten bucks he had his eye on her, not that people always swung one way or the other. There’s plenty of middle ground when it comes to sexy. Maybe he’d just been jerking my chain, but my skin prickles again at the memory of that slow once-over. If that was fake, I can’t imagine what it looks like for real.
I can hear him moving around just inside the door when I step inside my own place. The walls aren’t terribly thick between our apartments, but so far, it’s never been a problem. Guess I’m more aware of him now since we’re about to be seeing each other on a regular basis. I track his movements from the front hall, deeper back into the apartment, hear him talking, I assume to his cat or maybe on the phone. Or hell, maybe he’s got somebody in there.
Nope. Not going there. If I’m going to make myself presentable for some highbrow office tomorrow, I’ve got too much to do to think about Nic and who he might be talking to in the privacy of his place.
