A Kept Woman. Sheri WhiteFeather
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realized he was taking her to her new home. She’d been told that he would rent her a place, a temporary dwelling until she could find a house of her own.
Natalie kept the sandwich bag on her lap, crinkling a corner of the paper. The rustling sound was better than silence, she decided. Better than the strange energy between her and Zack.
He headed toward the lake, and she rolled down the window to breathe in a gust of fresh air. She could see a glimpse of the water, sparkling in the distance. A body of blue, she thought. As tranquil as a tourist’s dream, as active as a child’s imagination.
Her view of the lake disappeared when he turned onto a tree-lined street. Natalie had never lived in an area like this. She’d been welfare poor; she’d been mistress rich. But she’d never fit into the white-picket-fence world.
He guided the car down a long driveway and stopped at a cozy guest house. Her heart bumped her chest. The windows were trimmed in yellow and the lawn was freshly mowed.
“Is this mine? I expected an apartment.”
He parked his sedan and cut the engine. “It rents by the month, so it didn’t require a lease. The owners live up front. They’re a young family. They seem like nice folks.”
“What did you tell them about me?”
“That you’re a friend of mine who plans to open a boutique in Coeur d’Alene.”
That was close to the truth, she thought. Except for the friend part. “Did you mention that you’re a deputy?”
“Yes, but no one outside the Marshal Service knows I’m with WITSEC. As far as your landlords are concerned, I’m just a local deputy.”
Natalie fell silent. It was obvious his badge had closed the deal. Who wouldn’t trust a federal lawman?
When he exited the car, she followed suit, carrying the sandwich bag. He turned to look at her, and when that little flutter returned to her stomach, she struggled to temper it.
The June air was warm, and a mild breeze blew. Zack stood tall and dark in a black jacket and matching trousers. The sun had bronzed his skin and his eyes were marked with tiny lines. Frown lines, she thought. He shifted their sodas, then handed her one, searching his pockets for the keys to her new home. She wondered if he’d been raised in this area. Maybe he was a member of the Coeur d’Alene Indian tribe. Zack looked as if he might be part Native American.
Finally, he located the keys and unlocked the front door. She stepped inside and tried to contain her excitement. The living room presented a stone hearth, and the kitchen had French doors that led to a barbecue deck. Already she loved it.
“There isn’t much here by the way of furnishings,” he said. “I got you a bed and a dresser. And a dining room table. Just a few things to help you get by. You can pick out whatever else you need.”
“Thank you.” When their eyes met, an indefinable moment passed between them. Heat? Hunger? A stream of tenderness? Natalie couldn’t tell.
“But just remember that you’re on a budget,” he added. “WITSEC will foot the bill for your furniture, but they aren’t going to provide the fancy-ass stuff Halloway used to buy for you.”
She tried not to flinch. “Excuse me?”
“Excuse you for what? Being spoiled? Don’t worry, you’ll get over it.”
Natalie’s heart fell. Yes, she had slept with a married man. And yes, she was guilty, shamed to the bone. But wasn’t it enough that David’s wife vowed to see her dead? Did she have to be judged by a U.S. marshal, as well? Summoning the strength to defy him, she held his gaze. “At least I have enough money to start a business.”
“By selling off everything lover-boy gave you? That’s not the same as earning it.”
She held her ground. “I’m sure it’s more than you have.”
He didn’t back down. “I’ve made some investments.”
She pushed the issue. “I probably still have more than you.”
“Maybe, but I’m not a hot-looking blonde.” He shrugged, then made a silly joke, turning the tide with his offbeat humor. “Can you imagine some mobster putting me up in a condo? Dressing me in sexy lingerie?”
She rolled her eyes, and he laughed.
“You’re a jerk, Deputy. And you’re not funny.”
He grinned at her. “Then how come you’re fighting a smile?”
Because I’m an idiot, she thought. And she’d been charmed by jerks before. Refusing to break down and smile, she grabbed her drink and sucked on the straw.
“So what do you think of this place?” he asked.
Feigning indifference, she swallowed the soda. “It’s okay.”
“Just okay? I thought it was perfect for a single woman. It even has one of those glamour bathrooms. Big sunken tub, lights around the mirror.” He took the sandwiches from her and placed them on the dining room table. “Come on, I’ll show you around.”
She accepted the tour, but she kept her distance, making sure their hands didn’t accidentally touch or their shoulders didn’t brush when she squeezed past him in the hallway.
The curtains in the bedroom matched the carpet, and the brass bed he’d provided was made up with a fluffy white quilt and lacy pillows. She shot him a curious glance.
He defended his choice. “What the hell do I know? It seemed like something a woman would like. Besides, it was on sale.”
She thought the bed was pretty, but she wasn’t about to admit it. “Where do you live?” she asked, wondering what sort of furnishings he favored.
“I commute between a cabin in the mountains and a house in the city.”
But he wasn’t going to tell her what mountain range or what city, she realized. He knew everything about her, but she wasn’t privy to personal information about him.
“You have my pager number, don’t you?” he asked suddenly.
Natalie nodded. WITSEC had provided it.
“It’s a satellite pager,” he said. “I won’t miss your calls.” He moved toward the dresser, where a telephone sat. “I left a list of local numbers, too. Fire, police. But if you think you’re in danger, call the one at the top. That’ll bring a squad of marshals to your door.”
Her pulse jumped to her throat. She hoped and prayed that she would never have to use that number, but she knew the possibility existed.
As Zack continued the tour, she followed, trying to keep her fear in check. In a fit of anger, David had killed one of his associates, then forced her to help him clean up the mess. The blood, the—
“Check out the bathroom.”
She blinked. “What?”
“The bathroom.”
She peered around his shoulder, and he moved out of the way. The tile-lined tub, she noticed, was big enough for two, and a floral-print curtain shielded a separate shower stall.
Speaking of flowers. An artistic bouquet decorated the sink. Pink, purple and red blooms flourished in an elegant glass vase. “Are these from my landlords?”
“No.”
“Then who ordered them?”
“I did.”
Stunned, she merely stared at him. “You?” The man who’d criticized her character? “Are flowers a standard WITSEC procedure?”
“No, but I thought they would brighten up the place.”
“Thank you.” Up until now, she’d been living in a safe-site center, where the doors were electronically