A Kept Woman. Sheri WhiteFeather
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He seemed judgmental one minute and compassionate the next.
He unwrapped the roast beef sandwich. “I made sure the kitchen was pretty well stocked. Dishes, pots, pans, silverware.” He motioned behind him. “The fridge came with the place. We can go to the market later if you want.”
She picked the onions out of her sandwich. “We?”
“You don’t have a car yet. Who else is supposed to take you shopping?”
Who indeed? Zack Ryder was her only contact in Coeur d’Alene. But that didn’t mean she had to make herself vulnerable to him, she thought. So he’d bought her flowers. So what? It was his job to help witnesses adjust to their new surroundings.
“When can I meet my landlords?” she asked.
“Next week. They’re on vacation right now.”
“What are their names?”
“Steve and Carla. He’s an accountant, and she runs after the kids. A couple of towheaded boys.” Zack chuckled. “From what I gathered, they keep her pretty busy.”
Already Natalie felt a pang of envy. All of her life she’d wanted to be a loving wife and a good, caring mother. But instead, she’d become a toy, a blow-up doll for her lover’s amusement. “I used to be a brunette.”
He gave her a perplexed look. “I’m aware of that, but what does your old hair color have to do with your new landlords?”
“Nothing. You called me a hot-looking blonde earlier. But I was a brunette when I was with David.”
“I wasn’t making a literal statement. And you’re beautiful either way.”
“I don’t need you to compliment me.”
He frowned at her. “I’m not stroking your ego. I’m just stating the facts. You’re going to get a lot of attention no matter where you live. You’re going to turn some heads.”
Was she supposed to downplay her appearance? She’d tried to create a classy image, to mold herself into someone new. “Does that bother you?”
“Why would it?” he responded a bit too defensively.
“No reason.” She tasted her food and battled the annoying little flutter in her stomach. The telltale sign that she was attracted to her field inspector, a man who made her much too aware of her past as another man’s mistress.
Two
Zack didn’t like the sexual vibe that stretched between him and Natalie. He wanted to blame her for it, to tell her to knock it off, but how could he? All she was doing was sitting across from him, rejecting the onions in her sandwich.
But somehow she still managed to stir his imagination. Then again, he’d heard all sorts of things about her. Hot, erotic things. Mob rumors, he supposed. Stories the FBI had passed on to the Marshal Service. Not that Zack normally lent an ear to gossip, but he’d been weaned on organized crime. His uncle had worked for the Marshal Service when the LCN—La Cosa Nostra—had been riding high. And although the West Coast Family wasn’t part of the Italian Mafia, they’d patterned their organization after the guys his uncle used to tell him about.
Zack couldn’t remember who’d circulated the rumors about Natalie. It wasn’t Uncle Joe. He died before the West Coast Family had come into power. But either way, Zack recalled hearing about Nancy Perris. And now here he was, helping her relocate.
According to legend, Nancy was every mobster’s dream. She was good with her hands and even better with her mouth. She got off on arousing David Halloway in public places, in putting her head in his lap.
Was any of that true? Zack didn’t know, but like the red-blooded, sexually obsessed male he was, he had weird fantasies about finding out, about straight-out asking her.
“Is your sandwich okay?” he asked instead.
She nodded and reached for her napkin.
He watched her wipe a drop of mayonnaise from her lips, and while she dabbed at the creamy condiment, his groin sent a dangerous signal to his brain. He nearly cursed out loud. The last thing he needed was to fall under her do-you-want-me-to-put-my-head-in-your-lap? spell. He couldn’t remember the last time a woman had done that to him.
“Is yours?” she said.
He shifted in his chair. “Is my what?”
“Sandwich good?”
“I get these pretty often.” He picked up his drink and tried to douse the unwelcome desire. If Zack had a lover, he would go straight home and get laid.
Natalie looked up. “How much time am I going to have to spend with you?”
Too much, he thought. “That depends on how long it takes to get you settled.” For the first month, he normally dealt with a relocated family on a daily, Monday through Friday basis, but he never really knew what to expect. Some witnesses required more guidance than others. “We need to work out a schedule so I can familiarize you with the area, find you a car, help you scout locations for your boutique.” Pausing, he glanced around. “And finish furnishing this house.”
“I want to enroll in school, too.”
“Of course.” He knew she had plans to further her education. All she had was a high-school diploma to her name—her old name and her new one. WITSEC only supplied documents to which a witness was entitled.
“I was told North Idaho College has workforce-training classes.”
Curious, he sat back, gauging her. “What are you interested in taking?”
“Business-related courses.”
Could she be a little more specific? “To prepare you for the boutique?”
She squared her shoulders. “Yes, but I worked at a clothing store. I have experience to rely on, too.”
Her confident posture didn’t fool him. From what he understood, her job as a salesclerk had been short-lived, a few months at best. “That was a long time ago.”
“It’ll come back to me.”
“I’m sure school will help.” According to Natalie’s file, she’d met David Halloway at one of his strip clubs, auditioning to be a lap dancer. And that, he thought, was a far cry from a retail store. “I’ll drive you to the college tomorrow. You can pick up a catalog.”
“What about my furniture? Can we take care of that tomorrow, as well?”
“Sure.”
She blew out an audible breath. “I need to increase my wardrobe, too. My old clothes don’t fit anymore. WITSEC got me some new things, but the selection is rather limited.”
Zack studied the top of her pantsuit. “Looks like you finagled some nice duds to me.”
“Finagled?” Her eyes, those smoky cat eyes, turned sharp. “I’ve gone from a size twelve to a size eight within a matter of months. What was I supposed to wear on this trip? A gunnysack? Or did you expect WITSEC to send me to Idaho naked?”
He cleared his throat. Picturing her naked wasn’t on the agenda. “Fine. I’ll take you to the mall when I get a chance. But don’t ask me to arrange for the funds. That wasn’t part of your MOU.”
“Don’t preach to me about my Memorandum of Understanding. I’m well aware of what was in it.” Defiant, she lifted her chin. “I’m more than capable of buying my own clothes.”
And living on the stipend WITSEC provided, he thought. Until she got her business off the ground, the government would be paying her way.
Finally, they finished their lunch. She crumpled their trash and stuffed it back into the bag. Before things turned tense again, he asked, “Do you want to get groceries now?”
She