Wicked Intentions (8 page)

“I’ll call you tomorrow,” Nathan said just as the valet brought her car to a stop.

Disappointment flashed in her eyes and her face fell. Summoning a weak smile, she nodded, “Okay.”

Maybe he just couldn’t let her go.

Maybe he was just a sucker for punishment.

But minutes later, Nathan found himself trailing Shakira. Keeping a few cars between them, he wove his car after hers on the highway. In the back of his mind he was aware that Alim and Randall were probably also on her tail. He searched the road but didn’t see either of them.

She turned at a forked section of the road following it and then slowed down at a school building fenced with a high wall of barbed wire. Nathan recognized it as the school she’d spent the previous night in. He parked some distance away watching as she spoke to the guard and then drove in. Startled at the hum behind him, he turned only to find Randall pulling up behind him. The PI gave him a thumbs-up.

He should’ve left then.

But then his protective instinct niggled at him.
Where’s Alim
?

The only cars around were his and Randall’s but the man could be hiding anywhere, even within the school grounds. The limping guard with a baton was no match for a dangerous career criminal. If Alim got it into his head to do something to Shakira there would be no one to stop him.

Randall’s here.

He didn’t know Randall well enough to be sure that he’d interfere with Alim’s plans.

Just let it be.

He couldn’t.

Nathan backed away from the curb and drove towards the school’s gate.

CHAPTER 9

Thank God, I didn’t throw myself at him!

She’d been very close though. If Nathan had asked her to go home with him, Shakira had no doubt that she would’ve done it. Everything about the man was appealing. Her senses had preened at his unwavering attention. Her mind had consumed every morsel of information he’d given about himself and reveled in sharing parts of herself.

And her body had buzzed – oh, it had buzzed.

Every smile he sent her way, every time his eyes met hers, every graze of his hand against hers; it’d felt like his every move was like a switch that kept on sending electric jolts through her. His effect on her was as strange as it was consuming. She’d never felt this kind of connection with anyone. Not even Charlie.

Immediately her mind conjured up the image of Charlie.

“Bastard.” Shakira kissed her teeth. She didn’t even want to think of the man who’d almost destroyed her life and the time she’d wasted on him. If she was thinking with her vagina instead of her brains she would never have dated Charlie. They were too much alike.

He was the quintessential good boy, an accountant and had pulled himself from dusty beginnings – like herself. They’d met at McPherson’s, where he was freelancing, on her first day there. He wasn’t the coolest kid in the yard or the suave Casanova. He was just this average looking, bespectacled, sweater-vest wearing nice guy that every girl in the office had friend-zoned.

Shakira had been as surprised as anyone when he’d mustered the courage to hit on her. She’d been on the verge of saying no until Eve had shown up at the office and pronounced Charlie the most boring man she’d ever met. That sealed it. If Eve didn’t like Charlie then he was perfect for Shakira.

Boy, had she been wrong.

His memory was enough to make her tag her yoga pants a little harder than she should have.

Riiiiiiiiiiip. The tearing sound filled the interior of the car

“Damn it!” she cussed as she turned her head slightly only to see a gaping hole winking at her where the side-seam was supposed to be. “Damn it.”

She considered reaching for another pair of pants but searching her duffel bag would take another ten minutes, so would changing, and she just wanted to go to sleep and dream of Nathan. That decided it. The torn yoga pants were staying. She reached for her white t-shirt. She was just about to slip the t-shirt over her head when she heard it.

Rap. Rap. Rap. The rhythmic tapping was loud enough that she turned wide eyes towards the driver-side window. And almost had a heart-attack!

Nathan?
He stood by the car, leaning slightly forward as if trying to peer into the car while his knuckles rapped on the glass. Her first reaction was panic.
This is not happening. He is not here.

“Shakira!” The faint sound of his voice pierced the glass as he rapped again.

You’re not real.
Shakira gathered the t-shirt close to her chest and stared at the window willing him to disappear.
You’re not real
.

He was. “Shakira.” His nose was mashed right against the window, his breath leaving a slightly layer of mist on the dark glass. “Shakira.”

The glass was tinted enough that she was sure he couldn’t see more than shadows playing in the car.
Go away. Please.

“I’m not going away.”

Shakira sat still watching him as he kept on rapping on the window. He would get tired soon, wouldn’t he? She couldn’t let Nathan see her like this. She wanted him to see her as the vivacious, well made-up career girl he’d just had dinner with, not the torn sweatpants sleeping-in-cars broke girl she really was.

But he didn’t get tired. He kept knocking and calling her name. “Shakira, Shakira.”

Finally accepting that the game was over and embarrassment was her middle name, Shakira slipped her t-shirt over her head then scrambled to the driver’s seat. Nervousness whirling like a storm in her belly, she rolled down the window.

His first word were, “Hey,”

“Hey,” she answered, her gaze straight ahead if only to clash with the silver reflector.

“Look at me.”

She didn’t want to. She was afraid to see his thoughts on his face; afraid to see the judgment and maybe even disgust. He reached inside the car for the handle of her door. With one turn and a pull on his end, the door opened up letting in a blast of cold air. Shakira barely felt it. All she could feel was the heat of Nathan’s gaze as he took in her outfit and then the rest of her set up. Empty parking lot, sleep clothes, duffel bag sitting in the back seat with her blanket half over it. There was no mistaking what was going on here.

What was he thinking? That she was a fraud? Not up to his standards? Rugged? Tears chocked the back of her throat. She blinked to hold them back and her chin fell to her chest. She expected him to berate her or at least storm off. Instead he said, “Move over.”

She didn’t respond or lift her face.

“Move over, baby,” he repeated. This time he leaned over and kissed her temple. The small brush of his lips against her skin was enough to rouse her. Still avoiding his gaze she moved from the driver’s side to the passenger seat. She’d never realized how small her car was until Nathan entered it. His presence seemed to fill it as did his subtle cologne. When he started her car, she wanted to ask what he was doing, where they were going – but she was on the brink, and she was afraid that if she opened her mouth, her tears would fall.

Nathan backed out of the spot then drove towards the gate.

“I’m leaving my car here overnight,” he said to Jermaine once they got to there. “Will it be safe?”

“Of course,” Jermaine sounded insulted. “What you take me for?”

Nathan’s shifting around was not enough to convince Shakira to turn but Jermaine’s shocked gasp was. She turned just in time to see Nathan handing the wide-eyed Jermaine a bunch of bills. “Take care of it and there’ll be more where that came from.”

“Of course, sir. Yes, sir. You can depend on Jermaine.”

Shakira stared despondently out the window as Nathan guided her car out of the school and onto the main road. She bit her lip trying to ward off the tears but eventually they won and one slid down her cheek. She closed her eyes and pressed her nose to the cold glass as she gave in to them. They didn’t even stop when he reached for her fingers and squeezed them reassuringly.

She didn’t even know why she was crying – just that it felt like her heart was an overflowing dam of emotion and Nathan’s finding her in her situation had broken its banks. By the time they got to the apartment, she’d stopped crying but her eyes itched and her face felt swollen. She was sure that she looked a mess.

“Where are your shoes?” Nathan asked once he’d parked the car.

She gestured to the back seat. His smooth scent ruffled the air as he reached towards the back seat. It took him a while but finally he came up with a pair of sandals. He set them on the floor by her feet. While she put them on, he exited the car and strode towards the passenger side and opened the door.

When he held out his hand to help her out of the car, she shook her head. She didn’t want him to touch her because she knew she would break down even more. She’d already made enough of a fool of herself around him. It was only when she stepped out of the car and the cold stung at her thigh reminding her of her torn pants.

She’d never been so thankful to be dark skinned. If it wasn’t for it, Nathan would’ve seen her deep blush as even more embarrassment flushed over her skin. She grasped the torn seam in her fist, her arm bumping against Nathan’s body as they walked into the building. Though he kept close to her, he didn’t touch her. It was only when they stepped into the house that he finally he did.

“Come here.” He tugged her closer.

Her movement forward was reluctant but once her cheek was pressed against his chest and her arms linked around his waist, he felt like home. The tension and emotion she’d been holding in slowly drained and she sagged against him. He didn’t say anything or ask any questions. All he did was hold her in his arms, lending her his strength. His hands soothed over her head, her arms and her spine in comforting strokes.

“Wrap your arms around my neck,” he whispered against her hair. It was so easy to obey him. As soon as she did, he slid his hands under her ass and lifted her. She instinctively wound her legs around his waist as he walked them towards his bedroom. Once there, he set her on the floor before turning back the covers.

As soon as she was in bed, she curled up into fetal position and drew the covers to her neck. Bending down to her level, Nathan said, “I’ve got to lock up the house then I’ll be back, okay?”

She nodded.

He placed a kiss on her forehead before walking out of the room. She could hear the faint sounds of his movement outside the bedroom. They were like a lullaby to her and soon she drifted off.

It was dark when she woke up. Though her mind was hazy, she unconsciously shifted closer to arm that held her tight against a masculine body. It was only when she took a lazy breath in that she realized who she was lying next to. His scent teased her senses as did the slow rise and fall of his chest beneath her head and palm.

Languorously, she stretched against his body, her legs tangling with Nathan’s bare ones as her hand made a sweeping arch to rest on his stomach. Beneath her, he stirred restlessly and his arms tightened around her. She lifted her head slightly to see if he was awake. Despite the shadowy darkness in the room, she could still see his face. He was deep asleep.

For a while she watched him, mentally tracing his features and the lines of his body. Shadows and sleep were not enough to shroud his attractiveness. This was a man who could’ve had any woman he wanted. He didn’t need to pick up vagabonds like her.

So why had he?

Obviously he wasn’t after free sex because if he was he would’ve taken what she’d freely offered at dinner. Did he feel the intense connection between them or was he just being kind-hearted? Was his help just for tonight or would there be more nights of being held in his arms? Weren’t they breaking some kind of one-night stand code and would that be so bad? After Charlie was she even ready to consider another relationship?

The questions swirled around her like a thunderstorm that had no end-by date. The logical part of her brain wanted answers now. The emotional part just wanted her to enjoy Nathan taking care of tonight and let tomorrow take care of itself. She could’ve been in a car, squeezed in a driver’s seat and crying alone. Instead he was here, protecting her even in his sleep. She hadn’t even told him thank you.

She arched upwards and touched his lips with hers. It was a mistake because this time, his eyes fluttered open.

“Shakira?” he called in a deep, gravelly voice.

“I’m here. Shush,” she soothed, as she rubbed small circles on his abdomen. “Go to sleep.”

He took a deep breath before turning his head to brush his lips over her nose and then closed his heavy lids again. Soon he was asleep. It took a while to coax her thoughts back into their cage but eventually she fell asleep.

When next she woke up it was to an empty bed and the sun’s rays spilling into the room through the closed room. Yawning, she stretched her body across the bed. Paper crinkled beneath her arm on the pillow, drawing her attention. It was a note from Nathan.

Had to go to work. I’ll be back at around six. Make yourself at home.

It was odd making herself at home in her own home. Somehow it didn’t feel like hers. The mugs were in a different cupboard, the refrigerator was stocked with beer, there was now a coffee-maker… Nathan had only made a few subtle changes but they were enough to remind her that for now this was his place.

She stood by the counter, waiting for water to boil in the electric kettle so she could make a cup of hot cocoa. Her eyes searched the kitchen noting Nathan’s preferences and somehow ended up at the corner of the counter where a bunch of letters stood heaped one upon the other.

Maybe it was curiosity. Maybe it was instinct.

She picked them up. The top letters were marked in Nathan’s name but the fifth letter had her name, so did the sixth, and the seventh. Perplexed, Shakira shuffled through them one by one.

Why hadn’t Nathan said anything about having her mail? Many people had tried to get through to her. One letter even had her bank’s watermark. Was he hiding them? No. She quickly dismissed the idea. If he was they wouldn’t have been so openly displayed when he knew she was in the house. He’d probably just forgotten to tell her.

She was still shuffling through the letters when she came to an abrupt stop.

Her eyes widened as she stared at the envelope in her hands. Scrawled in a neat tight handwriting atop the white paper was his name.

Charles Welden.

She dropped the envelope like it was made of fire.