Lindsey rose in the dark after a night of fitful sleep. Todd had insisted he take the couch so she wouldn’t feel pressured. She was both grateful and slightly irritable about it. Maybe he’d known depriving her of his warm body would only make her want him more. Or maybe he understood that if she gave in now, she’d never trust the decision.
Showing her that he valued their relationship over sex went a long way toward convincing her that he really was in love.
Her chest fluttered.
But Megan was still out there, still a threat, and they still didn’t have a plan to stop her.
Even hours later, after a long flight to Virginia, Lindsey hadn’t managed to come up with any brilliant schemes. She’d slept nearly the entire trip, and her dreams had been an unproductive mix of lust and terror.
According to Todd, he lived about ten miles due south of the airport, but heavy afternoon traffic meant she spent an hour enjoying the view of pine and leafy trees that lined much of the highway, not yet touched by fall. It was so much greener than home. For some reason she’d imagined the busy suburbs of DC would have sparse vegetation, but despite wide roads packed with cars and shiny, glowering defense-company buildings towering above it all, the homes and commercial areas were largely hidden behind a wall of forest.
After the car left the highway, she spotted several deer in a wooded area before they emerged into a tidy neighborhood with a community pool, more thickets of trees, and lots of boxy multi-story homes with columns of windows and colorful shutters. Colonial style, if she remembered anything from her art history class.
The driver stopped in front of a squat, two-story building containing at least a dozen row homes, each with a slightly different facade to mark its boundaries.
Warm, humid air enveloped her when she stepped out of the car, chasing away the chill of endless hours of air conditioning. They thanked the driver and Todd urged her up a concrete walk toward the corner unit with red shutters and a matching front door.
“It’s beautiful here.” As much as she loved the beach, she could get used to this. At least until winter hit.
He stepped up to the door and glanced around with a tired smile. “Thanks. I like it.” Swinging the door open, he welcomed her into a tiny entry that split into a set of stairs going up and a hallway leading forward. Hardwood floors, white crown molding, and white wainscoting on dove gray walls continued the formal theme.
Her apartment was a dump in comparison. She loved the ocean view and vaulted ceilings, but it was still basically a white box with no innate personality.
“Sorry it’s so warm.” He shut the door behind them and strode through the doorway to his left, waving her to follow. “I didn’t have anyone watching the place, and it’s been shut up for several weeks. Also, I don’t have central air, so…”
This was clearly the living room, with its wine-colored couch, a large flat screen TV, and an abstract painting in bright colors. While he opened the front and side windows, she studied the framed photos lining the fireplace mantle.
“Is this your family?” She pointed to a picture of a pretty woman with auburn hair standing next to Todd, two even taller men with similar coloring, and a pretty blonde.
He glanced over. “Yep. From last Christmas.” Joining her, he pointed to the other men in turn, his proximity making her pulse erratic. “That’s John and Roger, and my mom, obviously. And Bethany.”
Damn, she should have guessed. “Where do your brothers live?” She followed him through another doorway into an L-shaped kitchen with Formica counters and oak cabinets. Just days ago, she hadn’t even known this man existed and now she wandered his house, eager to see how he lived.
“John’s in Oklahoma City. Roger and his husband live in Austin.” Todd opened more windows, including one that overlooked a small private yard of grass with a tiny concrete pad just big enough for two lawn chairs and a grill. A sleek bicycle leaned against the wooden fence. “Is all of your family in LA?”
“Mostly,” she said. “My mom’s parents live in San Diego, and I have aunts and uncles scattered all over California and Arizona.”
The kitchen opened into a small dining room decorated with more explosions of color and she poked her head into a bland half bath, completing the circuit of the first floor. The condo was definitely larger than her apartment, but the broken-up layout and lower ceilings made it feel smaller.
“It’s nice that they’re all close.”
Itwasnice. “It’s something I’ve always taken for granted, I guess. Do you get home much?”
“Not as often as I should.” He frowned as he filled two glasses of water from the spout in the fridge door. “You want to see the second floor?”
She followed him up the creaky stairs. Dark wood furniture and more colorful abstract paintings filled both bedrooms.
“Is this a specific artist you like?” she asked, pausing in the smaller room that contained only a desk and dresser.
“Charlotte Naidoo.” He shrugged and shoved his hands in his pockets, his cheeks turning pink. “I’m no expert. I just buy what I like.”
If she cupped his cheeks, would they be hot? She curled her palms against the instinct.
Instead, she slid the portrait she’d saved from the FBI conference room out of her back pocket and unfolded it, still stunned by its depth of feeling and how easily he’d captured her essence. “Seems to me you knowsomethingabout art.”
His eyes widened and the color on his face deepened, spreading down to his shirt collar. “I dabble.” He shuffled his feet and cleared his throat before pointing to an oversized chest of drawers. “So, that dresser is actually a bed. According to Roger, the memory foam mattress is better than a pull-out couch, so hopefully he wasn’t just being nice. I’ll make it up for you later.”
She nodded, afraid to open her mouth, in case she said something she’d regret, like “Can’t I sleep with you?”
