Freaky by Nature Page 4

  ***

  Brett unlocked the door to the newly-built house and stepped inside, wondering how in the hell he’d been set up so easily. Better yet, how did Cameron persuade Holly to agree to paint with him? Cameron was a crafty little witch, even if she did mean well.

  He snickered under his breath as he lifted the living room windows to let some of the heat out and any accidental breeze in. Despite Cameron’s attempt at matchmaking, it wouldn’t happen. Holly made it perfectly clear, over and over, she wasn’t interested in anything more than friendship. Yet, she refused to leave his thoughts. The woman was drop-dead gorgeous. All over. But something else about her summoned him. Something he just couldn’t put his finger on. He sighed in frustration and tucked himself into a corner nook to wait on her.

  His heart pounded as her black BMW convertible turned the corner several seconds later and she parked next to the curb. He swallowed hard when she opened the door, stuck one long, smooth, tanned leg out and braced her foot against the pavement to boost herself from the car. Tossing her bag over her shoulder, she bumped the door closed with one shapely hip and pranced up the front walk.

  When Holly walked through the front doorway, Brett was convinced it would be a long evening. Dressed in a pair of white, short shorts and a red, lacy tank top that flashed take me, she weakened his knees. And when the evening sunlight bounced off the gold hoop that hung from the delicate skin of her belly button, he knew for sure he was a goner. Who the hell painted dressed like that? His hands trembled with the need to touch her, stroke her, make her as crazy as she made him. From the shadows of the corner, he cleared his throat.

  “Brett?” She jumped and placed a hand to the base of her neck. “I didn’t see your truck.”

  “I walked.”

  “In this heat? It’s over 100 degrees tonight.”

  “Heat doesn’t bother me.” Especially since his current thoughts dialed his internal thermostat up well beyond the temperature outside.

  She eyed him skeptically. “You’re sweating now.”

  “Humidity.”

  She shrugged, threw her bag in a corner and kicked off her shoes. “Where’s the paint?”

  He tilted his head and gestured toward the supplies Cameron left for them.

  “I guess the sooner we get started, the sooner we get finished.”

  He nodded again, pushed himself off the wall, and stepped toward her. As she turned her back and bent to pick up the paint rollers, his mouth dropped open and he felt a familiar twitch between his legs. The soft, tender skin of her ass played peek-a-boo with him from beneath her shorts, appearing as she bent, disappearing as she stood.

  She handed him a roller. “Where do you want to start?”

  At the corners of your flirty little lips. Yeah, he’d start there and end with her plastered against the wall, with him buried deep inside her. His balls tightened.

  He took the roller from her, careful to avoid skin-to-skin contact. “I’ll start on the opposite wall and we’ll meet in the middle.”

  She treated him to a smile before she turned and smeared paint on the wall. “I haven’t seen you at the gym as much lately.”

  His interest piqued as he coated his roller with paint and followed suit. She noticed his absence.

  “Sterling and I’ve been busy planning security for Hawke’s concert.”

  Lightening should strike him for that lie. Security had been in place for months. He’d avoided her; putting distance between them seemed to be the easiest way to deal with her rejection.

  “The concert’s a pretty big deal around here,” she said casually.

  He paused, surprised at her attempt to make conversation. “Are you going?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “I’m not much of a people person,” she said softly.

  Brett bit his tongue before an invitation to go with him rolled off. She’d turn him down anyway. Besides, the unusual, easy-going friendly conversation between them was nice. In the momentary silence, a new idea nudged him. He didn’t want her to clam up if he pushed too hard. Maybe he could get to know her without her realizing it; if he could just keep her talking, something personal was bound to leak out.

  “You’re pretty social at the gym.”

  She gave a soft smile. “That’s different. It’s my job.”

  He took several steps closer to her as he moved the paint roller over the wall. “What do you do when you’re not at the gym?”

  Her roller stilled and for a moment, he expected her to throw it down and run out the door. Instead, she took a deep breath and resumed painting.

  “I read a lot,” she answered.

  “Anything good?”

  She twisted her mouth. “You don’t seem like you read much.”

  Something about her tone irritated him. “I do have a college degree.”

  Her mouth fell open and she gasped. “Oh, Brett, I’m sorry. I only meant what I read would bore you. I majored in psychology.”

  Again, her apology caught him off guard. “Psychology, huh?”

  She nodded and moved toward him to apply more paint to the bare section of wall. “What about you? Criminal justice?”

  He chuckled. Lucky guess. “Yeah. Too bad it doesn’t make catching criminals any easier.”

  “There aren’t too many criminals in Diablo, are there?”

  Her light teasing encouraged him. “Nah.”

  “So, what do you do in your spare time?”

  “Sterling keeps me pretty busy, but I work out.”

  “No women?”

  The paint roller slipped from his grip and smacked the cement floor. She must be high on the paint fumes.

  He bent to pick up the roller. “Contrary to popular belief, I don’t date much, Holly.”

  She laughed and a warm rush of heat traveled his body. “That surprises me. I’ve seen you in action at the gym.”

  Brett raised an eyebrow and smiled a slow, easy smile. She asked for it. “Too many women, too little time.”

  Holly looked at him, open-mouthed and obviously shocked by his response. Taking advantage of her reaction, he stepped closer and blotted the end of her nose with his roller.

  “And if you play your cards right,” he continued, “I might make time for you.”

  Still speechless and wide-eyed, she made no attempt to speak.

  He pried her roller from her grip and handed her a clean rag. “Come on.”

  She gave him a blank look as she wiped paint from her nose.

  He gestured to the freshly-painted wall. “We’re done. I’ll walk you to your car.”

  Holly glanced at the wall and then back at Brett. “I’ll be fine. You go ahead.”

  He gave her a pointed glare. “No, not after the break-in.”

  She paused a moment and tried to ignore his overbearing order. She folded her arms across her chest. “Really, Brett, I—”

  ”No.” He lowered the window and turned the lock on top.

  Convinced she couldn’t win this argument, Holly slid her feet back into her sandals and shouldered her bag.

  “This time,” she told him.

  Without a word, he led her out the front door and to her car. “You have a security system at home, don’t you?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Yes.”

  “Be sure you set it when you get home.” He held out his palm. “Give me your car key.”

  She handed the key to him and he unlocked the door then tipped his head.

  “Inside, and lock the door.”

  She huffed as she sat in the driver’s seat. “Are you always so bossy?”

  One side of his mouth lifted and he reached to yank her ponytail. “If you weren’t so opposed to spending time with me, you’d know the answer to that question.”

  Her pulse skittered as she fought her overwhelming desire to invite him home. No.

  She cleared her throat and ended their discussion. “Good night, Brett.”

  She waited for his persistenc
e to surface and prepared to turn him down again. Instead, goose bumps danced across her skin as he laid a hand on her shoulder.

  “Good night, Holly,” he said before closing the car door.

  From the heated interior of her car, Holly watched him turn and head down the block. Six feet two inches of unforgiving muscle. She balled her fists and resisted the urge to throw open the door and run after him.

  As Brett ambled further from her sight, he began to cast a reddish-orange glow. She squinted, willing the colors to show her something substantial about his mood. Anger? Frustration? Suddenly her vision cleared and she fell back against her seat. She smacked the heel of her hand against her forehead. Arousal. Of course. No doubt he was frustrated. He wasn’t the only one.

  The heat that emanated from his body almost scalded her, and the hot summer evening had nothing to do with it. She started the car and flipped the air conditioner switch to frigid before she glanced at herself in the rearview mirror. Other than usually rosy cheeks, no color caught her attention.

  She leaned back in the seat and huffed as the cool air moved her bangs across her forehead. She should be just as red and orange as Brett. Her fingernails tapped against the steering wheel as question marks danced across her mind. Why hadn’t she seen color while they painted? In fact, she hadn’t seen any color the whole time they were together. And, how in the world did she know he had a criminal justice degree? Even if he hadn’t confirmed it, she knew.

  Holly shifted her car into drive and pulled away from the curb. A little guidance would be helpful right about now, but there wasn’t any hope of that in the near future. She’d learned early on not to let outsiders in on her secret.

  Damn Brett for sneaking up on her. People rarely surprised her; color normally gave her a hint, even if she didn’t know exactly what it meant. Yet, he’d managed to avoid detection. True, at certain times she could read him, but not always. She tucked a loose piece of hair behind her ear and faced an even bigger fear: it was quite possible he was able to see pieces of her just as easily as she could him.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Brett parked his truck in front of SEALS, Inc. and exhaled a heavy breath. Damn, he was tired. Last night, thoughts of Holly caused him to toss and turn for hours.

  He lay alone in bed, naked and sweaty, while vivid images of Madame without her mask captured his mind and held it hostage until he knew he would burst from sexual frustration. On the silver screen of his mind, Holly took center stage. A sexy, seductive smile gleamed on her lips while she moved the palms of her hands over her breasts. As if hypnotized, he watched in silent agony as she circled her erect nipples with her fingertips and then moved her hands down the front of her body, over the taut skin of her abdomen until they reached the mound between her legs. With her eyelids hooded, she tossed her head back, swung her hips to the beat of his heart, and then tangled her fingers in the strings of her skimpy costume bottoms.

  Off, for the love of God, take them off.

  Pushed to his absolute limit, he found himself sorely tempted to take matters into his own hands. The only problem, it was only temporary.

  Jerking off would have kept the lust at bay for a few hours, but he still wouldn’t have slept. Hell. The mere thought of Holly stimulated him. So, he stared into the darkness for hours, hard as a rock and pissed off to no end.

  As soon as he finally relented and closed his eyes, Holly’s spirit invaded his dreams and made sleep impossible. It was as if she walked the recesses of his mind and played his nerve endings like a harp.

  He slammed the truck door and stalked toward the office. What was wrong with him? Only one other woman walked the shadows of his mind, and only because he allowed it. He paused at that thought. Maybe she and Holly had something in common. Brett shook his head in disgust. The madness had to stop.

  He glanced at Sterling, who stood just inside the door, peering at him over his trademark tinted lenses.

  “You coming in?”

  Not amused, Brett brushed past him and headed to Sterling’s office.

  As he entered, the smell of fresh paint with a slight mix of cotton candy lingered in the air. No doubt Cameron had been here. Sterling swore the soft, sugary scent of her perfume caused his sweet tooth. Brett looked around, comforted that he wasn’t the only one who had his balls squeezed in a woman’s vise.

  A new, sleek, black leather sofa covered with plush black and tan leather pillows replaced the once-broken-down couch of Sterling’s bachelor days. Life-sized photographs of Sterling’s ride of choice, Fat Bob Harley Davidson motorcycles, all with chrome pipes, hung on each wall. Cameron had scripted the Harley Davidson motto for the bikes over the doorway: Come on out and ride with the big boys.

  Brett grabbed a chair in front of the large oak desk, turned it around and straddled the seat. “Cameron’s greatly improved your sense of style.”

  Sterling gave him a sly look, tossed his shades to the desk, and positioned his burly body in an oversized, leather executive chair.

  Brett swallowed the lump in his throat. “Mine’s next, huh?”

  “You guessed it. She left paint samples on your desk.”

  Brett snickered and drummed his fingertips on the top of the chair. “Any news on Holly’s pool?”

  “Paint.”

  Brett nodded a couple times. “We knew that.” He drummed a faster beat on the chair.

  Sterling leaned back in his chair and folded his arms behind his head. “You gonna let me in on what you found?”

  Brett quieted his fingers. “Holly teaches sensual dance at the gym.”

  “What the hell is sensual dance?”

  Even in his current state of mind, Brett couldn’t resist a jab at Sterling. “Bet Cameron knows.”

  A muscle flicked at the base of Sterling’s jaw, but he remained motionless. Brett recognized the look as one of impending danger.

  “A politically correct term for stripping.”

  That caused Sterling to react. He dropped his hands and scooted the chair closer to the desk. “Are you serious?”

  “As a heart attack.”

  Sterling frowned. “And you tell me this because …”

  Brett filled in the blanks about the vandalism in the gym and then ran a hand through his hair. “Did you find anything else?”

  Sterling slid a file across the desk. “Holly’s background check. It’s just a basic search and it certainly didn’t reveal your Intel.”

  Brett scanned the front page. “We already know all this.” As he flipped the paper and read the second page, his eyes skidded to a stop on her personal history. “She’s been married.” He glanced at Sterling for clarification.

  Sterling nodded. “To a man thirty years older.”

  “Thirty years?”

  “That’s what it says.”

  Brett lowered his head and read further. The next paragraph made his brain squirm. “He was murdered.” Brett shoved the file back at Sterling. “Why?”

  “You need to ask Holly.”

  “Me?”

  Sterling smirked. “Isn’t that what you wanted me to say?”

  Tension kneaded the muscles in Brett’s neck. Sterling handed him the perfect opportunity to try again with Holly. How many more strikes could his ego take?

  “She doesn’t like me, Sterling.”

  “So, turn on that ole Steele charm. Take her out, make her comfortable with you, buy her a few drinks. She’ll tell you everything and then some.” Sterling shrugged. “It shouldn’t be that hard.”

  “Are you willing to face your wife when Holly tells her I got her blasted and took advantage of her?”

  Sterling pinched his forehead between his fingers. “Damn, Steele! That’s not what I meant. What’s the problem, anyway? I’m surprised you don’t already have her in the palm of your hand.”

  Brett winced. “It’s not like I haven’t tried. I ask her out and she turns me down.”

  “Need Cameron’s help?”

  “No! I’ll try again.”
/>
  The telephone on the edge of the desk sprang to life, saving him from explaining to Sterling why he’d failed so miserably with Holly. He was especially relieved since he didn’t know why.

  “What’s wrong, Angel?” he heard Sterling say into the phone.

  Angel? Speak of the devil. Obviously, Cameron was on the other end.

  “I’ll send Steele.”

  Brett’s good humor dissipated.

  Sterling hung up the phone. “Cameron can’t find Holly.”

  Brett lifted his eyebrows. “She’s probably at the gym.”

  “She’s called three times. No answer.”

  “I’ll check it out.” Brett steepled his fingers and braced them against his chin. Holly probably didn’t want to be found. He didn’t know her all that well, but he did know she was an expert at fading into the background.

  “Now’s a good time, Steele,” Sterling drawled.

  Brett stood and walked to the door, unconvinced he could thaw the Ice Princess. “I’ll go, but I won’t make any promises. If she doesn’t want to be found, she won’t be glad to see me.”

  “Go!” Sterling barked.

  “Somebody needs a nap,” Brett mumbled on his way out.

  ***

  The last few rays of blazing sunshine faded as Holly waved her last employee out the door and twisted the lock. Eight o’clock. Normally, time for her to meet Jack’s girls.

  She sighed and reached to turn off the stereo system. A lot changed since the vandalism to her pool. Not only did she relocate sensual dance class, she now closed the gym an hour early and cleaned up behind a locked door. Brett insisted, and she either followed orders or suffered an armed guard planted at the front entrance. Although his take-charge attitude irritated her, it wouldn’t do any good to refuse. His persistence was never ending. And, as much as she hated to admit it, his caution was justified.

  Holly walked through each room, relying on the colors that lingered in the air to guide her. Pastels dominated this evening. Mint green. Comfort. Good health. Duckling yellow. Energy. She breathed a sigh of relief. Nothing sinister so far.