He pulled into the slot near her unit. Once he killed the engine, she started to open her door, then paused. "You don't have to go in, you know. I can go over everything with Martin," she added, referring to her manager.
His brows rose, but he said nothing.
"I just mean, you know. You've done so much already." That wasn't it, though. That wasn't even close to it. Just the opposite, really. Because it wasn't how much he'd done, but how comfortable she'd become around him. And how much he was pushing. Because what if he pushed harder? And what if she caved?
She could almost see that terrifying future unfolding. Her telling him all those secrets she'd kept locked up for years. Truths that could land her in so much trouble she'd never manage to claw her way out again.
Truths that could get her killed.
Except Landon already knew that piece of the truth, because it was Beau who'd be doing the killing.
Anyway you sliced it, the problem was the same--she'd let Landon get too close. And even though a very big part of her wanted him even closer, it was safer to push him away.
Silence hung thick in the air between them, crowding the already cramped interior of the car.
"You're suggesting I just drop you and leave?"
"You've already given up a lot of your time. I'm supposed to be a side project, right? And Martin knows the system. He must since he supervised the install."
"Uh-huh." He opened the door, then started to slide out of the car. "Come on. We're going."
"Landon," she began, but he was already out. She frowned, scooted out, too, then circled the car and met him. "Dammit, I--"
"No." He held up a finger, silencing her. "You either let me check out the apartment, or you come sleep at my house. Your choice. But you're not going in there without me beside you. And for the record, Martin doesn't know the system as well as I do. I ordered it. I arranged it with the installation team. I gave them the initial settings. You want to understand all the bells and whistles? How to stay safe? I'm the guy you need."
"Okay, but--"
"No buts. You say you're supposed to be a side project? Like that's all you are to me? Then fine. Have it your way." She could hear the frustration--maybe even anger--in his voice. "But I'm doing this because Brent asked. And I'm not taking risks with you. He'd have my ass if something happened to you."
"Brent's not the boss of me." Taylor pushed back her hair, trying to sound calm. "Is that the only reason you've been helping me? Because Brent asked you to?"
He made an exasperated noise. "You're an idiot if you think that." His soft tone, as gentle as a caress, washed over her.
He took a single step closer, then spoke even more softly. As if she was a frightened kitten, and he was afraid of startling her. "I don't know what spooked you between our break outside the library and the walk back to the car. Maybe you remembered something. Maybe you saw something. Maybe you're just rolling around too much in your own head. But the bottom line is that I'm watching over you. That's it. The end. So deal the fuck with it, okay?"
She rocked back on her heels, so surprised by such strong words in that soft tone that she couldn't help but laugh. "Okay," she said, out of reflex as much as acquiescence.
"Good. Then let's go in." He put his hand on her shoulder as she inserted her key, and she stiffened, hyperaware of the contact between them, and the way his touch lit a fire inside her.
"Wait here," he said once they'd stepped inside, closed the door behind them, and he'd punched in the code to disarm the alarm. Then he pulled a small gun from his pocket--she hadn't even realized he had it--and proceeded slowly through the place. She watched him move through the living room and kitchen, then heard him opening the closet doors in her bedroom and bathroom.
Finally, he called to her. "Taylor?"
"I'm here. I'm good. But can you--ah!" She leaped backward, surprised by a flying brown blob.
Landon was back by her side in an instant, his gun drawn and ready. "What?"
"I--I don't know."
"Maybe you imagined it?"
She wanted to argue, but then she saw the movement again, and she leapt into his arms, clinging tight. Her chest was pressed to those rock-hard abs as his free strong arm curved around her. She felt his position change as he slipped the gun back into the holster that she now saw clipped to the inside of his jeans. And she heard his soft, reassuring voice telling her it was only a cat. Mr. Patches, some part of her mind realized. A stray that tended to wander into her place.
Landon still spoke soothing words, but she barely heard them. Instead, all she could hear was the beat of her own blood pounding in her ears. All she could feel was the heat of him pressed hard against her.
She lifted her head, then leaned back enough so that she could look up into his eyes. "Landon," was all she said.
It was enough.