Her eyes narrowed, and her face screwed up in obvious disappointment. “No,” she cried and took a menacing step forward.
“I am not going to fight you,” he told her.
“Defend yourself.”
“Stop.”
She made a fist, and he grabbed and held her hand. But she was quick, she’d obviously anticipated his move, and she pivoted, putting him off balance.
“Stop,” he shouted.
He wrapped his arms around her from behind, clamping down while she wiggled to get free.
The door suddenly swung open, and Kassidy appeared.
“Troy!” She gaped at her brother in obvious horror.
He immediately released Mila.
“What are you doing?”
“She attacked me.”
Kassidy headed across the room. “What did you do to her?” She put a comforting arm around Mila’s shoulders.
He was disgusted. Talk about having it both ways.
“I started it,” said Mila.
“Too bad,” said Kassidy, still glaring at him. “He’s the man.”
“No, he’s not the man.” Then Mila seemed to realize how that sounded. “I mean, he is a man. But we’re both...”
Troy couldn’t help himself. “Men?”
She glared at him. “Equals.”
“He’s got a hundred pounds on you,” said Kassidy.
“Almost,” Troy agreed.
“I’m faster,” said Mila clamping her jaw.
“No, you’re not,” he countered.
“What are you two fighting about?” Kassidy asked.
Mila blinked, looking momentarily confused.
He couldn’t remember, either.
“He’s stubborn,” said Mila.
“She’s opinionated,” he said.
“We were talking about your fans,” she added.
“Yeah. Your fans. And your gigs. And your security.”
“I have a plan.” Mila shrugged. “And he’s trying to give Vegas the credit.”
“I am not.” That wasn’t remotely close to what he’d told her. “If you were a man,” he said to Mila. “If you were, in fact, a man, I’d have Vegas sticking to you like glue.”
She folded her arms across her chest. “Because I’m incompetent?”
“Will you two stop shouting?” Kassidy broke in.
Then he heard it. Drake was crying in the bedroom.
“Thanks a lot,” said Kassidy. “I was hoping to get a cup of coffee first.”
Troy experienced an unexpected and unwanted shot of guilt. It was his apartment, for goodness’ sake. He wasn’t allowed to raise his voice in his own apartment?
“I’ll get him.” Even as he made the offer, he wondered why he was doing it.
Maybe just to get away. Maybe to put some distance between him and Mila. He sure needed it.
For a while there, he’d thought making love to her would get things out of his system. He thought that if he stopped wondering about it, stopped speculating on what it would be like, stopped imagining her naked, he could stop obsessing over her.
That was a mistake. Making love to her was better than he could have imagined. She was more beautiful than he’d ever dreamed. The obsession wasn’t gone. It was worse now than ever.
He paced his way across the living room, finding Drake in the dim bedroom, up on his hands and knees in his crib bawling his eyes out.
Troy gently lifted the baby, cradling him against his chest, stroking his hair.
“Poor thing,” he crooned. “Who wants to wake up all alone in the dark?”
He laid the baby down on top of the dresser, which was the makeshift changing table. He’d gotten pretty fast at changing a diaper. Though Drake fussed, it was over quickly, and he was back in Troy’s arms.
Troy patted Drake’s back as he left the bedroom, heading for the kitchen and a bottle of formula.
“Who wants to wake up all alone in the dark?” he repeated in a soothing undertone, even as he pictured his own empty bed. “I wish I could tell you it gets better, little guy. But life is full of long, long, lonely nights.”
Nine
Mila was working with two new pieces of information from last night’s performance, and Vegas had assigned her a desk in the bullpen. Sitting next to Charlie, an irreverent, handsome twenty-something and the newest employee of Pinion, she was beginning to feel more like a member of the team.
Charlie didn’t seem to have Troy’s bias against women. He’d worked the street outside the club last night, photographing all of the black SUVs in the vicinity. Now he was working through facial recognition databases with the best picture she’d taken of the blazer guy. If they could get a name, they might match it to a license plate.
The man had been right up front by the stage this time. She’d been tempted to talk to him, but the last thing she wanted to do was tip her hand. She’d checked with the bartender, but the man hadn’t bought a drink. Too bad—a credit card receipt or a glass with fingerprints would have been nice.
At the same time, she didn’t want to fixate on him. She hadn’t seen him send any messages last night, yet Kassidy had received seven from both MeMyHeart and BluebellNighthawk.
It could still be someone else.
She was reviewing another long list of messages when something caught her eye.
“Hang on,” she said to Charlie.
There were three other agents working in the room, creating a backdrop of telephone conversations, newsfeeds and the hum of equipment.
“What is it?” he asked, looking up from his monitor.
“It’s on the MeMyHeart account. He says the usual stuff—she’s beautiful, talented, looks good in pink. He does seem to have a thing for pink. But get this: ‘when we’re reunited, all together again, and you are my own.’”
“Creep level of about four,” said Charlie.
“I’d give it a five. But here’s the thing, the words all together again. Does that sound like more than two? Together again would be two. All together is more.”
“Maybe.”
“Maybe three?” She sorted her way through possibilities.
“Could be,” said Charlie.
“Drake makes three.”
Charlie looked up at her.
Mila quickly went back to her computer and scrolled through MeMyHeart’s previous posts.
He’d mentioned Drake. He’d mentioned the baby more than once. Could he have meant the three of them all together? He’d also used the word again. Had the three of them somehow been together in the past?
A shiver ran up her spine. Could blazer guy have something to do with Drake? Were they coming at this backward? Could Drake possibly be the conduit to Kassidy?
She brought up blazer guy’s picture and hit print. She had to show it to Kassidy.
“I’m going upstairs,” she told Charlie.
“You got something?”
“Just a hunch. I won’t be long.”
“Anything I can do?”
She went for the printer. “Find me a name for blazer guy. That’ll make my day.”
“Working on it.”
She paused with the printed picture in her hand. “Thanks, Charlie.”
He looked puzzled. “Just doing my job.”
“I mean, thanks for treating me like one of the guys.”
He gave a small smile. “You are one of the guys.”
The words warmed her heart.
He went back to his work. “I’ll call you if anything comes through.”
“Thanks.”
She was on the third floor, and she took the stairs to nine, knocking on Troy’s apartment door.
While she waited, she realized that it could be Troy who opened the door. It was almost noon, and he often had lunch in the apartment. She hadn’t seen him since their disastrous lovemaking. She hoped she wasn’t about to see him now.
What would she do? What would she say? More importantly, what would he do, and what would he say? Would he ignore it as she’d asked? Would he allude to it? Would he make a move?
If he made a move, she’d absolutely call him on it and tell him in no uncertain terms to keep his hands to himself. She wasn’t about to become the boss’s plaything.
As she thought about his hands—what they’d done to her, what they could do to her—her skin heated up and a gleam of desire began in her core. The man had magic hands, magic lips, magic—
The doorknob rattled, and she braced herself.
But it was Kassidy who opened the door.
Mila told herself she was relieved.
“Hey, Mila.” Kassidy was jiggling Drake in her arms.
The baby grinned when he saw Kassidy, holding out his arms and leaning toward her.
“Oh, sure,” Kassidy chided with a smile. “Go to Auntie Mila. Never mind that I’m the one who feeds, changes and rocks you to sleep.”
Mila lifted Drake, settling him against her hip while he cooed and grabbed at the leather bag strap on her shoulder.