License to Thrill

McKray."
    James closed the door and turned the deadbolts, then walked back to the couch. "Want to lie down?"
    She nodded, then slid down and drew up her legs, leaving room for him to sit on the end. He did, but he pulled her feet into his lap, straightening her legs into a more comfortable position.
    "I should thank you," she said, glancing at him through her lashes. "Lately every time I look up, there you are."
    He smiled and laid his head back, massaging her feet. "It's my job."
    Disappointment rose in her chest. Still the dutiful agent. "Shouldn't you be on your way to the airport?"
    He rolled his head toward her. "New York will still be there."
    "And where is Lady Mercer?" Kat acquired a mock accent and lifted her nose in the air.
    James grunted and expelled a short breath. "I believe she checked into the Flagiron." He grinned and leaned toward her. "Careful, Pussy-Kat, if I didn't know better, I might think you were jealous."
    "I'm still delirious from the blast."
    His thumbs were working magic on her insteps. "Believe me, you have nothing to be jealous of where Tania is concerned."
    "She's very beautiful."
    "Yes."
    "And slender."
    "Yes."
    "And rich."
    "Three for three," he said with a smile.
    "Nice?"
    He squinted. "It depends, but today, no."
    "So," she said, studying her cuticles. "Do you two have an understanding?"
    "If you mean that Tania and I understand there is nothing between us, then yes."
    "But you were lovers."
    He dropped his gaze, but nodded, still rubbing her feet.
    Well, it was certainly hard to blame the woman for staking her claim, Kat acknowledged with a little barb of remorse. After all, he had slept in Tania's bed long before he'd slept in hers.
    "I didn't ask, Kat," he said softly, "but I assumed you weren't a virgin either."
    She smiled wryly. "No."
    A slow grin spread across his face. "Good, because if I had despoiled you, I would have felt a gentlemanly obligation to marry you."
    Her heart cartwheeled over the mere mention of the word, but she kept an innocent, light smile on her face. "Horror of horrors."
    His gaze was steady, but unreadable. "I'm glad we see eye to eye on some things, Pussy-Kat." Giving her feet a final pat, he slid out from under them and said, "I'll get your bed ready and come back for you."
    "No, I'll walk," Kat insisted, swinging her feet to the floor, and standing up slowly. He took her arm and they headed into her room, then Kat diverted to the bathroom. She frowned at the abrasions on her face and arms, but thanked her guardian angel for the hundredth time for keeping her and James safe.
    The thought of their most recent conversation resurrected the hurt in her chest. James couldn't have made it more clear that if he had intentions of settling down, it wouldn't be soon, and it wouldn't be with her. Yet she had to admire his honesty in this age of cat-and-mouse games. And ironically, if anything, it made her feelings toward him even stronger. She gingerly pulled a nightgown over her head, then shuffled back into the bedroom.
    She hadn't realized how sleepy she was until she felt the mattress at her back. James extinguished all the lights but a small lamp, then removed his shirt and shoulder holster. He checked his gun and laid it on the night stand, then piled extra pillows next to her and sat against the headboard on top of the covers, his legs stretched out in front of him.
    Kat closed her eyes and tried to forget about the man next to her. She dozed fitfully, then awakened around two o'clock, her mind working feverishly. She was on the verge of remembering something, she could feel it.
    She focused on James's deep, even breathing, the rise and fall of his chest in the dim lamplight, hoping her subconscious would take over. Suddenly, a thought struck and she reached over to shake James's shoulder before it escaped her. He jerked awake, his eyes wide, his hand automatically going to his gun on the nightstand.
    "What? Are you all right?"
    "Don't shoot," she said, only half joking. "I just thought of something."
    He sagged against the headboard in relief, then leaned forward to stretch his lower back. "What?"
    "James, what if the something someone is worried about isn’t something I've already seen or heard, but something I would have encountered in the near future?"
    He frowned, then launched a full-body stretch, punctuated with a shuddering yawn. "You mean like something at the open house?"
    "Possibly. Maybe someone I would have met?"
    He nodded. "Someone who