Page 5 of The Agent
So maybe hewasher type in some primitive way. But she was old enough and wise enough to control her less intelligent impulses.
“Nice place,” Tully said as the Maserati growled to a stop in the driveway of Natalie’s Craftsman bungalow–style home. “You’ve got a lot of land for suburban New Jersey.”
“The woods in back are part of a Green Acres space that’s preserved for wildlife and hiking,” Natalie explained.
The windows of her house glowed with welcome, thanks to the lights she’d set on timers. She usually loved the three deep, asymmetrical roofs, the rustic stone foundation of the columned porch, and the embrace of trees around her backyard. Tonight, though, she felt a reluctance to leave the security of the powerful vehicle and the formidable man who drove it.
But Tully had already swung his door open and unfolded his big body out of the low-slung sports car. She was still gathering up her skirt when her own door opened. He held out his big square hand and she found her fingers once again enveloped by warmth and support. An echo of the awareness she’d felt on the dance floor shimmered through her, leaving a trail of sparks in its wake.
As she stood, she felt the urge to sway closer to him to get a last whiff of his distinctive scent, which she had caught again in the closed space of the car.
“I’ll walk you to the door.” He held out his arm and she took it without hesitation this time.
“I appreciate that,” she said as they stepped onto the flagstone walkway. “Coming home so late to an empty house makes me a little nervous.”
There, she’d admitted it.
“You should get a big dog. You’ve got the room for it to run.”
“I work too many hours to have a dog. I make do with a security system.”
He grimaced. “Tell me it’s not one of those with a recording of a dog barking.”
“No barking, just an ear-splitting siren and a call to the monitoring station.” As she lifted her skirt to navigate the steps, he glanced around with a disapproving frown. “What is it?” she asked.
“That siren better be real loud.”
“I know. My house is somewhat isolated by the green space.” Her porch floor was made of solid wood but she felt a slight sag when Tully stepped onto it. Something about that broke down the courage she’d been holding on to. “May I ask a favor?”
Surprise flickered over the craggy angles of his face. “I’m at your service.”
“Would you mind just, you know”—she waved a vague hand, finding it harder to frame her request than she expected—“checking through the house before you leave? I feel silly but it would make me less ... tense.” She took a deep breath to calm the flutter of anxiety in her rib cage.
His gaze scanned her face like a laser. In return she gave him a straight look with no undercurrents. He finally said, “Be happy to.”
When she opened the front door and disarmed the alarm, his expression sharpened into alert watchfulness. “Lock the door,” he said.
She turned the dead bolt and stood with her back to the door, watching him prowl through the open plan of her first floor like a hunting cat—in his black tux, maybe a panther. He didn’t take just a cursory glance around the living room. He walked behind the sectional sofa, inspected the interior of the coat closet, and checked the window latches.
When he reached the dining area, he frowned at the big sliding doors that opened out onto the patio. An odd thrill ran through her when he pushed aside the sheer curtains and ran his fingers over the locking mechanism. “This would take about ten seconds to pick,” he said. “You need to put security bars on these sliders.” He scanned the opposite wall with an expert gaze. “Although at least you have glass-break sensors.”
“The alarm company was supposed to install the bars but they got busy and never finished the job,” Natalie said. “I forgot about it until now.”
She’d never felt the need for them before. She had always loved the way light poured in through the big doors, but now the darkness seemed to loom against them like a menacing shadow instead.
He continued his survey, striding into the kitchen to circle the marble-topped island. She followed him so that she could watch the coiled power of his body as he checked the pantry, his posture tense and poised as though he expected someone to spring out at him. She couldn’t decide if the seriousness of his inspection made her feel more secure or more frightened.
He toured her small office, the powder room, and the attached garage, where he even knelt to check under her car.
She felt more than a little foolish by now. “You don’t have to be that thorough,” she said. “I don’t really think anyone would wedge themselves under my car.”
He straightened to his substantial height. “You looked worried. I take that seriously.”
“That’s kind of you, but now I feel like I overreacted.”
He came around the car to where she stood in the doorway, her chiffon skirt swirling around her ankles in the cooler air wafting in from the garage. Even in her heels and standing on the raised threshold, she had to tilt her head back to see him smile in a way that was meant to be reassuring but had a hint of steel underlying it. “It’s always better to take precautions. Let’s check upstairs.”
She nodded and pivoted to head for the stairs. She could almost feel his presence grazing the skin exposed by the low back of her gown. When they reached the foot of the staircase, he stopped her by clasping her nearly bare shoulder so that the heat of his palm seemed to leave an imprint on her skin, reminding her of his strong guiding touch while they had danced.
