Lola sighed, unconsciously crossing her arms over her chest as she thought about it. “Sarah, my best friend, is a total hypochondriac. She’s…contrary. She would have been all calm while I’d told her but internally building herself into a major freak-out. And then I would have woken up with a bodyguard in my bed.” Her mouth crinkled at the corners, and for some reason, he knew that she was thinking about the irony of her last comment. “I just wanted to wait a day or two before I mentioned it to her so that I was calm enough to buffer her panic.”
Smiling, he nodded his head. “Understandable.”
“I mean, even this,” she said, pointing to him, “seems unnecessary. Extraneous. Right?”
He nodded, unoffended. “I think that the police captain in charge isn’t handling the potential of a serial killer well…” Jacob hesitated, unsure of how much he should say. He knew that he was talking to her as a friend, but he also didn’t want to scare her more. He gave her the short answer. “He has daughters about the same age as the victims. That, coupled with the fact that he wants to keep the case quiet and the feds at bay, seemed to be enough reason to get the DA on his side. Last I spoke to him, he was even considering pulling in the city attorney, James Barrowman, and the mayor’s office.”
“Phew,” she exhaled loudly. “That really puts it in perspective for you. Those girls were someone’s daughters, sisters...” He watched as she fidgeted with her wristwatch. “But you’d still say that the captain is being overly cautious?”
He nodded. “Definitely.” He’d leave out the part about Doug knowing that he had the hots for her; that was past the line, especially considering he was talking to the woman in question. “He just wants to make sure that you’re safe.”
“I was wondering…” She moved towards the kitchenette as she spoke, reached up into a high cupboard where several glasses sat, inadvertently bringing the hem of her tunic to just below the smooth curve of her bottom. Jacob felt his groin tighten, and he deliberately looked away because all he seemed to be able to focus on was the memory of how that perfect ass had felt cupped in his hands.
“I researched the LAPD’s protocol for this online and, well, I couldn’t find anything,” she said, oblivious to his reaction.
“Yeah, it’s not by the book, so to speak.” He kept his eyes averted, more afraid of his own need to touch her than her seeing the blatant lust in them. “Just precautionary.”
“Understandable.” She moved to a small counter where an open bottle of wine sat. “Want some?”
He shook his head. “I’m not on call, but this is technically LAPD business, so I can’t.”
“You’re not going to drink the entire time that you’re staying here?” she asked, her perfect eyebrows raised.
He smiled, sent her a quick wink. “If a bad guy comes, I have to be able to think clearly, react quickly.” He briefly considered exaggerating a karate chop but pulled back just in time. Too soon.
She tapped her fingers on the bottle and, for some reason, Jacob knew that she was gearing up to argue. The thought made him grin.
“And a single glass of wine is going to impair your ninja reaction time?”
He knew that he could probably drink a bottle of wine and still do his job unaffected. He was six-two and two-thirty. But what he couldn’t do was drink and be around Lola in her little black pajamas.
“One glass?”
He looked up, a refusal on his tongue, but instantly bit if back when he saw the challenging tilt of her head. She was teasing him, he realized. “Just one.” You’re a real stoic, Simmone.
She poured them each a glass and then brought his to where he was standing awkwardly by the blow-up mattress. “Can we just agree that this is less than optimal and approach it like the safest slumber party ever?” she asked, her brown eyes looking at him sincerely despite her mouth, which was upturned in a smile.
“Yes. Please.” Not that he’d ever feel ‘safe’ around her, but it was far better than either one of them getting distracted and accidentally being too lax with her safety. That was the entire reason he was there after all.
“I know we agreed to no…personal contact,” she said, her eyes wide, “so let’s just relax. No strings attached until we can…ah…until this is over.”
“Perfect.” He found himself grinning at her, surprisingly comforted by the fact that she seemed as out of depth as he did. It made him feel less desperate in a way, less focused on how much he wanted to touch her, how much he wanted to feel her soft skin beneath his palms.
He took the wine from her hand, took a deep sip to distract himself, and sighed when the tannic swell hit his palette. “This is good,” he said, holding up the glass, as much to distract himself as to actually talk about the wine.
“Thank you. It’s a standard Nebbiolo, but one of my favorite producers.”
“Where do you source from?”
She chuckled. “This particular one is a Whole Foods special, but I try and pop into Grand Cru once a week for my better bottles.”
“I don’t know that place.”
“It’s a really cute tasting room and bottle shop just down the street,” she said. “Near the diner that we went to the other day.”
“Ah,” he nodded, “I think I remember seeing the sign.” He gestured to his head. “A bulldog with a monocle, wearing a bowling hat?”
“Exactly. The owner is this super hipster guy who dropped out of Harvard Law to pursue his passion for wine.”
“Really? In Silver Lake?”
“Yeah.” She laughed. “He’s not quite there yet, but the place stays full. Wait until you meet him. You’ll understand.”
He refrained from pointing out the fact that she had assumed that he’d be meeting her friends or neighborhood bartenders. Instead, he took another sip and forced himself to relax. He didn’t mention that he’d love to meet her friends or her neighborhood bartender either; for some reason, that seemed like dangerous territory, too much like a date and not enough like police protection.
“I also have something to admit…” She put her wine glass down on the counter near her and started twisting the watch at her wrist again, a habit that he had learned was how she expressed her anxiety.
He raised his eyebrows, curious, but didn’t say anything. In his experience, a silent listener usually got more out of any conversation than any active contributor.
“I may have told my neighbor that we were dating.”
He looked at her, surprised by the quick pull he felt drawing his chest tight.
“I’m sorry, but he’s apparently had a thing for me for a while, and, well, I didn’t realize it.” She took a breath before barreling on. “Then once it dawned on me, I just thought, you know, Jacob is going to be staying over. He could totally fit the bill. It just…well, it just came out.”
“Wait, so your neighbor thinks we’re dating?” he asked, trying to keep all incredulity out of his tone at the same time that he stifled a self-satisfied grin. Stop being juvenile, you asshat!
She nodded.
“He wouldn’t happen to be a six-foot surfer-looking character with a square, sculpted jaw, and insanely lean physique?” Jacob had seen the guy the other afternoon when he’d left her apartment. The stranger, who made him feel like he’d pulled the short straw in the looks lottery, had been eyeing him suspiciously and it had taken all Jacob’s will power not to turn and grin at him at the time. In fact, the only thing that had stopped him from doing just that was the realization that he was an adult, not a grade-schooler.