Ground Rules Read online

  “Thank you, Archimedes. Now, do you know where Alice keeps her alcohol?” A stiff drink might give his system the jolt he needed, if only momentarily. Ten proof or one hundred proof, its effects wouldn’t impact him much. Unfortunately. Since “observing” patrons of a bar in Mexico, though, he’d hankered for tequila.

  “In the cabinet over the fridge.” After a stretch, the cat leaped to the counter next to it.

  “Wonderful.” Might as well make himself comfortable. He’d be here awhile. Home sweet home.

  Something fluttered inside him and tried to take flight but slammed into his ribs when he glanced up at the loft where Alice slept.

  I need that drink.

  *~*~*

  In the deepest night, Alice Garner stirred on her pillow and listened. Outside, a deep rumble shook her window like thunder. No—a motorcycle. Wait, that couldn’t be right. Not after it had snowed all day. So beautiful. December snow fell like a promise, full of sparkle and glimmer. Like hope.

  It had distracted her from her work yesterday. Called to her to escape her drawing board and its pages, empty of the illustrations her agent was demanding. Their very blankness screamed at her: Fill me! Hurry!

  Her imagination had failed to respond. The more she looked at them, those mocking, empty pages drained her mind of ideas. Not one remained, not even an inkling. It didn’t help one bit that her agent called for status updates twice a day. The pressure blotted out inspiration. So she’d popped a melatonin and shuffled upstairs to bed, hoping visions of the finished children’s book would soon dance in her head.

  So much for wishing on a Christmas angel.

  A bright light seared through the glass, blotting out her vision, and she raised an arm to shield her eyes. Untangling herself from the covers, she rushed to the window. The spotlight veered away in the night sky, and an engine revved.

  A motorcycle? In the snow? Seriously?

  A thud, then a slushy skid, and the rumble died down on her roof.

  No, not possible. “I must have dreamed it, or have sleeping-pill-induced vertigo.” She did feel a bit woozy.

  A noise in the kitchen made her stumble downstairs, where a tall man in well-fitting jeans muttered and brushed snowflakes off his black leather jacket and black tee shirt. His honey-brown hair, layered to his collar, glistened like new fallen snow. After glancing around her kitchen, he rummaged through her cabinets. The overhead light illuminated him more vividly than anything else in the room, lending an otherworldly glow to him.

  So… beautiful. The only word she could use to describe him. Rock-star handsome. Every movement graceful. Captivating. She gaped, then snapped her mouth shut.

  Must be the sleeping pill. It had dulled her senses, but alarm sharpened them again. Don’t scream. Call 911.

  Stealing back upstairs, she stubbed her toe while lunging for her handbag on the bureau. Stifling her gasp of pain, she drew out her cell and flipped it open. No light. Strange, she’d charged the battery. She reached for the phone on the night table, but it, too, gave off no light when she lifted it.

  She gasped. “He must’ve cut the line. Oh God.” Think, Alice. The baseball bat. Kevin had forgotten it when he packed his things. She’d always imagined whacking him with it, should her ex ever return. He deserved worse for breaking her heart. But could she really use it on anyone to hurt them? How else can I defend myself? I’ll pretend the guy downstairs is Kevin.

  After hastily tossing her pink plush robe atop her tank top and flannel shorts emblazoned with red Ho Ho Ho’s, she steadied herself against the rail, and again crept downstairs. The heavy bat thudded once against the carpeted step, and she froze.

  Humming a tune she didn’t recognize, he bustled about with cheerful determination, a faint glow streaking the air as he glided from spot to spot. Whooshed, almost, hardly moving his feet. How did he do that?

  Get real, Alice. Dreamy as he appeared, this was no dream. She had to protect herself. And Archimedes! What was her cat doing on the counter, so close to this person? Archimedes, who hated being anywhere near her ex, and generally only allowed her to touch him. But there her cat sat, watching this intruder with a wistful, approving expression.

  As she tiptoed toward the man, her heart pounded as she raised the bat over her head, but it wobbled and drooped to one side. Widening her stance, she let out a jungle scream and swung with all her might.

  Still facing the sink, the man raised his arm and continued humming.

  Bits of light swirled to the baseball bat like a swarm of fireflies. Impressively strong fireflies. The damn bat stuck in mid-air and wouldn’t budge.

  Grunting with each yank, she couldn’t move it an inch. She glanced around wildly and picked up the nearest object—a wooden nutcracker figure. Winding up her pitch, she hurled it at the man.

  Again, with his back still turned from her, he held up a hand. Sparkling light enveloped the nutcracker and suspended it. Now two objects hung in the air.

  “What the...” Something tamped down her urge to curse up a storm. Mind reeling, she stumbled backward. Do something!

  Quick as she could, she grabbed and tossed everything within reach: a basket of candy canes, a Santa figure, two small metal reindeer, a ceramic angel. “Oh no.” Her angel. Mom had given her that.

  At each toss, he gave a casual wave, and a wall of light caught each item and held it. The bizarre sight of her belongings drifting in radiant sparkles like dust motes in sunlight made her head spin. This can’t be happening. Clenching her fists at her sides, she released a primal scream of terror.

  From behind the curtain of light, he shot her a scowl. “What are you screaming for? Your liquor cabinet’s practically empty, and I haven’t had a drink in decades. Are you quite finished?”

  That’s it? Complaining she had no alcohol? Dumbfounded, she nodded.

  He waved again, and the light faded. Cradled in glittering light, the objects returned to their former resting places.

  Grimacing, he assessed her, then snapped his fingers. The air shimmered around her like a disco aura, dancing along her skin soft as rain, then dissipated.

  Weird. When the light faded, her fears had evaporated too.

  She struggled to find her voice. “Who are you?”

  Tall and slightly scruffy, he appeared just the right mix of bad boy and pretty boy to make any girl wild. Especially one who hadn’t had a decent date in months.

  “Very funny. As if you don’t know.” His warm smirk enticed rather than taunted her.

  Frozen in confusion, she glanced around. The door didn’t appear to have been forced. Had her agent sent him? Penny would have forewarned her, especially if he were arriving so late. “How did you get in here?”

  On tiptoe, he reached into a top cabinet. “Ah, finally. You hid the good stuff in the back. Good trick.” He pulled out the bottle of tequila.

  “No…” The tequila Kevin had given her when she’d gotten her biggest illustrating contract. They were supposed to celebrate the weekend afterward, but he told her he had to work. He never said on whom, but she later learned it was his intern.

  The guy took a lime from the fridge.

  “I didn’t buy those.” Had he brought fruit? How long had he been here?

  “Don’t tell me you’re not a margarita girl. I thought sure they said you were. And I make a mean margarita.”

  She couldn’t place his accent. European? Not quite British. “Of course I like margaritas. But I—”

  “Wonderful. Now we need your blender.” He opened the correct cabinet door and pulled the appliance out.

  “How did you know where I kept it? And where did that lime come from?” He couldn’t have brought it with him. That made no sense.

  Too busy to answer, he hummed an unfamiliar tune as he precisely measured the ingredients and the blender chugged away.

  Now the neighbors would hate her, as if they didn’t already for her loud music. She had to stop this. “Excuse me, sir.” Sir? What made her say that?
/>   He went to the cabinet where her few drink glasses rested and drew out two margarita glasses, and rimmed them with salt. Had Kevin given her those too? Her brain was still too fuzzy, though this man’s presence gave her a sense of calm. Irrational, certainly inexplicable. But undeniable.

  Hands at her hips, she affected a stern tone. “You never answered my question. Who the hell are you?”

  He held out a luscious-looking margarita. “Give it a go.”

  “I can’t.” A glance at the clock revealed the time: three thirty-three in the morning.

  “’Course you can. You’ll find it’s exactly the way you like it.”

  As if he’d know. “I have too much work to do tomorrow.”

  “Really? Like all the work you did today? And yesterday?” His chuckle had a sardonic edge.

  Bristling, she crossed her arms. “Don’t be mean. I put in long hours.” Not productive ones, unfortunately. Avoiding calls from her agent, Penny, had cost Alice in other ways—her favorite jeans ripped when she’d tripped outside on the ice, pitching her face-first like an impromptu snow angel. When she’d hobbled away, an errant snowball smacked the back of her head. The boys had called out an apology, but also laughed. Laughed. Like evil little elves. Probably not one of them liked to read books. How could her delicate, beautiful children’s book illustrations compete with video games and graphically violent television shows? Nasty hobbies that inspired kids to turn something as beautiful as snow into a weapon.

  She used to love snow. She’d even included it on her Christmas wish list. The way the flakes swirled and danced yesterday, she could almost believe someone had been listening and granted her wish. This year, Alice had needed that snow. That ping to her deepest imagination, too long dormant. Instead, snow had created problem after problem.

  Yes, she could use a margarita about now. Bad idea. “Besides, I took a sleeping pill, so I can’t have alcohol.”

  “Oh right, I’d forgotten.” He stepped closer, his incredible blue eyes intent on her.

  All her senses went on full alert as he approached. His presence overwhelmed her with incredible sensations, made her fully aware of every inch of him.

  Snap out of it! She backed away. “What are you doing?” She batted his raised arm away. Despite her inexplicable calm, she didn’t know this guy. Or did she? He seemed strangely familiar, like she’d spoken to him before.

  His hands hovered near her head. “Don’t move.”

  His commanding tone silenced her. She stilled while he placed his hands near her temples. The palpable heat of his presence suffused warmth through her, like basking in the sun on a summer’s day, relaxing her, yet at the same time flooded her with excitement. A gasp of pleasure escaped.

  “Close your eyes,” he said.

  Framed with thick dark lashes, his ice-blue eyes mesmerized her. She didn’t want to shut her eyes and lose sight of him, but did as he said. The sensations of pleasure and excitement heightened. Her skin registered his touch even though his fingers never connected with her.

  “Open them,” he said.

  Her eyes fluttered wide.

  “Better?” His smile suggested he knew already.

  “You’re still sort of glowing, but not so conspicuously.” Had the melatonin pill given her some insight she wouldn’t normally have?

  “Then look elsewhere.”

  The room appeared normal. Her vision returned to its usual clarity, no fog in her brain. “How did you do that?” The urgent need to defend herself, to lock him out of her loft, had vanished. Hypnotism? But no, he hadn’t uttered any commands.

  He winked. “Let’s have that drink, shall we?”

  Following him to the kitchen, she took the glass he offered. “You never answered me. Who are you?”

  Splaying a hand across his chest, he bowed his head. “Luke. At your service.”

  “I don’t need your services.” Well, a few she could certainly use. It had been too long since any man had entered her loft, or her life. Especially one so hot as Luke. But no one was going to hijack her project. She’d finish it alone and on time.

  He clucked his tongue. “That’s not how I heard it.”

  Damn that Penny. “I don’t care what she told you. I’m perfectly capable of finishing this job.” If it killed her.

  He let out a long breath and crossed his ankles as he leaned against the counter. “I’m not thrilled about being here either. I was quite content to go on about my business, though some might argue my business should be busier.”

  What did that mean? Did he talk in circles to confuse her? It was working. Her grip tightened around her glass. “What, exactly, is your business?”

  “Technically, assisting people such as you. But I’ve never complained about waiting in the assignment queue. I don’t mind letting others go in my stead. I’m not an expert, after all.” The last of his good humor disappeared, and he seemed disappointed in himself.

  “Great. So Penny sends an inexperienced assistant. What a great show of confidence.”

  “Penny?” He laughed. “Good God no.” He winced, glancing upward. “Sorry. Yes, I know I violated a Ground Rule. I said sorry.”

  Scanning the room, she wondered if he’d lost his mind. “Who are you talking to?”

  He wrinkled his nose. “Never mind.”

  “Wait. Penny didn’t send you?” Dread should have stiffened her, and her senses should have shifted to alarm. Instead, calm again clamped over her nervous system like a downy pillow. One she wanted to curl into.

  “I’m here,” he said slowly, his diction crisp, “at your request.”

  One of them was clearly out of their minds, but she was fairly sure it wasn’t her. She could scream, but the neighbors would simply roll over in bed. Again. A scramble for the door might work, but his long legs would overpower her strides. Another reason to hate her average build. “This is not funny.”

  His tone grew bored. “You’re telling me.”

  Awfully smug for an intruder. If he were going to attack her, would he go to the trouble of mixing drinks first? To ply her, maybe? Loosen her up with margaritas? Really good margaritas, she had to admit.

  Curling her toes against the kitchen tile, she peered up at him. “Who the hell are you?”

  He reached for the blender carafe and then topped off her drink and then his own. “Forgotten already, have you?”

  “Not your name.” She resisted the temptation to grab the pitcher and down it all. “What are you doing here?” If she had to ask one more time, she might pummel him.

  “Drink up. We’ll talk.” He chugged half his and smacked his lips. Like the rest of him, his mouth was perfect.

  Unable to stop staring, she gulped liquid fortification. Tequila would boost her fiery nature. It always did. Sometimes too much. “Now tell me.”

  “You tell me.” He refilled each glass.

  She studied him through narrowed eyes. “Pardon?”

  His glow returned. “Is that not the best margarita this side of heaven?”

  Speaking of heaven, he appeared more gorgeous by the minute. When he smiled, his eyes crinkled at the edges, and sparkled with a devilish shine. Everything about him seemed too… perfect. No one could be that amazing.

  Not about to let his obvious charms sweep her away, she figured he must have a curse to match every charm. “I don’t think they have margaritas in heaven, so probably yes.”

  He gave a mock scowl. “You’re absolutely right. It’s terribly unfair.”

  “Right about what?”

  “No margaritas in heaven.” His matter-of-fact tone held only seriousness.

  She snorted, and immediately regretted it. “As if you’d know.” So, a twisted sense of humor. Strike one. But if bad boy angels flocked to heaven, she might be tempted to visit there.

  He drew back, puzzled. “Why wouldn’t I?”

  “For the same reason I wouldn’t.” The short fuse of her patience ran out. “Look, quit kidding around. You said we’d talk.” />
  Exuding little-boy innocence, he widened his eyes. “And so we are.”

  Men. So infuriating! “That’s it.” She strode to the door. “You’re going to have to leave.”

  He shrugged. “I can’t.”

  “Enough games. Go.” Yet if he did, she suspected her inexplicable calm would go with him. She rather liked not having any worries.

  Striding easily into the other room, he moved with an animal grace, so fluid his motions absorbed all her focus. Like a jaguar stretching on a tree limb, he eased onto the sofa and rested his boots atop the coffee table. “Not until I’ve finished.”

  She obviously presented no physical threat to him. In exasperation, she stomped to the coffee table. “Then drink up and go. It’s late and I have to get up early.”

  “I didn’t mean my drink.” He sipped, pinky extended.

  The calm billowed inside her so suddenly, her head threatened to explode. “Then what did you mean?”

  He stilled, his crystal eyes piercing hers. “My assignment.”

  Despite her mental steadiness, her knees wobbled. “What exactly is your assignment?”

  He lifted his drink in a cheer. “You.”

  “Are you here to…kill me?” Maybe the publisher’s frustration had reached a critical level. The thought should have frightened her out of her mind, yet a cocoon of peacefulness wrapped snugly around her.

  He burst into laughter, tried to speak, but slumped over, hand atop his abs. Really great abs, from the skin showing where his black tee shirt had shifted. But that was beside the point.

  Anger overtook her. Flicking back her robe, she set her hands on her hips. “What’s so funny?” Wasn’t she even important enough to assassinate?

  Hooting, he took deep breaths and swiped his eyes. “Oh, that was priceless.”

  Her stance wavered. “I don’t see the humor.”

  After he tamed his laughter to a chuckle, he managed, “For one, it’s against The Code. Not to mention my nature.” Cocking a brow, he clucked his tongue in feigned indignation. “Second, you asked for assistance. The sole reason I’m here.”