“But his target wasn’t,” Dante pointed out. “Or should I say targets?”
Jake almost asked how he knew that, but then realized the man had read his mind while following him in here. He probably knew everything Jake had seen and heard since finding Ball-Cap Boy in the kitchen. So he knew the man wanted to wipe out him, Nicole, and every other person he’d seen enter this house, most of whom were immortals.
“He’s sick,” Dante said quietly. “His family know that and haven’t done a damned thing about it, but hire lawyers to keep him out of trouble and on the streets. They’ll do the same this time and then he’ll be a threat again, not just to you and Nicole, but to us, your parents, Neil, Marguerite, Christian and Caro, Tybo—”
“Basically everyone who he’s seen me with,” Jake interrupted wearily.
Dante nodded silently.
“Right,” Jake said stiffly. “I guess I’d better talk with Nicole then. Would you like to leave so I can do it?”
Dante turned away and headed out of the room for answer.
Jake followed him to the door and pulled it closed, then took a deep breath and turned to face Nicole. One glance at her on the bed in that getup though, and he whirled to face the door again. Damn! How the hell was he supposed to just talk to her with her looking like that?
“Honey, can you maybe get out of that outfit or pull on a robe so we can talk?” he asked in a pained tone. He really didn’t want her out of it, he wanted to make love to her while she wore it . . . well, minus the panties. He’d like to rip those off of her . . . maybe with his teeth.
Jake heard Nicole moving around behind him, some rustling, and then she said, “Okay.”
Letting out a breath, Jake turned to look at her and felt his knees go weak. She’d taken off the fedora and pulled on a short black silk robe that didn’t cover a damned thing in the pose she’d assumed. She was reclining on the bed, one leg bent, the other flat out, resting on her elbows, her hair and the robe hanging down to gather on the bed and cover absolutely nothing.
“Nicole, please,” he pleaded weakly. “We have to talk.”
“Yes,” she said and he blinked in confusion.
“Yes, what?” he asked uncertainly.
“To whatever you want to ask me,” Nicole responded at once.
Jake hesitated and then said, “I want to ask if you’d be willing to at least consider being my life mate.”
“Yes,” she repeated.
Jake frowned. “You will?”
Now she looked uncertain. “Am I not supposed to say yes? Did you want me to say no?”
“No, of course not,” he said at once. “But . . . don’t you want some time to think about it?”
Sighing with exasperation, Nicole sat up and scooted to the end of the bed, the robe trailing out behind her. “Jake, I just took on a gun-toting sicko with nothing but a pillow to save your life. I’m pretty sure that means my feelings for you are pretty strong.”
She tilted her head and smiled crookedly. “You’re smart, I respect you, and . . .” Nicole hesitated and then confessed, “That day in the SUV when the brakes went out, all I kept thinking was, “Thank God it’s Jake at the wheel.” She eyed him solemnly. “I trust you with my life. I’m pretty sure I love you. But more importantly, I like you.”
“That’s more important than love?” he asked with amusement.
Nicole nodded solemnly. “I have relatives I love, but don’t much respect or like. I couldn’t live with them if my life depended on it. But I like and respect you. I enjoy your company and I can imagine a future with you.”
Jake simply stared at her in the silence that followed. His heart had felt like it expanded with every word she’d spoken and now it felt so swollen it ached. She liked and respected him. The way she explained it, that was the best thing in the world.
When Nicole stood up suddenly, looking uncertain, and muttered something unintelligible as she turned toward the bathroom, Jake realized he’d been silent too long.
“I like you too,” he blurted, catching her arm to stop her leaving.
Nicole hesitated and then turned slowly back, eyes still uncertain. “Really?”
“Oh, yes, really,” Jake assured her, pulling her against his chest so he could wrap his arms around her and hold her close. “I love your talent, your brain, your sense of humor, your body”—his hands began to move over her back and bottom as he continued—“your passion”—he slid the robe off her shoulders, leaving her in only the sexy outfit and urged her back to get a better look as he added, “your taste in clothes. Cripes, this is the sexiest damned thing I’ve ever seen.”
“I wanted to apologize for getting short with you about suspecting my brother. He was the best suspect,” she admitted.