A Kept Woman

Already Natalie felt a pang of envy. All of her life she’d wanted to be a loving wife and a good, caring mother. But instead, she’d become a toy, a blow-up doll for her lover’s amusement. “I used to be a brunette.”

He gave her a perplexed look. “I’m aware of that, but what does your old hair color have to do with your new landlords?”

“Nothing. You called me a hot-looking blonde earlier. But I was a brunette when I was with David.”

“I wasn’t making a literal statement. And you’re beautiful either way.”

“I don’t need you to compliment me.”

He frowned at her. “I’m not stroking your ego. I’m just stating the facts. You’re going to get a lot of attention no matter where you live. You’re going to turn some heads.”

Was she supposed to downplay her appearance? She’d tried to create a classy image, to mold herself into someone new. “Does that bother you?”

“Why would it?” he responded a bit too defensively.

“No reason.” She tasted her food and battled the annoying little flutter in her stomach. The telltale sign that she was attracted to her field inspector, a man who made her much too aware of her past as another man’s mistress.

Two

Zack didn’t like the sexual vibe that stretched between him and Natalie. He wanted to blame her for it, to tell her to knock it off, but how could he? All she was doing was sitting across from him, rejecting the onions in her sandwich.

But somehow she still managed to stir his imagination. Then again, he’d heard all sorts of things about her. Hot, erotic things. Mob rumors, he supposed. Stories the FBI had passed on to the Marshal Service. Not that Zack normally lent an ear to gossip, but he’d been weaned on organized crime. His uncle had worked for the Marshal Service when the LCN—La Cosa Nostra—had been riding high. And although the West Coast Family wasn’t part of the Italian Mafia, they’d patterned their organization after the guys his uncle used to tell him about.

Zack couldn’t remember who’d circulated the rumors about Natalie. It wasn’t Uncle Joe. He died before the West Coast Family had come into power. But either way, Zack recalled hearing about Nancy Perris. And now here he was, helping her relocate.

According to legend, Nancy was every mobster’s dream. She was good with her hands and even better with her mouth. She got off on arousing David Halloway in public places, in putting her head in his lap.

Was any of that true? Zack didn’t know, but like the red-blooded, sexually obsessed male he was, he had weird fantasies about finding out, about straight-out asking her.

“Is your sandwich okay?” he asked instead.

She nodded and reached for her napkin.

He watched her wipe a drop of mayonnaise from her lips, and while she dabbed at the creamy condiment, his groin sent a dangerous signal to his brain. He nearly cursed out loud. The last thing he needed was to fall under her do-you-want-me-to-put-my-head-in-your-lap? spell. He couldn’t remember the last time a woman had done that to him.

“Is yours?” she said.

He shifted in his chair. “Is my what?”

“Sandwich good?”

“I get these pretty often.” He picked up his drink and tried to douse the unwelcome desire. If Zack had a lover, he would go straight home and get laid.

Natalie looked up. “How much time am I going to have to spend with you?”

Too much, he thought. “That depends on how long it takes to get you settled.” For the first month, he normally dealt with a relocated family on a daily, Monday through Friday basis, but he never really knew what to expect. Some witnesses required more guidance than others. “We need to work out a schedule so I can familiarize you with the area, find you a car, help you scout locations for your boutique.” Pausing, he glanced around. “And finish furnishing this house.”

“I want to enroll in school, too.”

“Of course.” He knew she had plans to further her education. All she had was a high-school diploma to her name—her old name and her new one. WITSEC only supplied documents to which a witness was entitled.

“I was told North Idaho College has workforce-training classes.”

Curious, he sat back, gauging her. “What are you interested in taking?”

“Business-related courses.”

Could she be a little more specific? “To prepare you for the boutique?”

She squared her shoulders. “Yes, but I worked at a clothing store. I have experience to rely on, too.”

Her confident posture didn’t fool him. From what he understood, her job as a salesclerk had been short-lived, a few months at best. “That was a long time ago.”

“It’ll come back to me.”

“I’m sure school will help.” According to Natalie’s file, she’d met David Halloway at one of his strip clubs, auditioning to be a lap dancer. And that, he thought, was a far cry from a retail store. “I’ll drive you to the college tomorrow. You can pick up a catalog.”

“What about my furniture? Can we take care of that tomorrow, as well?”

“Sure.”

She blew out an audible breath. “I need to increase my wardrobe, too. My old clothes don’t fit anymore. WITSEC got me some new things, but the selection is rather limited.”

Zack studied the top of her pantsuit. “Looks like you finagled some nice duds to me.”

“Finagled?” Her eyes, those smoky cat eyes, turned sharp. “I’ve gone from a size twelve to a size eight within a matter of months. What was I supposed to wear on this trip? A gunnysack? Or did you expect WITSEC to send me to Idaho naked?”

He cleared his throat. Picturing her naked wasn’t on the agenda. “Fine. I’ll take you to the mall when I get a chance. But don’t ask me to arrange for the funds. That wasn’t part of your MOU.”

“Don’t preach to me about my Memorandum of Understanding. I’m well aware of what was in it.” Defiant, she lifted her chin. “I’m more than capable of buying my own clothes.”

And living on the stipend WITSEC provided, he thought. Until she got her business off the ground, the government would be paying her way.

Finally, they finished their lunch. She crumpled their trash and stuffed it back into the bag. Before things turned tense again, he asked, “Do you want to get groceries now?”

She shook her head. “Truthfully? I don’t feel like going back out.”

“Then give me a list and I’ll take care of it.” He wasn’t about to leave her with an empty fridge. She already looked as though she starved herself.

“That sounds fine to me.” She rose to get her purse, which she’d left on the kitchen counter.

He turned to watch her, to wonder what her audition as a lap dancer had been like. Had she gotten the job? Zack couldn’t be sure. There were no tax records linking her to Halloway’s clubs, but that didn’t mean she and Halloway hadn’t cheated Uncle Sam, keeping Natalie’s earnings off the books.

She returned with a pen and paper and a tiny spiral-bound notebook she must have had in her bag. While she concentrated on a grocery list, he tried to evaluate her. Some of Halloway’s strippers turned tricks, but Natalie had snared the boss.

She handed over the paper, and he scanned the items she’d requested. She’d kept it simple, but she seemed more interested in buying clothes than food. Or taking off her clothes, he reminded himself. Halloway’s clubs were fully nude, with a reputation for being raunchy.

He came to his feet. “Are you sure this is all you want?”

She nodded. “Will you bring my suitcase in before you go?”

He grabbed his keys and went outside. When he came back, she was standing in the living room. The empty background nearly swallowed her whole, and suddenly he didn’t want to leave. Would she be all right by herself? Once again, she looked soft and vulnerable. Nancy Perris. Natalie Pascal. The woman who confused the hell out of him.

The following morning Natalie stood in front of a full-length mirror, assessing her appearance. With clammy fingers, she feathered her shorn hair. She still wasn’t used to being a blonde, but her hair wasn’t the only significant change. Her body was different, too.

Scanning her lean, almost shapeless figure, she smoothed her blouse. Her breast implants had been removed, but eye-popping cleavage would look ridiculous on her now. Besides, David had insisted on increasing the size of her bust. He’d chosen the doctor, booked the consultation and paid for the surgery. Natalie had merely stumbled along like a witless brunette, doting on his generosity. Not that she didn’t think women had a right to endow their bodies, to look and feel more attractive. But pumping up your breasts and squeezing into tight dresses to please a man wasn’t the answer.

With an exhausted sigh, she gazed at her haunted reflection. Brave talk for a woman plagued by nightmares. How many times a week would she have to relive the night of the murder? To remember what David had said to her after the shooting? To recall what he’d done? Natalie had been so shocked, so afraid, so mortally wounded, she’d never told anyone, not even the FBI. Not that it mattered. What had transpired between her and David wouldn’t change the outcome of his trial.

Still standing in front of the mirror, she frowned at the shadows under her eyes. She’d tried to cover them with a concealer, but remnants of a sleepless night still lingered.

Anxious, she glanced at the clock. Zack would be here soon. They’d made arrangements to meet at ten o’clock. She hated being at his mercy, but what could she do? Complain to WITSEC? Tell them her inspector was domineering and critical? Oh, sure. And maybe while she was spouting off, she could admit that she found him sexually stirring, too. That ought to earn her some respect. No, she thought. She wouldn’t involve WITSEC. If she complained, it would be to the man himself.

When the doorbell rang, she nearly jumped. Why did he have to make her so damn nervous?

She answered the summons, and he gave her a polite nod. A silent hello, she supposed. He wore casual clothes: a tan shirt, jeans, a lightweight jacket. He’d also donned a pair of sunglasses. She would prefer to see his eyes. She had the feeling he was scrutinizing her, checking her out beneath the dark shades.

“Ready?” he asked.

She lifted her chin, hoping she appeared more confident than her pounding heart allowed. Natalie kept telling herself that she wasn’t a fraud, but suddenly the idea of going to college seemed a bit too ambitious for a girl who’d barely gotten through high school. “Yes, I’m ready.”

He lit a cigarette, drawing hard and deep. “Then let’s go.”

She led the way to his car. David had been a smoker, too. “That’s a nasty habit.”

“What? This?” He exaggerated his next drag. “It keeps me sane.”

“It’ll probably kill you someday.”

“Beats being crazy.”

By the time they arrived at the Workforce Training Center and picked up a catalog, Natalie decided that having a lawman as an escort wasn’t so bad. He wasn’t the nicest guy in the world, but at least he was armed. Somewhere on his body, he carried a concealed weapon. Was it under his jacket? Holstered to his belt? She’d heard deputy marshals were taught to shoot from the hip. David used to enjoy discussing firearms. Guns were his passion.

“Do you want to see NIC’s main campus?” he asked.

“Sure.” She was curious about North Idaho College, even if the classes she attended would be at the Workforce Training Center.

On the drive to NIC, Zack smoked another cigarette. Natalie spotted the Factory Outlets Mall, but wasn’t about to bring it up. She didn’t want to spar with him again about her clothes. Already the notion of shopping with him weighed heavily on her mind. She would prefer to visit the mall on her own. Of course that meant giving up the comfort of his gun, but she would have to get used to that sooner or later. Zack wasn’t her bodyguard. He wouldn’t be living on her doorstep.

“When are you going to help me find a car?”

He stopped at a red light. “Getting antsy to get back on the road?”

“Who wouldn’t be?”

Before the light changed, he snuffed out his cigarette. “What did you drive in your former life?”

“A Mercedes.”

“Let me guess.” He turned to study her, then removed the dark glasses. “An SL500 convertible.” He glanced at the fancy buttons that adorned her blouse. “Silver, with a set of chrome twenties.” When she crossed her arms, his lips tilted in a barely there smile. “What can I say? It’s a gift.”

Natalie shifted in her seat. The fact that he’d just described her last car, right down to the custom, twenty-inch wheels, set her on edge. What else had he figured out about her? “David didn’t buy it for me. It was leased.”

“Meaning what? That you got a new convertible every couple years?” He chuckled and crossed the intersection. “I think I’ll outfit you in a rusty old Pinto.”

She refused to laugh, to appreciate his sardonic sense of humor. “And I think I’ll outfit you with my fist up your nose.”

He had the gall to grin. “Now that I’d like to see.”

Me, too, she thought, as they arrived at the college.

Five minutes later, Natalie walked beside him, impressed by the spectacular view. NIC’s main campus was located on the shores of Lake Coeur d’Alene and the Spokane River. “This is nice.”

“The tuition is affordable, too.” He glanced her way. “Do you want to find a shady spot and look through that catalog?”

She agreed, even though she hadn’t realized that she’d brought the class schedule with her. Silent, they headed toward the nearest shore. The weather was warm, the breeze light and clean. The water stretched for what seemed like an eternity.

He chose a patch of grass beneath a tree. Overall, the campus was quiet, but she assumed summer sessions drew less students. She sat on the ground next to Zack, wondering if he ever picnicked by the lake. The last outdoor activity Natalie had planned had been on the day of the murder, the day David had destroyed her.

Zack moved closer. “Let’s take a look.”

Caught off guard, she opened the catalog. Suddenly she could smell his cologne, a musky scent mingling with the elements.

“How about this?” He pointed to a workshop geared for writing a business plan. “And this?” A financial strategies course.

Natalie turned the next page. “All of these classes seem important,” she said, hoping and praying she could pull this off. In her mind’s eye, she could see the boutique she intended to open. She’d dreamed up every detail, yet deep down she was afraid of failing, of discovering that she’d gotten in over her head. “Did you go to college?”

He nodded. “I have a degree in criminal justice.”

“Oh.” Did she think a WITSEC inspector would be uneducated? Someone she could relate to? “How old are you?”

“Forty.”

She studied his profile. He was the same age as David, but David covered the gray in his hair and worried about the crow’s-feet that had begun to form at the corners of his eyes.

Zack leaned into her, his shoulder brushing hers. “They must have a training program of some sort. A group of classes—” He flipped through the catalog. “And here it is. Check this out. Twelve three-hour sessions on Wednesday nights, with just about every course you’ll need.”

She read the program outline. It did look promising. “The first class starts next month.”

“That’s perfect, don’t you think? You’ll have some time to settle in before you start school.”

Touched by his enthusiasm, her heart made a girlish leap. She couldn’t remember the last time someone had supported her endeavors. He lifted his head to look at her, and she realized how close their faces were.

Close enough to kiss.

When she lowered her gaze to his mouth, he scooted back, and a blast of shame nailed her straight in the chest. He handed her the catalog, and she summoned the courage to ask the dreaded question. “Are you married, Zack?”

“What? No.” He flinched, then frowned at her, an expression that made him seem tougher than he already was. “I’m divorced.”

“Recently?”

“It’s been four years.”

“Was it a bitter separation?” she asked, a bit too curious for her own good.

“Bitter?” His frown deepened. “Are you kidding? It was friendly as hell. Especially after I threatened to shoot her lover’s balls off.”

Natalie nearly swallowed her tongue. “She cheated on you?”

His gaze locked on to hers. “It happens.”

The way it had happened between her and David? Was Zack comparing his situation to hers? Blaming her for being the other woman? Did he empathize with Ellen Halloway?

Natalie tore at a blade of grass. Surely Zack knew that David’s wife was responsible for putting a hit on her. Ellen had forgiven her husband, but she wasn’t about to forgive Natalie for turning him over to the police. Or for occupying his bed.

Should she explain? Try to make Zack understand?

She gazed at the lake, at a boat bobbing in the distance. “I didn’t know David was married. Not at first. When he talked about having family commitments, I thought he meant the West Coast Family. He never mentioned Ellen. Or his children.”

“What did you do when you found out?”

“I left him.”

He gave her a startled stare. “You did?”

“I called an old friend and started sleeping on her couch. Then I pounded the pavement for a job. I didn’t have any skills, but I knew I could work at a clothing store. I’ve always had a good sense of style.”

“So that’s when you worked in retail? I thought it was before you met Halloway.”

“No, it was after.”

“For all the good it did.” Zack reached for a cigarette, then cursed when his lighter wouldn’t ignite. “You went back to him. When things got tough, you quit your job and took the easy way out.”

“None of it was easy.” She fidgeted with the catalog on her lap. “But yes, I went back to David.”

“Even though he was still married?”

“He told me that he was going to leave Ellen someday. When his children were older, when he could avoid a messy divorce.”

“And you bought that? A smart lady like you? Sounds like you were making excuses to stay with him. To hold on to that lifestyle.”

“Does it?” She glanced away, hurt by his unwillingness to believe her. And afraid, so deathly afraid, that he could be right.

Three

After Zack and Natalie left NIC, he took her to a furniture store, and now he stood in the middle of a mock living room, wondering what had come over him. He’d just met Natalie yesterday, and today he’d told her about his divorce. He’d admitted, without the slightest reserve, that his wife had boffed another man.

“What do you think of this?” she asked.

He turned to see her admiring a contemporary leather sofa, plumped with faux-fur pillows.

She reached for the tag. “It comes in ivory and black. I prefer the ivory, don’t you?”

He moved forward, wishing he’d had the sense to keep his mouth shut, to keep his private life private.

“It’s twelve-hundred dollars.”

“I know. Can you believe it? At that price, I should get the love seat and the matching chair, too.”

He could only stare. “The love seat is nine-hundred bucks. And the chair and ottoman are another grand.”

She looked up. “So?”

“So get a grip.” Had she forgotten that WITSEC had put a conservative cap on her moving expenses? Or that a figure from the Bureau of Labor Statistics determined the amount of her monthly allowance? This wasn’t a high-dollar gig.

“Just imagine how it would look in my house.”

Zack shook his head. He’d had to discourage this kind of spending before. Career criminals didn’t have a clue. They didn’t know how to make their stipend last. And neither, apparently, did Natalie. “I already warned you about being on a budget.”

She ran her hand over the top of the sofa, caressing the upholstery with a lover’s touch. “This is Italian leather.” On a moaning-type sigh, she plopped her butt down, wiggling into the cushions. “You should feel how soft it is.”

He wasn’t about to get orgasmic over a piece of furniture. “How about this?” Attempting to redirect her focus, he walked over to a couch he’d spotted earlier. A simple, durable design with a three-hundred-dollar price tag. “It’s almost the same color.”

She followed him, making a disgusted face the entire way. “That’s taupe, not ivory. And I want leather.”

“By the time you throw in some tables, lamps, a TV, a DVD player, a stereo and the rest of your bedroom outfit, you won’t be able to afford a twelve-hundred dollar couch. Let alone a love seat and matching chair.”

She crossed her arms, but somehow she still managed to look pretty—long and lean and feminine.

“Don’t pout,” he told her.

“I’m not,” she argued.

Okay, so maybe she wasn’t, but her lips were full and thick, glossed like sugar-glazed cherries. And to make matters worse, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d indulged in dessert.

She glanced back at the ivory sofa she’d caressed, her voice wistful. “I want that.”

And he wanted to find out if she tasted as good as she looked, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. “I already told you. You can’t afford that.”

“I’ll use some of my own money. In fact, I’ll pay for all of it myself. I’ll buy my own furniture.”

“Bad idea.” He took her arm and guided her away from a salesman who’d been watching them. Or watching her, he should say. The old guy couldn’t keep his eyes to himself. “You have a business to consider, Natalie. You’ve got to get your priorities straight.”

She didn’t respond. She just gazed at him with disappointment in her eyes. And suddenly she reminded him of a wounded child. A street-smart little girl who wasn’t so smart.

He moved closer, close enough that no one could overhear. “How old were you when you met him?”

She blinked. “What?”

“Him. Lover-boy.”

She tucked her hair behind her ears, fussing with the Goldilocks strands. “What does that have to do with a couch?”

“Just answer the question.”

“I’m not discussing this here.”

“Then I want the whole story when we get back to your place.” The truth, he decided. Not the rumors. Or the pieced-together profile he’d read in her file. “I can’t help you if I don’t know who you are.”

“They already made me talk to a psychologist.”

“Where you probably lied through your teeth.”

She turned away, and when she marched back over to the leather sofa, he almost gave in and let her buy the damn thing. Almost, he thought. But not quite.

Once she realized she’d lost the battle, she refused to shop for the rest of day. Zack ignored her temperamental attitude and took her straight home, intent on having the truth-versus-rumor conversation.

The moment, the very second he pulled into her driveway and parked the car, she leaped out, determined to ditch him. He had to give her credit for trying, even if she didn’t have a chance in hell at out-maneuvering him.

He caught up with her and took the keys out of her hand, unlocking the front door and gesturing for her to go inside. She made a beeline for the kitchen and started making the noisiest pot of coffee he’d ever heard, slamming cabinets in her wake.

“I take mine black,” he said.

“Well, bully for you.”

He leaned against counter. “I’m just trying to help.” Trying to understand her, he thought.

“I don’t want to talk about David.”

Zack moved to stand beside her, to take the glass carafe out of her quaking hands. “He hurt you.”

She turned to face him. “He made promises he didn’t keep. So what? Your wife did that to you, too.”

He ignored the emotional dig, the familiar jolt of pain it caused. “Just tell me how old you were when you met him.”

“Seventeen.”

“Son of a bitch.” Zack searched her gaze, probing deeper. “Did he touch you? Did that bastard—”

“No.” Uncomfortable, Natalie stepped back. Did he have to look at her like that? Did he have to make her feel like a victim? “David and I didn’t start dating until I was eighteen.”