Yes. Something in his soul screamed for him to shove her out the door and then lock it tight. It was that part of him that had been battered to the brink of suicide.
But even after all he'd been through, he couldn't bring himself to cause her death. Unlike him, she most likely had someone out there who would actually mourn for her if she were to die. Bully for her.
She gave him a look that rivaled the freezing temperature outside before she pulled her muffler back over her face and started for the door.
"Don't be stupid," he snarled. "You can't go out there."
She raked him with a stern look, then lowered the muffler. "I don't like staying where I'm not wanted."
"So you want me to lie?" He fell into the acting that had won him his Academy Awards. "Oh, baby, please stay with me and don't leave. I need you here. I can't live without you."
Leta arched a brow at his words, which lacked the sarcastic tone she was certain lay beneath them. Little did he know how true they were. He did need her here because she was the only thing standing between him and death.
"How nice. You practice those lines much?"
"Not really. Usually I just tell people to fuck off and die."
"Ooo," she said in a seductive tone. "That just gives me goose bumps all over. I love it when a man sweet-talks me."
"I'll bet you do." Scratching his jaw, he indicated the wooden tree by the door. "You can hang your coat there until the storm or the phone clears."
She shrugged the coat off and unwound the scarf from around her before she pulled away her hat and tucked it in the pocket of her coat. "What's the gun for?"
"I would lie and say it's for bears or snakes, but mostly I use it for trespassers."
"Wow, Dexter," she said, using the name of the serial killer from the Showtime series M'Adoc had shown her. "I'm impressed. Since we're not in Miami and you haven't a boat to hide the hacked-up bodies at sea, where are you keeping them?"
"Under the woodshed out back."
"Nice." She smiled. "At least that explains the odor I smelled coming up the driveway."
His gaze lightened as if he found her entertaining. "You're right. That's the septic line. I'm not stupid enough to put corpses that close to my house-it'd bring the wildlife too close to my back door. I leave the bodies in the woods for the bears to eat."
"What about when they're hibernating?"
He shrugged. "The coyotes get them."
He was quick, she'd give him that. "Well, then, I guess you need to go ahead and shoot me and get it over with. The coyotes are probably starving in this weather."
Aidan was completely baffled by her lack of fear. "You're not afraid of me, are you?"
"Should I be?"
"You're trapped in the woods during a snowstorm with a man you've never laid eyes on before. My nearest neighbor lives six miles away. I could do anything I wanted to you and no one would ever know."
She looked to the corner behind her. "True, but I'm the one closest to the gun."
"You think you could beat me to it?"
Leta wrinkled her nose at him. She didn't know why but she was enjoying this banter and she shouldn't be capable of enjoying anything at all. "I think I can handle you, Dex. After all, you don't know anything more about me than I know about you. For all you know, I could be a crazed serial killer on the run from the authorities. Might even be a body in the trunk of my car waiting for me to bury it."
Aidan was intrigued by the fact she was playing the same game that he'd started. He admired courage and she seemed to have more than her share of it. "Are you a serial killer?"
She lifted her chin. "You first, Dexter. Who are you and why are you up here alone?"
He stepped around the counter to approach her. Pausing before her, he held out his hand. "Aidan O'Conner. Former actor, but I'm sure you know that."
She shrugged. "It means nothing to me. I'm Leta."
"Leta what?"
"Just Leta." She hesitated a moment longer before she took his hand and shook it. "Nice to meet you, Dexter."
He studied her carefully. Her winter-white clothes, while nice, weren't extravagant. They didn't say much about her except that she was caught in a snowstorm unprepared. She didn't have any jewelry or anything else that marked even the most basic thing about her. She was like a blank slate. "And what do you do for a living, just Leta?"
"I'm a professional bodyguard."
He laughed at her unexpected answer. "Yeah, right."
She shook her head slowly. "Nope. All true. I know seventy-two ways to kill a man and sixty-nine of them look like an accident."
That should probably scare him, but instead he was intrigued. "And what brings a bodyguard to this neck of the woods? Did Mori hire you to protect me from my brother?"
"I don't know any Moris. I'm currently between assignments and was looking for a change. I heard there was work in Nashville and it seemed like a good place to start over. So here I am stuck in the freezing cold with a... serial killer. Has the making for a great horror movie, huh?"
He still wasn't satisfied with her answer. "How are you in the profession of protecting people without knowing who I am? I've been told I have one of the most recognizable faces in the world."
"Wow... Just out of curiosity, when you go to bed at night, do you find yourself ousted off the mattress by that ego?"
"It's not ego. It's the truth."
She folded her arms over her chest as if she didn't believe it for a minute. "Well, then, if I admit I know who you are and really couldn't care less will that assuage your damaged manhood enough that we can get past this and move on to something that ends with your giving me a sandwich?"
He ignored her question. "So you do know me?"
"Yes, Dexter," she said, her voice laden with sarcasm. "I know who you are. You feel better now?"
Not really. Her sarcasm rather sucked all the joy out of being right. It also made him see red. "Then why the lie?"
Leta realized she'd just made a big mistake with him. This was a man who'd been lied to enough, and it was obvious if she were to stay, she'd have to be as honest as possible. "Well, since you're hidden away in the middle of nowhere, I figured you didn't want to advertise the fact you're a world-famous actor, though to be honest the Oscars on the mantel aren't exactly subtle."
A tic worked in his jaw. "Are you a reporter?"
She rolled her eyes. "No. I told you what I am. I protect bodies."