"Why the gun?"
She stiffened. The gun was hidden beneath her pillow. He wasn't looking at her and his voice was casual, but she knew it wasn't a casual question.
"Cat." Now he did look at her, one arm still circling the heavy bag. "Why the gun?"
She swallowed. Tried to shrug. "Woman alone in large warehouse."
"Can you shoot?"
"Yes. I practice just like I do my self-defense." That much was honest.
"What are you afraid of?"
"I'm not afraid," she denied, a blatant lie this time. "I'm careful."
His eyes cut to her. Looked inside her. Saw too much. She looked away first. "I'm safe, Ridley. And I really do appreciate you taking the time to walk me home and check out the warehouse, but everything's okay now."
He didn't move. Didn't take his eyes from her. She pressed her lips together. Even with the warehouse as large as it was, he took up space.
"You have bars on your windows. You have a gun. You spend money you don't have on self-defense lessons, and Malcom told me you're working on weapons training as well. Knives, arnis sticks. Is someone threatening you?" There was a hard edge to his voice.
She spread her hands out in front of her. "I don't know you."
"You know me well enough. I'm working with Malcom. I teach women self-defense. I don't like when they're threatened. Or if they're afraid."
It was impossible not to hear the ring of truth in his voice. He was definitely the kind of man who would protect his woman by any means he needed.
"I'm just . . . careful," she reiterated.
"All right. We'll leave it at that, but your security system sucks. You need alarms and cameras on this place. The cargo doors, the windows, front door. Motion detectors. That's my field of expertise, and even with what you've done, you're still vulnerable."
She knew that. She could only do one thing at a time and she had to prioritize. She always divided her money carefully. Bills and paying back the money she'd taken from Rafe's safe first and then the rest on security. "I'm getting there."
"You need to get there faster." Again there was an edge to his voice. Impatience.
She glanced up and her gaze collided with his. It was a mistake. The golden glitter was back and she actually felt the edge of his anger. She moistened suddenly dry lips with the tip of her tongue and his gaze dropped to her mouth and softened instantly.
Her body reacted again, the strange electric awareness she felt in her breasts, up her thighs, in her belly and between her legs. It was instantaneous and powerful, so strong she couldn't move. Her breathing changed. She heard smooth go to ragged. Her lungs burned for air.
His eyes went molten. Hungry. He took a step toward her. Catarina threw her hand up, stepping back, shaking her head. He stopped instantly, his fist closing around the chain suspending the heavy workout bag, knuckles going white.
"I'm not used to having anyone around me for very long," she admitted in a low voice, hoping he would just understand and leave. "I don't have great social skills. This is difficult for me."
"Are you afraid of me?"
She wanted to close her eyes against the smooth, velvet tone. She needed to block out the look on his face. Carved. Hungry. The hot flames in his eyes. His eyes. She felt as if a ravenous beast of prey had turned his attention fully on her, focused and deadly, and now that she had his attention, he wasn't going to ever be diverted.
She swallowed the lie and went for a half-truth. "Maybe. I don't know." She was terrified of him. She had no idea why he was there or how she'd let him this far into her life. It wasn't like her. It went against every rule she had. It went against common sense. She'd worked hard to get to a place where she could live free and enjoy her life, but at the same time make certain everyone around her was safe. This was not safe. Not by any stretch of the imagination. She had no idea how Ridley Cromer ended up in her warehouse, in her personal living space.
He had to leave. Right now. His scent would be all over the warehouse. She didn't even like Malcom to visit, or work on anything because she knew he would leave behind his scent. Ridley's was much more aggressive . . . and . . . and interested. She tried not to panic.
"I'm going to design a security system for you," he said, and walked away from her, putting distance between them, studying the lofts that had been built to hold freight. "It wouldn't take that many cameras. A few motion detectors. Nothing fancy."
"I'm saving," she told him, trying not to sound as if she was choking.
"I didn't say anything about paying," he snapped.
She winced. His voice was a lash. He really, really was a nut about a woman being safe. She took a breath and let it out.
"I know you didn't. You're being kind and I appreciate that, but I'll keep saving and eventually I'll be able to pay for a good security system." She was proud of the "firm" in her voice.
He turned his head and shot her a look of absolute impatience. "What the hell kind of crap is that, Cat? You're living here now. You admitted to me you were followed once already. A woman looking like you, living alone in a warehouse in this district, is just plain nuts."
"It's my home and I happen to love it. And this area isn't that bad."
"The coffee-house is situated on the edge of 'not bad.' This warehouse is in the 'bad.' We passed three bars. We passed a pawn shop and two tattoo parlors. A biker gang hangs out on the third block and they're rough as hell."
She'd seen them. She was very alert to potential problems and that was why she was careful to stay in the shadows and not walk down the center of the sidewalk where everyone could see her. He didn't get that.
"I'm careful."
He sighed. Ran a hand through his dark, thick hair. He had nice hair and when he messed it up like that it was even nicer.
"Your next day off is day after tomorrow. I'll be here in the morning to install your security system. You know how I like my coffee."
She glared at him. "How would you know when my next day off is?"
He flashed her a grin. "Kitten. Come on. I pay attention. David has a big mouth and he was bemoaning the fact that half the patrons know when your day off is and they don't bother to show. Apparently they come for your coffee. I know when your day off is because I go to Poetry Slam for your coffee as well."
"You do?" Her heart started beating normally again. That made sense.
"I do. You make kick-ass coffee. I was hoping you might have a machine here."
"Those machines are thousands of dollars."
"Still, you make great coffee. You don't even have a small machine."
"Because I'm saving for a security system."
"I see. Well I'm installing that day after tomorrow so you can use your funds for a small machine and give me my fix while I work."
"You're not paying for my security system."
"Why not?"
"Because nothing in this world comes without a price tag."
For a moment his golden eyes went glittery again and then they seemed to melt into masculine amusement. "You're right about that."
She stiffened.
"My price is your coffee, Kitten. Lots of it. And then, if I get finished, we can spar a little. I've got a few moves that might help you."
He turned and walked away from her toward the door without once looking back. She stood there with her mouth open.
"You going to lock this door?" He paused at the door, turning his head to stare at her over his shoulder, a small grin hovering around his mouth, lighting his eyes.
"It locks automatically."
He nodded and sauntered out. It took her a full three minutes before she was breathing correctly again. She had no idea what just happened or how she was supposed to feel about it, so she did what she always did, she lost herself in her regular routine.