Page 116 of Sweet as Sin (Bad Habit 1)
“Worse than the nun’s snatch visual?”
“Okay. I think this conversation has continued long enough. What time should I meet you there?”
“Nico said he’d send a car for you. They’ll pick you up at eight.”
Grace made a small, indistinct noise. “Did he now? Isn’t that gentlemanly of him.”
Smiling, I had to shake my head. Grace was the only person I knew who could convey disdain, pleasure, irritation, gratitude, and about a dozen other conflicting emotions, all in under ten words. “Love you, Gracie.”
“Love you, too, Kat. See you tonight.”
“Can’t wait.”
“And Kat?”
I cocked my head, arrested by the new, urgent tone of her voice. “Yeah?”
With quiet conviction, she said, “If you’re happy, I am, too. No matter what.” Then she hung up before I could say another word.
The afternoon passed quickly. I busied myself with list making and obsessing, trying to figure out how I’d get my house back in shape before leaving for Europe with the band. I only had a week in between the kickoff party and the flight out, and was a little panicked at the thought of leaving without everything being back in order. If I was going to be gone for two whole months, I needed to know I wasn’t leaving a mess behind.
I’d already arranged to have my upcoming jobs covered by a girl I’d worked with before, another makeup artist I trusted to take care of my clients, and not steal them from me. She was thrilled to have the extra work, and I was happy with the arrangement as well. I definitely wanted to continue working when I came home. After Nico and I were married, I planned on working, too.
I just hadn’t told him that yet.
Since we’d made love the day before, he’d been in a strangely quiet mood. Honestly, I hadn’t felt much like talking, either, with the black cloud of Michael hanging over our heads. But I sensed Nico’s quietness wasn’t only about Michael. Something else was bothering him.
Something big. Or bad.
Or both.
He’d risen early, before me, and had since been prowling around the house like a caged bear, checking windows, locking and relocking doors. The security code on the alarm had been reset, and he’d hired twenty-four-hour guards to roam the property in addition to installing more video cameras, but he still wasn’t satisfied I was safe.
Hence his having clothes brought to the house, instead of allowing me to go out shopping. Hence his standing over me scowling, Barney and cops in tow, as I retrieved important files and documents from my place, groaning in distress at the mess.
Hence his insistence on being glued to my side like a barnacle.
That barnacle was now rooted against me in the backseat of the Escalade, his big hand wrapped tightly around mine. We were cruising down Sunset Boulevard, Barney driving, on our way to the party at the House of Blues. It was dusk, and the sky outside glowed orange and purple in the deepening twilight.
“You’re quiet,” I said, squeezing Nico’s hand.
He glanced at me. Wearing his trademark painted-on jeans and black T-shirt under a leather jacket, his dark hair in finger-combed disarray, a thin leather cord around his neck and a silver ring on his left thumb, he looked sexy as hell . . . and distracted.
“How’re you doin’, Kat?”
His soft question took me by surprise. As did the serious look on his face. “I’m okay. As well as can be expected under the circumstances, I guess.”
He studied me, sweeping his thumb back and forth across my knuckles. “No second thoughts? Not regrettin’ meetin’ me?”
There was an underlying subtext there. Some tension ran through his words. It made me nervous. “Why? Are you regretting meeting me?”
His stare pierced me. “That’s not an answer.”
“Neither is that.”
In the front seat, Barney reached to turn up the volume on the radio. He was trying to give us some privacy, but it wouldn’t work. He was sitting too close.
Nico looked away and ran a hand through his hair, a gesture I easily recognized as one of frustration. He didn’t push for another answer, and I wasn’t much in the mood for conversation, so we spent the rest of the ride in tense silence.
