Chapter Seven - A Declaration of War

"What are you doing in here?" Jaxson demanded, shoving a hand through his hair and struggling to hold on to what little patience he had left. That fact was driven home when his fingers encountered the rough edge of the platinum wig that now rested haphazardly on his head. He had no pride left.

Reminding himself that none of this was Kate's fault helped somewhat. His problems had nothing to do with her. His neighbor was an innocent bystander, and a passing one at that, he was quick to remind himself.

"What are you doing in here?" she countered, pressing her hand tighter over her mouth. "I heard all the, um, noise…"

"If you're going to laugh at me, then get out." His eyes narrowed before he looked beyond Kate, to the pale light that spilled onto the carpet and rimmed her hair in a dusky halo. He'd been stumbling around in the damn dark and the power was back on? He closed his eyes and silently counted to ten.

"Uh … Jaxson?"

"When did the power come back on?" He voiced the question without bothering to open his eyes.

"Oh. Just now, I guess. I hadn't even noticed until you pointed it out."

He opened his eyes then and stared at the woman who'd taken several steps into the room. Hands at her sides, her steps were tentative now, but she was steadily coming toward him. His mouth twisted into a frown, but she didn't falter. Within seconds, she was standing in front of him. "You didn't notice?"

Kate shrugged and stared up at him. "In the South, the power is always going out. You get used to it."

Jaxson didn't want to get used to it. Any of it. Not the heat or the shit weather, damn sure not these godforsaken wigs. He watched Kate's chest rise and fall as she inhaled. Then she took the final step that brought her toe-to-toe with him, and he couldn't think at all.

"So…" Small, white teeth briefly clamped down on her full bottom lip, but then her head came up and she regarded him in the cool stillness of the bedroom. "Do you need help?"

He shook his head and tried to block out the warmth emanating from her body. Jaxson quickly found out that by taking small, shallow breaths, he could—mostly—block out the cross between cotton candy and caramel that was Kate's scent. "No." His mouth snapped shut and he took a step back. "Just hit the light on your way out, will you?"

"Oh, okay, yeah," she stammered, blinking rapidly.

He turned his back to her and faced the nightstand, fingers only a little unsteady as he once again began to work the long pins out from around the edge of the wig, just like his aunt had shown him.

They weren't coming out. He bit back another string of curses as he tried to get a grip on one of the long pins only to find it was hopelessly entangled in both the thickly woven backing of the hairpiece and the wig cap. He gave it up for the moment as a lost cause, moving on to the pin next to it. He managed to yank that one out and flung it onto the dresser as he heard the telltale click-click-click of the light switch across the room. Kate's voice rang out a second later.

"It's not coming on."

Jaxson grunted. "Bulb must have blown." He tugged at another pin. "Just leave the bathroom door open, then."

When silence was the only response, he figured Kate had left to go back to her own room. He jumped a foot in the air when smooth, cool fingers pressed against his shoulder.

"Here. Let me help."

He spun around to face her, and long moments passed while he stared down at her pixie face. She seemed hesitant again, unsure of herself, maybe unsure of him. He inhaled, then cursed himself an instant later when her scent filled his senses. "Most of the pins are stuck," he heard himself say.

Her fingers moved skillfully over the same pin he'd had no luck with, and in less than sixty seconds she had extracted it from the wig cap.

"Okay. I'm impressed," he grudgingly admitted, a ghost of a smile curving his lips. Kate deposited the pin in the hand that Jaxson held, palm up, between their bodies and went to work on the next one.

"I used to do Lilly's hair," she murmured, dropping another pin into his waiting hand.

"Your sister?" he asked, distracted and struggling to form a coherent response as Kate leaned up on tip-toe in order to reach the pins and fastenings behind his left ear.

"Hmmm." She nodded. "Besides, I'm a nurse."

He wasn't sure what that had to do with anything, but he held his breath when she leaned forward.

"Oh, wow, this is really stuck."

Soft strands of her hair brushed against Jaxson's chin. His gut clenched and he closed his eyes, fought hard for control. Oh yeah, he was definitely getting hot for his neighbor. And that was just flat-out stupid. Idiotic. His life was a tangled fucking mess. He didn't even know her.

"Got it." She pulled back, triumphant, the final pin in hand. Her eyes became wide, serious, violet orbs. The teasing laughter in her tone faded, and her hand skimmed the side of his face as she reached up and pulled the wig from his head. "You have dark hair," she murmured.

The hair pins fell soundlessly to the plush, navy blue carpet. Jaxson brought both hands up and as if it had a mind of its own, one hand slid up to cup the side of Kate's face, mirroring her own position. The other hand closed over her fingers. His breath hitched at the close contact. Kate's fingers were cool and, like the rest of her body, felt delicate in comparison to his own. The rest of her slim form radiated a warmth that went straight to his head and he closed his eyes, pressing his forehead against hers. He had to tell her no. She had to leave. Now. He couldn't afford to get involved. And even if it were possible, he didn't do involved.

"Why are you doing this?" He whispered the words into her skin and tried not to wonder how she would feel, how she would taste.

"I don't know," she breathed.

He felt her shiver beneath his hands and tilted her head up. "I … don't know," she repeated, with only a little more force this time. Her fingers curled around his and she pressed her smooth cheek to his own.

Her heat leeched into him and he was all at once surrounded, swamped in the dizzying mix of emotion that he was already beginning to somehow associate with Kate.

"You have to go."

"Yeah," she agreed.

Jaxson's blood boiled at the small catch in Kate's voice, and he dipped his head down a fraction of an inch. The slight move put him into even closer contact with her. His lips hovered only millimeters from her mouth. Close enough to drink in her soundless, gasping breaths. Close enough to touch…

Never in his life had he struggled so much. You can't do this. Send her away. But a louder, more insistent voice was making itself heard now over the thready, barely-there hum of his conscience. Now, now, now. The litany kept time with his heartbeat. Then the roaring in his ears drowned out even that, and he lost the battle altogether.

Jaxson's lips opened against her skin, and he pressed a hot kiss against the corner of her mouth. Kate went rigid against him, and he tightened his hold on her, moved to cup the back of her neck. He trailed quick, furtive kisses along the line of her jaw, pausing only to trace a slow path with his tongue. Her sharp intake of breath went through him like a spear as she pressed even closer to him. He groaned and caught her earlobe between his teeth, tugging, then swirling his tongue against her skin before moving to claim her mouth in earnest.

Oh God, she felt so damn good against him. His lips settled over hers, his tongue darting out in between teasing, nipping kisses, and he was rewarded ten times over when she rocked her hips against him. Jaxson felt like he was on fire. His arms were coiled and tense as they closed all the way around Kate. The juncture of her thighs rocked into his lap again and he bit down on her lip, one arm automatically coming down to circle her hips. The soft material of her pink pants bunched in his fist. He inadvertently pulled the cloth tighter against her rear, groaning when her legs parted and allowed him even greater access to her body.

He had been wrong. Kate wasn't delicate at all, but strong and lithe and hot. He groaned, the sound coming out as more of a growl, and he wrapped his other hand around her hair, pulling her head back and kissing his way down her throat. She made a small sound, deep in her throat, and he felt an answering twinge in his body. Two steps back and he had her pressed against the nightstand.

"Jaxson…"

"Oh, fuck yeah," he growled as her legs parted even wider than before. His hands shot out to grip her hips, and he was yanking her forward even as he stepped between her legs. She gasped, and one hand struggled with the pink-tasseled drawstring of her pants.

He pushed her hand away but was quick to replace it with his own. Kate reached out to grasp his shirt and she tugged at it, yanking the fabric up, trying to pull it over his head. The material caught on his earring, and Jaxson winced, the fog in his head abruptly clearing. He let go of Kate and braced both hands on the bedside table, his arms framing her as glanced down at himself, chest heaving. He wasn't wearing a shirt. Kate had been trying to pull his godforsaken dress over his head. Sometimes, there are no words.

He shoved away from the nightstand—from the bed—without looking at the blonde, violet-eyed creature whose breathing was still every bit as erratic as his own. What the hell had he been about to do? He chastised himself as he walked around the bed and, when that wasn't far enough, to the dressing table at the opposite end of the room. His hands shook as he removed the gaudy, gold hoop earrings and tossed them onto the surface of the rented vanity. Kate was an innocent stranger, and besides that, the woman was a nurse. He bit back a groan and forced his eyes away from her in the mirror. He watched her slide off the nightstand and eyed his own less-than-composed face, his guilt and frustration reflected back at him in stark clarity.

Kate was a nurse, and he was … a screw-up. A bookie from east Brooklyn who'd thrown away more chances in five years than most people got in a lifetime. Jaxson's lips thinned into a harsh line and his hands tightened on the lacquered surface of the dressing table. He was still in full war paint, and angrily he removed the false eyelashes, pretending not to notice Kate hovering near the door.

He wished she would just go already. Even before he'd turned state's evidence, he'd had nothing to offer a woman like her. And now that he was bait for a killer, for a man whose very existence he woke up cursing each morning? Well, now he had even less to offer. The possibility that Jaxson would end up winning his freedom but paying for his association with Roger Klein with his life was very real.

He glanced once more at the woman behind him. A man like Klein wouldn't care that Kate was standing next to Jaxson. He'd snuff out her life just the same. Hell, Kate was young and blonde. Although her hair was a shade too dark, she was eerily similar to the type of victim that fucking pervert seemed to prefer. Jaxson cursed the day he'd ever been stupid enough to do business with him. He'd known there was something not quite right about the man, but one dollar was as good as the next, right? Wrong.

He raised his eyes to his neighbor's, in the mirror. Kate had to go. Hanging around with him could prove hazardous to her health. But she wasn't leaving. It looked like he'd have to turn around and speak to her. He thumped a fist against the top of the vanity and turned around to face her.

"Go back to your room, okay?"

"Hey, I wasn't—"

"Look, let's not do this, eh? I'm just not interested."

"So, are you…"

Jaxson frowned when she paused and turned to leave, apparently unwilling to say anything further. "Am I what?" he asked, halting her progress from the room, against his better judgment.

She bit her lip, one hand on the door. "Are you a lesbian? I mean, it's okay if you are, I just…"

Jaxson froze. "Are you serious?"

"Oh, forget it. Just forget it. It doesn't matter."

"No, I'm not a fucking lesbian. I like women," he growled.

Kate stared pointedly at him but remained silent.

He pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. "I work at a club," he ground out. "I'm a … dancer. This," he swept a hand down the front of his body, "has nothing to do with my sexuality, okay?" He glared at her.

"Fine." Her own lips thinned.

"I'm just not—I can't—you have to go."

"Yeah, I get it. I'm going."

"Next time, keep your so-called help to yourself," he called out, staring hard at her retreating form, pissed off that even now he wanted to haul her back into the bedroom.

* * *

"That isn't why I came in here!" she protested, stalking back into the room.

"Yeah, well, you can go now." He shrugged and angled away from her.

"Okay, what's with you?"

"Nothing. Just go, Kate," he snapped, gripping the hem of his dress and yanking it over his head. He sent it sailing across the room before he turned to face her.

"Why are you acting like this?" Kate asked, making a valiant effort to keep her gaze on his face, only now beginning to calm from the turmoil Jaxson had thrown her into.

Hands on his hips, he regarded her with an unreadable expression. "What would you know about how I normally act?"

The question stung, much as Kate figured he'd intended it to. What was she supposed to say? That she'd lost control? Clearly, he knew that. The moment when she'd sat in his parlor and said "I'm Kate" felt like it had passed weeks ago, not mere hours. But the reality was, she didn't know how he normally acted. She knew virtually nothing about him. Shame flooded her again. She'd been about to take her clothes off on her transvestite neighbor's bedside table.

"Goodnight, Kate." Jaxson's tone was pointed, final.

She had been dismissed. Slowly, her initial embarrassment turned to anger. "Hey, I didn't force myself on you," she argued. "You wanted me, too."

"Well, I don't want you here now."

"Fine." She hugged her arms around her middle, heat flooding her face at his icy, controlled words. "The next time you fall over your own pantyhose, don't come crying to me."

His face clouded, and he swung away from her to stare out the window.

Kate watched a muscle in his jaw tick as light from the street illuminated him in profile. "Lock up when you let yourself out in the morning."

Her chest rose and fell with each rapid breath. When he didn't turn around, she spun on her heel and stalked from the room, slamming the connecting bathroom door behind her. She leaned against the solid surface for long, agonizing moments while she struggled to find her bearings in the shifting, churning sea of night.