While the ground beef browned on the stove, along with onions, peppers, and garlic, and macaroni boiled in a large pot on the next burner over, Ben played with Pavlov in the large, open-concept living room of his loft and did his best not to appear like the creeper he currently was. He’d been reluctant to bring her back here because he feared he’d be too tempted by having her so close. Tempted to hold her and kiss her and discover the answers to all the questions swirling in his mind about her—like if her skin felt as soft as it looked, like if that sexy hiss she made as she cooked mimicked other sounds she might make in the throes of passion.

When he’d invited Lucy to dinner, he’d pictured wining and dining her at a fancy restaurant, maybe impressing her by getting them into one of the impossibly trendy spots around the city, then gradually enticing her to tell him everything she knew about Peter Mishin and where he might be hiding the mob’s money. Instead, here they were at his home, which—even he had to admit—smelled divine. He’d been spoiled by his mother’s fabulous cooking growing up and it took a lot, culinary-wise, to impress Ben Volkov. But Lucy seemed to be on the fast-track to do just that.

He got up off the pickled oak hardwood floor and wandered in his stockinged feet over to the granite breakfast bar dividing the living room from the well-appointed chef’s kitchen. The majority of the apartment was still a work in progress, but he’d made sure to complete the most important rooms first—kitchen, bathroom, master bedroom. The rest of the place still needed work. The living room walls were nothing but bare drywall, as were the walls in the guest bedroom. The floors needed another sanding, polishing and sealing, and everything needed to be painted.

“It smells incredible in here,” he said, resting his forearms on the cool granite countertop and watching as Lucy flitted back and forth between burners on his stove, humming softly as she worked. “What makes this goulash of yours so special?”

She gave him a coy glance over her shoulder, those full lips of hers curving into a small smile and giving him all sorts of naughty ideas. “Ciekawość to pierwszy stopień do piekła.”

“What does that mean?”

“Curiosity is the first step to hell.” Her wink made him grin. She was teasing him. And damn if he didn’t like it. Too much.

“Well, I’m in big trouble then.” Ben slid onto the stool beside Pavlov and bent to scratch him behind his floppy ears. The dog seemed to have warmed to him and though he’d never planned to have a pet around, the company was kind of nice.

Lucy laughed as she dumped in a can of diced tomatoes and another can of tomato sauce into the pan of ground beef. “Actually, this recipe is an old Polish one, passed down through the generations. I’ve been making it since I was about six, so it’s pretty automatic by now. Why? You don’t have any food allergies, do you?”

“Not that I know of.” Pavlov rolled over onto his back near the base of Ben’s stool, all his legs spread wide and his tongue lolling out of one side of his mouth. No modesty whatsoever. Ben chuckled. “I’m made of hearty Russian stock. It takes a lot to bring me down.”

“Sounds like a challenge to me.” Lucy grinned and wiggled her hips, taking any sting out of her words. She drained and rinsed the macaroni then returned it to the large pot and dumped the ground beef mixture in with it, setting the burner on low to simmer the contents together. “This should be ready in about ten minutes. Can you open the wine I picked? It’s still in the fridge.”

“Sure.” He got up and stepped over the now snoring dog, heading over to the double-sided stainless-steel refrigerator. Nik got on him all the time about his extravagant kitchen tastes, but Ben loved food. Someday, once this whole Mishin thing was settled and he could break from the family business once and for all, he hoped to take culinary classes at the local Cordon Bleu school. Cooking had always relaxed him, even if Nik gave him shit about still being tied to their mama’s apron strings.

Hell yeah, he was a mama’s boy. Damned proud of it too.

He was also a gym rat and could bench press three-twenty without breaking a sweat. Taking shit from his brother and family was tolerable. Taking shit from anyone else? Not happening.

Ben uncorked the wine then grabbed bowls for Lucy and napkins and silverware to set on the breakfast bar for them. Being a single guy, he’d not bothered to get a dining table or anything yet. Most nights it was just him eating here alone, if he came home at all, so he figured why bother? Now though, playing domestic with Lucy felt good, right…dangerous.

Setting out the silverware and napkins, he frowned. None of this was part of his carefully crafted plans for the future. Since the age of six, when Ben had been drafted into the mafia by his father, he’d learned his best asset was control. Control kept him on top. Therefore, he planned to control as much about the years ahead as he could. Right down to the age he would marry—thirty-two—and the type of woman he’d settle down with—blonde, tall, willowy, fertile so she would give him the two perfect children he pictured. It was all very specific and very controlled.

Lucy Paprocki, however, fit none of his well-crafted molds.

Therefore, she was not an option, no matter how natural things might feel between them.

“Awesome!” Lucy dished them up a big bowl of goulash then took a seat on the stool beside Ben’s, nudging a now wide awake and begging Pavlov gently out of the way. “If this doesn’t make you fall madly in love with me, I don’t know what will.”

Ben stared, trying to figure out if she was serious, and if she was, how she could manage to be so forthright—and vulnerable. But she just smiled at him expectantly, as if she’d said nothing out of the ordinary. Ben shrugged, then took a tentative bite of the rich, chunky mixture. She was right—the stuff was pretty fucking incredible. The tanginess of the peppers and onions contrasted perfectly with the garlic and tomatoes causing a joyous explosion of flavors in his mouth.

Lucy watched him cautiously as he swallowed his first bite. “Well? What do you think?”

He decided to have a bit of fun with her. Gaze narrowed, he tried a second bite, then a third, savoring each one as if he were on the staff at the Food Network. Then he sighed and frowned, putting his fork down.

“Oh.” Her shoulders slumped and her long black hair tumbled down her front, the hot pink streak glowing in the dimmer light of his loft. “You don’t like it.”

Even dejected as she was, Lucy was honestly the most adorable thing he’d seen in a long, long time, even if she wasn’t willowy and blonde. Especially since she wasn’t. Ben couldn’t bite back his smile any longer. “It’s amazing.”

Her sparkling green gaze flew to him, her expression shocked. “Really?”

“Superb. Magnificent.” He kissed his fingers with a flourish. “Bravo.”

She smacked him on the arm then tried a bite herself. “Stop being a smartass. It’s good.”

They ate in silence for a moment and Ben did his best to remember the reasons for her being at his loft tonight. The fact he enjoyed spending time with her was beside the point. He had a mission and it didn’t include flirting with the gorgeous woman beside him.

“So,” Lucy sipped her wine and looked around. “This place is impressive. Who’s doing your renovations?”

“Me.” Ben shoveled in more goulash, searching for a way to bring up Peter Mishin that wouldn’t make her suspicious. “It’s mainly custom work anyway. It relaxes me and I can get things done the way I want. Win-win.”

“Wow.” She smiled at him over the rim of her wine glass. “A man of many talents.”

“You have no idea.” Ben clinked his glass with hers then took a large gulp of wine. Drinking wine with her was so not helping his situation at all. He frowned then cleared his throat, pushing aside his now empty bowl. “Tell me more about yourself, Lucy. I know you’re looking for your real father. Were you two close?”

Lucy shrugged and nibbled on her dinner. “Not really. I mean he left right after I was born so he was never around. My mom played it off by saying he was busy with other…things.”

“Things like the Russian mafia.” Ben stretched out his legs, his feet brushing her beneath the breakfast bar. She didn’t pull away. He didn’t apologize. Touching her, even briefly, felt just as good as he’d imagined.

“Yeah.” She didn’t look up from her bowl, her dark brows knit together. “My mom says she never liked that aspect of him. She loved him, says she always will, but there was always a third party in their marriage—the Bratva. After I was born and he left the last time, she couldn’t take it anymore and she divorced my father and started a new life with my stepdad. Can’t really blame her, I guess.”

Now that he had her talking, especially about Mishin, Ben didn’t want her to stop. She still seemed like his best chance to find the guy and fast. Considering the local mafia had offered him and Nik an ultimatum—get the money back or pay it back themselves—it wasn’t like Ben had much choice. The most valuable thing he owned was this loft, but even if he sold it today the money wouldn’t cover what Mishin had stolen from the Bratva.

To keep Lucy interested, he offered her an incentive. “If you really want to find your father, I can help you.”

“Yeah?” She gave him a warm smile that he felt all the way to his groin. And yes, perhaps part of his offer stemmed from the fact he was undeniably attracted to her. She was a brave soul, searching for Peter Mishin with no idea of the danger ahead of her. Ben liked that, nearly as much as he liked her soft curves and lush mouth and the way her green eyes turned soft and smoldering whenever she looked at him. His instincts told him he wasn’t the only one interested in some seriously hot bed play between them.

Not that he’d allow that. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

“How exactly could you help me?” Her gaze flickered to the tattoos on his hands before returning to his eyes. “Through your own Bratva connections?”

“Perhaps.” Ben straightened on his stool, his tone turning serious. “I have heard of your father. Which is never a good thing. It seems he might be in some trouble with the local mafia.” In fact, Peter Mishin was a dead man—no one stole from the Bratva and lived—but Lucy didn’t need to know that right now.

“What kind of trouble?” Lucy asked, frowning. “They won’t hurt him, will they?”

“I can’t say.” Ben forced what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “What I can do is help you locate him, if you’d like. We’ll have to work together though. And maybe when we find him we’ll both get what we want.”

Her dark brow raised. “And what exactly is it that you want, Ben? How exactly will finding my father benefit you?”

“It will help my family clear their name.” With that, he slid off his stool and took his dishes to the sink. “No matter what it takes.”

“Right.” Lucy gave a nervous laugh and looked away before getting to her feet as well and joining him near the sink. “Well, once we get this cleaned up, I should head home. Got an early shift again tomorrow and then I need to start that search for a new place.”

They worked together, boxing up the leftovers, then her washing and him drying and soon the kitchen was spotless again. Lucy grabbed her coat from the back of the sofa where she’d left it then said a heartfelt goodbye to Pavlov. “You be a good boy for Mommy and I’ll have you back home with me in no time.”

Ben shrugged on his own jacket and met her at the door. “I’ll see you home.”

“Oh, that’s not necessary.” She seemed uncharacteristically flustered. “It’s not far and the walk will do me good.”

“Nonsense. After what happened earlier, I won’t take any chances.” He grabbed his keys and followed her out into the hallway. “Besides, we’re partners now, right?”

“Partners?”

“Da. Until we find your father.”

“Uh, okay.” They walked down the hall to the freight elevator and Ben didn’t miss the little glances through her lashes she kept casting his way. “Great. If two of us are working on it, we should find him in no time.”

“That’s my plan.” Ben lifted the heavy metal elevator door up for her then lowered it once they were inside. Together they rode to the lobby then walked out into the chilly evening. Crowds still milled about, heading to Grant Park or maybe a late dinner and a show at the nearby Schubert Theatre. He and Lucy walked side by side, their arms occasionally brushing. “Where is your apartment?”

“On Sheridan, just a few blocks over.”

“Nice area,” Ben said as they waited at the corner for the light to turn green. “Kind of pricey on a tour guide’s salary.”

Lucy stiffened slightly beside him. “Yeah, I had two roommates, but they both bailed on me within a month of each other. So, it’s been a bit of a struggle the past couple of weeks.”

They crossed Broadway and headed down Argyle Street. Part of Ben wanted to offer to help her through her difficulties. But the other part of him—the control-freak part—made him reconsider. This was a means to an end. A way to find Peter Mishin and bring him to justice, once and for all. No more. No less. To get further entwined in Lucy’s life wasn’t wise, nor did it reconcile with his perfectly planned future. So, he said nothing, just walked beside her until they reached a clean, well-maintained older brick building on the corner of Sheridan and Argyle about two blocks ahead.

“Well, this is it.” Lucy said, stopping at the front entrance. “Thanks for helping out with Pavlov. Hopefully I can get him off your hands again soon.”

She entered her security code and opened the front door to walk away, but without even thinking about what he was really doing, he put his arm out, blocking her way.

“I’ll come with you. A gentleman walks a lady to her door.” This close he caught a whiff of her scent—roses and lavender perfume and warm, clean woman. His voice went gruffer without his consent when she looked back at him, uncertain. “Just to your door, I swear. I want to make sure you’re safe.”

At last, she exhaled and nodded. He followed her inside the lobby. It was nice, newly renovated too, if the fresh paint smell was any indication. He walked with her across the art deco-style lobby with its shiny black and white tiled floor and over to a small elevator in the corner. They rode in silence up to the top floor and got out. The hallway was somewhat dark, but the seventh-floor height gave incredible views out either end over the twinkling, twilight Chicago skyline.

Lucy stopped at the second to last door on the right and frowned. “Shit.”

“What’s wrong?” Ben’s protective instincts immediately went on high alert and he shoved his way in front of her, only to see an eviction notice tacked to the door. “Oh.”

Apparently, she hadn’t been kidding when she’d said things had been rough.

Her expression furious, Lucy tore the notice off the door and crumpled it in her hand. “I ought to go down there and tell my damned landlord to go fuck himself.” Scowling, she dug her key out of her pocket and jammed it into the lock. “I told him I was working on getting caught up on rent. I can’t help it if I’m short since my roommates bailed. He said he’d give me until the end of the week to pay. We’d only missed two previous payments.”

Ben refrained from mentioning that yesterday had been Thursday. Especially when her key no longer worked in the lock.

“Damn it!” Lucy hauled off and kicked the door hard.

Down the hall, several residents peeked their heads out to see what all the commotion was about. Ben gave them a short wave and tight smile. “Perhaps you should resist damaging the property,” he said. “The landlord may charge you for that too.”

Lucy whirled fast to face him, her cheeks flushed and her eyes glittering with anger. He’d never seen a more beautiful sight in his life. “And maybe you should go fuck yourself too.”

As soon as the words left her mouth, Lucy’s eyes widened and she clapped a hand over her mouth. “Oh, God. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I’m just so upset about this rent and now I’m locked out of my own apartment and all my stuff’s in there and…” The longer she talked the more her face fell and soon tears rolled down her cheeks. “What am I going to do?”

Helpless people had always been his Achilles’ heel, and helpless women in particular. Despite his vows to the contrary, there was no way Ben could walk away and leave her alone and struggling like this, no matter what his plans. Besides, if he kept her close he could control her, right?

That’s the excuse he was going with anyway.

“Come stay with me,” he said, the words surprising even him. He blinked at her, then continued. “I have a guest room. It’s nothing fancy, but it’s clean and secure.”

“Oh… I don’t know.” Lucy looked as stunned as he felt. “We don’t really know each other that well and—”

“Pavlov’s there too. He’ll keep you safe.” Adrenaline mixed with something else— something he wasn’t quite ready to name yet— sizzled inside him. Keeping her under his roof would give him access to her information and daily patterns, he told himself. Never mind his libido. He just needed to get laid, that was all. It had been too long since he’d had a woman warm his bed. Not that Lucy would be fitting that bill, even if suddenly her saying yes seemed like the most important thing in the world. He kept his expression carefully schooled, however. Years of Bratva training had taught him that giving oneself away too easily could cost you everything. “Seriously. My loft is huge. Way too large for one person. We’d barely even see each other. What do you say?”

Her gaze narrowed as she contemplated his offer. The seconds ticked by like a small eternity and he lived and died in those few seconds. Finally, Lucy held out her hand and smiled. “Deal. But only until I find a new place of my own and get my stuff out of here.”

Ben shook her hand and smiled. “Deal.”