by BJ Wane
“Ready?” Miles asked as soon as she emerged from the bathroom.
“Where are…”
He held up her thong underwear with a raised brow before stuffing the scrap of lace in his pocket. “You don’t need it. Let’s go.”
It wasn’t worth arguing over since he would be taking her directly back to the shelter and she had to dash upstairs to change anyway. “I was thinking,” Hope said when he opened the door. “I could pay a little toward those tickets next week. I don’t mind donating to the cause.”
Warmth entered those obsidian eyes as he murmured, “Could you, now?” Taking her hand for the first time, he tugged her up the stairs, tossing over his shoulder. “I’ve got it, Hope.” He shrugged those wide shoulders. “Thanks for the offer, though.”
Hope was too giddy at finally earning a more personal touch from him to insist. For the first time, she didn’t worry about his reaction when she told him about Craig, including how she hadn’t loved her fiancé. She couldn’t expect him to be the only one willing to give if they were moving forward, and she really, really wanted to see where they could go from here.
“Here. You’re doing it wrong.” Ed shoved aside Miles’ hands, adjusted his tie then stepped back with a pat to his shoulder. “Better. What made you change your mind about asking Hope out?”
Miles thought back to Monday morning, when he looked in the mirror in the yacht’s bathroom and saw the look on Hope’s face when she noticed his tattoo. He’d always kept that tribute to his mother private, just as he had his memories of her shielding him from his father’s blows, even after he’d grown big enough to dodge them or take on the old man himself. How many times had he applied ice to his mother’s bruised face or wrapped an ACE bandage around a swollen wrist? The first time he’d seen Hope, her face reflected the same fierce determination to protect he’d seen so many times on his mother’s. Was that why he’d fallen so hard and fast for her? Had he finally let her see the tattoo, and its sentiment, to gauge her reaction and force him to admit to his feelings?
“It’s a date, for a good cause. Nothing else,” he told Ed, refusing to start the evening with unanswered questions.
Ed turned and started out of Miles’ bedroom before he reminded him, “Like I’ve been telling you for over twenty years, you’re not your father. Have a good time tonight.”
Miles snatched his suit jacket off the chair, scowling at his mentor’s retreating back. He knew he wasn’t his old man, and it was time he quit letting the past rule his future. He wanted Hope; in his bed, in his life. He’d ribbed his friends over their recent commitments, giving them a hard time about letting a woman get to them. The truth was, Hope had gotten to him the moment he met her, and he hadn’t been able to shake her since. Now, he didn’t want to.
Thirty minutes later, she opened her apartment door and he almost swallowed his tongue seeing her in an electric blue dress that swirled around her calves and clung to her full breasts, emphasizing their shape and softness. Her white blonde hair fell around her bare shoulders and brushed with tantalizing, eye-drawing appeal over her nipples. The waist tucked in to flare out around her hips and the black heels showcased her legs to perfection. He leaned against the door jamb and took his time looking her over until his eyes rose to her flushed face.
“You look beautiful. Ready?”
“Yes, and thank you.” Closing and locking the door behind her, she turned to look up at him with a soft smile. “And may I say you clean up nicely, Mr. Cavenaugh.”
“You may, just not in front of anyone else.” He took her hand and felt her fingers tremble in his, which made him want to smile. He liked knowing he flustered her.
“How many vehicles do you have?” Hope eyed his sporty SUV with relief.
“A few. What?” Opening the passenger door, he asked, “Did you think I would pick you up for this on Rhonda?”
“Honestly, I didn’t know.”
“I’m not completely uncouth.” Shutting the door, he walked around to the driver’s side wondering if that wasn’t a lie. All he could think about was flipping up that dress, stripping off whatever she wore under it and burying himself inside her, regardless of where they were or who might see.
There was a reason Soho Studios was voted the best event venue in Miami, and as Miles pulled up out front and waited for the valet parking to get his keys, Hope eyed the long line of people entering the facility for the annual fundraiser. “They really get a crowd for this, don’t they?”
“Yeah, it’s gotten bigger since the city has been so successful in cleaning up the gangs.” He caught a quick frown on her face and asked sharply, “What’s wrong?”
“What? Oh, nothing.” She waved an airy hand. “Traci mentioned the other day that someone came by asking for me, a young, rough-looking guy. He didn’t leave his name and I have no idea who it could’ve been, unless it was someone who has stayed at the shelter previously. With the recent graffiti we’ve seen, I was just wondering if maybe someone in a gang had it in for someone at the shelter. If so, they won’t get anything from me, if he returns,” she said in a hardened voice.
Miles immediately thought of Mateo and vowed to find him tomorrow and question him. He would not have that punk harassing Hope. “You call me if you or Traci see anyone suspicious, or if this guy returns.” The valet opened his door and he got out, handed him the keys and escorted Hope inside. He wanted her to have fun tonight, not worry about work or gangs. That was his job, one he took as seriously as he did her safety.
White cloth-draped tables sat under glittering chandeliers and the aroma from the evening’s menu of grilled salmon and savory herb-baked chicken permeated the air as they stepped inside. Hope spotted the long table of decadent desserts and her mouth watered at the array of samplings. Soft background music accompanied low-voiced conversations of the one-hundred plus guests all dressed in their finest. But none of the men looked as good as Miles in his dark suit. She was hard pressed to keep from teasing him when he kept fidgeting with his tie and tugging on his jacket. It was obvious he much preferred his gi or his leathers to formal attire. As good as he looked, she would rather see him in his butt molding jeans, or nothing at all.
It wasn’t until they’d stayed the night on the yacht that she’d seen his naked body. The night she stayed over at his place, she’d felt the pleasure of his naked, muscled strength next to her for the first time, but her imagination after tracing over his warm, taut skin hadn’t come close to the sheer magnetism of his body. His flesh felt like silk over steel, his muscles ripped without being too big and bulging.
Nodding toward the tables lining the far wall holding items for the silent auction, Miles said, “There’re Sandie and Krista.” Taking her hand, something she knew she’d never tire of him doing, he led her over to her friends. “I see Zach and Dax at the bar. What would you like?”
“Wine would be nice. I’m not picky.” She watched him stride through the crowd before Krista snagged her attention.
“He looks as good as Dax in a suit.”
“Yeah,” she agreed with a sigh. Following them down the table, Hope asked, “What are you bidding on?”
“There’s some artwork I’d love to have, but I doubt my bids will get them.” Sandie eyed a painting with longing.
Krista nudged her with a grin. “Zach’s got more money than all the guys put together. You know he’ll get it for you if you want it.”
Sandie frowned at her. “I’m not with him because he has money.”
“I know that, but if he wants to indulge you, and it’s for a good cause, then let him.”
“I agree with Krista,” Hope put in as she wrote a bid on a large basket of perfumes, lotions, bath salts, wine and chocolates. “I’d love to pamper myself with these items. And the basket will look good next to my sofa.”
“Well, if Dax and Miles can afford to plop down ten thousand per ticket for this event, they’re not doing too shabby themselves,” Sandie said as she upped her bid on the painting
.
Hope stopped and stared at her in disbelief. “Ten thousand?” There was a time when that kind of money had meant an extravagant shopping weekend for her. Now it meant food for weeks for the countless homeless people who came through her shelter. She’d had no idea Miles had that kind of money, and as she thought of telling him about what happened with Craig, a cold chill slithered down her spine.
“I take it you didn’t know that?” Krista asked her.
“No, I didn’t.”
Sandie shrugged but eyed her pale face with concern. “What’s the big deal? He’s still the guy you want to be with, regardless of his wealth, isn’t he?”
Yes, he was, but was she the one he would still want if her past could reflect badly on him and, in turn, on his good work with Miami’s youth? She thought she had worked through all of her insecurities regarding her actions in Atlanta that led to Craig’s death and telling Miles about what happened. Now, she found herself back at square one, struggling with what to do.
“Hope? Are you okay?”
“What? Oh, yes, Krista. Just thinking.”
Miles, Dax and Zach joined them just then and at Sandie’s inquisitive look, Hope shook her head. She had some thinking to do and needed to do it away from her well-meaning friends and Miles’ probing looks. Taking the glass of wine he handed her, she murmured her thanks and breathed a sigh of relief when the call to be seated for dinner came over the speakers.
“You were very quiet tonight.” Miles pulled up in front of the shelter and turned toward Hope. He’d gone back and upped the bid on the basket he’d noticed her eying, the one she now held in her lap. But even winning the bid on it hadn’t returned the spark of pleasure to her eyes that had dimmed while he’d been getting their drinks.
“I had a lovely time, Miles, but it’s been a long week. I’m just tired and need to call it a night. Thank you for the basket, and for tonight.”
He knew that wasn’t it, but he’d let it go for now. They needed to talk, and soon, but he wanted to get to the bottom of the recent vandalism on her building and strangers stopping by and asking for her. Once he’d assured himself she was safe from Mateo, he would tell her about his parents and pull the rest of the story behind her own scar from her.
“I’ll walk you up.”
She laid a trembling hand on his arm. “Bobby is right inside, Miles. Good-night.”
Cupping the back of her head, he yanked her to him and took her mouth in a deep, tongue-searching kiss. By the time he released her, she was breathless, looking at him with glazed blue eyes and a flushed face.
“I’ll talk to you soon, and you’ll tell me what’s bothering you. Good-night, Hope.” He waited until Bobby locked the front doors of the shelter behind her before driving slowly back to his place. The urge to turn around and demand she talk to him wouldn’t let up until he slipped inside the back door of the gym and heard angry voices that turned his blood to ice.
“God damned punk. Try that again and I’ll…”
Miles took over for Ed when he entered the gym and saw Mateo rising from the floor, Ed’s bruised and bloodied nose speaking volumes. Rushing forward, he kicked out and sent Mateo back down, pinning him with a glare. “Don’t you fucking move. You okay?” he asked Ed.
“He took me by surprise, is all. Nothing I haven’t had before,” the older man grumbled.
“Get some ice.” Miles swung around in time to catch Mateo coming at him. His patience long gone, he grabbed the kid’s wrist and twisted, fighting dirty as he heard the bone snap.
“Shit! You fucking broke my wrist,” Mateo gasped, holding his arm to his chest as he glared at Miles.
“You’re lucky that’s all I’ve done so far.” He advanced a menacing step forward, gratified when Mateo stumbled back and a wary flash of fear crossed his face. “Yeah, you’re getting the picture. I’m in no mood to play nice tonight. Why’d you go to Hope’s Crossing looking for her?”
“What are you talking about? I’ve told you, I don’t go near that place.”
“First, it’s the graffiti, then terrorizing an old woman and now I hear you’re asking for Hope. I warned you about staying clear of my place and anyone I care about.” Miles backed Mateo against the wall, so pissed he had to clench his hands into fists to keep from pummeling him to a bloody pulp. Ed could still defend himself, but that didn’t negate the injury this dope head had caused him, or the threats against Hope.
“I’m telling you, man, I didn’t do any of those things. I just want my brother.”
The fear in Mateo’s eyes gave Miles pause. Could he be telling the truth? If so, who was behind the recent harassment at the shelter? “You know what goes down on the streets. What have you heard about the vandalism going on at the shelter?” he demanded.
“Nothing, I swear. I gotta get my wrist fixed.”
Jake sauntered in just then, eyed Mateo pinned against the wall, cradling his arm, then switched his gaze to Ed, who stood to the side with an ice pack on his swollen nose. “I see your one night in jail didn’t do much to get you to mend your ways,” he told Mateo before looking at Miles’ angry face. “Who am I filing charges against?”
“I caught the kid breaking in, he came at me and got in a lucky swipe before I took him down. That’s when Miles returned.”
“He… he broke my fucking wrist,” Mateo whined, as if he’d done nothing wrong.
“You’re lucky that’s all he did,” Jake returned, repeating Miles’ words. He started to lead Mateo out when he paused to tell Miles, “I’ll throw the book at him and see if we can get something to stick. No guarantees.”
“There never are. Thanks.” Miles turned to Ed after Jake left. “Will you be okay? I need to check on Hope.” He couldn’t rid himself of the feeling she needed him, that something wasn’t right, more so now that he believed Mateo wasn’t the one hanging around the shelter.
“Go. I’m not so old I can’t handle a bloody nose. My pride hurts worse. I can’t believe I let him get the jump on me.”
Miles slapped him on the back with a small grin then left without another word.
Chapter 13
“Everything quiet tonight?” Hope asked Bobby as she stepped inside the shelter.
“Everyone’s tucked in, no problems. Did you have a good time?”
“Yes. I even won this in the silent auction.” She held up the large basket filled with pampering goodies. As if it hadn’t been bad enough learning the cost of the tickets for tonight’s event, Miles had added a significant amount to her bid to ensure she won the basket. She’d been struggling all night with the fact he earned the kind of money she came from, knowing deep down he wasn’t as shallow as her parents or friends, but unable to suppress the thread of fear of him turning on her the way they had. She knew next to nothing about his childhood but did know he was well-respected in the community. Would he stand by her regardless of the risk of her tainted past to his social standing, or would he bail on her, as those who’d claimed to care about her had?
“Nice, but you don’t look like you had fun.” Bobby leaned back in the chair behind the receptionist desk and narrowed his eyes. “Do I need to have a word with Miles?”
She smiled for the first time in hours. “No. I’m just tired, and as much as I enjoyed the dinner and the speakers, I’m not much for socializing with the elite of Miami. I prefer smaller gatherings, with just close friends.”
“I hear you there.”
“I’ll leave this here while I do a walk-through before turning in.” She set the basket on the counter and entered the large shelter room. A quick glance told her very few cots were empty, and the quietness indicated most of the night’s guests were already asleep. She stopped to visit with a few regulars who were still awake, saddened that they either hadn’t taken advantage of the leads on jobs she’d given them or hadn’t been able to make things work out with their families. By the time she took the elevator upstairs and slid the key to her apartment in the door, exhaustion pulled at her and she
wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed.
Closing the door behind her, she set her basket on the kitchen counter, frowning at the darkness. Flipping on a lamp she could’ve sworn she left on before she left, she looked around the living area but saw nothing amiss.
“I must have forgotten,” she mumbled, right before a noise from her bedroom drew her attention, followed by a low curse. Fear slithered up her spine and had her inching back toward the door when a young man stepped out into the hall, halting her in her tracks in stunned disbelief.
“Christian? What… what are you doing here? In my apartment?” Hope hadn’t seen Craig’s younger brother since his funeral, and he’d been an angry, bitter twelve-year-old.
With a fast, irate stride, he rushed forward and grabbed her arm before she could even think to run out the door. “You fucking bitch,” he snarled, glaring down at her out of eyes the same dark brown as his older brother’s. “You ruined my life.”
She tried jerking her arm free but he only tightened his grip, making her wince. “Christian, please, let me go and let’s talk.”
“Talk?” he sneered, getting in her face. “Craig tried talking to you, and you shot him, after you betrayed him by going to that… that place.”
Anger slowly replaced her fear and she snapped out the truth. “Your brother didn’t try talking to me, he attacked me, he shot me first. Damn it, I was only trying to defend myself.”
Christian shook her. “He loved you, you whore. And what did you do? How many guys did you spread your legs for at that club?”
“None, you moron. And Craig didn’t love me any more than I did him. We never should’ve gotten engaged, and that is something we’re both to blame for.” Hope drew a deep breath, realizing for the first time how true that was. She may have been at fault in accepting his proposal knowing full well she didn’t love him, but the only reason he’d asked her in the first place was because his parents thought they’d make an excellent match that would enhance their business and social standing.