Temptation (Bad Angels)

by Inara Scott

  “Try three and a half.” He set the groceries on the counter and walked over to her, holding out his hand. “It’s time to surrender the device. If you want dinner, that is.”

  She leaned over to pick up the phone, ignoring the rush of blood to her injured hand, and gave it to him before collapsing back into the couch cushions. “But I’m so bored,” she said piteously, knowing she sounded ridiculous but having passed the point of caring several hours before. “And I have so much to do!”

  He motioned toward the guest bedroom. “Sorry. Back into the cave. This is exactly why I was not about to let you stay home alone.”

  “Fine. But you better hide that phone from me. And I mean hide. Or I can’t be responsible for what happens at one a.m.” She got to her feet, wondering if he’d noticed that she’d changed into her own clothes while he was gone and that the sweatpants she’d grabbed sat just below her waist and exposed a little of her navel. They weren’t indecent, or even particularly racy, but she would have grabbed something a little more demure if she hadn’t been trying to rush.

  On the other hand, Connor wasn’t big on noticing thing like clothes. And it wasn’t like she wanted him to notice, anyway. In fact, she was embarrassed that he might.

  Really, she was.

  He tucked the phone into his pocket and turned toward the kitchen without so much as a glance toward her lower half. “If you say so.”

  Zoe stayed in the dark room for the rest of the evening, coming out only for dinner and a short email break monitored by Connor. After dinner it was back to bed, where she napped fitfully until around two in the morning, when she finally gave up and went into the living room to stare at the city lights. As she stared she thought about her student loans. Her lousy apartment. The money she was trying desperately to save for retirement so if she did end up alone for the rest of her life, at least she’d be able to afford health care.

  At a few minutes before three, Connor wandered out of his bedroom. She saw him peek inside the guest bedroom before turning to the living room. He wore a pair of plaid pajama bottoms, a white undershirt, and his dark glasses. His hair was deliciously rumpled from sleep.

  When he sat beside her on the couch, he left a safe distance between them. Zoe pretended she was relieved he hadn’t sat any closer.

  After all, they were two relatively attractive people.

  Alone. In the dark.

  It was good of him to make sure no one misunderstood what was happening. Or not happening, to be more precise.

  “You okay?” he asked softly.

  She nodded. “Just can’t sleep.”

  “Your head’s okay? Not seeing double, or feeling sick? Memory loss or confusion?”

  “Nope. Sadly, I remember every embarrassing detail.” She adjusted her sling with a rueful grimace. “I suppose I am feeling a little sick about dealing with this broken wrist. But maybe I can get some good dictation software or something.”

  “Are we giving you too much work?” Connor asked. “I could ask Nate to back off.”

  She rolled her neck around with a sigh. “No, it’s not you. I’m trying to find new clients.”

  “You’re so good at what you do, I can’t imagine that’s a problem.”

  “I wish it were that easy. But this is the real world, and even with my engineering degree, it can be hard to get guys at tech start-ups to trust a woman.”

  “That sounds awful. I can’t tell you how grateful I am that Mason does all that for us. I would rather walk over hot coals than try to make contacts and schmooze with people.”

  He was so heartfelt and earnest she couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah, well, I guess there are a lot worse problems to have. At least I’ve got a place to live, right? And a great job. That’s more than I can say for a lot of people in this city.”

  “I know. But that doesn’t mean it isn’t hard. Or frustrating. I’m sorry you have to deal with that.”

  His simple acknowledgment of her words meant more than anything else he could have said. An intimate silence fell over them.

  “Yeah, well, I’m sorry for getting you up in the middle of the night,” she said softly, not wanting to break the moment. “You’ve been really patient with this whole thing.”

  “It’s not patience,” he said, and something in his voice caught her by surprise. She turned toward him, and he cleared his throat. “Any of us would have done it. And really, I feel responsible for the accident.”

  The air in the room seemed to have shifted. For the first time, Zoe got the sense he was aware of her. Like, really aware. Something in his body language. Or the way he wouldn’t quite look at her.

  Did he feel it, too?

  “Responsible. Right. Because I dived into a lamppost?”

  He shifted, and the small movement brought them closer together. Almost close enough to touch. “Because I waved, which caused you to dive into a lamppost.”

  A tiny shiver started somewhere around her stomach. Had his voice changed? Was there something in his tone that hadn’t been there a moment ago? And what would she even do if there was?

  The answer was too frightening to contemplate, so she changed the subject. “But you’ll keep the exact nature of the incident to yourself, right? When we see the others?”

  “You’re serious about that?” He drew back slightly. “I thought that was a joke. Honestly, don’t take this the wrong way, Zoe, but we all know you’re not the most coordinated person in the world. It’s not really news.”

  Her shoulders dropped. “I know, but that’s exactly the problem. It’s one more reason to doubt me.”

  “We might doubt your scootering skills, but you have to know that no one could doubt your lawyering. Even Nate thinks you’re scary in court, and that’s a huge compliment, coming from him.”

  She tried to smile but couldn’t quite pull it off. Appreciating her in court—which was a relatively small part of her job—wasn’t the same thing as thinking she was one of them. She was always a little on the outside, and that was almost worse than them openly doubting her abilities.

  “I know it sounds stupid,” she said finally, “but it would make me feel better if I didn’t have to look like quite as much of an idiot.”

  Connor gave her one of those deeply thoughtful looks that he normally turned on problems of biochemical engineering or improving the efficiency of electrochemical battery technology.

  “You know,” he said with a slow nod, “now that I think about it, the ground is very uneven right where you crashed. And I think I saw a rock in the road. Some people hate e-scooters. I wouldn’t be surprised if someone put something in the bike path deliberately, just to send someone flying.”

  She gave him a grateful smile. “I thought maybe that was what happened, but I wasn’t sure.”

  He continued to study her, and for a moment, he seemed to be struggling to say something. He leaned forward, just a fraction, and she heard him take a deep breath.

  Her heart thumped in her chest.

  Was he going to…?

  The tension rose, then dropped as he leaned back again.

  Zoe found herself wanting to cry out in sudden frustration. She had the feeling an important moment had passed and wanted desperately to know what had almost happened. But the truth lay between them, clearer than anything he might have said or done.

  Client. Professional rules. Friend.

  Off-limits.

  He knew it, just like she did.

  This could not be.

  “No problem,” he said into the space between them. “Anything you need, just let me know.”

  …

  Connor jumped to block a shot from Luke and tipped the ball back toward Mason. With a cocky grin, Mason scooped it up and passed it to Nate, who ran it up the court. Connor hustled back to their side of the court and was waiting under the basket for the easy layup.

  Which he missed.

  Catching his own rebound with a muttered sound of disgust, he tried again, this time hitting a rim sh
ot that rolled around the entire circumference of the hoop before sliding through the net.

  It had been like this all morning. Instead of thinking about the basket, he was thinking about a pair of crystal-blue eyes and sweetly curving hips. Thinking about that moment on the couch when he almost did something crazy. Something he surely would have regretted.

  She’d been asleep when he left that morning, and not knowing how she was doing was killing him. He’d left her a note with the name and location of the gym they were playing at, and of course she knew his number, but he still worried. She’d seemed fine last night, but it would have been nice to check in with her before he left.

  Luke, his shirt dark with sweat, glared at his teammates. “I guess we just decided to go with the no defense, let Connor do whatever he wants strategy?”

  They’d played basketball every weekend for at least a year now. Connor played with Nate and Mason while Luke played with Rafe and, lately, the new associate at their firm, Austin. The scoring was usually pretty lopsided, thanks to Connor. Luke had a great shot and was scrappy as hell, but Rafe, a native Spaniard, had grown up playing soccer, not basketball. Not to mention that he was somewhere around five ten. Austin was pretty good, but he’d torn a ligament skiing on his first run of the season and would be out for a couple of months. Today, Luke had called in a pinch hitter—a new guy named Hugh who was good on the inside but had admitted to being rusty after not having played for years.

  “He’s a little difficult to block,” Rafe drawled. “Seeing as he’s about ten inches taller than me and was practically in the NBA.”

  Connor snorted. “Playing for MIT on a Division III team is pretty far from the NBA.”

  “It’s a lot closer than the rest of us ever got.” Luke sighed and wiped the bottom of his T-shirt across his face. He pointed at Hugh. “You, at least, are supposed to be competitive.”

  “I am.” Hugh had dark hair and brows, along with high cheekbones and a hawkish nose. That, along with that fact that he’d worked in London for several years and had the faintest hint of an English accent, made him seem a little like a misplaced aristocrat. “Competitive at golf. You can join me for a round next weekend and see how you do.”

  Nate made a sound of disgust. “No can do. We made an agreement when we started our firm: no golf. That extends to our lawyers, too.”

  Mason sighed. “Sorry, Hugh. Nate’s kind of a dick. And anyway, we made no such agreement. Nate just has an irrational hatred for the sport.”

  “It’s not a sport,” Nate said. “Basketball is a sport. Football is a sport. Wrestling is a sport.”

  “Isn’t wrestling the one where you wear a leotard?” Hugh said mildly.

  “It’s called a singlet,” Nate grouched.

  Connor held up his hand. “We’ve got the court for another ten minutes. Any chance we can play instead of standing around arguing? Or should we just quit now?”

  He wouldn’t mind getting done a little early—he might even be able to catch Zoe before she left. Not that he knew exactly what he’d do with her if he did.

  “You would say that,” Rafe said. “You’re up forty-six to thirty.”

  “Golf sounds really nice right about now,” Mason interjected with an easy grin. Everything Mason did seemed easy, from his ability to magically attract business opportunities to the way women fell at his feet. It used to drive Connor nuts, but Mason always seemed genuinely surprised by his own success, which made it somewhat bearable. Besides, Connor had witnessed first hand Mason getting flattened by his now fiancée, Tess. That had helped. “Where do you play, Hugh?”

  “Wherever I get invited. Haven’t joined a club yet.”

  “Hugh just moved to the area a few months ago,” Luke said. “Comes to us from New York, by way of London. You know Precore Technologies?”

  Mason nodded. “Of course. You do data analytics, right? Machine data, primarily? I heard you guys were looking at establishing a presence in town. I’d been meaning to give a call and introduce myself.”

  Connor was always amazed at Mason’s uncanny knowledge of people and companies in San Francisco and Silicon Valley. If there was someone new in town, Mason either knew them or was arranging to meet them.

  “That’s right. We’re considering setting up an office here. We’re still pretty small but are hoping to grow our footprint. I heard Luke’s firm knows its way around the Valley and wasn’t so big we’d always be playing second fiddle to other clients, so I gave him a call.” He cocked his head and glanced back again at Mason. “Your firm was Luke’s first client, right? How do you like working with these guys?” He gestured back toward Luke and Rafe.

  Luke grinned. “Be nice, Mason, or I raise my hourly rate. Again.”

  Connor grabbed the basketball and moved away from the group, setting up a three-point shot. He wasn’t the chattiest guy in the best of times, but making small talk with a stranger when what he really wanted was to get done with this game so he could get back to see Zoe was downright excruciating.

  He popped his shot and watched it fly in an embarrassingly high arc, well out of position for the net.

  “Nice air ball.” Nate joined him a few feet from the group. “Your shot has looked like shit all day. Everything all right?”

  Nate was an asshole, but a shockingly perceptive one. Connor had always hated that about him. “Everything’s fine,” he said, jogging over to recover the ball for another shot.

  Which he also missed.

  “Sure,” Nate said. He retrieved the ball and threw it back to Connor. “I haven’t seen you play this badly since that time your dad showed up at one of your games unannounced. But it’s probably nothing.”

  Connor gritted his teeth. “You know how Mason always seems to know the right thing to say to make people like him?”

  “Yeah?” Nate asked.

  “You seem to have the opposite talent.”

  Nate started to respond, but before he could get out a word, Connor had caught sight of a figure entering the gym and froze in place.

  “Jesus, is that Zoe?” Nate said. He swept a quick look at Connor. “Did you see—” He broke off when he saw the look on Connor’s face. “Oh. Right. You did see. Can’t look away, in fact.”

  “Shut the hell up,” Connor bit out.

  What in the world was Zoe doing here? She should be either sleeping at his place or heading home. Not here in the gym reminding him of how desperately he wanted to rewind the clock and see what would have happened if he’d kissed her last night. To find out if he’d just been crazy, or if she really had leaned in toward him, before he’d pulled away.

  “Zoe,” Luke called out, “what the hell happened to you?”

  Rafe whistled. “You get in another bar brawl?”

  “I wouldn’t be surprised,” Nate said. “And I’d hate to see the other guy.”

  Zoe, who had been making her way toward the small collection of chairs on the side of the gym, paused and changed direction, heading their way instead. She had changed since he’d seen her last and was now wearing a pair of figure-hugging black leggings and a short gray sweatshirt that exposed her tiny waist, rounded hips, and the backside that Connor had tried not to fantasize about for three years. Her long dark hair was loose down her back, and she wore a blue Golden State Warriors baseball hat over the top of it.

  She looked stylish, sporty, and injured, with her black sling holding her arm immobile over the top of the sweatshirt. But where she normally charged into a room full of energy, to Connor’s eye she was clearly subdued and weary, with dark shadows under her eyes that were probably related to the injury to her nose.

  And now he’d held that waist, and touched those hips, if only for a moment. It was almost unbearable.

  “Zoe?” Hugh asked, taking her in with an unmistakable appreciation.

  Men couldn’t help but react to Zoe that way. Connor had watched it happen for years. She was just so unabashedly female, curvy in all the right places, and, even when she had just br
oken her wrist and smashed her face into a streetlamp, had a faint smile that seemed to suggest she was totally aware of their appreciation and knew she had earned it.

  “Third member of our team,” Luke said. “Our resident badass litigator. If you ever do end up in court and you see Zoe on the other side, you run, my friend. Don’t walk—run.”

  “She’s on your team?” Hugh repeated.

  Connor had a sudden desire to punch the other man right in his face. He tightened his grip on the basketball instead.

  “She’s the Riva in Alexander, Contras, and Riva,” Luke replied. There was just the tiniest hint of a warning in his voice, as if he wanted to make sure Hugh knew Zoe was off-limits.

  “Ah, of course. The third partner,” Hugh said.

  Connor wanted to roll his eyes at the hint of regret in the man’s voice, but knowing that Nate was already watching him, he shot instead.

  “Air ball,” Nate sang under his breath.

  Connor ignored the ball and headed toward Zoe, casually throwing an elbow Nate’s way. Nate gave a small “oof” of surprise and then followed behind, rubbing his arm and wincing.

  Connor quickly replayed his last conversation with Zoe—particularly the part about how she wanted to hide the precise nature of her accident. It occurred to him that he wasn’t sure how she wanted to treat the rest of their interactions. Did she want him to tell everyone that he’d seen her get injured? What about the fact that she’d spent the night at his apartment?

  He didn’t like to think about the questions that would follow that announcement. Not because they’d done anything wrong, but because he knew Nate and Mason would give him endless shit about it.

  He tried for a look of neutral concern but felt Nate’s eyes on him as Zoe approached. If anyone would figure out the truth, it would be Nate. Mason could read people, but he stopped short of telepathic; Nate, on the other hand, had some weird sixth sense when it came to the small circle of people he cared about.

  “Seriously, what the hell happened to you?” Luke reached out toward her, touching her shoulder and studying her from head to toe. Connor wondered if he could tell that she was covering the bruising under her eyes with makeup.