Billion dollar baby bargain.txt

by Неизвестный

  least pretend that she was doing so. It was hard concentrating on anything, even food, while sitting

  across from Darius. As he studied his menu, she studied him over the top of hers.

  She almost laughed out loud at the intense expression on his face. Deciding what hamburger he wanted

  couldn’t be all that serious. But then Darius had always been a very serious man. Especially when it

  came to making love.

  For a heart-flipping moment she wondered why a memory like that had crossed her mind, but she knew.

  Darius was the kind of man that oozed sexuality as potent as it could get, making those incredible urges

  consume the lower part of her body. They’d only had one night together, but it had been incredible. No

  matter what had happened after that, she could not discount how he’d made her feel.

  He was the most gifted of lovers. Pleasing her had seemed to be the most natural thing in the world to

  Darius. She hadn’t realized just how selfish Tyrone had been in the bedroom until after she’d made love

  to Darius. How could she have realized when Tyrone had been her first? No matter what her sexual

  experience had been with Tyrone, one time with Darius had made everything just fine.

  Darius glanced up and she took in a lungful of air. The intensity of his gaze—she wanted to look away,

  but she couldn’t. It was as if she were held captive by his deep, dark eyes.

  “Here are your waters.”

  Summer almost jumped when Tina appeared with two glasses of water. “Thanks.” Barely giving her a

  chance to set the glass down in front of her, Summer picked it up and took a long gulp, feeling the need

  for the ice-cold water to cool her down.

  Tina hung around long enough to take their food and drink order before moving on again.

  “So, what do you like about your job?”

  She glanced over at him to answer his question, making an attempt to keep her gaze trained on his nose

  instead of his eyes. “Everything, but mostly the satisfaction I get from helping women in distress, those

  who might feel broken up because of what has happened. I like letting them know they aren’t alone and

  somebody cares.”

  What she didn’t add was that she enjoyed giving them the same support he had given her during those

  first crucial days, when she had begun doubting herself, second-guessing the situation and believing that

  maybe she had been the cause of Tyrone’s problems instead of the other way around.

  “I notice there’s not a director at the shelter,” he said.

  Her gaze drifted down from his nose to his lips. Focusing on his mouth was just as bad as looking into

  his eyes. He had a sexy mouth. It was a mouth that could move with agonizing slowness when talking…

  or when being used for other things. She swallowed before responding.

  “When I was hired by the TCC it was decided that I could handle it all for now. When they complete the

  proposed expansions and decide to fill the position, I’m hoping I’ll be considered for the job.”

  Darius nodded. He had not been a part of the TCC committee that had done the hiring for Helping

  Hands, which was one of the reasons he’d been surprised to discover her working there. He would have

  recognized her name the second it came across his desk.

  “The shelter is pretty full now. How do you manage it all?” he asked.

  She shrugged. “It’s not so bad. I think the most challenging times are when I’m called in the middle of

  the night to a police station or hospital to comfort a woman who’s been beaten or raped.”

  Darius’s jaw twitched at the thought of anyone treating a woman so cruelly. Mistreatment of a woman

  was one thing he could not tolerate.

  “It’s also difficult at times when manning the abuse hotline. Someone is there to take calls twenty-four

  hours a day—usually a volunteer trained to do so. Every once in a while, a call will come through that I

  need to handle. Those are the ones that can get pretty emotional, depending on the circumstances.”

  Darius could tell from her voice that she was dedicated to what she did every day. To stay on safe

  ground and not stray on to a topic neither of them wanted to deal with, he decided to keep her talking

  about her work at the shelter.

  For the first time since seeing her again, he was lowering his guard a little.

  When the waitress finally delivered their order, he had to admit the food looked good. And after a bite

  into his hamburger, he had to own up that it tasted good, too. One of his uncles in Charleston once

  owned a sandwich shop that used to make the best burgers around. As a kid, he enjoyed the summers he

  spent there and the older he got, he found himself comparing every hamburger he ate to his uncle

  Donald’s. None could compare, but he had to admit this one came pretty close.

  “How does it taste?”

  He glanced over at Summer and could only smile and nod, since he couldn’t talk with a mouth full of

  hamburger.

  A half hour later, on the drive back to the shelter, he reflected on a number of things he hadn’t expected.

  Mainly, he hadn’t figured on sitting across from her for almost an hour and enjoying her company

  without animosity or anger seeping in. However, what couldn’t be helped was the sexual tension.

  Although they had tried to downplay it with a lot of conversation, it was there nonetheless.

  There was a lot about her he could barely resist. Her scent topped the list. Whatever perfume she was

  wearing filled his nostrils with a luscious fragrance that seemed to get absorbed right into his skin. And

  then there were her eyes. He was fully aware that she’d tried to avoid looking at him, which had been

  hard to do since they were sitting directly across from each other. Each time he would catch her staring

  at him, he would feel a pull in his stomach.

  Thankfully, his hands were gripping the steering wheel because at that moment, it wouldn’t take much

  for him to reach over and touch her, stroke that part of her thigh exposed beneath her skirt. Seeing her

  flesh peeking at him was making his mind spin, so he tried focusing on the road and decided to get her

  talking again. Anything to keep his mind off taking her.

  “So, where do you live?” he asked.

  He kept his gaze glued to the road. She didn’t need to see the heat in his eyes, a telltale sign that

  although he wished otherwise, she was getting to him.

  “I bought a house a block from the post office,” she said.

  He noted she didn’t provide him with the name of her street. There were a couple of new communities

  sprouting up near the post office, as well as a number of newly renovated older homes that had been for

  sale. “Nice area,” he heard himself say.

  “I like it. My neighborhood’s pretty quiet. Most of the people on my street are a lot older and are in bed

  before eight at night.”

  He nodded. From the information she had just shared he could safely assume that she had purchased one

  of the renovated homes in the older, established communities. Doing so had been a smart move on her

  part; they were a good investment.

  She then opened up and began telling him about it, saying she was having a lot of fun decorating the

  house. He didn’t find that hard to believe. When she’d lived in Houston, her apartment had been small

  but nice and he’d been surprised to learn she had done most of the decorating herself.

  All too soon he was pulling into the parking lot of the shelter. “Th
anks for taking me to lunch,” she said,

  reaching to unsnap her seat belt even before he could bring the car to a complete stop. “Although I have

  to admit, riding in the car instead of walking only means I have to get my daily physical activity some

  other way,” she added.

  He came close to saying that he knew another way she could get her physical activity, and it would be

  something she would enjoy—he would make sure of it. Instead, he decided it would be best to keep his

  mouth shut.

  “But since it will probably be dark when I leave today, I’ll take the day off from exercise,” she tacked

  on, getting out of the car.

  He glanced over at her. “Why are you staying late?”

  “Because I have a lot of work and can’t leave until I’m finished. I’m meeting with Mr. Novak on Friday

  and there are a number of reports I have to run. More than likely, the TCC will have heard about the

  incident today and will want a full report on what happened.”

  He tightened his mouth after almost telling her that he’d already given them one. While at police

  headquarters, he had gotten a call from Mitch, Justin and Kevin. Lance had told them what had

  happened. Minor details had been given on television—since it was a women’s shelter, no television

  crews or reporters were allowed to show up in order to protect the women staying there.

  He knew if Summer stayed beyond five o’clock, she’d be pulling a long day. But for some reason, he

  had a feeling that was probably the norm for her. “Isn’t there someone who can help you with those

  reports?”

  “Afraid not. Besides, I’d rather run them myself, especially since I plan on pleading my case to Mr.

  Novak for an expansion of the shelter sooner rather than later.”

  Darius didn’t say anything, but considering what had happened earlier that day, he wasn’t crazy about

  her walking out to her car alone. Although the parking lot was well lit, he still didn’t like it. Two

  security guards had shown up after the incident. He decided that before he left for the day, he would talk

  to the guards and make sure one of them walked Summer to her car.

  When they reached the door he decided that unlike her, he intended to leave at a decent time. He had a

  meeting with the fire chief later, and it was a meeting he didn’t want to miss. And besides, the last thing

  he needed was to end up in the office late at night with Summer—alone.

  Four

  D arius grabbed a beer out of the refrigerator and popped the top before tilting the can to his mouth,

  appreciating the cool brew that flowed down his throat. When the can was empty, he scowled before

  crushing the aluminum and tossing it into the recycling bin.

  His frown deepened as he sat down at the kitchen table, thinking that today had certainly not gone like

  he’d planned. He was convinced that the incident at the shelter was the prime reason his protective

  instincts toward Summer had kicked in. He had been ready to do bodily harm to anyone who even

  thought of hurting her. And he could admit that the reason he had driven her to police headquarters and

  then later to lunch was because he hadn’t wanted her out of his sight. He was becoming attached again,

  and that wasn’t good.

  He rubbed a hand down his face. Maybe he needed to rethink the notion of exacting some sort of

  revenge on her and instead, just put distance between them and let it go at that, treating her the way he

  would other groupies or gold diggers whenever they crossed his path.

  But he wasn’t able to do that. If anything, today proved that when it came to Summer, he didn’t think

  straight or logically. Right now, the only thing he should be thinking about was hurting her the way she

  had hurt him. Therefore, regardless of any protective instincts he might have, he would continue with his

  plan to make her think something special was going on between them. Then, at the right time, he’d drop

  the bomb that she meant nothing to him, and she’d discover she had gotten played, just like he had.

  When his cell phone went off, he stood and pulled it off his belt. “What’s up, Lance?” After his meeting

  with Chief Ingle, he had stopped by the TCC Café and had dinner with Kevin and Justin. Lance and his

  wife had driven to Houston to attend some sort of function there.

  “I got your message. So Ingle thinks the fire was started with some sort of petroleum-based product?”

  Lance asked.

  “He’s pretty sure of it. But it wasn’t one that could easily be detected, which is the reason the

  investigation took so long. They’re trying to narrow the components down. However, he believes it’s the

  same kind found in lubricating oils used for ranch equipment,” Darius responded.

  “Something that Montoya could easily get his hands on, since he owns that cattle ranch,” Lance was

  quick to point out.

  Darius shook his head. “His men are the ones working his ranch the majority of the time, Lance.

  Montoya’s heavily involved in his import/export business.”

  “For crying out loud, Darius, you just don’t want to believe he’s responsible for that fire, do you?”

  Lance asked with frustration in his voice.

  “What I don’t want is for you to be so convinced Montoya is behind the fire that you start overlooking

  any other possible suspects.”

  “There aren’t any other possible suspects, Darius. Montoya is the only one who hates me and Mitch bad

  enough to do such a thing. At the end of your investigation, you’ll see that all the evidence points in

  Montoya’s direction.”

  A few hours later, the fire investigation was the last thing on Darius’s mind when he finally eased into

  bed, determined to get a good night’s sleep. Moments later, after a number of tosses and turns, he

  discovered doing so wouldn’t be easy when thoughts of Summer filled his mind. When he thought of

  what could have possibly happened had he not been there today. Even now he was worried that she was

  still at the center working, and he was tempted to go check for himself to make sure she was all right.

  But then he quickly recalled he had spoken with security to make sure someone escorted her to her car

  whenever she did work late.

  He breathed in deeply, getting angry with himself that his concern for her, this feeling stirring deep

  within him, was making him weak. He refused to let that happen. But each time he closed his eyes, he

  saw her, remembered a better time between them, a time when she had been his whole world.

  He stared up at the ceiling, determined to remember that she was not his whole world any longer, would

  never be it again. It was something he couldn’t lose sight of. He would keep up his guard with her, no

  matter what.

  “Thank you for walking me to my car, Barney, but it really wasn’t necessary.”

  “No problem, ma’am. Besides, it was Mr. Franklin’s orders.”

  Summer raised a brow at the uniformed guard. “Was it?”

  “Yes.”

  Summer pondered that. How could Darius give an order to a guard who didn’t work for him? Evidently,

  Barney had no problem following an order from someone who wasn’t his boss.

  “Well, good night,” she said, opening her car door and getting inside.

  “Just a minute, Ms. Martindale. This was pinned to your windshield beneath the wipers,” he said,

  handing the piece of paper to her.

  Summer tossed the flyer onto the seat beside her.
“Good night.”

  “Good night.”

  Summer drove off, noticing Barney was still standing there, watching her pull out of the parking lot. No

  doubt he was still following Darius’s orders. After what happened today, she could understand his

  concern and appreciated him wanting to make sure she was all right. Just like she had appreciated him

  taking her to lunch.

  There had been something strange about sitting across from a man who had once undressed her, rubbed

  his hands all over her naked body and made love to her in a way that thinking about it took her breath

  away. A man who’d shown her that foreplay was an art form that could be taken to many levels, and that

  a person’s mouth was just as lethal as his hands when making love.

  When her car came to a stop at a traffic light, she turned on the radio, hoping the sound of music would

  drown out her thoughts of Darius. That wasn’t going to happen, she thought, when she recalled how

  long after she’d left Houston she would lie in bed and think of him.

  Her stomach growled and she remembered she’d missed dinner. When she got home she would make a

  sandwich and a glass of iced tea. It was one of those hot August nights.

  As she waited for the light to change, she glanced over at the flyer she’d thrown on the seat and picked it

  up. Her breath caught in her throat and chills ran up her spine when she read the words, “I take care of

  my own.”

  The light turned green but she didn’t realize it until the driver behind her blasted his horn. She

  accelerated, wondering which husband or boyfriend had placed the note on her car. It wouldn’t be the

  first time one of the abusers of the women at the shelter blamed the staff for keeping his family from

  him. Mr. Green had taken the same position earlier that day. She wouldn’t be surprised if it had been Mr.

  Green who had placed the note there, since her car had been parked in one of the spaces reserved for

  shelter personnel.

  Summer tossed the paper aside, thinking of Mr. Green and the baseball bat, and his terrified wife. She

  sighed. She had long ago stopped trying to figure out why some men could treat a woman they claimed

  to love so shabbily.