Close to the Edge

by Zara Cox

  “Fine. I was told you’re the best of the best. I need the best.”

  He didn’t answer for several drawn-out seconds. His hands returned to his pockets, and he rocked on his feet before he nodded. “Great. You’ve got me.”

  Convinced the loaded words were just in my mind, I ignored the heat pooling in my pelvis and pressed on. “It’s almost two in the morning. Every second that passes is a second I’m being kept from doing my job. So can we proceed, Mr. Steele?”

  “Does anyone else know you’re being stalked?”

  “Not yet, but if the threats continue I’ll have to inform Chance Donovan. He’s my boss and CEO of SDM.”

  Thoughts of Chance cooled my churning jets. As the moneyman behind my project, he was under pressure from his board of directors to deliver the code on time. Over the past month, that pressure had been redirected my way, with hints of the unpleasant consequences should I fail to meet my deadline.

  “I’m hoping you’ll fix my problem before that becomes necessary.”

  Caleb nodded, and I caught a different gleam in his eyes. Respect. Maybe a little admiration. For some absurd reason, pleasure fizzed through me.

  “I was going to suggest a safe house but I’m guessing you’ll draw attention to your absence if you don’t show up at work?”

  “Yes. Usually, I can come and go as I please, but I have a team working with me.”

  His eyes narrowed. “A team?”

  “The algorithm I’m building is huge. I have three teams of three working independently on different aspects of the code to minimize leaking of confidential information. They all report to me.”

  “So they don’t know exactly what you’re working on?” he fired at me.

  “No.” That had been Chance’s idea. One I disagreed with but had no choice but to accept.

  My expression must have given me away because Caleb frowned. “What aren’t you telling me?”

  My gut told me Caleb was the kind of guy who needed full disclosure or he might walk. “Chance and I have a history.”

  “What kind?”

  “I was fourteen when I...came to his attention.”

  His gaze stayed fixed on me. “Let me guess. You hacked him. He caught you and convinced you to work for him instead.”

  A cute anecdote except for the part where I became tied to my so-called savior via a thousand wires made of veiled threats. I tightened the knots of pain and bitterness threatening to unravel. “Something like that,” I replied. “Anyway, I can’t be away from Sunnyvale for long. Which is why I’m going back tonight. What I want to know is will you be coming with me?”

  A hard glint entered his eyes. “I will. On one condition. If we’re going into your stalker’s territory, you’ll agree to do things my way, including letting me step into a situation if I think it’s for your own good.”

  “But—”

  “No buts. It says so in the small print of my retainer.”

  We faced off, a vortex of thunder and lightning swirling around us, eddying us dangerously closer. “It said I had to relinquish reasonable power to you. Not all power.”

  “‘There will be times when the fixer may have to take an act-first-explain-later approach to a situation. The client agrees to comply if such a situation arises.’ Did you make a note of that line?” His voice was low but deadly soft.

  “Sure, I read that part. And you’re probably used to having your every mandate agreed to immediately. Unfortunately, you and I will have a big problem if you insist on being...rigid.”

  “I can be as flexible as any situation demands. But not in this case. You forget. You need me.”

  I hated my words being thrown back in my face. Almost as much as I’d hated the thought of hiring a bodyguard and waiting the stalker out.

  I was weeks from being free of Chance and my stepfather. The thought of adding even an extra hour’s delay to that liberating moment was unacceptable. Still, relinquishing control was hard. “Do you find a client taking charge of their own safety a deal breaker for you?”

  My question seemed to throw him off. A tiny frown pleated his brow, and then his striking blue gaze left mine to scour my body before returning to my face. As I watched, he reeled himself in. Like the man, his expression was fascinating to watch. It was as if he’d been in danger of overstepping a line and had coldly and ruthlessly corrected his course.

  “No, but if you want an obedient thug, feel free to pick one of those rent-a-cops outside.”

  “All right. If you’re up to something more challenging, then I agree to your terms.”

  The direct taunt to his supposedly flawless record—and yes, to his ego—was one I made with my breath held tight. For reasons I couldn’t fathom, I hated the thought of him walking away even more.

  With a single step, he closed the gap between us and lowered his lips to my ear. “Be very careful where you throw your little gauntlets, Lily Gracen. One might come back to bite you in your delectable ass.”

  It was impossible to stop the hot little shiver that raced through me. He saw it, and a bright blue flame lit his eyes.

  “Well, be warned. I bite back.”

  “This is going to be very interesting,” he mused. Then without taking his eyes from mine, he reached for his phone. I heard faint ringing in the background before it was answered.

  “Maggie, is the primary crew in place?”

  “Yes, they’ll land in Palo Alto in thirty minutes. They can be at Miss Gracen’s house in an hour. Do we have a green light?”

  He lowered the phone. “Do I have the green light, Lily?”

  “Your team is already in San Francisco. So you intended to take my case all along?”

  He shrugged. “I needed to make sure you were fully committed but I saw no reason not to start the ball rolling.”

  I took a steadying breath. “I don’t appreciate being toyed with, Mr. Steele.”

  All traces of humor left his face. “Then we’re in total agreement because this is no fucking joke.”

  His harsh reply tightened the skin on my nape, warned me there was something else going on here.

  “My guys are waiting,” he pressed. “All they’ll be doing tonight is setting up a few cameras outside the property and scoping out the area. They’re experts, trustworthy, handpicked by me. They won’t rifle through your underwear drawer or whatever naughty things you keep in your closet if that’s what you’re worried about. So, do I have the green light, Lily?” That last bit was muttered with a hot little taunt as his gaze raked my face.

  I fought to hold on to my irritation and dismiss the tiny lick of embarrassment.

  So okay, I wasn’t the tidiest person at the best of times. And being neck-deep in my project, I’d let my standards slip a little further and canceled my cleaning service because I hated the disruption. Which meant any number of personal items, including the ones I used to de-stress after a hard day’s coding, could be scattered anywhere in my house.

  The joy of living alone meant I could pleasure myself anywhere from my bathroom floor to the movie room lounger where I usually crashed when I couldn’t be bothered to drag myself to my bed. The thought of Caleb Steele’s men reporting my habits back to him made my palms burn with humiliation.

  Which was absurd.

  I was a grown woman, for heaven’s sake. One with healthy needs I wasn’t ashamed of satisfying in defiance of the restrictions Chance Donovan had tried to place on me.

  Nope, I wasn’t going to think about Chance or how he tried to control me through Scott, my ex-boyfriend.

  Very soon they’d both be so far in my rearview I’d need a telescope to see them.

  “You have the green light,” I said, blanking my mind to the possibility of my sex toys being discovered. “You’ll need a code to get into the house.”

  The small cocky smile that curved hi
s lips suggested that he really didn’t, but he chose not to vocalize the fact. “Shoot.”

  I rattled out a long alphanumeric code. He impressed me by not asking me to repeat it and recited it to Maggie without hesitation.

  About to hang up, he paused when Maggie called his name. “Yes?”

  “The pilot is still on standby. I’m assuming you and the client are returning to Palo Alto, too?”

  “Yes, we’ll be at the airport in half an hour.” He hung up, the blue of his eyes drenching me with the sensation of being swallowed whole. “Come on. Let’s go get this bastard out of your life.”

  I grabbed my things and followed Caleb Steele outside with the distinct feeling he’d left out a vital part of his statement. Something along the lines of...and then we can get onto more important things.

  Or maybe that was all in my dirty imagination.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Lily

  IT WASN’T THE first time I’d ridden in a Bugatti—Silicon Valley was crawling with billionaire tech geeks who collected supercars like they were baseball cards.

  But it was the first time I’d ridden in a supercar driven by a man like Caleb Steele. And this, too, was turning out to be a sex-steeped experience.

  The man drove his car like he was making love to it. Scratch that. He drove like he was fucking it. Smooth. Sexy. Relentless. Each flick of the gear and flex of his thigh as he switched from gas to brake was a hypnotic symphony. One so absorbing I couldn’t look away.

  I realized my lip was caught between my teeth, and my fingers were digging into the soft leather, and forced myself to release both. To take a breath unfortunately filled with sandalwood and prime male, in order to get my brain on track.

  Caleb Steele was the type of guy who would see my discomfort as a weakness and use it to his advantage.

  “Where are we flying from?” He’d been mostly silent since we left the mansion. Admittedly, I found it a little disconcerting, especially since I’d anticipated being peppered with questions.

  He changed lanes again before he answered, sending me a sidelong glance that left me with that faint impression of what being electrocuted by a low current would feel like. Even after he looked away, I experienced aftershocks.

  “Van Nuys Airport. Don’t worry, petal. I’ll have you home in no time.”

  “I don’t like pet names, Mr. Steele.”

  “You don’t like pet names and you don’t want me to use your first name. The only way I’m calling you Miss Gracen is if we’re role-playing naughty teacher/stern principal.”

  I was gripping the seat again. Dammit. I forced myself to uncurl my fingers before I damaged them because I needed them to write code. “Maybe this wasn’t such a great idea, after all.”

  Watchful blue eyes gleamed wickedly in the lights from the dashboard. “Sorry, baby, it’s too late to change your mind. You’re stuck with me.”

  Baby. Sweetheart. Petal. He probably had an endless list of pet names he tossed at women.

  Short of lowering myself to his level and calling him Big Guy or Sexy Ass or Hot Rod, I had to concede this round. “Fine, you can call me Lily. Because, heaven forbid, you run out of pet names and start calling me honey cheeks.”

  “Thank you, Lily,” he said in a low, deep voice that rumbled over me like delicious hot fudge over a sundae. “And by the way, I would never peg you as honey cheeks. Not with that flawless pale skin.” That slow-building, insanely sexy smile returned. “Is it deliberate?”

  “Is what deliberate?”

  “Your paleness. It works well with the Goth vibe but it must be hell to avoid the sun when you live in California.”

  “What does the paleness of my skin have to do with the case?” Or anything else that doesn’t make me think of sex?

  “Zilch. This is insatiable curiosity on my part. So?”

  “So, you’ll just have to accept that it won’t be satisfied this time.”

  “Shame,” he murmured. “I’ll just have to use my imagination.”

  I averted my gaze, but I was still thinking about that smile, the effortless sensuality he wove into the most innocuous words, when he swung the powerful sports car onto the exit ramp leading to the airport.

  After passing through security, Caleb drove into a brightly lit hangar and parked next to a gleaming white jet. Its steps were lowered, the engine humming. The pilot and copilot were talking to two airport officials as we alighted but my attention was drawn to the woman standing at the bottom of the steps.

  Her short, sequined silver tube dress, long silver necklaces and rows of hooped earrings ruled her out as an attendant. She was shrugging into a bomber jacket when Caleb stepped out and came around to open my door.

  “Do we need to discuss appropriate work attire again?” His tone was bone-dry as he addressed her.

  She reached up to free her bun, then gave a resigned grimace. “Not that you’ll care but I interrupted my date to return to the office for this assignment.”

  “A date? With an actual guy?” Heavy skepticism laced his voice as he retrieved my overnight bag.

  The woman rolled her eyes and turned to me. After a quick once-over, she held out her hand and smiled. “I’m Maggie, Mr. Steele’s long-suffering assistant. You must be Lily Gracen?”

  At my nod, her face turned serious. “We’ll catch the A-hole who’s doing this to you. Don’t tell my boss I said so, but he’s ace at what he does. Our success record is pretty impressive. You’re in good hands.”

  Caleb slammed the door. “Cut the corporate spiel, Maggie. Lily already knows she can trust me.”

  I ignored him, and smiled at Maggie. “Thanks.”

  “Did you bring what I needed?” he asked his assistant.

  Maggie nodded. “Everything is already on board.”

  “Are we cleared to fly?” he pressed impatiently.

  “Almost.” She pointed to where the copilot was talking to the ground crew. “They’re not happy that you’re flying outside curfew—”

  “You told them it was an emergency, right?”

  “Yes, boss. They still need to tick their boxes. Give them a minute.”

  “I don’t have a minute,” he snapped, turning toward the group.

  “Seriously, they’re almost done—” Maggie started, but he was already walking away. She stopped talking, looking a little perplexed.

  I frowned. “Is he always—?”

  “The definition of a bull in a china shop? Surprisingly, no,” Maggie answered her own question, her voice contemplative. “Sure, he’s impatient and he wants everything done yesterday, but it takes a lot to ruffle his feathers. Although...”

  “Although?” I prompted after a throb of silence, telling myself it was just mild curiosity that triggered the desire to know what made the enigmatic fixer tick. What made him give a damn and what bounced off those impressive shoulders?

  Maggie’s sharp, gray-eyed gaze snapped to me. I suspected the evasive answer before she opened her mouth. “A testy client earlier tonight before he came to see you. That’s all.”

  I suppressed surprisingly sharp disappointment and glanced over to where the man I’d appointed as my fixer was gesturing impatiently to the men. He stood over a head taller, easily the most striking, and the low timbre of his voice rumbled through the large space, sending a decadent shiver to my lady parts.

  After a minute the officials handed over papers to the copilot.

  Caleb returned and picked up the overnight bag he’d set down next to the car. “We’re clear to fly. Shall we?”

  I sidestepped him when he reached for my arm, prompting another raised eyebrow I ignored. The lingering tingle between my thighs insisted touching him was a bad idea.

  “Great to meet you, Maggie,” I said.

  The assistant smiled. “Likewise.”

  I walked up the s
tairs to the plane, aware that he trailed behind me. Drawn by an undeniable need, I looked over my shoulder. He’d paused with one foot on the bottom step; his eyes were fixed on me. Or rather on my ass. That insane tingle intensified between my legs.

  I barely had time to step back before he was towering over me. For a handful of seconds, he stared down at me. Then his gaze flitted past me to the small cabin.

  “Go grab a seat, Lily. We need to be wheels up before the stiffs out there find another reason to delay us.”

  * * *

  The interior of the plane was as pristine and classy as the outside. Fitted in mahogany and cream tones, the club seats were grouped into two sections, one side with a shiny table separating the seats and the other without.

  I chose the seat with a table. Anything for a buffer between Caleb and myself.

  He watched me slide into the window seat. He didn’t immediately sit down, even though the jet was rolling out of the hangar. Instead, he took his time to shrug off his lightweight jacket. The midnight blue shirt underneath was fitted, lovingly following a streamlined torso.

  When he pivoted to hang up his jacket, the muscles in his back rippled with a sleek, edgy synergy that triggered a need to see him minus that shirt. Unlike me, he was perfectly tanned, the Californian sun having found the ideal specimen to blaze upon. Without a doubt, he would be firmly toned all over.

  The urge to glide my fingers over those muscles intensified the incessant throb in my pussy.

  I inhaled unsteadily, shifted my gaze and focused on securing my belt as he slid onto the seat opposite me. A moment later one arm extended toward me.

  Annoyingly agitated with my skittish emotions, my head jerked up. He was unbuttoning his cuffs, casually folding back his sleeves, exposing thick, brawny arms overlaid with silky wisps of hair.

  The innate grace flowing through the moment was almost hypnotic.

  God. Enough.

  The man was mouthwateringly attractive, granted. But I’d never lost my head or hormones like this, not even during the brief months I thought I was in love with Scott Wyatt, the man Chance planted in my life to manipulate me. Even before I found out his true motivations, Scott didn’t set me on fire with a mere look.