by Reese Ryan
“All right, Miss Charles, if you insist upon it, it shall be so.” He leaned forward in his chair. “Will that be all? Because I actually do have work to do here. I’m taking your advice and tailoring a program for the chapter.”
“Jordan, that’s wonderful.” Her eyes danced with excitement. She seemed relieved that the conversation had shifted to business. “What do you have in mind?”
“Not surprisingly, something related to art, but I’m not sure what I want to do, yet. And I don’t want to do anything stuffy or typical. It has to be something fun that will energize both old and new members as well as the community.”
“That sounds good. If you want to do something different, then start by learning what the chapter has done in the past.”
“The archives are located in the library. The last community liaison mentioned that there are photos in there documenting past events.” He stood. “I’m going to have a look. Are you coming along or do you have to go now?”
She glanced at her watch. “I don’t have to go, but maybe I should.”
“I could use your help going through the archives.” He smiled. “And, if you’re up for it afterward, let me treat you to a late lunch.” He held up his hand. “And no, it’s not a date. It’s a working lunch to flesh out some of my ideas.”
Sasha nodded reluctantly, but followed him to the library.
They went through several albums of photos in the archives. Some of them dated back to the earliest days of the club. Jordan thought of his father’s words when he was appointed the position.
It’s an important job, son. Assign it the importance it deserves.
He hadn’t done that. Instead he’d behaved as if he were a brooding child. But it wasn’t his father or the club he’d been punishing. It was the members of disadvantaged communities who needed their help. Thankfully, the club participated in several ongoing community projects, arranged by previous liaisons. But now he had the opportunity to put his mark on the chapter and the community with a project of his own design.
“Jordan, what’s the matter?” Sasha frowned. She was sitting on the floor, her legs folded beneath her as she reviewed some of the photos and made notes.
“Nothing.” He put back one of the albums and sighed. He was thirty years old and still playing the part of the rebellious teen. No wonder his father was so disappointed.
Sasha’s hand was on his forearm. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
He’d been so deep in thought he hadn’t seen her get up and walk over to the bookcase. But now he was very aware of her. Her scent and her warmth. The comfort he felt at the touch of her hand.
“I’m fine. Really.” He slipped his arm from beneath her hand and shoved his hands in his pockets.
She stared at him, her arms folded and one hip cocked. The same hip bone he’d trailed kisses along just two nights ago.
He swallowed past the lump in his throat, his heart racing and heat building in his chest.
For the past hour, he’d been careful to keep his distance. To only talk about business. But here she was, invading his space and reminding him of all the things he loved about her.
“Let’s make a deal,” she said, her arms still folded. “This is a business relationship, but I don’t see why it can’t be a friendship, too. So if something is wrong, I want you to feel comfortable talking to me about it.”
“Well, you really can’t have everything you want, now, can you?” He raised his voice in frustration, and immediately regretted it. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to sound cross, but I’m just a little...”
“Angry?”
“Yes. And frustrated and disappointed. Not with you, but with myself.” He raked a hand through his hair and sighed.
She stepped closer. “Why are you angry with yourself?”
“Because for the first time I clearly recognize what a tosser I’ve been with my parents. My dad, in particular. Yes, I had good reason to be angry with them, but I haven’t handled it very well, have I?”
Sasha didn’t answer.
She wouldn’t lie to him. It was one of the things he loved about her.
“Sure, there are things you could’ve handled better. Like your responsibilities here at the club. Your father rejected your art. The thing you identified with most. It felt like a personal rejection. So you retaliated by rejecting the things he identified with—Jace Investments and Prescott George. I’m not saying I agree with how you handled it, but I do understand why you lashed out.” A warm smile lit her eyes. “The important thing is you both recognize your mistakes now, and you’re trying to change course.”
“You’re right, of course. But next time, won’t you at least pretend to give me a little resistance when I’m down on myself.”
They both laughed, and for a moment all of the awkwardness between them dissipated like storm clouds after the rain.
“Thank you, Sasha.”
“For helping with the project?”
“For being a good friend. Even when I didn’t deserve it.” He forced an apologetic smile. “I didn’t get to thank you properly for being there for me the other night.”
“It was my pleasure, Jordan.” She held his gaze, her eyes sincere. They stood in silence for a moment before she turned to walk away.
He caught her elbow, and when she turned back toward him, her lips parted and her gaze softened. Her cheeks were flushed.
Jordan leaned in, his mouth hovering over hers. Sasha lifted onto her toes and closed the distance between them. She pressed her open mouth to his and her palms to his chest.
He palmed her bottom, pulling her tight against him, hungry for the feel of her and the warmth of her skin.
Jordan savored the sweet taste of her mouth as his tongue glided along hers. He slid his hand down her thigh and wrapped her leg around him as he pressed her against the wall. She groaned when he lifted her higher and ground his hardened length against the apex of her thighs.
“God, I want you. Here. Now.” She breathed the words in his ear. “Please.”
There was no one there but them and no cameras in the space. And he wanted her, too. He removed his break-glass-in-case-of-emergency-only foil packet from his wallet and unzipped his trousers, freeing his member and sheathing himself.
He shoved her soaked panties aside and plunged his length inside her. Both of them groaned in relief at the sensation of their connection.
Jordan slipped his arms beneath both legs and gripped her waist. He lifted and lowered her onto him.
Both of them cursed and moaned. Beads of sweat formed on his brow from the effort. She braced her hands on his shoulders and pressed her back into the wall, taking him deep.
Finally, she called his name, her body trembling as her walls spasmed around his throbbing flesh.
He’d be content forever to watch Sasha come apart in his arms. To hear her calling his name, her voice strained and quaking.
Soon after, he was at the edge. Tumbling and crashing, his body quivering with the aftershocks of his orgasm.
He held her, both of them gasping for breath, their hearts racing. Jordan was reluctant to separate himself from her. But he had no choice.
Slowly, he set her on her feet. “I’d better go...you know.”
“Me, too.” She straightened her skirt and combed her fingers through her short curls. “Where’s the ladies’ room?”
“It’s a men’s club. So...” He shrugged and they both laughed, allaying some of the awkwardness they might have otherwise felt. “But there’s a single bathroom just outside that door. I’ll go to another and meet you back here in a bit.”
She nodded, grabbed her purse and went outside. He waited a moment, then headed to another bathroom.
When she met him back in the library, they both started to speak all at once.
“You go first.” She nodded toward him.
“Look, Sasha, I enjoy being with you. And I’m not just talking about the sex. I’m talking about the moments we’ve spent together over dinner or a movie. The conversations that make me feel like I’ve known you my entire life.” He sighed, shaking his head. “I don’t know what to call what we have. I only know that being with you is amazing, and I don’t want to stop.”
Sasha chewed her lower lip and raised her eyes to his. “I enjoy being with you, too. And despite the fact that this breaks nearly every one of my rules... I don’t want to stop, either.”
Jordan hugged her to his chest, sighing in relief, then he kissed her. “Give me a second to put everything away and I’ll take you to lunch like I promised.”
“One thing, though...as far as the world is concerned, we’re just friends.” She pressed a gentle hand to his chest when he opened his mouth to object. “I have to protect both my reputation and that of the firm’s. Maybe it’d be different if we were an actual couple. But friends who are hooking up? I can’t risk what it might do to our firm.”
Jordan released a frustrated sigh. “If you think it best.”
“I do.” She stood on her toes and kissed him. “Thank you for understanding.”
Jordan gritted his teeth and forced a smile. He’d been reduced to the relationship equivalent of dirty laundry. But as long as Sasha was going to be in his bed tonight, he’d learn to deal with it.
Chapter 11
It’d been more than a week since he and Sasha had reached their agreement to keep seeing each other discreetly. He’d happily entertained her at his home most nights since then.
Jordan and Marcus had rectified nearly all of the damage caused by the still-unknown vandal. And they’d spent long hours working in the studio on the sculpture that was a tribute to his sister. He’d made a few amendments to the original plan. But even with all of that, they were still nearly on schedule.
Lydia knocked at the studio door before coming inside. “Sorry to disturb you, Jordan. But there are two detectives here. I told them that you were busy working, but they really want to talk to you.”
Jordan realized they were trying to help. But their timing was awful. He was welding a few of the pieces to the base of the sculpture. He removed his glasses, gloves and mask.
“Thank you, Lydia. Please, ask them to come in.”
Lydia returned with two detectives who introduced themselves as Detectives Halstead and Gomez.
“We found some footage of the person, who we believe to be the suspect, leaving your studio at the time of the incident.” Detective Gomez held up a tablet.
“That’s fantastic.” Jordan was relieved. He stood beside the man so he could see the video. “Where’d you get it? I don’t have any cameras on the building. Though, after this incident, it’s clear that I should.”
Detective Halstead produced a notebook from his pocket. “It came from the jewelry store on the other side of the alley. Their camera is positioned to protect their space, so I warn you, the footage is grainy.”
“We never got a clear picture of the suspect’s face,” Detective Gomez added. “But perhaps you’ll recognize something about the suspect. His clothing, or perhaps the way he walks.”
“No one wants to catch this wanker more than I do, I assure you, Detectives. I’ll do whatever I can to help.”
Detective Gomez played the snowy video on his phone. He zoomed in on the suspect’s face as much as he could. But the more he expanded the screen, the grainier the footage became.
“I’m sorry, I can’t tell anything from this.” Jordan sighed. It could’ve been his own mother and he wouldn’t have been able to recognize her from that low-quality video.
“See those shoes?” Detective Halstead pointed them out with his pen. “Back at the lab, the boys say this is a brand that’s real popular with the kids. That plus the build and size of the suspect leads them to believe that this is a kid. Possibly a teenager.”
“A kid did this?”
Jordan couldn’t imagine why a kid would want to ruin his work. There were a few children, including teenagers, at the event that night. But they were with their families in the gallery. None of them had come to the studio.
Besides, why would any of them bother with petty nonsense like this?
Jordan fully expected the detectives to ask about the teenagers in attendance at the event. However, Detective Halstead launched into an altogether different line of questions.
“Your assistant tells me you work with...underprivileged teens.” Detective Halstead said the phrase as if it were a euphemism for unsavory characters.
His partner’s cheeks flamed and his eyes narrowed, but the man didn’t say anything.
“You got beef with any of them?” Detective Halstead asked.
“With any of whom?” Jordan folded his arms and stared daggers at the man.
“With your underprivileged students,” he said.
“No, I don’t. Why would you assume it’s one of them? Just because they come from a poorer part of town doesn’t make them thieves.” Jordan’s face was hot and his nostrils flared.
This was exactly the kind of negative assumptions the kids he worked with had to deal with every day.
Bad behavior certainly wasn’t limited to the “wrong” side of the tracks.
Jordan had been a rich kid all his life. He was well aware of the mischief and mayhem children from wealthy families were capable of. Yet, the detectives hadn’t even asked about the kids that were there that night with their wealthy parents. The kind of people whose feathers the officers probably didn’t want to ruffle.
“Besides, if we’re going to look at teenagers, shouldn’t we begin with the ones who were actually in attendance that night?” Jordan tried not to sound as irate as he felt.
“We were going to ask about them next,” Detective Halstead said. “Made sense to start with the most likely suspects.”
Jordan’s hands clenched into fists at his sides. He tamped down the desire to punch the guy in the nose.
“My assistant Lydia will have a list of the attendees—including the handful of kids under twenty who were here that night.” Jordan directed his comments at Detective Gomez, ignoring Detective Halstead. “So if there isn’t anything else, I have a lot more welding to do before I call it a night.”
“No, that’ll be all for now. But if you do think of anything that might be of help to us, we’d appreciate any information you can give us.” Detective Halstead slid his notebook back into his pocket.
Jordan was on his way back to the table where he was working, when a thought occurred to him. He turned back to the detectives.
“You didn’t ask about my assistant Marcus? Nor did you request a list of the students that’ve worked in my studio in the past year. Does that mean you’ve already gathered that information?”
Detective Gomez frowned, his eyes lowered. He opened his mouth to say something, but Detective Halstead, obviously the lead detective, cut him off.
“Thank you for your cooperation, Mr. Jace. We’ll keep you up to date on any new developments in the case. You enjoy your day.”
After the detectives left, Jordan went back to work, stewing over the officers’ assumption that his students were the likely vandals. Especially when there was a tidy pool of suspects in house the night of the event.
Though, Jordan couldn’t imagine why any of them would want to destroy his sculpture, either.
On Jordan’s next break, he took out his phone and called Sasha. He updated her on the latest developments in the case. Then he recounted his encounter with the officers.
“Sadly, that kind of thinking isn’t uncommon,” Sasha lamented. “I’m sure none of them are involved. But do you have any reason to believe that any of the Prescott George kids would be involved?”
“I can’t imagine why anyone would do this.
” Jordan shook his head. “But, for now, I’ll allow the good detectives to worry about it. My only concern is what you’ll be wearing for dinner at my place this evening.”
“If the past is any indication, not much.” Sasha giggled.
Jordan grinned, remembering the last few nights they spent together. He could barely wait until she was inside the door before he had her naked and in his bed.
“I promise not to strip you of your clothing until after dinner this time.”
“In that case, I’ll wear something nice.” The sound of Sasha’s laughter made Jordan’s heart dance.
He wasn’t sure what this was between them, but it was different from any involvement he’d had before.
More than sex. More than friendship. It was something truly special because she was someone truly special. Still, Jordan wasn’t prepared to label it.
Why ruin what they had by trying to categorize it?
Seeing or talking to Sasha was the highlight of his day. Having someone he cared so deeply for, whom he could talk to about just about anything, brought him a sense of peace he hadn’t known in so long.
So why couldn’t he shake the uneasiness he felt about allowing someone else to become so central to his happiness?
* * *
“Hello, love.”
Sasha never grew tired of the joy in Jordan’s eyes when she arrived at his house at the end of their long workdays.
He gave her a quick kiss, took her overnight bag and put it in the bedroom.
Sasha inhaled the fragrant bouquets of red and white roses on the entry hall console table.
Jordan had them delivered each morning, before she left for work. Another arrangement of fresh flowers was always at the center of the table on the terrace where they typically dined each evening.
Jordan would pick something out on his way home from the gallery. It was a sweet gesture, and she was delighted by the daily surprise.
“The flowers are gorgeous, Jordan.” She made her way onto the terrace and inhaled the impressive presentation of hydrangeas, tulips and roses in red, white and hot pink. The scent was heavenly.