Lost In Between: Finding Me Duet #1

by K. L. Kreig

  “Summer, is it?” I close the door behind me and move to the couch, gesturing for her to sit.

  She doesn’t. She just blinks rapidly like she’s seeing a ghost. That makes me smile for some reason.

  I know the name she’s using is fake. I hate it. Not the name, per se, but the fact that I don’t know her real one. I told Ms. Deveraux my circumstances and my concern around using a fake name. The press will eventually find out, and it’s best if we’re up front in the beginning rather than them thinking we’re hiding something once they start to dig. That would be disastrous. She agreed but told me the decision was up to Summer. If she agreed to my terms, I could plead my case. If not, then her anonymity was still protected.

  “You don’t look like a Summer,” I say casually as I take a seat and cross my legs.

  Although in a way she does. She’s hot and sultry, and I’ve no doubt she’s nice and moist in the place I’m dying to drive my cock. Jesus, she is absolutely mouthwatering. And she has the sexiest fucking voice I have ever heard. It’s no wonder I can’t stop thinking about her.

  She crosses her arms and cocks a hip in irritation. “Is that so? What do I look like then?”

  Mine.

  Why that disturbing word pops into my head, I haven’t a clue. She is yours temporarily, though. If she agrees.

  “How is your neck by the way?”

  That seems to catch her off guard because her cocky bravado falters. “Uh…fine. It’s fine.” She unconsciously reaches up to palm it. My fingers itch, wishing they were on her skin instead. I still remember the electricity that ran down my arm when I touched her before. It set my cock on fire, and it hasn’t stopped burning since. “You’re lucky, you know. I could be wearing a neck brace right now and be lawyered up.”

  “And you’d still be just as beautiful.” I ignore the lawyer comment. I know it’s just a dig. When she blushes and looks away, my grin gets wider, and I allow myself a few seconds to absorb her, head to toe. I find myself zeroing in on that tiny diamond stud in her nose, now catching the light. I first noticed it when she pounded on the window of my Rover calling me names. I generally find them childish, yet on her, I find myself incredibly turned on by it.

  “Why don’t you take a seat?” On my lap would be preferable.

  Defiant eyes snap back to mine. “Hit and run anyone else lately?”

  “Hit and run?” I chuckle. “I didn’t hit and run you. I took accountability.”

  “Yeah. After I dumped car parts into your lap, it was pretty hard to deny it any longer.”

  Hell. This woman is full of restrained passion. She just needs someone to help her unleash it in a very controlled manner.

  “Why haven’t you called about your car? Change your mind on whose fault it was?” I’m goading her, but Hot. Damn. The sparks firing from her are overly addictive.

  “Oh, it was your fault, all right,” she snaps. “And I’ve been…busy.”

  “Yes, I can imagine you have a very full schedule.” I sound more sarcastic than I intend, but the thought of her with other men makes me feel exactly the way I felt when I thought of Noah with her.

  Her lips thin. She’s madder than a hornet. I’m harder than a two by four.

  “Why are you here, Drive By?”

  Drive By? I laugh at her feisty spirit. God, I want to kiss her. Feel her tongue sparring eagerly with mine. See if she tastes of rage and raw energy.

  “I was under the impression you were agreeable to meeting with me.”

  When Noah set this up, I insisted on three things.

  One: it take place in Ms. Deveraux’s private home with her alone. There’s no way in hell I will be caught on film coming and going from her “business.”

  Two: I meet with Ms. Deveraux in advance and work through the contractual details to my satisfaction. Let’s just say I now feel comfortable we have a mutual interest in keeping this arrangement buried deep.

  And three: I be allowed to personally meet with “Summer” before she signs the contract. Surprisingly, that was the toughest piece to negotiate. Seems Ms. Deveraux is very protective of her, or maybe she’s that way with all of her employees.

  Everything I have done to secure her has deviated from Ms. Deveraux’s normal course of business, but this situation is far from normal. It’s reckless at worst. Precarious at best.

  “How did you find me?”

  Sheer, dumb luck.

  “I’m very resourceful.”

  Her forehead creases. “This is a mistake.”

  She turns to leave, and I panic. True blistering panic sears through me at the thought she’s about to walk through that door and I may never see her again. I don’t know her real name. I don’t know how to contact her, and if this meeting goes south, I know I won’t get anything further about her from Randi Deveraux. If she walks out on me now, I highly doubt she’ll give me the time of day when she finally does call Dane about her car.

  I don’t know why I care so damn much that I spend the next few months with her and only her. I just do.

  “Wait,” I plead.

  She stops but doesn’t turn. I have no idea what possesses me, but I close the distance between us until I’m a whisper away. Our body heat plays off each other, growing hotter by the second.

  “You haven’t even listened to my proposal,” I say against her ear.

  Her breath kicks up. Good. She’s not unaffected by me, and that will play into my hand nicely.

  “You can get someone else.” Her reply is soft and lacks conviction.

  Drawing her long hair off her shoulder, I let my finger feather across her bare flesh. It’s soft and silky. She shivers. I suppress a moan. Fuck, I want her so much. It makes no sense.

  “I don’t want anyone else,” I tell her truthfully, keeping my voice low.

  “Why?”

  I don’t know why. I have no idea what it is about her that draws me in. I wish I did. I need to stop it. I should end this right now—look at a dozen other pictures and pick a woman whose very presence doesn’t twist me into knots and make me have thoughts I’ve never had before. Thoughts that make me uncomfortable. It’s unnerving.

  But, fuck me. I can’t. There is just something different about this woman, and I won’t rest until I find out what it is.

  “Have a seat. Just hear me out. Please,” I tack on sincerely.

  She stands motionless, and I wonder what her next move will be. My hands curl into fists as I restrain myself from throwing her over my shoulder and hauling her to my house. I think she could benefit greatly from a hard hand and a red ass. I have a feeling she might even enjoy it.

  When she floats effortlessly to one of the velvet-covered chairs, I release a veiled breath. Picking up the contract from the edge of Ms. Deveraux’s desk, I make myself comfortable across from her and place the paperwork on the table separating us. Her eyes drop to it, but she makes no move to pick it up.

  “So, what’s your proposal, Mr. Knowles?”

  “Mr. Knowles?”

  “That’s your name, right? Dane Knowles. Wildemer & Company?”

  Amused, I rest my elbows on my knees and grin at her. “No. Dane is my assistant. I told you to call him and he’d take care of the damage to your death box.”

  “Death box?” She sounds offended.

  “Do you know what the safety rating is on that little tin can you drive?” When she opens her mouth to respond, I talk over her. “Five point seven out of ten. You’re basically driving around in your own steel coffin.”

  I expect a hot retort or for her to leave in a huff. What I don’t expect is a genuine, breathtaking smile that lights up her face like summer and makes my cock knock uncomfortably on my zipper in a futile attempt to reach her. My God, she’s trying to kill me already.

  “Are you a walking Kelly Blue Book of safety ratings, Mr.…?”

  “I have a vast array of useless Trivial Pursuit knowledge up here,” I retort with a smirk, finger pointing to my temple. I’ll never admit that I loo
ked it up after our little accident. She could be seriously hurt in that ridiculous miniature box on wheels that somehow passes for a fucking car. Hell, had I hit her any harder, she would be in the hospital. “And I’m Shaw. Shaw Mercer.”

  “Shaw Mercer,” she repeats slowly like she’s tasting my name for the first time. Savoring every consonant and every vowel. Fuck. I sit back and cross one leg over the other to hide my rock-hard erection.

  “Any relation to Preston Mercer?”

  I nod, impressed that she tied me back to my father instead of referring to me as one of Seattle’s most eligible bachelors. She’s intelligent and up on politics. I like that. Immensely. If you ask three-fourths of the residents of Seattle, they wouldn’t be able to tell you how many branches of government there are, something that’s taught in middle school, let alone who the mayor of Seattle is.

  “So why is the mayor’s son…here?”

  Her eyes are locked on mine, waiting on an answer.

  When she swallows, I follow the delicate line of her neck down to the swell of her breasts that peek out from the light pink strapless flowing dress she’s wearing like a fucking Greek goddess. One flick of my finger and I could find out the color of her areolas and the size of her nipples before I draw one into my mouth for a sample. My mouth waters at the thought.

  The conversation that Ms. Deveraux and I had earlier about expectations sits hard in the pit of my stomach. On one hand, I was relieved to get confirmation she doesn’t sell herself, only her “time,” but now that I’m sitting here in front of her, I won’t rest until she lets me explore every square inch of not only her perfect body, but her complex mind. I want to know her like no one else has.

  When our gazes connect again I’m sure mine is full of unmistakable heat. Hers definitely is.

  She clears her throat. The flush spreading across her collarbone is adorable. “I think you have the wrong idea about what it is I do.”

  “I don’t,” I state plainly.

  “I don’t sleep with my clients, Mr. Mercer.”

  Oh, but you will. We both know our ingredients are explosive.

  “Women would pay to have sex with me, not the other way around.”

  She huffs a laugh as a wry look crosses her face. “Then what is it you need if not a good fuck?”

  I chuckle, and when I lean forward she straightens her spine. I love that even the simplest of movements I make in her direction affect her, just like she does to me. “Is that what I’ll be missing with you? A good fuck?” I won’t be missing a damn thing. She will be mine in every conceivable way. I know it and so does she.

  “Not just good. Life altering,” she banters smoothly.

  Now it’s my turn to smile slowly. What I wouldn’t give to throw her up against the wall and show her just what a life-altering fuck really is. For what seems like forever we stare at each other in some sort of weird silent challenge where we’re waiting to see what move the other will make.

  Shaking myself out of her spell, I pick up the papers and hand them to her.

  “What’s this?”

  “Your employment contract.”

  “All the paperwork is handled through Randi.”

  “I want a little extra insurance.”

  She quickly flips through the five-page document before lifting her eyes. “Nondisclosure agreement? This is sounding very fifty shades-ish. And just so you know, if I find any mention of hard limits or safe words, that’s a deal breaker.”

  I can’t help but laugh loudly.

  “I’m not kidding,” she says, her voice stern.

  “Trust me, Goldilocks, if I could have gotten that past your warrior she-devil, I would have.”

  Her eyes narrow, but I see a little twitch at the corner of her mouth, so I forge ahead, making a mental note to invest in handcuffs and a flogger. Or six.

  “The duration is for approximately the next four months. Ten hours a week, maybe more, maybe less, depending on my schedule. You may be required to travel, and you will be available at all times when I need you, day or night. You will attend social events, fundraisers, business dinners, and family functions. You will be photographed, and it’s only fair to warn you, you will likely be hounded by the press but I’ll try to shield you as much as possible.”

  She regards me quietly. I wish I could tell what’s spinning around in that pretty little head of hers. A corner of my mouth tips when she says, “Reelection is just around the corner.”

  Not a question, and I don’t answer, but score another point for her.

  For not the first time I wonder if this little plan of Noah’s will backfire, taking us all down in a curl of hot flames. She figured out what I was doing within two minutes. Lianna would be a far safer, more believable choice. But there’s also an undeniable, powerfully charged connection between us that will be hard for people to refute.

  “And what is my role, specifically?”

  Deciding I don’t care if this entire thing blows up in my face because that means I won’t get what I want—which is her—I stand and step around the table, holding out my hand.

  When she tentatively sets hers in mine, I help her up and wrap one arm around her waist.

  Pulling her close, I bask in the hitch of her breath. Cupping her cheek, I savor the baby-fine skin under the pad of my thumb. I take a deep breath, drinking in her delicately floral scent. She’s intoxicating, and my head is already spinning.

  “What are you doing?” she whispers, her small hands going to my chest.

  Dipping my head, I trail my nose along her jaw, stopping so my lips brush her ear. “Making sure we have chemistry.”

  She mutters a curse under her breath I know I’m not meant to hear before stuttering, “Wh…why?”

  Fuck, if she only knew the dirty things running through my head right now.

  “Because, my wide-eyed little pretty, you’re going to play my new love interest. My girlfriend. My serious girlfriend.” I emphasize the word so she understands what she’s getting herself into. I won’t pay her to be in my bed, but that doesn’t mean she won’t end up there anyway.

  “I…I haven’t agreed to anything yet.” Her breathlessness is testing me, and she’s only about half an inch away from finding out exactly how much.

  Walking into this meeting, I had already agreed to what I thought was a generous offer with her boss, madam, keeper, whatever she’s called. But after the last fifteen minutes, I’ve decided I will pay whatever it takes to have her. To own her. I think I would give away my own soul.

  Framing her face with both hands now, I lean in until my mouth is a hairsbreadth from hers. Her eyes fall to my lips. I feel her wariness, but I also feel her hunger. She parts her lips, and I watch with a deep ache in my groin as her tongue darts out to moisten them in anticipation of my kiss.

  I restrain from slamming my mouth to hers, taking what I want. What she wants me to take, regardless of how she’s trying to refute me.

  “But you will. Everyone has a price, Summer. What’s yours?”

  9

  “You did what?”

  “I think I just sold myself for two hundred and fifty thousand dollars.”

  I stare at the dark TV in our dimly lit apartment, eyes drying out because my lids are stuck in the up position. Trying to figure out what the hell just happened and how I let it. One minute I was on my way out the door, the next I was sampling his name and signing a binding contract without so much as a superficial legal review.

  Not that it could be put in front of any judge and hold up in a court of law, mind you. Randi’s business isn’t exactly aboveboard. The nondisclosure agreement could, I suppose, and that means I should keep my mouth firmly shut. Yet here I am, babbling like a running brook.

  My gorgeous friend, Jo, sits regally in the chair to my right. Her long, leather-clad legs are crossed, one over the other. “This is good news,” she announces.

  “Yeah,” I murmur in agreement. Good news. Then why do I feel I’ve woken a hibernating bear?


  Sierra drops down beside me with a Blow Pop pinched between her teeth. When she pulls it out, it makes a slurping noise that would generally send shivers up my spine, but right now I can’t even care.

  “I thought this was what you wanted? To find a regular so you could save up some money, focus on your real job, and get the hell out of what was supposed to be a temporary gap?”

  “I did. I do. I just…”

  “How long is the gig?” Jo asks.

  “Four months, give or take, I guess.”

  “Does he have a deformity?” It’s Sierra’s turn to chime in.

  “No.”

  Sierra holds her sucker out to me. I take it, sticking it in my mouth. It’s cherry, my favorite. Then she rapid-fires question after question.

  “Is he a dwarf?”

  “No.” I huff a laugh.

  “Is he bald? I mean, that’s kinda hot on the right guy, but I know it’s not your cup of tea.”

  “No.” He has the most beautiful inky locks. I want to weave my fingers through them as he takes my mouth like he has a right to.

  “Is he married?” she asks tentatively.

  When she waves her fingers, I return the sucker. “No. Definitely not.” I don’t know a lot about Shaw Mercer, but parading a girlfriend around when he’s married during his father’s reelection campaign is something I know he wouldn’t do. No…he’s using me for a specific purpose and he wouldn’t admit it, but I know it has everything to do with that first Tuesday in November and the candidate that could “give Preston a run for his money.”

  “Is he hot coffee?”

  My laughter echoes off the walls. Hot coffee is our code word for a smoking hot stranger you would fuck in the back room without so much as exchanging names.

  Sierra sits up and leans my way. “Oh my God. I knew it! He’s a steaming cup of hot fucking coffee, isn’t he? That’s the problem. You like him.”

  She doesn’t know how close to the truth she is. He’s arrogant, overconfident, even a little condescending, and it should turn me off, but, God…it so doesn’t.