Taste

by Cambria Hebert

  “Sounds great,” I said, fishing my car keys out of my pocket. I disconnected the call and dumped the phone into the twilight zone that was my bag.

  My head was muddled with thoughts and fears as I hit the unlock button on the wireless remote and reached for the door handle of the driver’s side.

  But that’s as far as I made it.

  A large hand grabbed me from behind.

  5

  I screamed and the keys in my hand hit the pavement with a loud clatter.

  “Shit,” Spencer muttered, letting go of me immediately. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  I swung around, feeling like I’d just run fifteen miles. “Yeah? Well, you did.”

  His lips drew into a line and he shoved a hand through his hair. “What the hell is going on, Elle?” he demanded.

  “I thought you had a meeting?” I questioned.

  “I told you to wait for me,” he countered.

  “Does everyone do what you tell them to?” I crossed my arms over my chest.

  “If they know what’s good for them.”

  I snorted.

  He bent down and snatched the keys off the pavement before I could even blink. “Hey!” I protested, reaching for them.

  “I’m driving.”

  “I’m pretty sure you were just told in there you had to stay?” I questioned again.

  “You’re more important right now,” he said softly.

  My stomach did a little flip. It seemed appropriate his eyes were the color of honey, because his words were just as smooth.

  “I don’t want anyone to see us together,” I said truthfully.

  Clearly, I was not as smooth as he was.

  He rubbed a hand over his jaw. “That’s the first time a woman’s ever said that to me.”

  I rolled my eyes and suppressed a laugh. “I don’t think your big ego will fit in my car anyway.”

  He pretended he didn’t hear my very good insult and tucked my keys into the pocket of his black dress pants. He was wearing a pair of wraparound shades, but even with his eyes covered, I could still feel their amber gaze.

  “Come on,” he said, gesturing with his head to the other side of the lot. “I’ll drive.”

  I followed, not because I wanted to, but because he had my keys.

  Okay, maybe it was because I wanted to.

  He had his hands tucked into the pockets of his slacks and the action pulled the fabric taut across his tight ass. I couldn’t help but stare at it as I trailed along behind him.

  Please, you totally would be looking, too.

  “Are you staring at my ass?” he asked over his shoulder.

  “No,” I said like I was completely disgusted by the suggestion.

  Thank God he couldn’t see the mortification in my eyes.

  His chuckle floated back to me, and I wanted to die from embarrassment.

  We stopped beside a black Mustang without a speck of dirt on it. “I should have known this was your car,” I said.

  He grinned. “She drew your eye, eh?”

  “I suppose so,” I admitted. I did tend to give it a look when I walked through the lot every day.

  “Let me tell ya something,” he drawled. “You can tell a lot about man from his car.”

  “Is that so?” I said, amused.

  He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the side of the shiny black paint and nodded.

  “And what does this car say about you?” I asked.

  He grinned. “That just like this car, I’m American-made and full of horsepower.”

  I laughed even as the excitement in my blood skyrocketed.

  “Come on,” he said, giving me another of his heart-stopping grins, and pulled open the passenger-side door. I slid in without a second thought.

  The interior was gray leather and it was just as spotless as the outside. It smelled like him in here, musky and deep. It wasn’t an overpowering scent, though. It was relaxed. I liked it.

  Hell, I liked everything about Spencer.

  Before he climbed in, the black jacket he was wearing flew past my face and landed in the backseat. Then he folded himself into the driver’s seat, his long legs eating up most of the floor space. He started up the engine and adjusted the vents so cool air blew over me and then proceeded to roll up his sleeves to his elbows. He had strong-looking forearms.

  “Ready?” he said when he was done, looking across the closed-in space.

  I nodded.

  He drove like he’d been doing it his entire life. He was completely comfortable behind the wheel, navigating the traffic-laden streets of downtown D.C. with barely any effort at all.

  “Where do you live?” he asked.

  My stomach twisted at the thought of my townhouse. It just didn’t feel like a safe place anymore. It felt like somewhere I was caged and on display, somewhere that unseemly people could watch me.

  “I don’t want to go there.”

  I felt his eyes slide over to me, but he didn’t say anything else. A few minutes later, he said, “Have you eaten anything?”

  “Oh, um, no.” I hadn’t eaten anything since dinner last night.

  His lips pulled down in a frown. Next thing I knew, he was gliding the Mustang between two sedans on the side of a busy street. I have no idea how he managed to park like this. I couldn’t parallel park to save my life. If it had been me, I’d have had to park three blocks over and walk to the coffee shop we were sitting in front of.

  “Stay here,” he said, getting out.

  Even if I wanted to argue, I wouldn’t have had the chance. He was striding through the glass doors of the café before I even thought of a rebuke. I didn’t want to go in there anyway; there was a crowd of people. I just wanted quiet. I wanted to feel safe, like I wasn’t being threatened or watched.

  The cool interior of this Mustang was the closest I’d felt to safe since last night. No one would expect me to be in this car. No one would expect me not to be at work. My car was still there at the White House, so as far as everyone knew I was, too.

  I leaned my head back against the buttery leather and closed my eyes. Spencer was in the line of the shop, I could see the top of his dirty-blond head. He was talking to someone easily, and the person was smiling.

  He was too entirely likable.

  I couldn’t imagine anyone not liking Spencer. He probably had a million girlfriends.

  I turned off those thoughts and shut my eyes and thought about Jack. I imagined him laughing at the monkeys’ antics right now.

  The next thing I knew, a car door was slamming and I jerked up, my body tensing. “It’s me,” he said gently, slipping two large paper cups into the center console.

  I sagged back against the seat, rolling my head toward him. “I must have fallen asleep.”

  He dropped the brown paper sack in his lap and looked at me, pushing his sunglasses up atop his head. Golden eyes raked over me and he leaned in, running a thumb beneath my eyes where I knew there were dark circles. “Rough night, huh?”

  “You have no idea,” I said, relishing the brief contact. I realized then that I couldn’t remember the last time someone touched me. Someone other than Jack, that is.

  “Don’t wanna go home, huh?”

  I shook my head and bit my lower lip.

  Spencer handed me a coffee and then pulled out into traffic. I took a sip of the hot liquid, realizing how thirsty I was. The coffee was sweet and creamy, and oh so good.

  “Thanks for this,” I said between sips. I was partially afraid to drink it as fast as I wanted for fear my stomach would revolt.

  Spencer didn’t say anything, but I did note the way his hand flexed over the gearshift as he moved through the streets.

  Several minutes later, we pulled up to the National Mall. Usually, parking here was a nightmare, but Spencer seemed to not be plagued with that as he located and slid into a spot in mere minutes. The National Mall was two miles of open grassy space that was filled with history. Not only did it boast
open spaces for biking, running, or walking your dog, but it had grand architecture.

  Monuments such as the Lincoln Memorial, U.S. Capitol, and various other memorial parks. It was a popular place for tourists but also for locals.

  Before climbing out of the car, Spencer handed me the paper sack. “I got you a muffin. You should eat something.”

  “Okay,” I said, taking the bag but having no interest in actually eating.

  “Come on,” he said, grabbing up his coffee and getting out of the car.

  Part of me was really nervous about being out here in the open. Anyone looking for me could easily find me. But then I reminded myself that everyone thought I was supposed to be at work. It didn’t help me relax completely, but I no longer felt like hiding behind every trashcan we passed.

  “Okay, spill,” he said.

  I blew out a breath. “I don’t even know where to start.”

  He stopped and swung around abruptly to face me. “Is your boyfriend knocking you around?”

  I stopped. He thought I had a boyfriend? “I don’t have a boyfriend.”

  “Thank fuck,” he muttered, dropping the glasses back down over his eyes.

  “You thought I was seeing someone?” I asked, wrinkling my nose. For someone who thought I was single, he sure did do a lot of flirting. Of course, to some guys, flirting was just their natural way.

  “Actually, I didn’t. Everyone said you were single.” His words faltered, and my eyes shot up to his.

  “You asked around about me?” I don’t know why, but this made me extremely giddy.

  “Maybe.” He shrugged. “It’s my job to know about the people who work in the White House.”

  “Oh,” I said, a little let down. Okay, I was a lot let down. He only wanted to know about my personal life because of his job.

  “But what else could it be?” He went on. “You come to work with bruises and injuries, shaking like a leaf and jumping at every sound you hear. Your car doesn’t have a scratch, so you weren’t in an accident, and you refused to let me take you home, making me think there was some asshole there waiting who would be pissed off if he saw us together.”

  Okay, I saw his reasoning. It did make sense. “I’m single,” I murmured, sipping the coffee, getting ready to lay it all out there.

  Spencer’s body tensed and he stepped close. So close I could feel the rise and fall of his chest when he breathed. “Elle. Did someone attack you?” He said the words low like the mere thought of them sickened him.

  “Yes,” I choked out.

  He groaned and his hand tightened into a fist at his side. “Fucking fucker,” he said.

  Clearly, he liked the F-word.

  “Did you go to the hospital?” he asked.

  “No! I can’t go to the hospital.”

  “They’ll need to… uh, examine you. Make sure…”

  Oh God. He thought I got raped.

  “Spencer.” I stopped him, placing a hand on his chest. “I wasn’t raped.”

  His hand covered mine and wrapped around it, squeezing my fingers. “Thank fucking God,” he said. “I thought I was going to go to jail for murder.”

  “Murder!” I said, trying to draw my hand back, but he wouldn’t allow it. He kept hold of it with ease.

  “I’d hunt him down and kill him.” He said the words with a deadly calm tone. It was the kind of tone that made me shiver.

  “I wasn’t raped,” I said. “But I was attacked. Last night.” The tremor of fear in my voice was something I couldn’t hide.

  Slipping his fingers through mine, he kept hold of my hand and led me over to an isolated grassy area beneath a tree. He sat, putting his back to the tree, and through his lenses I could see his eyes sweep the area surrounding us. It made me feel safe.

  I settled close to him, setting my coffee and the bag with the muffin beside us.

  “Talk,” he said.

  I told him everything. How I couldn’t sleep so I went downstairs to make some tea. I told him about the noises I heard and how they came in through my bedroom window. I shuddered to think what would have happened if they caught me sleeping.

  I told him how I was dragged down the stairs, and he winced when I told him I stabbed one of them with a pen.

  “What?” I said defensively. “It was better than doing nothing at all!”

  “You pissed him off and he hit you in the face,” he growled.

  I gave him a dirty look. I wasn’t letting him take away the satisfaction I got out of the one injury I was able to inflict on the guy.

  I saw him open his mouth, likely to tell me what else I did that was stupid, so I spoke first to shut him up. “There’s more.”

  The look on his face grew darker and darker as I whispered about the president, the poison, and the threats to make me do it.

  “You didn’t call the cops?” he asked, tossing his sunglasses on the ground beside us and running a hand over his face and head.

  “They told me I couldn’t. They said they had connections there.”

  “They were lying,” he spat.

  “They threatened my son,” I said quietly.

  A change came over him. He sat up a little bit straighter, and the rage he was emitting seemed to flat line. “You have a son?”

  It didn’t surprise me that Spencer knew nothing about Jack. I didn’t get personal at work. I left that stuff for at home. My colleagues at the White House were just that. I went to work to do a job, not talk about why my son didn’t have a father.

  “You said you weren’t seeing anyone,” he said. “Are you married?”

  “No. I’m single.”

  He just gazed at me.

  I sighed. “Jack’s father left me when I was pregnant. He barely wanted a girlfriend, let alone a surprise baby.”

  “How old are you?” he asked, his eyes narrowing.

  “Twenty-four. Jack just turned two. He’s just a baby.” I got emotional just thinking about the threats being made against him.

  “He just left you?” His words were hollow. I understood. It was a lot to take in. Most guys didn’t see women the same way once they knew they had kids or, as many like to say, “baggage.” Right about now, Spencer was probably regretting all those times he’d come into the kitchen to sneak cookies and make small talk with me.

  I told myself it was better this way, that at least now he knew. At least now he wouldn’t come downstairs to flirt with me, leaving me to think about him when the hour was late and I was feeling lonely.

  I told myself the pain I was feeling was the bruises on my body and the cut on my head.

  Basically, I did the worst thing a person could do.

  I lied to myself.

  “I was with him for about a year. It was pretty casual, but as far as I knew, we weren’t seeing other people. The pregnancy was an accident. We’d been careful, but sometimes things happen. I didn’t realize I was even pregnant ‘til three months in. I told the father and he pretty much accused me of trying to trap him.” I glanced away, gazing off across the grass. “His family was well off. He thought I was trying to get money or something.” I shook my head, the memory of that conversation replaying in my mind.

  I glanced up at Spencer and looked him right in the eye. “He walked out on me that day, and I never talked to him again. I never so much as asked for anything. I don’t want anything. Jack doesn’t even carry his name.”

  “You’ve been raising him alone?” Spencer asked. The look on his face was indiscernible.

  “My mom helps me. She watches him during the day while I’m at work. I pay her what I can, though she never wants to take it.”

  “What about your dad?”

  “He died before I had Jack.”

  He just stared at me for long moments. It made me sort of uncomfortable because I had no idea what he was thinking. Usually, when people got quiet like that, it was because they were silently judging someone else. I didn’t like when people judged me. Being a single mother wasn’t some curse. Even t
hough this was the “modern” day and age, there were still a ton of judgy people out there who had no respect for a woman raising a child on her own.

  “All this time you’ve been working all these hours at the White House and then you go home and—” He began, but I cut him off.

  “Be a mom.”

  “I don’t understand,” he said, his voice growing hard.

  I sighed. Clearly, confiding in Spence was the wrong thing to do. I got up to leave. I’d just call a cab. “I’m sorry I dragged you into this.” I began. “I shouldn’t—”

  His hand caught my wrist and he pulled me around, his honey eyes searching my face. “You didn’t let me finish,”

  I sighed. “Look, I’ve had enough of judgy people. I’ve had, like, the worst day, and—”

  He squeezed my wrist. “I don’t understand how any man could leave his child,” he said, completely cutting off my tirade. “How any man could walk away from you.”

  “What?” I said, totally sure I hadn’t heard him right.

  Still holding my wrist, Spencer took a few steps back until his back hit the tree, he towed me along with him, but when he stopped, I didn’t. He gave me a gentle tug and I tumbled forward. His heavily muscled arms wrapped around my waist as his head dipped down.

  I didn’t even have to tilt up my head. His lips found mine and lifted, bringing my face up to give him total access.

  A single touch.

  That’s all it took for me to totally melt against him. His body accepted mine and molded around me, almost like he couldn’t get close enough. His lips were warm and his tongue tasted like coffee. His kiss wasn’t soft and tender; he kissed me like he meant it, like kissing me was the most serious thing he’d ever done.

  I’d wondered what it would be like to kiss him. I’d looked at his lips and his ornery grins for months and a sort of wistful feeling would take over the inside of my chest. But I never really thought this would happen.

  I never really thought his kiss would blow the one I imagined out of the water.

  How did he do it? How did he claim me with a single kiss?

  He pulled my upper lip into his mouth and gently sucked at it, then released it and smoothed his skilled tongue over the swollen flesh. When he finally broke away, he didn’t pull back; he merely separated our lips but rested his forehead against mine. His breathing was heavy and his chest pushed against me as we both sucked in great gulps of air.