by Mandy Baxter
“Thanks. She asked me to handle it personally because I’m responsible for Joey’s account with the hotel and Sandy doesn’t want to lose his business. But if it happens again there’s a chance she’ll try to contact him directly, and I can’t afford for that to happen.”
There was a twinge of fear behind her words that spurred every protective instinct in Damien’s body. “Why are you afraid of him?” He hadn’t meant to blurt the question out, point blank. But the thought of her living in fear made him want to break something. Namely, Joey Cavello’s face.
“I-I’m not.” The lie was obvious, her body language conveying her deceit in little tells that Damien was trained to identify.
“Then why are you helping him? Why not let him get his ass kicked out of here?”
Tabitha’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. “Why do you care? You’re selling that crap for him. What difference does it make to you who helps him or where he moves it from? You’re getting paid, right? Isn’t that all that matters?”
Damien’s façade slipped. The barest peeling back of layers that made him feel too damned exposed for his peace of mind. He tucked that very Parker part of him away and hiked a disinterested shoulder. “Yup. Who doesn’t like money? I’m sure you don’t mind the kickbacks you’re getting, either.”
Damien felt the anger rippling off of her like heat rising off a summer sidewalk when she said, “I told you, I don’t take a dime of Joey’s money. I don’t want anything from him.”
He quirked a sarcastic brow. “Not a single thing?”
“You’re an asshole.”
Jealousy had prompted Damien’s harsh words. The knowledge that she’d been with that slimy son of a bitch was like a coal burning hot in the pit of his gut. Tabitha’s anger lent her beauty a fierceness that took Damien’s breath away and he abandoned logical thought. He was tired of living this double fucking life. So tired of upholding the moral right by condoning so many wrongs. And sick of putting everyone else’s needs before his own wants.
Fuck that shit. He wanted Tabitha. And goddamn it, he was going after what he wanted.
Her eyes widened as he stalked toward her, but there wasn’t an ounce of fear in her gaze. Rather a defiance that only served to heat his blood. An unspoken challenge, as if she dared him to take another step. To touch her. Put his mouth and hands on her. Damien had never been one to walk away from a challenge.
He took her face in his hands and held her still. Tabitha’s breath raced, her chest rising and falling in a quick rhythm. Her lips parted, soft and inviting despite the fire in her eyes. “I’m not afraid of you either, Damien.” The words floated to his ears on a whisper.
He kissed her with every ounce of frustration pent up in his body. Though he wanted to be gentle with her, caress her mouth with his, treat her as though she were some fragile thing, he couldn’t. Couldn’t tame the desire that burned within him, the need that overtook him. His attraction for her was too visceral, too desperate for anything other than fierce abandon.
Tabitha shoved at him and he took a stumbling step back. “Damn you,” she seethed before rushing at him, her hand clasping the back of his neck as she pulled his mouth down to hers.
She’d come here to make sure that Damien knew the ground rules. That he’d play the game and lie low. And maybe return her damned cell phone. Kissing him, throwing herself at him, had not been part of Tabitha’s plan. Damien’s effect on her was instantaneous. A rush that went straight to her head and erased all logical thought from her brain. Common sense, decision-making skills of any kind became nonexistent the moment his lips met hers. But, oh God, was he ever worth the consequences.
Damien’s hand came around the back of her neck, his fist gripping the short strands of hair that brushed her nape. He tilted her head the way he wanted it, allowing him access to her throat. The control he exercised over her was something she craved. In fact, it wasn’t enough. So much weighed on every single decision she’d made over the past couple of years, and for once, she wanted the burden of choice to be taken from her, giving her no option but to obey.
“Damien.” His name hovered on her lips, an unfinished thought. The blunt edge of his teeth grazed the sensitive flesh of her throat, the slight sting a delicious precursor to the wet warmth of his mouth. Tabitha’s eyes drifted shut. His touch was bliss.
“Housekeeping!”
The warning preceded the click of a key card in the lock and Tabitha shoved at Damien once again, sending him back a few paces. His eyes glinted with a wild light, a feral animal with the night’s prey in its sights.
“Don’t. Leave.” The command was firm and a rush of liquid heat chased through Tabitha’s veins, settling low in her abdomen.
When the housekeeper walked through the door, Tabitha was certain that the shocked expression on Lisa’s face mirrored her own. “Oh my gosh, Tabitha, I’m so sorry.” Lisa’s face flushed a deep crimson and Tabitha fought the urge to roll her eyes. What in the hell did Lisa have to be embarrassed about? She wasn’t the one almost caught with her pants down.
“No worries. The heating unit was acting up yesterday and I was just checking to make sure it’s still working all right.”
“I can come back.” Lisa’s eyes slid to Damien and warmed as a smile spread across her face.
“No need.” Damien’s eyes never left Tabitha. “I’m checking out.”
Damien grabbed his suitcase and hauled his duffel over his shoulder. He cast a warning glance Tabitha’s way and headed for the door. She waited for it to shut behind him and took a deep breath. His presence was so overwhelming that she found it hard to breathe when he was near.
After a few pleasantries—and a couple more rushed excuses—were exchanged with Lisa, Tabitha figured she’d given Damien more than enough time to check out and pay his bill. She strolled down the hallway, counting out her steps with measured breaths in an effort to calm her still-racing heart.
“Did you think you could get rid of me that easily?”
His sardonic tone broke her from her reverie and she looked up to find Damien waiting for her near the elevators, one massive shoulder bracing him against the wall. A confident smirk graced his features and Tabitha’s heart stuttered in her chest. If he was gorgeous when he wore that imposing, angry expression, then he was absolutely breathtaking when his face showed a spark of humor.
“I wasn’t trying to get rid of you.” She fixed a stern expression on her face. “I was talking to one of my housekeepers.”
“Uh-huh. I know when I’m getting the brush-off.”
Heat crept up Tabitha’s cheeks. She tilted her head to the side and regarded him. “For some reason, I find it hard to believe that anyone has ever given you the brush-off.”
He grinned, showcasing the deep grooves of his dimples, and her stomach did a backflip. The casual hike of his shoulder did nothing to diminish her attraction to him. Good Lord, she lusted after him like a cat in heat. It was all she could do not to rub herself up and down his body. “I thought you had Sundays off,” he said, disregarding her earlier observation.
“I do, but I had to come in to take care of a few things.”
“Like a rowdy guest or two?”
She smiled. “Something like that.”
“What are you doing now?”
She quirked a brow. “Talking to you.”
Damien rolled his eyes, but those dimples stayed put in his cheeks. “You know what I mean.”
Tabitha stepped up next to him, so close that her senses were awash with his spicy, masculine scent. Her arm brushed his as she hit the button to call the elevator. She didn’t miss the way his gaze drifted to where their bodies touched. A simple shift of his eyes ignited her desire. Could she be any more pathetic?
“Don’t you have to meet Joey? Square up for the weekend?”
The look he gave her told Tabitha that Damien Evans didn’t answer to a fucking soul. The world waited to do his bidding. And once again she couldn’t help but wonder, what was he do
ing working for a low-level criminal like Joey?
A bell chimed as the elevator doors slid open. Tabitha stepped inside and Damien followed with his luggage in tow. He reached across her, as though pushing the button for the first floor was an action devised to give him an excuse to brush his arm against hers. “Leave your car here, and let’s get some lunch.” Again, Damien didn’t ask Tabitha to do anything. He told her. “We’re downtown, there’s got to be plenty of places to eat within walking distance.”
The man was a mystery. In all of the months she’d dated Joey, he’d never once taken her out on anything that even resembled a date. If they weren’t hanging out at a bar, they were at her apartment. Dinners and lunches consisted of takeout—that she usually paid for—and never anything fancier than a Flying Pie pizza. Joey wouldn’t be caught dead in any of the fancier downtown eateries.
“All right.” The words left her mouth before she could think her decision through. “I need to check in with my manager before she leaves on vacation, and you still need to check out. I’ll meet you out in the parking lot?”
The elevator doors slid open and they stepped out into the hallway. He flashed a quick smile that caused her insides to melt into a puddle of liquid heat. “I’ll meet you outside.”
Without another word, he walked out in front of her, down the hallway toward the lobby. Tabitha wasn’t going to complain as she took in the view of his ass, hugged by the denim slung low on his hips and revealing the waistband of his underwear. Damn.
Tabitha scanned the parking lot. She found Damien leaning against a cherry Shelby Cobra with California plates. Stolen? Or did that gorgeous hunk of machinery belong to him?
“The ’65 is nice, but if you ask me, the ’67 Shelby convertible is the best. The roadster body gives the 1950 Ferrari a run for its money and the V-8 is killer,” she said.
His lips spread into a wry grin that caused a wobble in Tabitha’s step as her knees felt like they might have disconnected from her shins. She’d never met a man who made her legs weak until now. Had she become a walking cliché, or what?
“The ’67 roadster is okay, but the body of the ’65 is the American muscle car. Plus, the ’65’s got a little more torque, and the growl of the engine can’t be beat.” He pushed himself away from the car and Tabitha couldn’t help but notice how his muscles flexed and bunched with the simple action. Damien’s body was a living, breathing work of art. “You’re the local. So you choose where we’re eating.”
Again, his words didn’t invite discussion. He’d given her a gentle command and it was clear he expected no resistance or argument on her part. It was tough for her to admit, but Tabitha didn’t exactly frequent downtown Boise. She worked downtown and that was about it. Besides her epic failure of a double date with Lila the night before, she didn’t eat anywhere that wasn’t dirt cheap. The downtown restaurants catered to people on a champagne budget, and Tabitha was definitely living on a beer income.
Well . . . he asked for it. “I’ve heard that Fork is pretty good. I haven’t eaten there, but my friend Lila said they have the best burgers she’s ever eaten.”
“Sounds good to me. Lead the way.”
Tabitha took a quick look around as nervous energy skittered up her spine. It’s not like she expected Joey to be hanging out in the hotel’s parking lot, but she had a feeling that if he saw her with Damien, it would cause all sorts of problems that she wasn’t ready to deal with.
“How long have you lived in Boise?” Damien kept his eyes facing front, but Tabitha felt his undivided attention on her nonetheless.
“My entire life,” she responded with chagrin. “I know, not very exciting.”
He gave her a sidelong glance and a corner of his mouth hitched in a lopsided grin. Holy crap, she wanted to kiss the dimple in his cheek, dip her tongue into it... “I move around a lot. There’s nothing wrong with having deep roots. I’d kill to settle down for a change.”
There was a depth of emotion to his words that caused Tabitha’s chest to tighten. Regret, longing, and sadness spoken with an openness and honesty that tugged at her heartstrings and squeezed the air from her lungs. “It’s not always so great to be firmly rooted in place.” They paused at the crosswalk and started across Main when the little man flashed from red to a walking white. “There are days that I really wish I could just pack up and leave. Start over where no one knows me. It would be awesome to have a clean slate for a change.”
“What’s keeping you here?”
Tabitha had a feeling that she was being managed. Damien knew how to steer the conversation in the way he wanted, and asked leading questions so that it seemed as though Tabitha was volunteering the information he was coaxing out of her. Still, the realization did nothing to stem the flow of words. There was something refreshing about spilling her guts to him. He was the clean slate she couldn’t get anywhere else.
“School. My brother. Work.” She could make a list of reasons a mile long, but those were the big ones. “Seth is a . . .” What? Royal screwup? “. . . handful. He’s had a rough few years and he needs me.”
“Younger?”
“By two years.” Though sometimes it felt like twenty. “He’s finally got his life on track and I don’t want to do anything to screw it up for him. Besides, it’s a total pain in the ass to find a school that will transfer credits, and I’m so close to finishing that it just doesn’t make any sense to pack up and leave at this point.”
“What are you studying?”
“I’m working toward my RN.” Tabitha paused and steered them down Eighth Street. “I want to be a trauma nurse and work in the ER.”
“How much longer do you have?”
She gave him a wry smile. “Are you interrogating me, Damien?”
“Yes.” His tone wasn’t the least bit playful and it sparked every nerve in her body with electric energy.
“I finished up my labs and lectures for this semester last week, and next semester I’ll be doing clinicals at St. Luke’s.” Tabitha paused at the entrance to Fork and held out her arm in invitation. “We’re here.”
Damien pulled open the heavy glass door and waited for Tabitha to walk in ahead of him. Joey had never once held a door open for her. Hell, Joey had never taken her out to eat. She could hardly call what this was between her and Damien a relationship, but already it surpassed anything she’d ever had with her asshole of an ex. Damien was indeed a mystery. A criminal and a gentleman? Did such a thing even exist?
Chapter Ten
“Two for lunch today?”
Damien smiled at the hostess, and at his nod she retrieved two menus from the tall podium she stood behind, handing them off to a young girl decked out in a long black skirt and crisp white dress shirt. “Right this way.” Her tone was pleasant and customer service perfect as she led them past the rustic-style bar, wine rack constructed from rebar and old barn wood, and into the restaurant proper, through a maze of tables.
As their waitress rambled on—something about the weather and the possibility of a snowstorm—he couldn’t be bothered to listen as he took a moment to appreciate the sway of Tabitha’s hips as she walked, and the luscious curve of her ass that he itched to reach out and take in his hands. He towered over her by at least a foot, and his bulk almost tripled her petite frame. Without a doubt, she’d weigh almost nothing, and he imagined himself lifting her in his arms to settle her on his cock while he took her up against the wall. Whoa. Put on the fucking brakes, man. If he didn’t curb the erotic trail of his thoughts, he’d be sporting wood before the waitress managed to seat them.
She led them to a booth on the street side of the building, and placed a menu on either side of the table as she waited for them to sit down. Tabitha’s attention was centered on the server as she recited Fork’s specials, but Damien didn’t give a single shit about the soup of the day. He lost focus of everything but Tabitha. God, she was fucking beautiful.
She cast a curious glance at Damien, her full, petal-pink lips quirk
ed in a half grin. “I think we’re going to need a few minutes,” she said.
“No problem,” the waitress responded. “I’ll check back in a few.”
“What?” From the way Tabitha was looking at him, Damien had a feeling that he’d missed something in the women’s exchange.
“I think I must have lost you sometime after the lunch specials. She asked if we wanted to start off with any drinks or appetizers, but it looked like you weren’t tracking.”
Not even close. Who needed food or water when she was sitting across from him? Sunlight filtered in through the large picture windows, setting her hair on fire with a golden light. Her eyes seemed even bluer, crystal clear like the waters of the Indian Ocean. “Nope. I was too busy looking at you.”
She blushed at his comment and Damien’s chest swelled. That he could affect her with just a few words stroked his ego and it made him want to test the waters, see what more heated sentiments would do to her. “Why? Do I have something on my face?”
The way she deflected the compliment made him think that she was uncomfortable with any form of praise. He could press on, tell her she was beautiful, that he couldn’t quit thinking about her mouth, or her gorgeous pussy, but that wasn’t exactly proper lunch conversation. Which just proved that Damien was about as housebroken as a timber wolf. Jesus, he was so out of touch, he had no business sitting down to eat a civilized meal with her. “How long have you been working at the hotel?” Conversation served a triple purpose: he could investigate her on the sly while learning more about her, and maybe if he kept the topics light he’d quit thinking about how he wanted to sink his teeth into the soft flesh of her ass . . .