Luke's Absolution (The Colloway Brothers #3)

by K. L. Kreig

  My speakerphone squawks, and Heather’s voice floats through. Her normally quiet, soft demeanor has clearly been ratcheted up a few degrees, because she actually sounds excited. I can hear the smile in her voice. Yes, Asher Colloway will do that to a woman, at least any straight one. “Ms. Kingsley, your noon appointment is here.”

  Ms. Kingsley? Heather hasn’t addressed me as Ms. Kingsley since our first interview, and even at the end of that meeting she was calling me Alyse. I keep the laugh from my voice as I respond, “Thank you, Heather. Please send Mr. Colloway in.” Once I disconnect I do chuckle. Heather usually has me on speakerphone when she buzzes my appointments in, so Asher’s little surprise has just been turned around. Ha! Boo-yaa!

  I’m still laughing when Asher opens my door. The moment my eyes land on him, though, it stutters a slow death. My gaze slowly travels down his insanely fit body and I realize he’s watching me watch him, but I don’t care enough to stop.

  He’s absolutely breathtaking in his fitted charcoal suit and crisp white shirt, which he’s left open at the throat, sans tie. And the tiny bit of chest hair I see peeking through against his golden skin makes me water in more than one place. I’ve never seen him in anything but jeans and henleys or polo shirts, but hot damn if he doesn’t look even more mouthwatering when he’s dressed up. My entire body feels warm and tingly, inside and out.

  I gravitate toward men with dark looks.

  Dark hair.

  Dark whiskers.

  Dark eyes.

  Dark personality.

  Asher Colloway fits that bill to a perfect “T”. At a little over six feet, he’s tall, at least for me since I hover around the five-foot-four mark, give or take a half inch on a good day. And he’s downright beautiful. All of the Colloway brothers could effortlessly grace the cover of a magazine, but Asher is different. He’s a guy you could easily get lost in before your brain catches up to remind you why you shouldn’t. He has an aura about him that’s nothing short of magical and when you look at him, a spell is woven that you can’t escape. You don’t want to.

  When I met him for the first time at seventeen, I thought he was the best thing since sliced bread. I even thought I was in love with him, but we were in very different places in our lives. Then I met Beck and I moved forward instead of looking back. Now, though…now, I can honestly say that at twenty-nine, Asher is the sexiest man I have ever laid eyes on, hands down.

  I want him. Desperately.

  And desperation makes you do stupid, stupid things.

  “Get your fill yet?” A smug smirk turns up one corner of his kissable mouth.

  Damn him. I have absolutely no snarky comeback to that, because I’ve been openly ogling. I only hope I don’t have drool dripping down my chin. I nonchalantly reach up to check, faking a cough.

  “Why the secrecy?” I ask, changing subjects, not taking my eyes from him.

  He closes the door before taking a seat in the chair across from my metal desk, throwing one foot onto the opposite knee. He steeples his fingers in front of his chin. The arrogant glint in his dark eyes makes me want to drop to my knees in front of him, unzip his pants, and wipe it off.

  “You knew it was me.”

  I knew Asher had taken over as CEO for his father’s company—I may have asked Livia what the Colloway brothers were up to after she’d reunited with Gray. In preparation for this meeting, when I researched GRASCO Holdings and found that CFC fell under them, I was irritated at first that Asher wanted to catch me cold. I never attend a client meeting without doing my homework first, especially since I’m fighting for the very existence of ARK Consulting. But then I quickly decided to turn the tables on the self-assured SOB.

  Knowing that I would be meeting with Asher today, I’ve dressed particularly sexy in a short nude pencil skirt paired with a sheer royal-blue blouse and a matching low-cut cami underneath. Definitely not how I would dress for a normal client meeting, but I went all out for Asher. I let a slow smile turn my lips as I sit back in my black vinyl chair and casually cross my legs.

  Asher’s eyes follow my leisurely movements and widen at the expanse of bare thigh I’m now showing. He may have even seen a flash of the nude thong I’m wearing from his position. His heated gaze rises, capturing mine, and I have to actually talk myself into breathing, trying to remain unaffected by the intense desire he clearly wants me to see. It’s not working too well.

  “It may surprise you to know that I do know how to use the Internet,” I finally manage to bite sarcastically.

  “You haven’t changed a bit, Alyse.”

  “I beg to differ,” I retort, knowing full well life has made me more cynical and closed off.

  He rewards me with a small smile, which almost melts me on the spot. He’s like the sun. Warm. Inviting. Only more deadly if you spend too much time in his presence. He’s quiet for several beats, his eyes assessing me deliberately. “I like a woman with fire.”

  “Do you?” I cross my arms, unsure where this conversation is headed, but it’s not about business anymore. I don’t miss how his eyes linger too long on my now-exposed cleavage.

  “Yes.” He uncrosses his leg and leans forward, elbows on spread knees, hands clasped. His want-filled gaze burns my cocky attitude to ashes. “It makes her complete submission all the sweeter.”

  A flash fire of heat scorches my lady parts. My mouth drops open temporarily before I think to close it. Asher is so good, so smooth, and I am waaaay out of my league trying to trade barbs with him.

  “What are you doing here, Asher?”

  He leans back again, resuming a casual position, a slight smirk on his face. His eyes twinkle like stars and I find myself getting lost in them again. “Besides getting you wet?” he drawls roughly. Even though he’s spot on, his assumption angers me. I open my mouth to protest when he interrupts. “You still with Popeye?”

  Huh? It takes me a minute to figure out what he means. Finn. I stare at him in complete and utter shock for several moments. Then, I can’t help it. I laugh. I’ve never been around a man who has kahunas as big as Asher Colloway. He was always direct, but in the years since I’ve seen him, he’s sharpened it considerably. It’s refreshing and unsettling at the same time.

  I shake my head, still chuckling, but he’s stony silent. His desire has now clearly morphed into annoyance, which makes me laugh even harder. “And if I say yes?”

  “Are you?”

  I almost decide to lie just to see how he’ll react. Anger isn’t the type of response I want from Asher, though. I’m not really sure what I do want, but I know it’s not that. “No.”

  As fast as his annoyance came, it went with my admission.

  “Did you come here to question my relationship status? You could have just hopped on Facebook for that, saved yourself the drive.” I uncross my legs and lean on my forearms, the coldness from the steel desk seeping into my exposed pores through the thin fabric. It’s November in Detroit and very cold, but I still can’t regret my choice of wardrobe after seeing the appreciation in both Asher’s eyes and slacks.

  “Because it’s not official until it’s Facebook official, right?”

  “Right,” I drawl. “So, back to my original question. Why are you here?”

  “I want to hire you.”

  I assumed when he was calling references that was his angle. I’m thrilled, but at the same time, disappointed. I need this job, but I also want Asher, even though that’s not the best of ideas. And I can’t have both.

  Why?…a little voice whispers.

  Because it’s kind of a faux pas to sleep with your clients, I tell that little slut.

  “For?”

  “There’s someone embezzling within my company. I want them found and stopped and prosecuted.” He pulls an envelope out of a folder he set down on the edge of my desk earlier. “Our outside audit firm completed our annual audit and found a discrepancy in the books, but they aren’t equipped to take it further. We need someone who has expertise in ferreting out th
ings like this, whose techniques will hold up in a court of law. I know you’ve worked on cases before where your work has supported a legal case.”

  True. I live to bring down white-collar thieves. My dad was a thief; he just stole our childhood from my sister and me instead of a corporation or business. I think that’s one of the reasons I went into this field to begin with. “Is this a past or ongoing issue?”

  “I have reason to believe it’s ongoing, but of course I can’t be sure.”

  “Do you have any suspicions?”

  “Yes. Unfortunately, nothing solid, though.”

  I look down, unsure of how I should approach this. I don’t want to talk myself out of a job, but I want to be up front as well. I don’t doubt my ability in the slightest, but CFC would be, by far, the biggest client I’ve worked on, and this project could possibly take months, given my small staff depending on how deep the embezzlement is buried. “You do know I haven’t worked on a project for a company your size yet, correct?”

  He nods, staying quiet.

  “Okay. Let me look this over and work up a proposal and a timeline for your review. I can have it to you by mid-next week. Then we can meet again, discuss any questions you might have, and negotiate terms.”

  “No.”

  My brows draw together in confusion. “No, what?”

  “No. I told you I want to hire you. You. I’ve already done my research. I don’t need to review anything.”

  I’m taken aback for a moment. “I could rob you blind. My fee may not even be competitive with the other firms you’re considering.”

  “I’m already being robbed blind. And you won’t. Whatever your fees, whatever your terms, I’ll agree to them. I want the best, Alyse.” He pauses before he adds, “I hear that’s you.”

  Huh? This is by far the weirdest client prospect meeting I’ve ever had. I have to wonder what the catch is, because this seems too good to be true. “Uh, oookay.”

  “I want you to start on Monday.”

  It’s the Wednesday before Thanksgiving. I think for a minute, cataloging our current projects. I was planning to take this new client I just secured, but I can give that to Al. Tabitha still has at least two weeks on her current project, and I’ll have to come in now on Friday to wrap up a few loose ends and do some paperwork. “I can make that work.”

  He’s silent, studying me. “One more thing. And it’s non-negotiable.”

  I smirk. “I’m not sleeping with you.” Even though right now I can think of nothing else but your hot, wet tongue worshipping every inch of me.

  Laughing, he leans forward, his forearms on my desk, his face mere inches from mine. I want to lean back, yet not at the same time, so I don’t. Once again, Asher invades my personal space. I can’t stop the big breath I take, inhaling his manly, spicy scent. It’s all I can do to keep my eyes from rolling back in my head.

  He doesn’t miss it either. I’m getting the distinct feeling he doesn’t miss any of my bodily reactions to his inebriating presence. When he finally speaks, his voice drops several octaves to panty-melting sexy. “Good. Because I’m looking forward to fucking you instead.”

  About the Author

  This is the hardest part…talking about myself.

  I’m just a regular ol’ Midwest girl who likes Game of Thrones and is obsessed with Modern Family and The Goldbergs. I run, I eat, I run, I eat. It’s a vicious cycle. I love carbs, but there’s a love-hate relationship with my ass and thighs. Mostly hate. I like a good cocktail (oh hell…who am I kidding? I love any cocktail). I’m a huge creature of habit, but I’ll tell you I’m flexible. I read every single day and if I don’t get a chance…watch the hell out, I’m a raving bitch. My iPad and I: BFFs. I’m direct and I make no apologies for it. I swear too much. I love alternative music and in my next life, I want to be a badass female rocker. I hate, hate, hate spiders, telemarketers, liver, acne, winter, and loose hairs that fall down my shirt (don’t ask, it’s a thing).

  I have a great job (no…truly it is) outside of writing. My kids and my husband are my entire world and I’d never have made it this far without them. My soul mate husband of over twenty-eight years provides unwavering support and my two grown children know the types of books I write and they don’t judge their mom anyway (and my daughter is a beta reader even…yes, that can be awkward…very).

  I’m sincerely humbled by each and every like on my Facebook page or sign-up for my newsletter or outreach from someone who has read and loved my books. I still can’t get over the great support. The romance book community is a wonderful and supportive one. I’ve made more friends since I started this journey than I’ve made in my life and I’m a pretty affable person. It’s surreal. I’m pretty sure it always will be.

  In short, I am blessed…and I know it.

  If you’re a stalker, the first step is to admit it. After that, you can find me in a lot of places, all of which I use with irregular frequency.

  In this day and age, with so many great authors and so many new releases, it’s challenging to keep up with it all, so if you don’t want to miss when my next book is releasing, sign up for my newsletter found on my website. Promise no spamming and you’ll only get it when I have something important to say.

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