Code Redhead - A Serial Novel

by Sharon Kleve

  Eric eased from her and rolled them over, her on top.

  She licked his nipple. Few tastes could compare. “Am I too heavy?”

  His breath whooshed out. “Nope.”

  “You think I’m too skinny then.”

  He smacked her ass playfully. “Nope. You’re perfect. Now me? I dance like an orangutan, blast off too quickly at times, and don’t need extra-extra-extra-large rubbers. I’ve accepted that I’ll never be bigger than I am. Fifteen inches is enough for any guy.”

  She pressed her face into his neck to muffle her giggles.

  “Comfortable?” He cupped her ass and yawned.

  Rusty indulged in a stretch. “Never been better.”

  ****

  Eric woke with a start. He didn’t recall having fallen asleep, at least this last time. During the night, Rusty had awakened him repeatedly. They’d done the deed with her on top, missionary style, in a chair, and on the desk.

  The only thing they’d missed was the shower. He figured they’d end up there before they had to leave in the morning.

  The clock read 5:00 am.

  “Crap.” He had to be at the office by eight. Should have been seven but he couldn’t go home, change, and get back that quickly.

  Worse, Rusty wasn’t in bed, on the floor, in the sitting room, or the bath. She couldn’t have gone out for breakfast. This place had 24/7 room service.

  If she did leave, he didn’t have her last name, phone number, fingerprints, DNA, or anything else that would tell him where to find her unless they ran into each other again at 2Nite.

  He shot back into the bedroom to do something. What, he didn’t know. Yeah, he did. He dialed the front desk. Hopefully, she left a message there for him.

  Or one in here.

  Hotel stationary lay on her pillow.

  Eric lowered the receiver and read.

  Morning—

  Sorry I had to take off. I have an early gig at work. I tried to wake you, but you refused to budge. Bad boy.

  I’d like to do this again. Not just the night here, but dancing, dinner, you know, going out.

  Would you like to do that? Hope so.

  BTW: My last name’s Shoborne. Forgot to ask what yours is. I’m sure it’s as badass as you are and everything you do. (You boogie better than those fools on DWTS).

  I’ll be at 2Nite tomorrow. Around 11. Meet me there? This time we can take a shower together.

  Rusty S. 212-55-

  A chocolate smear covered the remaining numerals in her phone number.

  He tried to wash it off. The wet paper shredded, obliterating the information.

  Swearing like the firm’s co-founders, he Googled her name on his smartphone. Nothing. Who had zip on Google? No Facebook, LinkedIn, Twitter, school shit. Unheard of.

  He checked the white pages. Nada there either.

  Eric understood a woman’s need to keep her life private from stalkers and goons, but this was nuts.

  He’d have to wait through today and most of tomorrow before seeing her again. That is, if she showed up. She might not if he didn’t call, not realizing he had no way to do so.

  CHAPTER THREE

  At the office, Eric suffered through partner and client meetings before he could call Cal Gavin, the go-to investigator for the firm’s cases. If anyone could find Rusty’s phone number, Cal could.

  “I need it by noon today, at the latest.” Eric handed his secretary the documents he’d signed and waited until she’d left, closing the door behind her. “Call me at this number.” He provided his private line. “Bill me, not the firm.”

  “This is only a suggestion, but have you tried Googling this person?”

  “Yep.” Eric swiveled his chair to face the bank of windows behind his desk. Beyond the panes, Manhattan sprawled. Rusty was out there somewhere. All Cal had to do was locate her. “Couldn’t find shit. That’s why I’m calling you. Work your magic. Spare no expense.”

  “I’ll need more than what you gave me.”

  Eric rocked faster. “If I had anything else, I’d give it to you.” He’d already provided everything about Rusty, including her partial phone number, smoky voice, cute combat boots, and how she danced like nobody’s business. The only thing he’d left out was how awesome she was in bed. “Everyone has history on the net.”

  “That’s usually true.”

  “Usually?”

  Cal made a noise somewhere between a sigh and a groan. “If you have the correct name. Any chance she might have given you a fake one?”

  He’d never considered that. Why would she? She’d asked him for a second date. “No. Wait.” Eric sat up. “Try Russell, rather than Rusty.” Why hadn’t he thought of that? Russell was her given name.

  “Is he a relative?”

  “No, that’s the name. Russell, rather than Rusty, Shoborne. Hold on, let me check.” Eric brought up Google on his computer, got zip on her, again, and scant results for anyone else with that surname. Many lived overseas. “I’m coming up empty. You better try.”

  “Just to be clear, am I trying to find a guy or a woman?”

  “Female. Her dad named her in honor of her grandfather.”

  “Uh-huh. Noon isn’t looking too good for this. Could take days.”

  Eric’s heart sank. “It has to be this morning or afternoon.” If he waited until tonight to call, she might think he wasn’t interested in a second date. He didn’t want to disappoint her for a moment, much less screw the legendary vibe they had with each other. “I need it now. Put a team on it if you have to.”

  “A team?”

  “Whatever it takes. I want hourly updates. Bill me whatever that costs. Thanks.” Eric killed the call and rushed to his next meeting.

  The second it ended, he checked his voicemail. Cal had left a message. Life was good.

  Eric practically danced to his desk and circled it as he listened.

  Cal cleared his throat before speaking. “Nothing yet. I’ll get back to you.”

  By mid-afternoon, Cal’s admin left the messages, each the same. No info yet. At 6 pm, she apologized because she had to leave for the day, but promised to get back to Eric first thing in the morning.

  ****

  Eric woke in his lonely bed hopeless and pissed. This country was able to send a man to the moon and could blow up half the Earth on a whim, but finding one woman proved impossible.

  If Rusty didn’t show at the club this evening, Eric’s only option was to advertise for her. A billboard or TV spot begging her to call him. Screw how ridiculous that might be and the expense. He had to fucking see her again. Drown in her warmth. Bask in her desire for him.

  Showered and dressed, he finished his coffee.

  His intercom buzzed.

  He pressed the button. “Yeah?”

  “Mr. Neal, your ride’s here.”

  “Be right down.”

  He checked his voicemail. No call yet from Cal or his staff.

  Walter, the doorman, offered a pleasant smile. “Morning, Mr. Neal.”

  “Morning. Have a nice day.”

  “You too.”

  Eric strode to the black Mercedes and stopped short of the driver who leaned against the passenger door. Tall and slender, she wore the usual chauffeur uniform, including a cap. Didn’t cover all of her short red hair.

  Rusty looked up from her smartphone and froze.

  Warmth and confusion surged through Eric. “You’re a chauffeur?”

  “You wear glasses?”

  Whenever he had trouble with his contacts. “What are you doing here?”

  “What are you?” She advanced and stopped. “Wait. You’re Mr. Neal?”

  “Yeah. You’re not Mike.” His usual driver. “I was expecting…I didn’t know you would…I was expecting—”

  “Mike had a personal matter he had to see to.” Her shock deepened. “You can afford this service enough to have a regular driver?”

  Clearly, given he lived on the Upper West Side. Another matter he failed to
tell her about. “I don’t use it every day. Only when I have to get to the airport or my car’s in the garage.”

  She regarded him as one would a stranger. “You have a car? Wait. A Beemer?”

  Mercedes. “What does it matter?”

  A middle-age couple passed, eyes front, pretending his and Rusty’s conversation wasn’t happening. If only he could be so lucky. “Let’s start over. It’s great to see you. I wanted to call after you left the…ah…our… Anyway, I couldn’t. You smeared chocolate on your number. I washed it off, but that screwed up the paper. Tore a hole in it. I had my investigator trying to find you yesterday and would have today if you hadn’t shown up here. You’re not on Google.”

  She backed up. “You have an investigator? What kind of papers do you push?”

  Skirting the truth wasn’t feasible any longer. “The legal kind. I’m an attorney. Actually, a partner in my firm.”

  The news didn’t make her smile as it had his parents. “What kind of law?”

  She would ask. “Corporate.”

  Her face paled.

  “The good kind, really.” Eric knew he sounded dumb, but he wasn’t a mass murderer. “Matters like contracts, partnerships, securities, intellectual property, M&As. That’s mergers and acquisitions. I litigate too.”

  “You actually sue people?”

  “No.” He held up his hands. “That is, I defend clients and their interests. Not all are bad.”

  “Only some?”

  He would have fared better facing a rabid IRS agent. “No one’s perfect.”

  Dismay slackened her features.

  If she’d shown him righteous anger, it would have hurt less.

  She opened the back door. “You better hop in or I won’t be able to get you to your firm on time.”

  He wanted to sit up front next to her but dropped in the backseat.

  She slipped behind the wheel. A radio crackled.

  “Are you there?” An older man with a gravelly voice had spoken.

  “Just picked up the client. We’re en route.” She checked the street and pulled away from the curb.

  More crackling. “Need you in Chelsea next.” He gave the address. “ETA?”

  “Depending on traffic, an hour and fifteen, tops.”

  The static quieted.

  Eric leaned up. “Was that your dad?”

  She nodded and turned on the car radio. A progressive talk program. No surprise. She certainly wouldn’t have listened to Rush Limbaugh without gagging. Eric couldn’t blame her. He felt the same. “Is this your dad’s company?”

  Another nod.

  He would have killed for a verbal answer laced with heavy teasing, followed by an indecent kiss. “I should have been straight with you the other night.”

  She glanced at him in the rearview mirror. Her cheeks reddened.

  Eric wasn’t certain if arousal, embarrassment, or anger caused her reaction. “What?”

  The light changed. She eased to a stop. “You think I’m a fool, don’t you?”

  “What? No. Never. I—this is nuts.” He opened the back door.

  Rusty looked over. “What are you doing?”

  “This.” He rushed out and grabbed the passenger side handle. The thing jerked back. Eric rapped on the window. “Let me in. Please.” Hopefully, she wouldn’t leave him here.

  She popped the locks.

  A horn honked behind them. Half a car length had opened up in front of her. He gave the impatient prick behind them the finger.

  The guy laid on his horn.

  Eric fell into the passenger seat and slammed the door. “I’d never think light of your beliefs. They’re totally legitimate. I was afraid you’d kick me in the balls for where I work. Hell, I didn’t want to lose you before we had a chance to get to know each other. And dammit, what I do isn’t that bad. It’s—”

  His phone rang.

  The light changed.

  She took off.

  He answered his call. “What?”

  “Mr. Neal.” Cal’s admin. “I’m checking in. We’ve—”

  “Forget it. I’ve found her. Send me the final bill.” He killed the call.

  His phone rang again. The firm’s managing partner.

  Eric muttered an oath. “Sorry. I have to take this. It’s business.”

  ****

  He smelled too good. Rusty loved his glasses. They gave him a professorial look similar to someone who taught at Harvard and urged students to change the world even if it meant starting a bloody revolution.

  The specs would look great on him in bed. Like he was seriously paying attention to her.

  She gripped the steering wheel. After spending last night nursing her bruised heart, because he hadn’t called, she’d looked forward to this evening. Hopefully, hooking up with him at the club.

  Deep down, she’d feared he wouldn’t come…in any way, shape, or form.

  Finding out he was a corporate attorney and lived in a shamefully expensive building in an overpriced neighborhood hadn’t been on her what-to-worry-about list. He was everything she fought against. Wealth stolen from others rather than being earned. Power grabs to crush and suppress the weak. Privilege without responsibility or a thought to your fellow man.

  She’d bared her soul to him. He’d listened and hadn’t laughed. She figured other guys in his position would have. Or sneered at what a loser she and the other plebs were, calling them worthless takers.

  Traffic slowed to a crawl and stopped.

  Blood pounded in her ears. She didn’t want to consider that he’d more or less agreed with her beliefs because he hoped to sleep with her. Guys had been known to lie about being in love to get in a woman’s panties.

  Eric might not be any different. Except he was. Had to be. Not that she could be certain. They barely knew each other. So who needed weeks, months, or years to connect with another person? In seconds, he’d changed her life. This could work. Or not. If he even wanted that. Could be he didn’t.

  Lightheaded, she lowered her face.

  “Jesus, I didn’t think I’d ever get rid of him. I’m turning this off.” He pocketed his phone. “Where was I? Oh yeah, I’m not public enemy number one. Neither is every company known to man, simply because money’s involved. I’m guessing your beef is with big business, not mom-and-pop type concerns. Look at your dad. He runs his own place and expects payment for his service. Nothing wrong with that. It allows him to live and eat. You too. I’ll admit, my clients try to push the envelope, but everything’s within the law. I don’t make the rules. I simply follow them like everyone else. Does that mean I think they’re fair? Fuck no. Lots in this country needs to change if the powers-that-be don’t want to face anarchy and pitchforks. Things will only get better because people like you stand up and say “enough”. By the way, I voted for Bernie too. Even donated to his campaign like millions did.”

  He couldn’t have looked more serious or genuine. Worried too that she’d hate him. Tears filled her eyes. “Did you give him grief when he conceded the primary?”

  “Nope. Figured it was inevitable from the beginning. Like they say, you can’t fight city hall, Rome wasn’t built in a day, and all that stuff. But I had to give his campaign a shot. I’ll do the same with his coming revolution.”

  Rusty hadn’t realized she could fall in love with anyone this fast or easily.

  Horns shrieked.

  The car in front was five lengths ahead.

  She followed.

  Eric rested his hand on her thigh. “Is this okay? Or would you prefer I not touch you?”

  She’d die without his heat and strength. “It’s okay.” She laced her fingers through his. He was everything she needed. A truly nice guy from the other side who understood her position and respected it. She’d never been this lucky in the past and hadn’t hoped the future would bring her such a wonderful man.

  He squeezed her gently. “Then you forgive me for not coming clean from the get-go?”

  “I don’t want t
o be mad. If anything, you surprised me. Definitely, not in the best way. But that wasn’t your fault. I talked you into a corner before you could offer your history and beliefs.”

  “I didn’t mind. Thanks for giving me a chance.”

  She didn’t have another choice. Living without him would be like giving up breathing. “About our room at the Tremore.”

  He kissed her knuckles. “You want to go back? I can blow off my afternoon meetings, if you’d like.”

  She wanted to spend as much time as possible with him. “You paid for it, didn’t you? If you’d told me, I could have picked up half like I said.”

  “My firm uses it for VIPs who’re in town, so the firm pays for it. Actually, I do too, indirectly, since I had to pony up big bucks when I made partner, and expenses do lessen my equity share.”

  “That doesn’t sound right. They should be paying you, not the other way around.”

  He laughed. “That’s a plan I can live with.”

  She made a sharp right.

  “Whoa.” He pressed into his seat. “What are you doing?”

  “Taking a detour.”

  “Why? Construction? An accident?” He checked the street in back then looked out the windshield. “There’s a protest ahead?”

  “No. This.”

  Rusty jockeyed the Mercedes into a snug spot next to an upscale restaurant, cupped his face, and claimed his mouth.

  Eric whipped his arms around her. A growl and groan escaped him. He kissed hard, soft, deep, tender.

  She liked that best.

  Finished, they gazed at each other and smiled, lost in wonder and joy.

  Deafening bass intruded. Cars passed. Conversations from passersby drifted in and out.

  Rusty didn’t want to let him go but had to. They both needed to work. “Guess I better get you to where you should be.”

  “Wait.” He pulled her back. “What are you doing for lunch, dinner, tonight, tomorrow, next week, month, and the time beyond that?”

  Her smile released a happy tear. “What do you think?”

  She kissed him breathless.

  He wasn’t the man she’d expected in her life, but by God they were going to keep each other busy and contented for a long while.