The Fixer

by HelenKay Dimon

  “Quint was a successful businessman. He also knew a lot about walking on the wrong side of the law in order to get things done.” Wren decided to leave it there because details would only confuse the conversation and lead them in an odd direction. “I saw what worked and how to apply just the right amount of pressure. By the time I moved to DC I had my degrees and contacts and the money to get started. I built the rest.”

  A stark silence fell over the room. He waited for her to bolt. Hell, in her position he would. Get out and not look back.

  She turned and straddled his lap. “You’re not like your father.”

  The move, the intimacy of the position, shocked him, but it settled him. The way the comforter had dropped until only his pants separated them did the exact opposite of settling him. “I sure as hell hope not.”

  “For the record, you’re not creepy.” She smiled as her arms went around his neck.

  “You sure? Even I have to admit that story is pretty creepy.” And she didn’t even know the worst or how bad he got before he exacted his revenge.

  “You’re a survivor.”

  Her word had his defenses rising. “I’m no hero. Please don’t make me out to be.”

  “No, you’re really human.”

  He specifically remembered her saying otherwise before but didn’t remind her. Not when her eyes had gone soft and her body leaned into his. “No one has ever accused me of that before.”

  “They don’t know you.”

  “You do?”

  “Let me show you what I’ve learned about what you like.” Her hand snaked down between them. “Unless you object?”

  Her fingers slid over him, caressing and cupping him until his erection started to fill her hand. Next, she turned to his zipper and the pressure of his belt eased.

  So fucking tempting. “We still don’t have a condom.” He almost hated reminding her of that.

  “Then I’ll have to use my mouth.”

  The last of the tension and the horror of the memories fell away. They’d be back, but for now he planned on concentrating on her. On the tick of his zipper as she slowly lowered it. “For the record, I have no objection to what you’re doing right now.”

  “I thought not.” She shoved him until his back hit the mattress.

  “Nice.”

  “Oh, it’s about to be.” She leaned down and her hair brushed over his skin. “Your turn.”

  For this, he’d concede control.

  CHAPTER 17

  After everything learned last night, everything they did, Emery had wondered how and when they’d see each other again. Would things be weird . . . would he be even weirder than usual? Then she spied him at the coffee shop table in the back by the bathroom. He sat with two cups in front of him, looking at something on his phone.

  She should have figured he’d top off a night of expert going down on her with coffee. The man did savor his caffeine.

  As she walked through the line of people and got closer, she tried not to think about how her body had moved under him. Or that tongue. At least he proved one thing—Levi was not all work and no play. The man knew his way around a woman. Understood pleasure and was not one bit selfish in bed.

  He got hotter by the second.

  She ignored the happy memories pinging through her body and watched him concentrate on his cell. How he cradled the phone with those long fingers . . . yeah, remembering those had a flash of heat moving into her cheeks.

  She pulled out the chair across from him, wincing when it screeched across the floor, and sat down. “You’re here.”

  He put the cell down. One button click and the screen went dark. “Where should I be?”

  “Excellent question.”

  He looked delicious. The bright green tie perfectly matched his eyes. He had the dark suit on and wore a slight smile. He looked more relaxed than during their usual meetings. A little more approachable, maybe.

  When the conversation stopped, he sat back in his chair and watched her. His gaze never wavered. “I’m not clear what’s happening right now.”

  That described most of her relationship with him. “How does it feel to be lost in the conversation? Strange, right?”

  “Maybe we should start over.” He pushed one coffee cup closer to her. “This is for you.”

  Every movement, every time he shifted or his fingers wrapped around something new, something inside her crackled. She felt every gesture as if he were touching her.

  “Is that what you want? After last night, I mean.” She hadn’t really meant to say that. To just bring up the evening without the customary chatting and flirting first.

  His smile faded a bit. “I feel as if I missed a text.”

  She was starting to think she was the only one walking around in a haze today. If this whole crackle thing only ran one way she was going to be really embarrassed. So, she tried again. “I wondered if you’d do that whole hard-to-get thing.”

  “Does that really strike you as something I’d do?” His eyebrow lifted as he took a sip from his cup.

  She conducted a quick glance around. Some people waited in line. Others pushed and shoved their way around the congested shop. No one seemed to notice them, but she leaned in and dropped her voice anyway. “Some men get weird after sex.”

  He leaned in, meeting her halfway across the small table. “Technically, we didn’t have sex.”

  The teasing words eased some of the tension zipping around inside her. “How would you describe it?”

  Part of her really wanted him to describe it. To go into great detail and maybe foreshadow what other bedroom tricks he possessed. The rest of her wanted to push him. There was something about him sitting there, all proper and businesslike, that made her feel extra naughty.

  “From the look on your face I assume you don’t think I’ll talk dirty in public.” He slid his arm across the table and turned his hand palm up. “You are absolutely wrong.”

  She wanted to take the dare and reach out and touch him, but she hesitated. “Doesn’t seem to fit with that fancy suit.”

  “Don’t let the jacket fool you.”

  “Oh, really?” She traced her fingertips over the lines on his palm.

  His fingers curled around hers, but he kept the touch light. “Underneath is an actual man.”

  “Do tell.” And she meant that in every way. He’d shared something so personal, so difficult, for him. Now she craved more.

  “Who wants to see you naked again.”

  All the air left her body. She could almost hear the whooshing sound. “Subtle.”

  That smile came back. It lifted the corner of his mouth, making him look even sexier. “Did you want me to play games?”

  “No.” She loved that he didn’t. He ignored the whole “act cool and don’t contact her for days” idiocy. He was clear he wanted her last night and showing up today, acting like it was the most natural thing in the world, showed her he still wanted her today. She couldn’t think of anything hotter.

  He brushed his fingers over hers, barely touching yet caressing all the same. The skimming of skin over skin was a stark reminder of all his talents and the glimpse he had treated her to last night.

  “What do you want?” he asked in a voice that seemed even deeper, smokier, than usual.

  Underneath the very public foreplay, memories of the evening before crawled through. What happened between them blew past a simple release. The sharing dove much deeper.

  “Last night was a good start.” The way he opened up surprised her and gave her hope. She feared that door would slam shut. At the very least, that he’d regret he ever opened it.

  The tension in his face had hinted at the battle waging inside him. He’d crossed a line back then. Him, with his reserve and that wall of control that smacked into her every time she saw him. He did something to track that man down and it had cost Levi something. Maybe everything. She got the impression who he was and how he dealt with people—at a distance and in cryptic conversations—forme
d back then.

  His fingers froze for a second. “Now you’re hedging.”

  He must have heard it in her voice. He seemed to pick up on the fact they’d crossed from sex talk into something else. He might claim not to get people, but he could read them.

  “Frankly, you scare the shit out of me.” On a very fundamental level, he did. Not for her safety, but she wasn’t sure his sanity was secure in his hands.

  His hand slipped away. He didn’t move back, but his mood changed. Slight but the heat had receded and now he wore a blank expression. “You’re back to thinking I’m dangerous.”

  She kept her hand on the table and didn’t move back. She tried to show him without pleading what she meant. “This has nothing to do with being afraid of you or anything you told me yesterday.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Definitely.”

  Some of the tension seemed to leave his shoulders. “Then I’ll take that as a sign of progress.”

  “Wow, you’re really talking sexy now.”

  He laughed. That fast the tension broke. They’d shifted from flirty talk to serious and now hit a level of comfort.

  She’d never really experienced all those stages with one person. She went out with a guy who was great when the clothes came off but always gave off a whiff of “I’m on the lookout for something better.” She’d gone out with really nice guys who didn’t get her heartbeat revving. She didn’t run toward danger, but she now knew the flawed, intense type rang her bells. She didn’t love that realization and sure didn’t want to psychoanalyze where that came from.

  “I could go into vivid detail about where I want to put my fingers.” His gaze traveled over her face then down her neck. “My tongue.”

  The woman walking by the table glanced over and smiled. Emery smiled back before turning to Wren. “We’re in public.”

  He shrugged as he picked up his coffee again. Acted like the conversation didn’t affect him at all. “You issued the challenge. You seem to forget that I’m a man with questionable boundaries.”

  He wanted a challenge? Fine. She put her hands on either side of the table and gave it a little shake. “Do you think this table could hold us?”

  He didn’t even blink. “I’m willing to test it.”

  Okay, that was pretty hot. This side of him proved tough to resist. Emery wondered why she was even trying.

  Her fingers slipped over the top button of her silk dress shirt. “Tough talker, but I bet if I undid even one of these you’d get all huffy and storm out.”

  He put the cup down and held out both hands. “Try me.”

  The noise in the café behind her faded out. In that moment all she saw was his face and that kissable mouth and she wanted to dive over the furniture to get to him. “Really?”

  “When it comes to this topic, I am not restrained.”

  She could hear her breathing echoing in her head and tried to relax. This was just talk and they were in public. Nothing could happen . . . yet. “Admittedly, you’re a bit of a wild man in the bedroom.”

  “I’ll be whatever you want.”

  “Dominant.” She didn’t even know how she choked the word out.

  He rubbed his fingers along his jaw. “Is that what you want or are you saying it’s a problem?”

  “Not a problem. Not even a little.” On him taking the lead proved to be a very good thing. “I’m just saying—”

  “Wanting to be in control and making sure you get what you need are not mutually exclusive. I promise I can do both.”

  She could barely concentrate. His fingers moved back and forth over that scruff around his chin. The same scruff that rubbed over her bare thighs. She jerked and knocked into her cup. He caught it right before it fell. Drops streaked across the table. She stared at them while she tried to clear her head. “Well, now that we’re on the same page on that point . . .”

  “I’m willing to continue the conversation.”

  She rummaged through her bag until she found a tissue and used it to clean up the coffee around her. “I bet.”

  “Maybe over dinner?”

  Forget cleaning. Her head shot up and she looked at him. A promise lingered right there in those eyes. Then she remembered the text she read first thing this morning. “Damn.”

  He reached over and finished cleaning up the last of the coffee. “I do eat meals, you know. I thought we’d established that.”

  “I have to meet my father.”

  Wren stilled. “Is that a real thing or an excuse not to see me?”

  “Very real, I’m afraid.” She didn’t love spending hours of unstructured time with her dad even on the best days. Now she’d be sitting there, thinking about where else she’d rather be sitting. Great.

  “You sound thrilled about the visit.” He leaned back and threw the wet ball of tissue in the garbage can behind him. Made it in one shot, of course.

  “He’s . . . difficult.” She had no real way of summing up her father in one quick sentence, but that came close.

  “Interesting.” Wren nodded to the woman who knocked into his chair as she passed by and mumbled an apology. He shifted the chair away from the open aisle. “I’m pretty sure you’ve said that about me.”

  “Wow, I really don’t want to draw parallels between you and my father.” She’d spent enough years in therapy in college, working out her family issues and survivor guilt. She didn’t want to return. “Let’s just say he hates what I do, who I am and how I spend my time.”

  Wren whistled. “That covers a lot of territory.”

  “I mentioned Tiffany during our weekly dinner the other night and he didn’t take it well.” Emery stopped when she heard a noise. She realized it was her foot banging against the table leg. With that, she stopped moving around. “I ended up leaving early.”

  “He didn’t like Tiffany? But I thought she was his niece, or did I get that wrong?”

  “No, you’re right. But the issue is more about what he believes to be my obsession with her being missing.”

  “She is missing.”

  “Right? You know that and I do, but he wrote her off long ago.”

  “Despite his view, you’re going to see him.”

  She didn’t notice she’d been holding her breath until right then. Instead of lecture, Wren sided with her. The relief nearly knocked her over. “He’s my dad.”

  “Ah, well. I’m not sure what that means, but it matters to you, so I’ll pretend to get it.” Wren made a face. It looked like he wanted to say something then stopped. Then he started again. “Did you need me to come with you?”

  And there he just got even sexier. Who knew that was possible? He tended to overdo, but on this point she appreciated the gesture. “You don’t like people or being in public.”

  “Yet, here I sit.”

  “You’ve come a long way in a few days.” She didn’t want that to mean anything . . . but then she did . . . or not. He had her mind spinning until her common sense all but scrambled.

  “My personal rules have taken a beating since I met you, yes.” He slipped his fingers around his coffee cup then let go again. “Still, if you need backup, I would assist.”

  She watched his hands and the uncharacteristic shifting of his weight. From the minute she met him he’d been solid and in control. Talking about her dad seemed to make Levi squirm. She couldn’t help but find that adorable. “Are you good with dads?”

  “I have no idea.” He snorted. “Probably not.”

  “The offer is sweet.” Sweet, sexy, charming. The whole conversation, the fact he was here and not hiding or pissed off because he’d shared so much about himself yesterday, had her aching to be alone with him again.

  “Sweet is not the word people usually use to describe me.”

  “It fits now, and I appreciate the offer, but I should probably handle this one myself.” Wren might take on countries and fix corruption, or whatever it was he did. That didn’t mean he deserved to have her father inflicted on him. “Dad
can be intense.”

  “I could see where intensity might be a problem.”

  Something in that tone had her thinking they’d changed topics again. “Are we still talking about messed-up families?”

  “No.”

  “Now you’re just toying with me.”

  “I’d like to, but apparently you have plans this evening.”

  She laughed. “Drink your coffee like a good boy.”

  “And I’ll get a reward?”

  “Maybe.” Most definitely.

  Emery rushed home after work that night. Her dad had insisted on coming over. She thought a neutral restaurant would be better, but he refused to lose the argument.

  She slammed the door behind her and threw her bag down. The keys clanged as she threw them in the bowl on the table by the couch. Next came the kicking off of her heels, her favorite part of the day and why she usually wore sneakers to and from the metro. She’d been in too much of a hurry to get out of the office and home to clean up the apartment. She blamed Wren for that.

  The night had been wilder than she expected. The man knew how to use his tongue. Mercy. She didn’t have a single regret about what happened when her underwear came off, except for that whisper of frustration that came in wishing he’d stayed. That he would have let go of some of his control and let her take the lead.

  But enjoying that side of Wren and not being embarrassed about how much she enjoyed the hours didn’t mean she wanted to accidentally announce what happened to her dad. That meant she needed to figure out where her clothes had landed as Wren undressed her last night.

  She scurried around the space, sliding across the hardwood in her bare feet when she thought she saw a peek of blue under the bed.

  “Got it.” She leaned down and snatched up her bra right as the doorbell rang.

  Underwear. Underwear, underwear. She had no idea where the bikini underwear got to. She just had to hope they didn’t make a surprise appearance while Dad issued whatever lecture he planned on giving.

  At the second set of rapid knocks, she got to the entry. A quick look through the peephole and she opened the door. Her father stood there in dress pants and a long-sleeved shirt without the sleeves rolled up, despite the sweat-inducing humidity. “Hi, Dad.”