by Cassie Cross
“What are you doing?” Caleb asks, his voice stilted.
Grinning, I reply, “I’m tracing your like line.”
Caleb looks so adorably confused. “My what?”
“When I was a kid, my grandmother lived across the street from a palm reader,” I explain, as my finger continues its circuit. “I was obsessed with her; I thought she was the coolest person I’d ever seen. She wore these long, flowing dresses, and kept her hair all wrapped up in these bright silk scarves. Anyway, my grandmother, of course, thought everything that came out of this woman’s mouth was complete bullshit.”
When I look up, Caleb is watching me intently with his never-ending green eyes. I have to take a deep breath to steady myself before I continue.
“One summer, my grandmother told me to stop bothering the woman, and taught me to read my own palm.” I glide my finger along the line that stretches from above Caleb’s thumb, down to the heel of his hand. “She used to call this the ‘like line.’ Allegedly it’s supposed to be an indicator of how long you’re going to live, but she told me it was a good way to tell if someone is an asshole or not.”
Caleb lets out an infectious, genuine laugh. “What’s mine showing you?”
I cradle his hand in mine, and make a show of examining his palm. Part of the reason is because I want to keep touching him for as long as I possibly can, and I think he might be on to me. I feel safe here, with him. It’s the safest I’ve felt since I came to this damned city.
“I think you’re good,” I reply, not letting go.
“These hands can show you other things,” he says after a moment, his voice very soft and inviting.
I want those hands to show me everything, to touch me everywhere. The problem is that I don’t know how to tell him what I want. Will a simple, ‘yes, please’ work?
Ultimately, I decide to be honest. “I don’t know how to do this.”
“Do what?”
“Have casual sex.”
Caleb flips his hand over, covers my knee with it, then trails his fingers up, up, up my thigh until his fingertips dance along the slit of my dress. He takes the fabric and gently slides it between his fingers. It’s such a simple gesture, but I’m transfixed by it until he slides off the barstool, then reaches into his pocket, and pulls out his wallet.
He leaves a giant tip for the bartender, then leans in. Close.
I think my heart stops beating.
“Mia,” he whispers. Nothing on this earth could tear my attention away from him. Goosebumps erupt all over my skin, like my body knows that no one has ever said words that are as important as the ones Caleb is about to say to me. “Sex with you could never be casual.”
CHAPTER THREE
“You’re on the twenty-fifth floor, huh?” Caleb asks. He’s looking down at me, and licking his lips.
“Mmm-hmm.” I slide my fingertip down the edge of the lapel of his jacket, fantasizing about what his chest looks like underneath it. I feel this jolt of amazement when I realize that I’m going to get to put my mouth all over him—wherever I want—in just a few minutes.
I’m leaning against the door to my room, and my back is cold against the metal. It’s a nice contrast to the warmth of Caleb’s body, so close to mine. His hands are pressed against the door, anchored just above my shoulders. He’s leaning into me, teasing me, and I’m loving every minute of it.
He moves in, and I can feel the rise and fall of his chest as he’s breathing. I wish he would just kiss me already. I go up on my tiptoes to end this torture myself, but I stop short when Caleb slides one of his hands across my shoulder, then up along the column of my neck, until it comes to rest on my cheek. I close my eyes and lean into it, completely under his spell.
“You don’t live in the city,” he says, his eyes sober despite the clear desire that’s written all over his face.
“I just moved here,” I tell him. It’s not really a lie, so much as it’s not the whole truth. It’s a temporary move, not a permanent one. “Do you have a room here, or were you just hanging out in the bar, trolling for women?”
Caleb laughs. “I don’t have to troll for women, Mia,” he replies confidently, sliding his thumb across my cheekbone. “I have a room here. It’s on another floor.”
“Which floor?” I ask.
“A higher one.”
I get the feeling that he doesn’t want to be a jerk and tell me that he’s staying in the penthouse, but my stomach sinks at the realization that he has a room here too. That means-
“So, you don’t live here in the city, either?”
“I just had some work done on my apartment,” he says, smiling. “A friend of mine owns the hotel, so he offered me a place to stay while the work was being completed.”
“Was being completed?” Was means that he’s leaving. Soon.
“I’m checking out tomorrow.”
I take a deep breath. “Oh.” Seems like I’m working on even more borrowed time than I thought I was, and I don’t intend on wasting another second of it. I twist myself out from under his arms, and slide my key card into its slot.
“What are you doing?” Caleb asks, amused.
“I’m opening the door, so we can go inside?” I’m confused. Did I read this wrong? No, that’s not possible, because he basically told me that he wanted to have sex with me when we were down in the bar. A quick mental replay of the events since then don’t make me feel like I’ve done anything that would change his mind, so I have no idea why I’m hesitating now.
“I’m not going in there,” he says. He’s still smiling though, so whatever news is coming next can’t be all that bad.
“You’re not?”
Caleb reaches up and gently swipes across the crease between my eyebrows, until my face relaxes completely. “No,” he says. “I’m not. I want to, don’t get me wrong. There’s nothing I want more than that. But there’s also something I want more than that.”
I’m sure that crease appears between my brows again, because what does that mean?
“I’m crazy for this,” he says, letting out a little breath as he looks down. He almost seems…bashful. “I know this is probably confusing, and I don’t want to confuse you. I didn’t go into that bar tonight for a one-night stand, or a quick fuck in a hotel room. I used to be that guy, and I’ve worked incredibly hard not to be him anymore. I’m trying to do things differently now, and-”
“So you don’t want-”
“No,” he says firmly. “I very, very much do.”
“I don’t understand,” I tell him, honestly. “Is this it?”
“No. No,” he says, sliding his fingertips along the shoulder of my dress, making me shiver. “This is far from it.” He licks his lips as he waits for my reaction.
“Then what…I thought that if a man was interested, he didn’t, you know, let you get away or whatever.”
Caleb wraps his arm around my waist, and pulls me flush against him. His erection is hard against my belly, and he’s been such a confusing jackass the past couple of minutes that I move a little, just to torture him.
“I’m interested,” he says, his voice choked. “And I’m not letting you get away.”
“I can feel that. So what are you proposing?”
Caleb leans forward, and licks his full, pink lips.
“You and me. Dinner tomorrow.”
A spark of panic works its way through my lust-filled brain. This guy has money, and dinner with him most likely means going to a nice restaurant. Going to a nice restaurant requires a dress, and I’m wearing the only one that I brought with me. I don’t exactly have room in my budget for a new one, especially when I would have to go shopping for it in Manhattan, of all places.
“Um…”
“Something casual,” he says quickly. “Just the two of us?”
“Casual?” I ask hopefully.
“Yes. Just you and me spending some time together.”
Okay, sure. Yes. I can do that. “I’d like that.”
“So,” he says, letting his gaze drift down to my lips, and further down towards my neckline. “It’s a date?”
I bite my lip to keep myself from grinning like an idiot, but it’s too late. “Yeah, it’s a date.”
“I’ll pick you up here?”
“At the bar,” I say quickly. I’ve got to check out of this room tomorrow because I can’t afford it anymore, but I don’t want to tell him that right now.
His eyebrows draw together, but he doesn’t question me. “Okay. Same time?”
I nod, running my hand down his lapel again. Seriously, his muscles. The suit. It’s such a good combination. “Same time.”
“Goodnight, Mia,” he says, as he pulls away. I manage to catch his wrist before he gets too far.
When he turns around, he quirks his eyebrow at me, totally amused. He was expecting me to stop him, and he knows what I’m going to ask.
“You aren’t going to kiss me?”
He leans in, until his lips are so close to mine, and all I can see, smell, and hear is him. He slides the pad of his thumb across my bottom lip.
“Oh, I’m going to kiss you. You’ll be begging me to kiss you.” For a second, I think he’s going to brush his lips against mine. I feel maybe the smallest hint of them. “Soon. But not tonight.”
I groan, and let the back of my head thump against the door. This man is going to be the death of me. “Soon,” I repeat.
With a wicked grin, Caleb says, “I’ll make it worth the wait.”
CHAPTER FOUR
My grandmother always told me that a watched pot never boils, which is true in my experience.
I can also attest to the fact that watched location searches never complete. Anxiously waiting on the edge of your seat to hear a dreadful ‘ping’ doesn’t make anything move any faster, no matter how much I wish it was so.
My laptop is sitting on the desk in the corner of my hotel room, cycling through the program that I’ve written to detect Andre Privya’s movement. It’s not entirely on the up and up, but this desperate woman is willing to employ desperate measures. It searches hits on credit cards with his name, and the location of the cell phone numbers that I managed to find for him. It’s not a foolproof method of figuring out whether or not he’s successfully tracking me down, but it’s better than nothing. If he goes anywhere while his cell phone is on, and uses a credit card to get there, I’ll know about it.
I try desperately not to think about what would happen if he uses cash and travels with a burner phone. Like I did.
On the middle of the bed, sitting with my legs crossed, I take in the lush surroundings of this hotel room. It was a splurge, one that I absolutely cannot afford. When I got to the city, I was scared out of my mind, and too nervous to go to one of the hotels that I could actually afford, which would include thin walls and a shared bathroom, and me jumping at every single noise outside of my room. I walked into this establishment and offered to pay cash just to rest for a few nights. I feel safe here, and don’t want to think about leaving. The only good thing is that when I leave tonight, it will be with Caleb, not alone.
Caleb.
It’s nice to know that despite my track record of making terrible decisions, that I’m still capable of making good ones, too. Like deciding to go down to the bar last night? That was an excellent decision. My mind was racing, and I could tell that I was on the verge of a panic attack, so I thought I’d slip on the one dress I managed to bring with me when I left Chicago, go down and have a drink to take the edge off. For a couple of hours, I wanted to pretend I was a person who didn’t have a care in the world. Fake it till you make it, right?
It worked.
Last night, I felt like myself again. I’ve only been running for four days, but they’ve been the four longest days of my life. It’s kind of amazing how easy it is to forget all about yourself when you’re in the middle of an incredibly stressful situation.
Then Caleb showed up, and I felt like me: twenty-three year-old Mia Briggs, computer programming phenom from Chicago, who is a capable, smart woman. Caleb made me feel wanted and sexy, two things I haven’t felt in a very long time. Of course, after our conversation in the bar, I thought we were headed for a one-night stand. He threw me for a loop when he didn’t even try to kiss me, but the thought that he wants more than just a quick fuck, well…that turned me on enough to make up for it. Which is a little strange, considering I’m not sure that I can give him what he’s looking for.
Actually, I am sure. I can’t give him what he’s looking for.
Caleb is a nice distraction, though, and maybe a distraction is just what I need. I’m an intelligent woman, I don’t have any doubts about that, but I’m having a hard time figuring out how to get myself out of this situation. In the past, whenever I was stuck on a programming issue, I’d spend a day at the movies, or hang out with a friend.
Now, everyone that I know is in a city that’s 800 miles away, under the impression that I was a last-minute addition to a big-time software programming contract with a company in London. These people are more than acquaintances, but I’m not particularly close with them. I know for sure some of them would question me just up and disappearing one day, so I concocted a cover story, just to be safe. Keeping them in the dark is the best way to protect everyone who knows me, even a little. I don’t think Privya would go to them looking for me, but better safe than sorry. If he does, and someone lets it slip that I’m in London, well…that’s another false trail for him to follow that will buy me more time here in New York.
There’s only one person in Chicago who knows even a little bit about what’s going on, and it’s time for me to give him a call. I reach into my pocket, and pull out the untraceable burner phone I brought with me. My fingers tremble as I dial his number.
“Hello?”
“Marcus, it’s me.” I’m speaking quietly for some reason, as if I’m worried about anyone on the other end somehow overhearing my voice.
Marcus lets out a long, audible sigh. “I’ve been worried about you,” he says. “Where are you?”
I pull a pillow onto my lap, and run my fingertip along the seam. “I think it’s probably better if I don’t say.”
“Okay, yeah. That’s a good idea.” There’s a long pause before he says, “Everything is okay here. Nothing out of the ordinary.”
Relief washes over me, like I’ve been doused with a bucket full of it. Just that small bit of news makes me feel better. “Thanks for letting me know.”
“No problem.”
Marcus and I have been best friends since we were kids, and we’ve never had a stilted conversation like this. It feels wrong. Off. Like everything in the world has shifted ten inches to the right, but I’m still standing firmly in place. “How’s your mom?”
“She’s better. We’re moving her into her new facility next week.”
I take a deep breath, and fight back the tears that are pricking at my eyes. “Good, I’m glad.”
“I wish you would’ve let me come with you.”
“No, my name is the only one attached to this,” I remind him. “At least you’re safe, and you can let me know what’s going on there.”
“How am I supposed to do that? I don’t even have a number I can reach you on!” Marcus says, his voice louder than it probably should be.
“I’ll call you in a day or two,” I tell him, trying to calm him down. “It’ll be okay.”
“And if it’s not? What if I don’t hear from you? What am I supposed to do then?”
I take a deep breath, because I don’t like thinking about that possibility. “Then I guess it turns out that coming here wasn’t so clever after all,” I say, trying to lighten the situation. I can’t have Marcus panicking too, I’m doing that enough for the both of us.
“Mia,” he says quietly, and I know what’s coming next. “Return the money, hide it as an accounting error or something. You can do that, can’t you? We’ll think of something else.”
“We’ve been try
ing to think of something else for months, Marcus. Time was running out, and I had to do something, okay? It’s not like he didn’t deserve it.” This is what I tell myself to not crumple up in shame and embarrassment at what I’ve done. “He deserves that and more for what he did to my dad, and to your mom. He’s the reason she’s in that facility; the least he can do is pay for it. It’s going to happen to someone else, and-”
“Mia,” Marcus says softly. “Thank you. I never told you that, and I should’ve.”
The tone of his voice, and the complete lack of judgment makes the tears prick behind my eyes. It would be nice to have him here with me; part of me wishes that I had taken him up on the offer, but there’s no sense in two of us getting mixed up in this when I can take the fall on my own.
“You don’t have to thank me,” I tell him. “She always treated me like I was her own. It’s the least I could do.”
There’s silence on the other end of the line, and I get the feeling that Marcus is fighting off the tears like I am. It makes the situation feel even more hopeless, but it also steels my resolve.
“I better go,” I tell him.
“Okay.”
“I’ll call you soon.”
I hope with everything I have in me that I can keep that promise.
CHAPTER FIVE
The bar is busier than it was last night, and is chock full of gorgeous men in suits. Any other night, at any other time in my life, I’d be in heaven in a room full of men who look like this. Handsome, in well-tailored suits, talking shop with each other as they decompress from their workdays with drinks in their hands. Tonight, though, I’m only looking for one handsome guy.
I stand just inside the entrance, right behind a pillar, in an area that gives me a good vantage point of the room. I’m short—I can barely clear shoulder height of most of these men—so I’m having difficulty seeing through the crowd. I don’t know much about Caleb, but he seems like the kind of guy who would arrive early, just so I wouldn’t have to wait.