Noah (Knight's Edge Series Book 2)

by Liz Gavin

  * * *

  “Ready to hit the road, boss? Or can I come in? I’m sorry I’m a little late. I got caught up in the happy hour rush,” Ana popped her head in the doorway, after a soft knock on the dark brown wooden door.

  “Come on in, don’t be silly. I was waiting for you. Nelson left your paycheck with me before he went home. The others collected theirs during the shift.”

  Ana slid in, closing the door behind her, and stood by his mahogany desk.

  “Have a seat,” he gestured to a comfortable black chair in front of the desk. He didn’t consider himself a risk seeker, but he liked to play with fire on occasion. Finding excuses to keep Ana in his office qualified as a fire hazard, the type the fire department couldn’t hose down.

  “What’s up, boss?”

  “Nothing much. We haven’t talked in a while. How’s school going?”

  “Almost there.”

  “You’re avoiding eye contact,” he stated, unable to resist teasing her. “That’s so not you.”

  Her whiskey eyes locked with his. Headier than the Scotch beverage, they messed with his senses. That was the only explanation for the hurt he saw in them. Still, there was little room for a different interpretation of her expression. So, he did the only thing he could.

  Knitting his eyebrows, Noah apologized, “Hey, didn’t mean to offend. I meant it as a compliment, twisted as it came out, though. It seems to me you’re a brave woman, who doesn’t take shit from others. Avoidance doesn’t sound like you.”

  Ana had hung her head down as he spoke, shaking it as if to deny his assessment. When he finished, she lifted only her stare to meet his. She watched as he unfolded from his chair and went to sit on the desktop, right in front of her.

  She eyeballed him for a moment, then offered a sad smile. “It’s funny hearing you say stuff like that. It contradicts my self-image.”

  “Your psyche needs new glasses,” he countered, wrenching a genuine smile from her. The warmth that spread from his gut through his nerve endings at the sight of her grin must have to do with making a beautiful woman smile. Not only that particular woman. At least, that was the story he would stick with. “That’s much better. I don’t know what you’ve been telling yourself, young lady. You’re a heck of a strong woman. Don’t let insecurities convince you otherwise. You know what they say; we’re our own worst enemies.”

  “Now, this is a surprise. Carefree Noah Cartwright has depth, after all. What do I do with this information?”

  “Have dinner with me.”

  Did I just say that? His lips had bypassed his brain, apparently. Never a good sign.

  “Sorry, I didn’t hear you right. What did you just say?”

  “Have dinner with me,” he repeated, missing the opportunity to convince her she had heard wrong. The problem being he meant to say that. He had for the longest time.

  She hesitated, then queried, “Would that be wise, you think?”

  She was looking for reassurance instead of flat out denying him. Noah counted his blessings. He was aware of the effect his charm had on women and wasn’t afraid to use it to get what he wanted. He wanted Ana. That much he had known for a while. Talking to Moira and Nelson earlier had only put it into perspective.

  Slowly allowing his full lips to curve up, he pinned her with an intent stare as he tipped his head to the left. Pretending to analyze the implications of her question, he scratched his chin and raised an eyebrow. “Not sure about the wise bit, not being much of a wise man myself. But, I’ll tell you this. It ain’t gonna be boring.”

  She cracked up. “Jeez, you’re so full of it. You almost had me there for a moment. What was I thinking?”

  “That you want to go out with me and check for yourself what all the buzz is about.”

  Shaking her head, Ana dried a tear born out of too much laughter. “Oh, my stars. You don’t give up, do you? I can think of a million reasons to say no because this would be a bad idea.”

  “Still, you haven’t used any. I mean, you haven’t said no.”

  “Haven’t said yes either,” she quipped, a cocky smile on her lips and a seductive wink that did funny things to his insides.

  “Touché. Let me offer you a different angle. We’ve known each other for four years and we get along fine. I’d even say we’re friendly.” He paused to give her a chance to rebut the statements, but instead, she nodded in agreement. “We’ve bumped into each other on multiple occasions, each with their respective partners for the night. Yet we’ve never went out together or gotten to know each other better. I say it’s a shame we haven’t done that.”

  “Because I’m missing out on the wonderful man you are?”

  “Or I’m wasting my time with other women when the right one is right in front of me.” He said it playfully, but still felt too close to the truth for comfort.

  Seeming to pick up on something, Ana furrowed her brow. She opened her mouth, then closed it as if she had changed her mind about what she was going to say. “It’s tempting. I’m still not sure we should do that, though.”

  “I don’t want to be a jerk, so I’ll respect your choice. I can’t promise I won’t try again.”

  “Sounds fair,” she tossed her long red hair over her shoulder and stood up, turning around to leave.

  Unable to keep the thought to himself, he blurted before she got to the door, “What did he do to you?”

  She froze on the spot. Noah watched her struggle with her uneven breathing as her shoulders raised and fell several times before she looked at him over her shoulder. Nostrils flaring, but clearly not in anger. He had rarely seen such depths of anguish. “Who told you anything about me?”

  “You did, just now.” He covered the distance between them in a couple of long strides and turned her around to face him. Holding her gently by the upper arms, he assured her. “You’re an enigma. Nobody knows anything about you, other than what you let people see. I’m pretty sure that’s not the real you. I admire your strength, but I see vulnerability in your eyes. You’ve been hurt. Bad. Your easygoing attitude is camouflage. This is one of the reasons I’d like to get to know you better.”

  She stared back at him, a myriad of conflicting emotions playing out on her expression, but she chose to keep quiet.

  “I get it. You don’t want to talk about it. Fair enough. I won’t probe. What I’m about to say will sound crazy, but it’s the truth. I’ve been thinking about asking you out for a long time. I’d love to have a chance to show you that not all men are assholes. Please, give me that.”

  His hand grew a will of its own and rose to cup her cheek. She closed her eyes, sighed and moved her lips to plant a quick kiss on his palm. The sparks that sprung from the point of contact and spread like wildfire took him by surprise. Their intensity robbed the air from his lungs.

  “I know men are not all the same. Just as I know you’d never physically hurt a woman and enjoy doing so.” Her words felt like a sucker-punch to his guts. He’d gladly dismember the son of bitch who dared raise a finger to Ana. She must have read his intentions, because she cupped his face. “It’s in the past, buried and forgotten. Let’s leave it there.”

  He didn’t agree with the forgotten part of her assessment, as she clearly still suffered consequences of whatever had happened in her buried past. He chose to say nothing about it. For now. He nodded.

  She pulled his face down until their noses almost touched. “I hope I won’t regret this. You’ve convinced me, though. Let’s have dinner sometime.”

  Rubbing his nose against her turned-up one, he rested his brow on hers. “Not so vague, miss. I’m aware of the Brazilian way of setting up arrangements for an undetermined future time that never comes to pass.”

  “I’m not your typical Brazilian girl.” Her low rough voice scraped at his eardrums and reflected in his cock. He didn’t understand how she did it, but the damn thing was getting hard.

  You can say that again, he thought, but chose to say, “You’re unique in many ways, now
stop stalling. When?”

  Intent on tempting her further, he pecked her lips, then straightened his back, watching her cheeks grow pink. Lovely shade on her tanned skin. It made her freckles stand out.

  “I need to check the school schedule.” The mischievous glint in her amber eyes suggested she liked playing cat and mouse.

  Game on!

  Another smooch and this time he allowed his lips to linger a moment longer. “It’s almost the end of the semester. You want to tell me you don’t know which days you have classes by now?”

  Her grin widened and she shrugged. “Maybe I need more convincing.”

  She stepped into his personal space, plastered her soft body against his increasingly hard one and laced her arms behind his neck. She stopped an inch away from his lips and smiled. He covered her mouth with his and pulled her hips as close as physically possible. He intended for the kiss to be a quick and playful thing, but the explosion of sensations her touch and taste evoked, wrestled control from him. He became a passenger in his own body as his hands kneaded her flesh and his lips devoured hers. Ana responded with equal passion, spearing her fingers through his hair, scraping his scalp with her long fingernails and sending his libido into overdrive.

  He needed to regain control before it went too far, but she felt so good in his arms, better than he had ever imagined. He wanted to enjoy her sweetness for a little longer before letting reality spoil things for them. Meanwhile, her fingers had pulled his shirt out of his slacks and now he felt the warmth of her palms against his lower back. He walked them to the closed door, pressing her body against it, without breaking the kiss. His hand cupped her breast over her top as their tongues caressed each other.

  Moans filled the air and a gasp escaped her throat when the door jerked open for a second before their weight closed it again. The sudden movement made her pelvis grind Noah’s groin, making him whimper. Pleasure and pain. Another attempt to open the door and Tristan’s angry voice on the other side served as buckets of icy water on them.

  “What the fuck are you doing in there, Noah Samuel Cartwright?”

  “I’m in trouble,” he whispered.

  “We are.”

  “Nope, just me. Wanna bet?”

  Circling her waist with an arm, he opened the door wide. Tristan’s gaze took in their rumpled clothes and swollen lips as he entered the room and shut the door with a loud thud behind him.

  Zeroing in on his partner, he spoke in the lowest tone of voice before a whisper. Noah knew him well to recognize the telltale sign. Tristan was royally pissed. “What the fuck are you thinking? No, wait. You’re not. If you were, you wouldn’t be taking advantage of Ana. In. Our. Fucking. Office.”

  He glanced her way as if to indicate he had alerted her to the fact his partner would blame him for the whole thing. She giggled. The damn siren actually giggled. It cracked him up.

  “What the hell?” Tristan asked, this time with less venom and a pinch of reluctant amusement.

  When the couple doubled down laughing, Tristan rolled his eyes, threw his hands up and let out a little smile.

  “Dude, you sound like my father. No, I take that back. My dad wouldn’t have given me the third degree like you just did.”

  “You’re right, he wouldn’t have. I was taken by surprise, I guess,” Tristan admitted before turning to Ana. “I worry about both of you. I wouldn’t want to see either get hurt. But, whatever you do with your lives is not my business. I’m sorry if I overreacted.”

  “It came from a good place, so all is fine,” she assured Tristan as she laced her fingers through Noah’s and moved his hand from her hip to the space between them. She squeezed his hand hard. “I’ve got to go. Next Tuesday?”

  “It’s a date. I mean, it’s a freaking whole week until then, but I’ll take it.”

  Shaking her head, Ana blew him a kiss, waved at Tristan and closed the door behind her.

  “Don’t even,” Noah pleaded with his best friend. He didn’t need wisdom. He needed the illusion that he wasn’t heading for disaster.

  Tristan’s smile lit up his face and Noah realized he hadn’t seen Big T grinning like that in a long time. Morose would be the adequate term for his disposition of late. Noah feared it had to do with recent news he had read on the internet about a certain Izzie Anderson, but he knew better than to bring the subject up with his partner. Men did the ignoring thing quite well, especially between dudes. Then, his friend burst that unwritten rule among bros into kingdom come with his next statement. “I was just going to say that you’ve struck gold with this girl. Ana is the real deal, man. Do right by her or I promise I’ll kick your ass.”

  * * *

  Their work arrangement had always sat well with Noah. He preferred to have his evenings free, while Tristan was a night owl. So, he opened the restaurant and Tristan closed it, although their shifts overlapped from time to time. On other occasions, they had to attend to other chores outside the workplace. Tristan loved dealing with suppliers, going to the farmer’s market and handpicking produce. Noah had a thing for promoting the restaurant. He contacted local news outlets and talked them into covering the bistro. He was a people person in the best sense of the word.

  Recently, he had arranged for an advertising agency to create a television commercial for the restaurant. When the filming crew turned up at Chez Nous one evening, the director laid her eyes on Tristan and decided he should be in front of the camera introducing the business to the audience, instead of a random model. With a little female persuasion and Noah’s silent threats of murder, Tristan caved in and muttered a few sentences about the restaurant. Since then, the restaurant had reached unparalleled popularity. The starred chef they hired many years ago, Herve Durand, had been a favorite with local foodies for a long time. Now, everybody and their brother and neighbors wanted to check if Tristan’s abs were real. According to Nelson’s sister, Karen Rizzini, who did the bookkeeping for them and helmed the reservations, that was the first question female wannabe patrons, as well as a few male ones, asked when they called in to book a table. Whatever the reason, they were booked for the next thirty to forty days.

  “Not bad at all,” he muttered under his breath as he opened the door to the apartment he shared with Tristan.

  That’s when he realized he had been doing his damnedest not to think of Ana since he left the restaurant. He failed miserably. Even conjuring up images of Tristan wearing a tight black shirt with Chez Nous written in golden thread over his heart didn’t keep images of Ana from popping up in his head. He focused on his partner’s wardrobe for the TV commercial, cherry picked by the director, but ended up visualizing Ana’s endless legs coming out of the black mini-skirt that was part of her server uniform.

  God only knew how many times he had fantasized about that uniform. And tasting her for real that evening just teased his senses to the maximum. He wouldn’t survive the week if he let her presence dominate his waking moments like that. Determined to get rid of that problem, he went to the bathroom for a cold shower. Needless to say, it did little to solve the issue.

  * * *

  Much later, battling finger cramps from jerking off multiple times, Noah sat at the kitchen island nursing a Guinness. The strong black liquid burned his throat and the welcomed tingling sensation that followed relaxed his muscles. For the first time in forever, he started hearing music in his head. It had been years since he last composed anything. Still, the first few notes of a beautiful melody sounded clear in his mind.

  Giving in to the muse, who often struck anywhere at any time, Noah ambled down the corridor towards the studio. He sat at the digital piano and caressed the keys. Despite his visceral connection with the drums, the piano had been his first love when he started to learn music as a kid. Playing around with random notes, he soon got immersed in the creative process. He reached out for paper and a pen from a small table nearby and scribbled down the music as he transferred it from his head to the keyboard. He even wrote a few words here and ther
e, although they couldn’t be called lyrics in any way. To be honest, Tristan had always been the genius lyricist, so Noah never even considered writing a song. This one felt too personal, though, for him to partner with his friend. Not that Tristan wouldn’t come up with something amazing, but the song had sprung from some primal and obscure corner of his psyche. Its slow tempo and languid melody spoke of lazy afternoons in summer. Or sultry nights between ruffled sheets. In both scenarios, Ana Oliveira’s long legs and flaming red hair played leading roles.

  * * *

  Aidan checked the clock on the wall for the third time in the last five minutes and Noah’s waning patience hit minus ten in record time.

  “Guys, let’s take five. I’ll knock on Tristan’s bedroom door and wake up the bum.”

  He hammered the door until his palms ached, calling out Tristan’s name, to no avail. Duke, the Brazilian talented singer Aidan had brought that day, came out of the bathroom zipping up his jeans. His classic features relaxed and a broad smile that reached his brown eyes completed the laid-back take on life he displayed since he had arrived. “No worries, man. Let’s keep practicing without him.”

  It was sound advice, so Noah took it. They returned to the studio and resumed playing. Still, it felt wrong. Noah dropped the stick on his lap, but signaled the other two to keep going. Duke played guitar for that session, but he was nowhere as good as Tristan.

  Fishing his phone from his back pocket, Noah unlocked the screen, scrolled down the address book and pressed to call Tristan, who answered after a couple of rings.

  “What’s up, loser?”

  “That’s how you greet your business partner and lifelong friend?” Noah chose an amused tone to start off the conversation, instead of lashing out at his friend. Better give him the benefit of the doubt.

  Tristan sounded genuinely surprised. “Where the hell are you?”

  “Home, rehearsing. Where the hell are you? I’ve banged on your door so hard it stung my hand.”