His neck twisted and his eyes came back to me. “Boring.”
“It gets me from point A to point B,” I replied.
“Yeah, but it does it with absolutely zero style.”
Why were we talking about my car?
“You sent Spin or… whoever on a wasted journey. I’m just here to tell you it would make me very happy if I never saw you or your brother again and if I do, it would make me very unhappy in the sense that I would feel the need to phone the police. If you would like to avoid that hassle, I’ll avoid your club and you make sure you and Nick avoid me.”
“Babe, come here.”
Was he high?
“No, I’m leaving,” I fired back.
“You don’t wanna walk away from me.”
My brows shot up. “I don’t?”
“No.”
“Wrong,” I retorted. “I do. Sorry,” I went on then finished, “Good-bye Knight.”
Then, as I heard movers coming back, I turned to round the wall of the kitchen.
I got one step in. Then I was not only in the kitchen but across it, my back pressed to the counter and Knight pressed into me.
I had my hands clenched in the sides of his tee at his waist, my head tipped back, my chest was rising and falling rapidly and I was freaked.
He had movers, right there in the house and he manhandled me.
“Move away,” I whispered mainly because I couldn’t make my voice get louder.
“No,” he whispered back.
Then his hands came up toward my face and I flinched, preparing for anything but they settled cupping my jaws and my squinted eyes opened wide. This was because his touch was gentle and, even freaked out, it could not be denied it was sweet.
And his face was different. Not expressionless. As those vibrant blue eyes moved over my face, there was something working at the backs of them, something I didn’t know him enough to get but something that I knew instinctively boded bad things for me.
“Wars fought over a face like this,” he murmured like he was talking to himself, my heart stopped beating and his thumbs moved lightly across my cheeks. “A man would work himself into the ground for it, go down to his knees to beg to keep it, endure torture to protect it, take a bullet for it,” his eyes came to mine, “poison his brother to possess a face like this.”
Oh.
My.
God.
“Knight,” I breathed.
“You are not walkin’ away from me.”
“Okay,” I found myself agreeing.
“He made his play for you last night, shoulda known, you on the scene, you’d catch his eye. I heard. I lost it. Was pissed at him, took it out on you. Babe, I get pissed, I do it a lot, that’ll happen.”
“Okay,” I repeated.
“I’ll try to stop it but I know me. There are times I’ll fail. You gotta get it and roll with it.”
“Okay,” I whispered again.
“Now, movers’re almost done. I’m gonna cook. You’re gonna take your coat off and give me your keys so Spinolli can move your car. And you’re gonna drink a glass of wine, eat and spend the afternoon with me.”
“Okay,” I said softly.
He held my face in his hands as he held my eyes.
Then he whispered, “Okay.”
Then my breath left me, my heart, which had finally started beating again, tripped as his hands tipped my face up, his head dipped down and he slid his nose along the side of mine as he continued to hold my eyes captive.
“I’ll kill him, he touches you again,” he murmured.
Oh boy.
“Knight,” I breathed, my fingers clenching tighter in his tee.
“Kill anyone, they touch you.”
Oh God.
I closed my eyes and felt his nose slide back up as a tingle slid up my spine into my scalp then I felt his forehead touch mine right before he released me.
Since he was moving away, I had no choice but to let his shirt go, so I did and opened my eyes.
“Yo!” he called as he walked to the opening to the kitchen. “One of you boys go downstairs, can you take a set of keys to the doorman?”
“No worries,” one of them called back.
Knight turned to me.
I stared at him a beat then took my bag off my shoulder, dug in it and pulled out my keys. I walked to him, he lifted his hand palm up, I dropped them in and his eyes caught mine a second before he turned and disappeared around the wall.
I stood in his kitchen holding my purse wondering what on earth was wrong with me.
Then it came to me.
“Wars fought over a face like this.”
I was trembling, scared now for a different reason, a far more terrifying reason but I didn’t move. I just stood in his kitchen trembling.
Then he reappeared and looked at me.
“Jacket, Anya,” he stated. “Throw it wherever. I gotta see to the steaks then I’ll get you a glass of wine. Make yourself at home.”
Then he went to his meat.
I shakily shrugged off my jacket while walking out of the kitchen.
Okay, all right.
What the heck was I doing?
Okay, all right.
Oh boy.
Shit!
I wandered down to the sunken living room and tossed my jacket and purse on one of the two identical black leather couches that faced each other. Then I wandered across it and up to the area on the other side that was all windows. Then I stood there looking through the clear day to the uninterrupted vista of the Front Range thinking spring was coming. Soon, I could wear flip-flops.
“Where’s Nick gonna go?”
Yep, that was me asking the window.
“Don’t know, don’t care.” Pause then, “Do you?”
“Not really,” I mumbled and considering I was across the grand expanse of his apartment he probably didn’t hear me.
“Out of my place, out of my business,” Knight muttered to himself and I rethought him not hearing me mumbling since I heard him just fine.
I looked from the Front Range to him.
“He works with you?”
His neck twisted and his eyes came to me. “For me and not anymore.”
Oh brother.
As in, literally.
I turned to face him fully. “Knight, if this is about me –”
“Anya, it isn’t,” he cut me off, I lost him as he bent to shove the meat in the oven but his voice kept sounding. “It is and it isn’t. That party?”
He stopped and I prompted, “Yeah?”
He reappeared and moved around the kitchen. “Not the first time. Not even the fuckin’ second. This is not his place. It’s mine. He was crashin’ here. Then he moved a bunch of shit in here. I don’t care, never around anyway, but he knows I don’t want or like attention. He’s always gettin’ it for me.”
He moved to the counter that delineated the kitchen from the living room and set two, wide-bowled wineglasses on it then shifted back through the kitchen as I watched.
“So he’s out,” I called to his back.
“Yeah. Out. Done comin’ home to him fuckin’ bitches on my couch. My food gone. My booze gone. My wine gone. Blow residue on mirrors my cleaners find because he leaves them out everywhere. Them complainin’ to me about used condoms in the fuckin’ trash bins. Jesus. I don’t need that shit.” He came back to the counter with a bottle of wine and a corkscrew and his eyes came to me. “Last night, he touched your girl. My boys told me it was not a good scene. Then he touched you and made his play the way only Nick can make a fuckin’ play with a woman like you which was also not a good scene. I’m done.”
“Right,” I whispered thinking with all that and all I knew of Nick Sebring, I would be done too.
I turned back to the windows.
I heard the movers reappear but I didn’t look as I heard them speak.
“Done, Mr. Sebring.”
“Good. Invoice or pay now?” That was Knight.
�
��Invoice.”
“Right.” Again Knight.
There was nothing for a while then, “Whoa, thanks, Mr. Sebring.”
That, obviously, was not Knight but, apparently, Knight tipped well.
Not surprising.
“Don’t mention it.” That was Knight, in a mutter.
Then nothing as I stared at the Front Range and did everything in my power to stop my mind from moving to why I was still there. Yes, the wars fought over a face like this comment was epic. That didn’t make me any less crazy because evidence was suggesting Knight Sebring was a whole lot crazier than me.
Tingles slid up my spine into my scalp radiating out when I felt a finger lightly tracing the edge of my racerback tank.
I turned and Knight was there, eyes down, hands both holding wineglasses, index finger on one out clearly to touch me.
God.
Seriously.
I was totally crazy.
And I should never, never, ever have worn this sweater. It was my best but it was also my coolest and sexiest.
His eyes came to mine and he held out a glass.
“Red,” I whispered, taking it.
“You don’t like red?” he asked and I looked from my glass to him.
“Yeah, I like it,” I answered softly.
“Good,” he replied just as softly.
“I’m a vegetarian though,” I blurted mostly because I liked his light touch, I liked his soft voice, I was losing myself in both and I had to keep my wits about me.
He blinked.
Blinked!
I made Knight Sebring blink!
“Not really,” I let him off the hook, his eyes held mine then he threw back his head and burst out laughing.
I stared.
I’d never seen him anything but impassive, irritated and angry. He was gorgeous even through those.
Now, laughing, it wasn’t to be believed.
Oh God.
Seriously.
I wasn’t crazy.
I was in trouble.
Still laughing, his arm swept out, catching me at the waist and pulling me into his shaking, hard, warm body.
Yep, totally in trouble.
His chin dipped and his dancing, vivid, blue eyes caught mine.
Oh so totally, completely in trouble.
Still smiling a hell on wheels beautiful smile, he muttered, “My baby’s funny.”
Oh God.
Oh God.
Oh no.
Oh crap.
My baby.
I liked that.
Seriously, totally, completely, absolutely in trouble.
With effort, I pulled it together again.
“How do you know what I drive?” I asked.
“Watched you pull into your place that Friday,” he answered.
“And you saw the rosary and St. Christopher?” I pressed, knowing this was impossible unless he had Superman vision.
“Had a look before I took off. Seriously, you need another car.”
“I don’t. There’s nothing wrong with it. I get it serviced yearly. Tires rotated. Regular oil changes. Toyotas last forever.”
“It’s ordinary.”
“So?”
“Anya,” his arm gave me a squeeze, “babe, you are not ordinary.”
That tingle came back.
“You need a class ride,” he kept talking. “No flash, you need no more attention than you already get. Just class.”
I studied him.
Then I informed him, “Knight, I’m not sure the world sees what you see in me.”
He shook his head. “No, babe, you do not see what the world sees. Totally fuckin’ clueless.”
“I’m not,” I returned.
“How many men smile at you?” he asked immediately and my head jerked.
“Pardon?”
“Men,” he stated. “How many men whose eyes you catch smile at you?”
I thought about this and answered, “All of them.”
He stared at me but murmured, “Right.”
“They’re just being friendly.”
“Uh… no. They want in your pants even if they’re walkin’ by you on the street.”
“That isn’t true,” I retorted. “Women smile at me too.”
“All of them?”
I thought about this too and muttered, “No.”
“Good-lookin’ ones?”
My eyes slid away.
“Anya, eyes to me.”
My eyes slid back.
“Good-lookin’ bitches, they don’t smile at you, do they?”
“Uh…” I mumbled but didn’t say more.
“Competition,” he decreed.
I studied him again.
Then, quietly, I declared, “Knight, seriously, honestly, all this is crazy.”
“Anya, babe,” another arm squeeze with a head dip and I held my breath, “seriously, honestly, you’re absolutely fuckin’ right. This is fuckin’ whacked. It’s also fucking happening.”
“What is this?” I ventured.
“The start of you and me.”
My body went still, that tingle came back, my eyes stared into his and my heart again stopped beating.
Then I whispered, “What?”
“Babe, you’re standing in my arm, in my house, drinking my wine after agreeing in the kitchen.”
“I haven’t even sipped the wine,” I pointed out.
His lips twitched.
Twitched!
I made Knight Sebring’s lips twitch!
“Right, well, you will,” he muttered.
“And I didn’t agree to anything,” I went on.
Another lip twitch.
Then a repeated, “Right, well, you will.”
“Knight,” I lifted a hand and hesitantly placed it on his chest (which was rock-hard by the way… seriously in trouble). I powered through how good his chest felt under my hand and pressed ever onward, informing him cautiously, “You kind of scare me.”
“Yeah. I’m that guy ‘cause I need to be that guy,” he stated mysteriously. Then his face dipped to mine again and he talked quieter when he continued, “Straight up, baby, I’m also that guy ‘cause I just am that guy. But you’ll learn you got nothin’ to fear from me.”
“You drag me around,” I whispered.
“Yeah, and you follow me.”
“I kind of have no choice,” I pointed out.
His head went back and all traces of amusement left his face when he informed me, “You always have a choice. You didn’t take it. Except once, when you pulled away from me at the elevator.”
This was, casting my mind back, kind of true.
“There were two times that you carried me,” I reminded him.
“And both times you held on.”
Damn. This was true too and not kind of at all.
“I need to ponder this.”
His arm tightened, a gorgeous smile spread on his equally gorgeous face and it was at both that I realized I said that out loud.
Then a buzzer sounded in the kitchen.
“Right, then do it eatin’ a steak. I’m hungry,” he ordered, let me go and sauntered toward the kitchen.
I stood, watched him move and took a sip of my wine.
Then I found my feet following him.
When I arrived, he was pulling out the grill pan in order to flip the meat.
“Can I help?” I offered.
“Yeah, grab some placemats. Drawers this side of the bar,” he took me up on my offer as he slid the grill pan back in the oven.
“You have placemats?”
He straightened and looked at me.
“Yeah. Why?”
“A man who wears a Metallica tee doesn’t have placemats,” I informed him and his lips twitched again.
“Yeah, you’re right, unless he’s also a man who hired a bossy bitch who seriously likes to spend money to kit out his new condo. That man owns placemats.”
My eyes swept the kitchen with its black KitchenAid appl
iances, counter appliances and the hooks under the counter where the shiny, expensive-looking cooking utensils hung. It had a black on black theme with black marble countertops, shiny black cupboards and even black tiles on the floor.
Then my eyes kept moving through the living room with its stream-lined couches, low, glass-topped coffee table and large, tall, chrome, curved lamps at kitty-corners with their domed, white shades drooping over the area. All this sitting on a charcoal gray rug that looked like a huge, square piece of fluffy fur.
Then my eyes moved over the low chest at the top situated against the wall that had three black, huge, glossy bowls on top that were wicked cool but held nothing. Then my eyes took in the heavily-framed print on the wall above it that looked like a lot of gray and black splotches and strokes that depicted nothing and made me feel less. And last, there was another state-of-the art, expensively designed CD player mounted on the wall.
It was all spare, colorless but dead cool.
I looked back at Knight. “So this woman bought everything?”
He was pulling down glossy black plates from a cupboard as he answered, “Asked my favorite color, that was it. Then she bought everything.”
“Let me guess, you told her your favorite color was black.”
His eyes came to me and his lips twitched.
Again!
“No, I said it was red.”
I stared at him.
Then it was me who burst out laughing.
Through my laughter I asked, “Seriously?”
“No fuckin’ joke,” he put the plates on the bar and opened a drawer as I moved to open and close two before I found and grabbed two black, cloth placemats. “Jacked. I was away on business, came back, this is what I got. Not a hint of red in the place. Not a hint of anything.”
I set the placemats by the stools on the other side of the bar and asked, “Did she do your bedroom?”
“Yeah.”
“So you don’t like satin sheets?”
His eyes came to me, there was something in them that made me go still but he answered, “Took one look at them, nearly lost my mind. Luckily, she wasn’t around. Slept on ‘em one night, would never sleep on anything else. Not at home.”
“So they’re nice,” I whispered.
“Fuck yeah,” he whispered back.
We stared at each other a beat as I felt his two words hit me in a very secret place.
Then Knight’s eyes moved over my face before they caught mine and he said quietly, “Think it’s a good idea we quit talkin’ about my sheets.”
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