Quantum Series Boxed Set: Books 1-7

by Force, Marie

  His meaning isn’t lost on me, and if I wasn’t so breathless from being near him, I might’ve acknowledged it.

  “So where are we going?”

  I give him the address a few blocks away.

  “Hop on. I’ll give you a lift.”

  I eye the motorcycle with trepidation. I’ve never been on one, and I’m not even sure how to get on, especially while wearing a skirt. “I’m, um, not really dressed for a motorcycle.”

  “You’ll be fine. No one will see a thing.”

  Before I can formulate further protest, he’s putting the helmet on me, straddling the bike and holding out his hand to help me get on behind him. I guess I’m going for my first ride on a motorcycle. Too bad it’s freezing out and I won’t be able to truly enjoy it. I want to ask about a helmet for him, but before I can pose the question, the bike roars to life and we take off like a shot.

  I have no choice but to hold on tight to him if I want to survive this—not that holding on tight to him is any sort of imposition. I expect to be cold and uncomfortable, but I’m neither of those things. Rather, I’m exhilarated and thrilled to be pressed up against him for the all too short ride to the Giffords’ home.

  Flynn pulls right up to the building and squeezes the bike into a parking space on the street. He gets off the bike and then helps me with the helmet.

  He studies me intently, but then I’ve come to expect that from him.

  “Did I say thank you for this?”

  “A few times.”

  “Is it okay to say it again?”

  “Sure.”

  “I appreciate it more than you’ll ever know. She’s an amazing person, a single mom fighting an awful battle. Her son, Logan, is in my class and he told me you’re her favorite.”

  “How did he find out you know me?”

  “Um, well, yesterday, the whole school was talking about how I met you over the weekend.”

  He cocks his head and raises a brow, two things I’ve seen him do before when he is amused. “How did they know?”

  “Leah told everyone. I didn’t say a word. I promise you.”

  “I wouldn’t have cared if you did.”

  “Oh. Well, I didn’t.”

  “Anyway, your friend…”

  “Aileen Gifford.”

  “What’s the prognosis?”

  “I’m not really sure. It’s stage three, and she’s been in treatment since before the school year started. I don’t ask too many questions, but I like her. We’ve become friends.”

  “How about we go pay her a visit?” He helps me off the motorcycle. Or I should say he basically lifts me off and sets me on my feet in a move so unexpected and oddly thrilling that my knees nearly buckle under me. “You okay?”

  “Yeah, sure.” Other than a racing heart and sweating palms, I’m just fine. “You know she’s going to freak out, right?”

  “Believe it or not, that’s happened before.”

  “Still, I don’t want to drag you into an ambush without proper warning.”

  “Do I need to be worried that she’ll jump me?”

  “If she does, I’ll protect you.”

  “Then I hope she does.”

  Is he flirting with me? After two days of total silence following what I considered a rather amazing date? I’m sure my definition of amazing and his are vastly different. That thought depresses me profoundly, so I try to push it aside as we head up the stairs to the wall of buttons for each apartment. I press the one for 3C and wait for an answer.

  When the buzzer sounds, I say, “Hi, it’s Natalie.”

  “Come on up.” The buzzer sounds again, and we enter through the main door.

  As I trudge up the stairs, I’m acutely aware of Flynn behind me. I can almost feel his eyes on me, watching my every move in that all-consuming way of his.

  On the third-floor landing, he stops me with his hand to my arm. I feel the heat of his touch through two layers of clothing, but before I can wonder how that’s possible, he releases me. “How do we want to play this?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Am I just going to be standing there when she answers the door?”

  “Good point. How about I say I brought a friend to meet her and then you come into view?”

  “I can do that.”

  I begin to feel really excited for what we’re about to do for someone who so deserves a little pleasure. With one last glance at Flynn to make sure he’s in place, I knock on the door.

  Aileen answers, and I’m immediately taken aback by how diminished she is from the last time I saw her. A funky scarf covers her head, her eyes are sunken into her face, and she’s lost weight she didn’t have to lose. I give her a hug. “So good to see you.”

  “You, too. Come in.”

  “I hope you don’t mind, but I brought a friend who wants to meet you.”

  Her hand goes immediately to the scarf, and I’m heartbroken to realize I’ve made her feel self-conscious about her appearance.

  “You look great,” I whisper as I signal to Flynn.

  When he steps into view, Aileen’s eyes nearly pop out of her head, and her hand over her mouth suppresses her shriek. “Oh my God. Shut up. No way.”

  Behind her, Logan and his sister, Madison, giggle madly at her reaction.

  “You must be Aileen.” Flynn extends his hand to her. “It’s great to meet you.”

  “Stop it,” she says even as she shakes his hand, still in near-swoon mode. “What in the name of hell is Flynn Godfrey doing on my doorstep?”

  “It was all Logan’s doing.” I love the way the little boy beams with pleasure at what he’s done for his mother.

  “Logan? You knew about this?”

  “Yep,” he says proudly. “You should invite them in, Mom.”

  “Oh God, of course. Please. Come in.”

  As we follow Aileen into the apartment, I share a smile with Flynn, who seems genuinely pleased. I’m sure he’s done stuff like this a million times, and maybe it’s nothing to him, but it’s everything to Aileen and her children.

  “Have a seat,” she says when we gather in her cozy living room. “Can I get you anything?”

  “Not a thing,” Flynn says, glancing at me.

  I shake my head. “No, thanks.”

  Logan and Madison take up residence on their mother’s lap. “How did you keep this a secret?” Aileen asks her son, giving him a squeeze that makes him giggle.

  It’s so nice to hear him laugh. He’s always so somber and quiet.

  “It wasn’t easy,” he says. “I just told Maddie today so she wouldn’t mess up and tell you.”

  “I kept the secret,” Maddie says.

  “You did great.” Aileen glances tentatively at the love seat where Flynn is sitting so close to me I can feel the heat of his leg against mine. “You have to tell me how you two know each other.”

  I look at him, and he nods for me to go ahead and tell her. So I relay the story of how we met in the park, how Fluff bit him, and how we had coffee and then dinner together Saturday.

  “So you guys are dating?” she asks, her squeal reminiscent of Leah’s.

  I answer quickly. “Oh, I don’t think so.”

  He shocks me when he reaches for my hand and links our fingers. “Yeah, we are.”

  Aileen fans her face. “Holy shit.”

  Logan pounces. “Mom!”

  “Sorry, honey, but really, you have to admit this situation calls for a swear word or two.”

  Madison giggles while Logan stares at his mother like he’s never met her before. I get a glimpse of what Aileen was like as a younger, healthier woman, and I’m saddened all over again for the battle she’s waging.

  “I’ve seen all your movies,” Aileen says almost shyly to Flynn. “Most of them at least five times.”

  “I’m so glad you enjoy them. That’s great to hear.”

  “You must hear it all the time,” she says.

  “Never gets old to know that what we’re doing is c
onnecting with people.”

  “It’s connecting all right.” The dirty double meaning isn’t lost on us, and we laugh.

  “Which one is your favorite?” I ask.

  “Oh gosh, do I have to pick just one?”

  “You can pick as many as you want,” Flynn says, making Aileen giggle.

  I love seeing her laugh. We spend an hour with them, talking movies and Hollywood. Flynn is amazing. He answers all her question about his friends and what they’re really like and how much of what is printed about all of them is utter crap. Aileen hangs on his every word, as do I, because I feel like I’m learning more about him listening to him talk about his work.

  When I see her begin to tire, I suggest we should go and let her rest.

  “Not before we take some pictures,” Flynn says. “Aileen will want to brag to her friends about this, and she can’t do that without pictures.”

  In that moment, I absolutely adore him. It no longer matters that he didn’t call me. I feel like I’m seeing his heart right now, and I like what I see. I like it very much. He poses for no fewer than fifty photos with Aileen and the kids, some of them silly, some of them ridiculous and a few that will give her something to keep her warm on cold winter nights. He is endlessly patient with her and the children.

  “I will never, ever forget this,” she tells him when he gives her a final hug to say good-bye.

  He kisses her forehead and then pulls back to look her in the eye. “If there’s ever anything I can do for you or the kids, here’s my card. Call me. I mean it.”

  Aileen’s eyes fill with tears. “You’ve already done more than you’ll ever know.” She turns to me. “And you, you sneaky devil! Thank you. Thank you so much.”

  “My pleasure. Feel good and keep in touch, okay?”

  “I will.”

  After we say good-bye to the kids and I receive a very tight, very emotional hug from Logan, we take our leave. We are quiet as we descend the stairs and head outside into encroaching darkness. The days are so short this time of year, something I normally find depressing. But I’m so exhilarated by what we just did there’s no space for depression.

  “That was so fun,” I say to him when we reach the bike. “Thank you again.” I look up at him and note that he seems tense.

  “What can I do for them? How can I make this easier for her?”

  “What you just gave her—”

  “Is a small thrill that’ll last a day or two until reality sets in again. How can I help her in some more meaningful way?”

  I stare up at him, not sure how to reply.

  “How do I give her money?”

  “You, um, you don’t have to do that.”

  “I know I don’t. I want to. That would make me happy. Is there a fundraising effort or anything?”

  “Yes, through the school, but you don’t have to—”

  He taps his finger against my lips and smiles. “I know I don’t. I truly want to.”

  “That’s very nice of you. All of this… Really, I can’t begin to tell you how much it meant to her—and to me.”

  “It was a pleasure.”

  “I’m sure you have somewhere to be, so I, um, I’ll let you get going.”

  “That’s it?” He fixes that gaze on me, and I feel like the proverbial deer trapped in headlights. It’s that potent.

  “I’m not sure what you mean.”

  “You’re going to walk away and that’s that?”

  “I know how busy you are, and I’ve already taken a good chunk of your time.”

  “I’m actually enjoying a rare bit of time off before I leave for LA and then begin postproduction on the film we just wrapped.”

  “Oh.” I’m not sure what else to say. Hearing he’s been enjoying time off that didn’t include calling me annoys me, even if I wish it didn’t. “Well, I hope you enjoy your time off.”

  “Thank you.”

  Suddenly I need to know. I have to know. It’s the last thing I want to ask and the only thing I need to know. “Were you going to call me? If I hadn’t texted about Aileen, would I have ever heard from you again?”

  He looks down at me for a long, intense moment. “No.”

  “Good to know.” I begin to walk away, but he follows, grasping my arm in a grip loose enough that it doesn’t trigger any of my well-honed defense mechanisms but tight enough that I can’t get away without a fight.

  “Let me explain.”

  I attempt to pull my arm free of his grip. “No need. I get it. You could have anyone.”

  He gives a gentle tug that throws me off balance, and before I know what’s happening, I’m pressed against his chest and his arms are around me. “I don’t want just anyone. I want you.”

  I’m so busy trying to catch my breath from the events of the last two minutes that I can barely process what he’s said. And then he’s kissing me. His hands frame my face as his lips move softly over mine. The kiss is sweet and undemanding, but I feel its impact everywhere. I lean into him, wanting to be closer, and raise my arms to encircle his neck.

  I forget we’re on a city street where anyone can see us. I forget who he is and that photographers stalk him. I forget that it’s freezing or that I was about to walk away. I forget that he had no plans to call me. I can only think of what it feels like to be surrounded by his rich, masculine scent as his lips destroy my resistance.

  He breaks the kiss and turns his attention to my neck. “I wasn’t going to call because of me, not because of you. Not because I didn’t want to see you again, because I did. I do. You’re all I’ve thought about since I saw you last. When I got your text yesterday, I was so happy to hear from you.”

  I’m not sure which is having a greater impact on me—what he’s saying or what he’s doing to my neck as he speaks. His breath is warm against my cold skin. I’m one big goose bump as I hang on his every word. I’m breathless as I wait to hear what else he has to say.

  But he withdraws from me, so suddenly I stumble. He’s right there to catch me, his hands on my shoulders steadying me. “Will you come with me so we can talk some more?”

  I know I should decline. I should walk away from him while I still can. This whole thing is nothing more than a fantasy that can’t possibly go anywhere. I already know he has the power to hurt me, perhaps worse than I’ve been hurt in the past, and I can’t bear the thought of that. “I… I don’t know what to say.”

  “Please?” He bends his head to the side and smiles at me. He’s cute, and he knows it.

  Maybe if he hadn’t kissed me, I’d be able to resist that adorable grin and the equally adorable plea. He who could have anyone wants to spend more time with me. It’s hard not to be flattered by that. What’s another hour with him at this point?

  “Okay.”

  He raises his arm and flags down a cab. “You’ll freeze on the bike. I’ll come back for it later.”

  Only when we’re ensconced in the back of a toasty warm cab do I realize how cold I am. How long were we outside? I have no idea. Could’ve been five minutes or an hour. My brain is still scrambled from the Kiss with a capital K. It’s been a very long time since I’ve been kissed. The last time, I was fifteen, before my life changed forever.

  Two boys kissed me that year, but what a difference it is to kiss a man rather than a boy. There’d been no overabundance of spit or awkward tongue thrusting with Flynn. No, his kiss was sublime and skilled, even if it included only the touch of lips and nothing more. He knows what he’s doing. And the spontaneous way in which it happened… I’ll be thinking about that long after this interlude with him is a distant memory.

  Chapter 7

  In the backseat of the cab, he puts his arm around me and nuzzles my hair.

  I lean into him, wanting to be closer to him.

  “Did I fuck up by kissing you?” he asks, his voice gruff.

  I raise my head off his shoulder to meet his gaze. He seems genuinely worried. “What? No. You didn’t.”

  “Are you sure?”<
br />
  I nod because the words I wish to say are stuck in my throat. I can’t look away from him. He draws me in with his magnetic appeal, and the closer I get to the heat, the more enthralled I seem to be. His kindness to Aileen and her children makes him even more attractive to me than he was before.

  I need to be careful. I know that. I can’t afford the kind of disruption he could be in my well-planned and well-ordered life. But right now, in this moment, with his arm around me, his scent filling my senses and his nearness making me want so much more, being careful isn’t my top priority for the first time in eight years.

  We ride uptown in silence, until the cab stops outside a high-rise.

  Flynn releases a low curse. “Can we go around the block?” He rattles off a new address, and the cab merges into traffic again.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Paparazzi camped out front waiting for me.”

  “How could you tell?”

  “I recognize them. They’re paid to follow me.”

  “Paid to follow you… What that must be like...”

  “It’s no fun, especially when you value your privacy and that of your friends.” He asks the driver to pull into a driveway that slopes downward to a metal door. “Stay here for a sec.”

  I watch him get out of the car and punch a code into a number pad that opens the metal doors. Then he gets back into the car. Handing a fifty-dollar bill to the cab driver, he says, “Will you take us in please?”

  “Will I be able to get out of here?” the cabbie asks.

  “Yeah.”

  We descend into the parking garage we were in the other night. The cabbie lets out a low whistle at the sight of the Bugatti.

  Flynn directs him to turn around on the other side of the garage, well away from the priceless vehicle. He gets out and reaches for me. “Thanks for the lift. The door will open for you.”

  “Could I bother you for a photo with the car?” the driver asks in broken English.

  “Sure,” Flynn says, even though I can see he’s impatient and not really in the mood for pictures. Still, he stands with the driver, smiles for the photo I take of them with the driver’s camera. We wait to make sure he actually leaves the garage before we head up to his place.