Sexy Little Sinner

by Kenner, J.

  My second impulse is to punch Leo in his smug, youthful face. Because the man’s more than a decade younger than Pierce, Cayden, and me. Which means he’s right there in Kerrie’s target range. Or, at least, in the range I defined for her.

  And I’m so lost in trying not to show on my face everything that’s going on in my head that I completely miss how he responds. But if his expression is any indication, he’s just as happy to see her.

  Fuck me.

  “Don’t leave us in suspense,” Pierce says, as we all finally settle into our seats. “Are you accepting our offer? Or are you going to move all the way to Austin only to sign on with some lame ass competitor?”

  Leo chuckles. “When you put it like that, I guess I don’t have much of a choice. When can I start?”

  His words raise a chorus of welcomes, from myself included. I may have felt the bite of jealousy looking at him with Kerrie, but the truth is that Leo is a stand-up guy with a good head on his shoulders. He’s competent, has a solid work ethic, and he’s one of the nicest guys I've ever met. He’s going to make one hell of an addition to the team.

  And if there is something brewing between him and Kerrie, well, at least he’s the right age. And didn’t I just tell Kerrie that one of the reasons we couldn’t be together was because she needed to be free to go out with eligible guys? And Leo’s not only eligible, but vetted by me, Cayden, and Pierce.

  That’s a good thing, right?

  I lean back in my chair, my head telling me it’s a very good thing while my heart wants to land a quick, hard punch right in Leo’s gut. That, however, is an urge that will dissipate once I get my shit together and my heart and gut catch up to the truth I already know—that Kerrie will be better off in another man’s arms.

  I swallow a sigh. Why the hell does being reasonable and doing the right thing have to be so goddamn painful?

  “—but Connor’s worked with the senator quite a bit,” Pierce says, and I drag my attention back to the meeting at hand, confirming which of the names on the list are clients I brought in, answering other questions Leo has related to our processes, and generally diving into the business of growing our company.

  “You mentioned that you’re coming to us with an active investigation?” I say, recalling the phone meeting we had last week. Leo was still debating between joining us or accepting an offer with another company in town. But either way, he intended to retain a long-term corporate client.

  Leo nods. “Carrington-Kohl Energy,” he says. “Brody Carrington and I have been friends since high school, and he took over as CEO after his father retired a few years ago. About four months ago, he realized that someone in the company had been stealing proprietary information and selling it. We know who was siphoning off the information,” Leo continues, pulling a file folder out of his briefcase, then passing us each a copy of a thick report. “Unfortunately, he’s dead.”

  “Foul play?” I ask.

  Leo shakes his head. “Suicide. Apparently he had aggressive cancer. He knew he was dying and decided to sell corporate secrets so that his family would have some cash after he was gone. Personally, I think more traditional life insurance would have been a better option. As it is, his family’s got nothing.”

  “So you plugged the leak,” Cayden says. “But you don’t know if he managed to pass the information on to the buyer. Or even who the buyer was.”

  “But we have a suspect,” Leo tells us. “And we’re pretty confident he’s holding onto the information, waiting to sell it to the highest bidder.” He looks at all of us in turn, his expression underscoring the import of what he’s about to say. “Michael Rollins.”

  Pierce whistles, and Cayden mutters a mild curse.

  “Rollins.” I lean back in my chair. “Would be one hell of a coup to catch that man with his hands dirty.” Based two hundred miles away in Dallas, Rollins is a constant fixture in the world of high finance. A man who has a reputation of having a deal with the devil since he always seems to be two steps ahead of the market. An incredible skill if it’s legit. A criminal offense if he’s using spies and other nefarious means to collect pertinent data on competitors and various industrial players like Carrington-Kohl.

  “So far, no one has been able to nail Rollins for playing dirty, but that’s partly because no one in his organization is willing to talk,” Leo says. “I have some friends in the Justice Department, and they’re all panting for him to make a mistake. There’s no solid proof, but they’re all certain that he’s not only dirty, but that he’s dangerous. The kind of man who kills if it suits his needs.”

  “Would be quite a feather in the Blackwell-Lyon cap if we can catch Rollins with his hand in the cookie jar,” Cayden says.

  “And not a bad launch for my career with you guys,” Leo says.

  Pierce chuckles. “That sounds like you have a plan.”

  “I do. I just need a little help.” His eyes cut to Kerrie. “Of the feminine variety.”

  I stiffen, every protective urge in my body flaring. “What do you mean by that?” I ask, unable to keep the possessive tinge out of my voice.

  “My sister went to school with Rollins’ girlfriend, Amy, who’s apparently been trying to lose that particular title for over a year now, but Rollins’ is a possessive, vengeful son-of-a-bitch, and the girl’s scared to leave him. I won’t bore you with the details, but after much back and forth, we came up with a plan. Rollins hosts a lot of house parties, and next weekend should be a doozy, since it’s his yearly extravaganza. For the last month, I’ve been corresponding with Rollins as a high-rolling ex-Pat living in Dubai looking for a risk-free investment. He’s been pitching some bullshit deal to me, and when he heard I was going to be in town with my girlfriend, he invited us to the party.”

  I meet Cayden’s eyes and can see he’s equally impressed. That’s exactly the kind of resourcefulness that Blackwell-Lyon is becoming known for.

  “The plan was that I’d go in with a date, and while Rollins is busy flirting with my lovely companion, Amy and I would infiltrate his system and gather enough proof to take him down. But I’ve hit a snag.”

  “What snag?” Kerrie asks.

  “The woman I usually work with on this kind of job broke her leg in a skiing accident. The job should be an easy in and out—Amy has access to Rollins’ home office and I know you guys can get whatever tech we need—but I can’t risk taking in a partner who’s not completely mobile, just in case.”

  “Makes sense,” Pierce says. “I’m guessing you’re looking at Kerrie as an alternate?”

  “Ah, yeah.” His eyes dart to Kerrie. “You know the score, you’re at least somewhat familiar with the tech, and you’re definitely Rollins’ type. You corner him for a drink, and I’m sure Amy and I will have enough time to get the data.”

  “I thought this guy was dangerous,” I say, my chest constricting.

  “Like I said, this should be an easy in and out.”

  “I can totally handle that,” Kerrie says, shooting me a sharp glance.

  I scowl, but nod. I’m not happy, but I know I won’t win this one.

  “Right. Good.” Leo tugs at his collar, and I actually see a hint of red creep up his neck.

  “What aren’t you telling us?” I ask.

  “Ah, right.” He swallows. “The thing is, Rollins is famous for his parties. Not because they’re extravagant—they are—but because they’re risqué. And when I say that, I’m being polite. I won’t say that we’d be walking onto the set of Eyes Wide Shut, but my, um, partner and I are going to have to be convincing. And play along.”

  His words are like a roar in my head. “Wait a second,” I say, noting Cayden’s amused expression as I try to process this. “You’re saying that it’s a sex party?”

  “Yeah,” Leo says, shooting an apologetic glance toward Kerrie. “That’s exactly what it is.”

  “Hell, no,” I say at the exact same time that Kerrie smiles, flips her hair, and says, “I’m in. Hell, it’ll be an adven
ture.”

  Chapter Five

  An adventure.

  It’s been more than twenty-four hours, and Kerrie’s words still ring in my head … along with the conversation between her and Leo that followed.

  “Were you serious about it being a sex party?”

  “Intrigued or mortified?”

  A blush rose on her cheeks and she actually giggled. “You know me. Always up for a new kind of adventure. At least we’ve been friends for years. That’ll make it easier.”

  “But we have to look like more than friends.” Leo’s smile was warm, not leering or suggestive. Even so, I wanted to punch him in the face.“Wanna grab dinner and a drink soon? We can share our secrets and practice looking like a couple.”

  That’s when she’d shot me a tight little smile. “That sounds just about perfect.”

  Perfect my ass.

  But considering I’m the one slamming on the brakes and pushing her away, I know I can’t say anything. Especially since every rational bone in my body is telling me that she and Leo really would make a solid couple.

  Unfortunately, the boneless parts—like my heart and another major organ to the south—aren’t feeling too rational at the moment.

  That’s okay. I know I’m doing the right thing. The smart thing. Staying with Kerrie might be fun for a while, but the longer we let it go on, the more she’d lose. Better to take our pain now and get on with our lives. Even if that pain, by definition, hurts like hell.

  I know that. I believe it.

  And yet here I am parked outside her tiny South Austin house. Why? Well, that really is the question of the hour. The real answer is that my car pretty much drove itself over here. Which means that I should put the car back in gear, pull away from the curb, head down the street, and leave her alone.

  Instead, I kill the engine and get out of the car, justifying the visit by telling myself that it’s my responsibility to make sure she’s comfortable going undercover. One afternoon pretending to be a model around people who weren’t even remotely dangerous is one thing. Attending a party hosted by Michael Rollins under false pretenses is entirely different. I want to make sure she understands the potential danger. And that she’s prepared for anything that might go down.

  As I head up the drive toward her front porch, my hand goes automatically into my pocket for my keys. Not because I’m in the habit of walking into Kerrie’s place uninvited—that privilege evaporated long ago—but because I still half-think of this place as Cayden’s house. Once a rental property, he’d lived here after his divorce and before he and Gracie got together. It’s a tiny place—just one bedroom and not even five-hundred square feet—but Kerrie jumped all over it when Cayden put it on the market.

  I pull my hand out of my pocket without the key and rap on the front door. Nothing.

  I knock again.

  Still nothing.

  With a frown, I look back over my shoulder to the driveway. Sure enough, her car is right there. Of course, she could have walked down the block to the convenience store on Brodie Lane. Or she could have taken an Uber to go meet her girlfriends at the bars on Rainey Street. It is a Friday night, after all, and since I spent the entire workday in Waco going over the details of an upcoming protection gig with our part-time McLennan County team, I haven’t seen Kerrie since yesterday. No chatter in the break room about her plans. No laughing over a stupid joke while we wait for the Keurig to brew.

  No cringing as she tells me about how she and Leo are going make such a convincing couple while they’re on the Dallas job next weekend.

  Shit.

  I really should just turn around and go home. Because Cayden is right. This woman is my Kryptonite, and under the circumstances I should stay away until I’ve managed to flush her from my system.

  I start to turn, but the lock clicks as I do, and the door opens to reveal Kerrie with her hair piled up under a towel, her skin dewy from what I’m certain was a scalding hot shower. She’s in a pair of fleece shorts that accentuate her well-toned thighs and a white tank top that clings to her breasts, the material thin enough to reveal the outline of her dark brown nipples.

  My entire body clenches, and my mouth goes dry.

  Yeah, I probably should have driven away. Far and fast.

  And yet…

  “Connor?” There’s no mistaking the surprise in her voice. “I thought it was…” She trails off with a wave of her hand and ushers me inside.

  “Sorry,” I say. “I just got back from Waco. I had a few thoughts about next weekend for you to keep in mind while you’re prepping.”

  She studies my face as if she’s looking for signs that I’m bullshitting her. I am—well, partly—but I hide it well. After a moment, she sighs. “This really isn’t a good time. Couldn’t you tell me Monday at the office? Or send me an email?”

  Ouch.

  “I thought—”

  “That you can just pop in like nothing’s changed. Like we’re just friends and all is hunky-dory and peachy-keen?” She glances down, frowns, then crosses her arms over her breasts. “It’s not.”

  “I know that. But next weekend is a new situation for you.”

  “And I’ll have Leo to help me out. He may not have been at Blackwell-Lyon, but he’s been in the business for years. Or, what? Are you saying we just hired a guy who’s not up to your standards?”

  “Come on, Kerrie. Don’t play that game. You know that’s not what I’m saying.”

  For a moment, I think she’s going to argue. Then she turns on her heel and disappears into the bedroom. A moment later she reappears, her damp hair hanging limp around her face, her body wrapped in a fluffy pink robe that’s all-too-familiar to me. I rub my fingers together, the visceral memory of the soft material torturing me.

  “Fine,” she says. “You’re right.” She leans casually against the back of the couch, the robe opening to reveal the hem of the shorts and her thigh. Before, it was just skin. Granted, it was Kerrie’s skin, and therefore exceptional. But now that she’s taken the effort to cover it, this unintended peek seems that much more naughty, especially since I can so easily imagine what her skin feels like under my fingertips.

  Probably not the reaction she’d intended…

  A few more moments pass, then she pushes a lock of hair out of her eyes and sighs. “Look, I know you care about me. I know you worry about me. I know you think that breaking up was the right thing to. I get it. I do. And for a while I was handling it just fine. But things changed at the party, right? We both know that. I mean, weren’t you the one who wasn’t even sure we could be friends? So what are you doing here on a Friday night, Connor? Are you trying to make this harder on me?”

  Her voice is tight with emotion, and for the first time in my life I’m not that chivalrous guy who always tries to do right by a woman. Dammit, my grandma taught me better. “Shit, Kerrie, you’re right. I’m sorry. I swear I wasn’t thinking about anything except making sure you’re well-prepped.”

  “That’s not your job. And this isn’t the time.”

  “This is Michael Rollins we’re talking about.” I say the words, but I’m hating myself as I do. Because even as they’re rolling out in all their efficient, reasonable, truthful-sounding glory, the man I’m really concerned about isn’t the potentially dangerous scumbag of the financial world. No, I’m worrying about the hot-blooded, Italian, former Marine who’s escorting my ex-girlfriend to a sex party.

  When you put it that way…

  “You need to be careful.” My words are stern.

  She cocks her head, her mouth curving into a knowing grin as she asks, “Are we talking Rollins, the situation, or Leo?”

  I want to retort, but considering she’s nailed me, there’s not much to say.

  Kerrie, however, is not similarly stymied. “I never wanted to break up with you. But now you’re making me think that maybe your lame ass decision was the right one. I mean, you must be too old for me, right? Because I swear, you’re acting more like my fath
er than a boyfriend.”

  “I’m not your boyfriend.”

  A muscle in her cheek twitches. “No, you’ve made that clear. You’re not acting like a co-worker, either. A co-worker would call or email or wait until Monday.”

  “Is it a crime for me to still care?”

  “Yes. No. Hell, I don’t know.” She meets my eyes, and I see something that might be sympathy reflected back at me. “Listen, Connor, I know you’re worried, but I’m going to be fine. I’m just a prop, just the girl Leo needs on his arm. You know that as well as I do. Leo’s the one who’ll be doing the heavy lifting, and we both know he’s well-trained. Really,” she adds gently, “I’ll be fine.”

  My heart twists from nothing more than the tone of her voice, and I feel like a heel again. I didn’t come here to remind her that she cares for me or to make it harder on her.

  Which begs the question of why I came at all. Because she’s right. Everything I came to say could easily wait until Monday.

  I’m trying to decide if I should own up and tell her that I was wrong. That we can be friends. More, I want to. Yesterday in the office was a stumbling block, but despite what I said, even though I’ve pushed her out of my bed, I don’t want to push her out of my life.

  That’s what I want to say. But I don’t get the words out because as I’m still playing the tune in my head, she clears her throat, then nudges me with her voice. “Um, listen, can we talk on Monday? Or later this weekend if you think we need to. It’s just that I need to go get ready, so…”

  She trails off with a slight nod toward the door.

  I glance at my watch—almost seven. Kerrie habitually spends her nights at home in PJs and a robe. “You’re going out?”

  “Well, um, yes. Yes. I am. It’s Friday, and I have a date.” She licks her lips. “So if you could go, that would be great. It would be kind of awkward for the two of you to bump into each other, don’t you think?”

  “Who is he?” I tell myself I’m happy she’s dating again. I force myself to believe that the only reason I’m asking the little prick’s identity is so that I can run a quick check on lover boy. For Kerrie’s safety, of course.