Forbidden Attraction: A Contemporary Romance Box Set

by K. C. Crowne

  “If you walk out of this room,” Kepler threatened, “we’ll take our business elsewhere.”

  “That’s your prerogative,” I agreed with a nod. “If you think there’s a firm that will do as well for you as Clark Industries has, I wish you luck finding them.” I knew perfectly well there wasn’t. Ours was the best firm in the country, certainly on the eastern seaboard. Kepler wouldn’t be able to find anyone else. He was all talk.

  I left the conference room and hurried to my office, but I didn’t turn on the light. I was developing a bit of a headache, probably from the stress and worry of the past few days. I thought I might lay down on the couch for a few minutes and see if I could relax a bit.

  I stomped to my couch and found somebody already lying on it. “Eric?” I stared. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  He squinted up at me. “Turn off the lights.”

  “The lights are off. What are you doing in my office?”

  “Fuck, stop yelling, I can’t...shit.” He pressed his hands over his face. “Is my dad out there?”

  “Is your dad out there? In my office? Of course not.” I put my hands on my hips, feeling a little like a scolding mother. “Eric, are you high?”

  “Shut up, will you? People will hear you.”

  “God, Eric. There’s nobody here. And you can’t get high and come to my office. What the hell are you thinking?”

  “Just let me take a nap,” he begged, as if I were being completely unreasonable.

  “Get up,” I growled, nudging him. When he ignored me, I asked, “Why did you come here?”

  He mumbled under his breath, almost as if he was embarrassed. “I need to borrow some money.”

  I closed my eyes. “I’m not helping you buy drugs, Eric.”

  “No, that’s not why, I don’t want—”

  “Okay,” I said. “Yeah, I think you should take a nap. Why don’t you crash on my couch, and I’ll take you home in a few hours.”

  Eric flung his head back against the cushion dramatically, as if to tell me I was the biggest drain on his life imaginable. As if he hadn’t just been asking to take a nap a few seconds ago. I did my best to ignore the theatrics. At least he wasn’t the type to get angry or hostile when he was high, just kind of pouty and paranoid. I could deal with paranoia. As for pouting—well, I did have a preteen daughter.

  Of course, she’d never given me a hard time. Maybe I was just getting my due.

  I went to the water cooler to get Eric some water, and by the time I returned he was sawing logs. That snore would make it hard to get anything done. I probably wouldn’t get anything done today anyway—I was too worried about Jenna to focus.

  And this whole incident raised another question. What the hell was I going to do about Eric? Not just today, but in the long run?

  I couldn’t ignore the fact that he had a drug problem when faced with all this evidence. Getting high in the middle of the day, coming into my place of work and passing out on my couch, asking for money. And where would he have gone if he hadn’t come to me? Who would he have asked for help? A friend who fed his habit? His dealer? Or maybe he didn’t have a safe place to go at all.

  I wanted to get him in rehab. That was the answer. I didn’t think I’d rest easy unless I knew someone was watching him at all hours, making sure he got the drugs out of his system and didn’t get into trouble. But would a rehab center even take him? As far as I was aware, there were two ways to get into rehab—being ordered by a judge to go or voluntarily admitting oneself. Eric might be in trouble, but he wasn’t on trial, and I couldn’t see him checking himself in voluntarily. He won’t get sober until he decides he wants to.

  Of course, I did have a fair bit of money I could throw at the problem. Maybe if I offered to make a big donation to a rehab facility, they’d take him. If I could get him in and they could get him sober, we could go from there…

  No, it wouldn’t work. Even if I could persuade a facility to take him against his will, they’d have to let him out eventually. And as soon as they did, I was pretty sure he’d go right back to the drugs.

  I had to talk to him. That was the only way. I would have to convince him that he needed help. If I could make him see what he was doing to his life, maybe he’d be willing to make a change.

  I went to his side and set the cup of water down on a little table, pushing it close to him. “There’s water here, Eric,” I murmured, resting a hand on his arm, not sure how deeply asleep he was. “You should try to drink some of it, if you can.”

  He didn’t reach for the water, but he did roll onto his side, mumbling a little. And as he moved, something slipped out of his shirt pocket and onto the ground. A navy blue business card.

  I bent to pick it up, my heart hammering before I even touched the thing. I didn’t need to look. I understood exactly what it was the moment I saw it. But I had to be sure. Because it couldn’t be. Eric—my best friend Eric—couldn’t possibly have this card.

  But he did.

  I flipped it over and saw the sheen of the now familiar initials. LM.

  What did this mean? Was Eric being threatened? Had he been marked somehow, the way Jenna had, targeted as a way of intimidating me?

  Or was the truth something more sinister?

  I had to know. Never mind the fact that he was high and needed to sleep. Never mind the fact that I’d been worried about him just a minute earlier. I shook him roughly. “Eric. Wake up.”

  He jerked awake, swatting at his face as if he was being attacked by gnats.

  “Sit up,” I snapped, but I didn’t wait for him to comply. I jerked him into an upright position and held the card in front of his face. “What the hell is this?”

  He squinted, trying to focus. “What...what’s what?”

  “This card.” I slapped it down against the table, causing his water to spill. I was surprised at my own sudden rage, but just looking at that card brought back memories of the burly man sitting in a bar threatening my daughter and Jenna. “What the fuck is this, Eric? Who gave this to you?”

  “Man, what are you talking about?” Eric mumbled, squinting up at me. “Why are you yelling? I thought you were going to let me sleep.”

  “You’re fucking sauced. And God only knows what else you’re on. I can’t believe you thought it was appropriate to come here.” I couldn’t believe I was going to let him stay. I couldn’t believe that a minute and a half ago I was worried about how I was going to help him. He was carrying LM’s card, and now he was dodging my questions. That was enough to convince me something shady was going on. I pointed towards the door and snapped, “Get out of my office.”

  “Dude—” He stared around the room, confused.

  “Out!”

  Eric continued to stare at me, so I grabbed him by his collar, dragged him to the door, and tossed him out. He didn’t resist; he was weak and pliant, and his muscles were probably atrophied from all the drug use. What a fucking mess.

  “Make sure he leaves or have security escort him out,” I told my secretary.

  I shut the door behind him, locked it, and returned to my desk, picking up the card along the way. It was time to get help with this. Whatever was going on, whoever LM was and whatever he wanted, I was ready to admit that I was in over my head.

  I picked up the phone. My finger hovered over the call button for the police station—

  But I couldn’t press it. What if Eric was working with LM? A guy like Eric, a guy with an addiction, would be really easy to control. LM could get him to do whatever he wanted. Even bug my office.

  Calling the police might not be safe. Slowly, I returned the phone to the cradle. But there was another call I might be able to make without tipping my hand too far. I picked up the phone again and dialed a number.

  “Hello?” a gruff voice answered.

  “Paul? It’s Noah. Noah Clark.”

  “Haven’t heard from you in a while.”

  He hadn’t heard from me in two years, actually. Paul was a
private investigator. After my wife’s death, I’d unwisely asked him to investigate the doctor assigned to her care, to see whether I could blame my loss on the man. It turned out to be a dead end, and I regretted it afterward. That poor doctor had done everything he could. But I’d been looking for someone to hold accountable since I couldn’t fight a disease.

  “I’ve got another job for you,” I said. “If you’re available.”

  “Well, sure,” Paul answered. “You paid well. Who’s the target?”

  “Jenna Robertson and Eric Butler.”

  “We looking for anything in particular?”

  “Just patterns of behavior. Activities.” I didn’t dare mention LM. That might trigger suspicion if anyone was listening. But if LM was meeting with Eric, or if he was habitually around Jenna, Paul would likely notice.

  “You worried these two are having an affair?” Paul asked.

  “What? No,” I scoffed.

  “Gotta ask. Most of the jobs I get, they’re something like that.”

  “No, I don’t think they’re having an affair. But I wouldn’t mind knowing who they see. And who sees them.”

  “You got it,” Paul agreed. “I’ll get back to you in a few days with preliminary findings.”

  I hung up the phone, my heart sinking like a stone. A few days? I was running out of time. Could Eric have been behind the attack on Jenna’s apartment?

  Was the woman I might have feelings for be in danger from the man I considered my best friend?

  Chapter 22

  Jenna

  I woke up on Tuesday morning to find that a large sum of money had been digitally transferred into my PayPal account.

  Grandma Susie’s inheritance. I knew there was money included with the studio, but I hadn’t realized how much. I felt a shiver of anticipation come over me. I had expected, somehow, that I would have to go another nine rounds with my mother before the money would be released to me, but she’d clearly decided to go ahead and give me what my grandmother had promised. I could only assume it meant she would be handing over the deed to the apartment as well. Finally, my career as a designer would be able to flourish!

  All I needed was a steady client base, and now that I had the funds, I could properly advertise my business. I could buy Facebook ads, maybe even a TV spot. But it was hard to think about putting my attention on anything but the recent break in.

  And Noah. He never seemed to have any trouble capturing my imagination.

  I dressed quickly and made up the guest room bed, then headed downstairs. So far, Noah and I had been successful at sticking to our own spaces, but it had been hard. I was always hyper aware of his presence in the house, almost as if I could sense him. I was attuned to him. The sounds he made were louder than anything else, and he seemed to be the brightest thing in any room.

  He was in the kitchen when I got downstairs, making omelets at the stove. Tess sat at the counter. Her face split into a grin when she saw me. Good morning! she signed.

  Good morning. My own signing was getting better, although I was still far from fluent. I was barely conversational. Dad make food?

  She showed me a sign and then finger-spelled e-g-g-s.

  Eggs, I signed back, and Tess signed great!

  Noah turned around. “What are you two chattering about?”

  “Tess taught me how to sign eggs,” I told him. Then, because I had learned how rude it was to talk in front of a deaf person without trying to communicate, I added, Tess me sign eggs.

  “Very good,” Noah grinned.

  I sat down at the counter. “So, my inheritance money just came in.”

  Noah had taken over signing, setting the spoon down briefly. “Really?” he said. “We should go out shopping.”

  “Shopping?” I blinked. I hadn’t thought of that. “I can’t. I need to use the money on advertising and supplies, things to grow my business.”

  “Oh, come on,” he scoffed. “Life can’t always be about business. You have to have some fun sometimes. You’ve had a lot to deal with lately and you deserve a break. Besides, you’ve been wearing the same three outfits over and over.”

  I looked down. “What’s wrong with my clothes?”

  “Nothing’s wrong with them except you’re going to break my washing machine if you keep using it every other day,” he said with a grin that told me he was teasing. “But wouldn’t it be nice to have a little more variety? Wouldn’t it be nice to not have to do laundry every day?”

  Tess signed something at us. “No,” Noah says, signing back. “Adult shopping trip.”

  “She wants to come?” I asked.

  “Yeah, but she’d rather go into the suburbs and hit the mall,” Noah said with a grimace. “We’ll do that later this week. I want to take you to the Manhattan department stores.”

  “I can’t afford to shop there,” I said automatically, but I realized that wasn’t true anymore. Thanks to my new inheritance, I actually could afford a little splurge. And maybe Noah was right. Maybe I did need to get away from my intense focus on my business and spend a little time and energy on myself, especially after all that had happened.

  The conversation was interrupted by the arrival of a plate of eggs in front of me. Noah joined us at the counter, and because our hands were occupied with eating, we finished our breakfast in silence. I had grown used to quiet meals since I’d been staying with Noah and Tess. We ate our dinners together slowly, taking the time to stop and talk between bites, but at breakfast and lunch we ate quickly and said little.

  After the dishes were cleared, Tess grabbed her backpack and Noah grabbed his keys. We rode the elevator to the ground floor and waited with Tess until the school bus picked her up. She kissed her dad on the cheek before climbing aboard, then Noah gestured for me to follow him to a Town Car that had just pulled up.

  “I figured I’d call a car today so we didn’t have to worry about finding parking in the city,” he said as we slid into the backseat of the sleek black car. “Any word on the apartment?” Noah asked, pulling my mind away from my new windfall.

  “Nothing yet,” I said. “They said they were going back in today. Apparently they’re bringing some kind of special investigative team along this time. Do you think that’s normal?”

  “Doubt it,” Noah said. “They wouldn’t call it a special team if it was.”

  “Good point.”

  “Well, that’s encouraging, isn’t it?” Noah asked. “They’re giving the case the attention it deserves. Maybe they’ll find something.”

  “I don’t know,” I mused. “I feel like it means they’re having trouble finding anything. And that freaks me out.” I leaned my head against the car window. “I hope they’re investigating Josh.”

  “You still think he was involved?”

  “I think it’s too likely that he was to ignore,” I said. “And if I’m being honest, I’d much rather think of this as a petty crime committed by a guy who was bitter because I wouldn’t sleep with him. If it was Josh, he’s had his little revenge and is done. But if it was somebody else, who knows?”

  Noah was quiet. He gazed out the window, and I wondered what he was thinking. He had posed the original theory that the person in my apartment might not have been Josh. Did he regret bringing that up? Or was he trying to figure out how to convince me that he’d been right?

  And what about that special investigative team? What were they really hoping to find that the regular police hadn’t? This wasn’t a missing person investigation. The stakes weren’t that high, surely. It was just a question of vandalism. It was some idiot—if not Josh then a random idiot—looking to cause mayhem and chaos.

  Wasn’t it?

  Or was there really something to be afraid of here?

  If they were bringing in a special team, it was because they needed the extra help. It was because the case was more serious than they’d realized at first.

  Suddenly I was very glad Noah had insisted we go shopping today. The idea of sitting trapped in my ow
n thoughts was agonizing. I needed to do something fun, to forget the insanity in my life.

  The cab pulled up in front of a beautiful white stone building. “We’re here,” Noah announced.

  “Bergdorf’s?” I knew the place, of course, having lived in New York all my life, but this definitely wasn’t the kind of store I usually shopped in, now that I no longer lived off my parents’ income. Too upscale. Too pricey. “I don’t know about this.”

  Even though I hesitated, I very badly wanted to go in and experience what it would be like to shop at such a fancy store as an adult. My mother had taken me there when I was little, but that hadn’t been fun. She’d always had very specific ideas about the kinds of outfits I should wear, and we hadn’t seen eye to eye. It had been a relief when I’d gotten old enough to start doing my own shopping.

  “Come on,” Noah said. “It’ll be fun. I’m sure we’ll be able to find something you like.”

  I got out of the car and followed him into the building. Inside, soft jazz played, and the air smelled like rose and jasmine. “This way to the women’s department,” Noah said, taking me by the hand after pointing at a sign. His skin against mine was enough to make me forget all about my worries.

  I shook my head, trying to clear it. I wasn’t going to let myself get carried away by thoughts of Noah and the things I wished would happen between us.

  I didn’t wish those things would happen.

  I wanted those things not to happen.

  Sure you do. Sure that’s what you want. You’re definitely not thinking about how cute his butt looks in those pants. You’re definitely not remembering what it felt like when he picked you up, how strong he is, how capable of holding you.

  Okay, so maybe I was thinking about those things a little bit.

  We had arrived in the women’s section, and Noah released my hand, to my slight dismay. “I don’t know anything about shopping for women,” he admitted. “You’ll have to take the lead here.”