by Cynthia Eden
Sex. Pleasure.
He stalked toward her.
She backed up until her shoulders hit the door.
He leaned toward her. Flattened one palm on the wood behind her head. “I like you.”
She more than liked him.
“Connections like this don’t happen all the time.”
Was that a line? It could just be a line, but…
She’d never felt a connection like this. Connection. Attraction. Whatever he wanted to call it.
In her head, she could hear Latonya whispering… “Do bad things with him.” Tess bet bad things would feel incredible with James.
“I’d like to get to know you better, Tess. We can date. Go out for dinner or—”
“I don’t—I don’t have time for that.”
His jaw hardened. “I get it.” He dropped his hand.
She caught his hand. Held tight. “No, you don’t. I truly don’t have time for dates and things like that. My life is crazy.” Hospital shift after shift and— “I don’t have time for a relationship.”
He nodded.
She was holding too tightly to his hand. Mostly because she wanted to hold tight to him.
She was also fibbing, a little. Work was hell, absolutely true, but it was her choice to be in that particular hell. She’d wanted to be an ER doctor. She’d worked hard to become one, busted ass over the years, and now she was living her dream. Yes, the job took up a huge amount of her time, but…
But even without the job, she wouldn’t let a guy get close. Because if she had a relationship, then she’d have to share details of her past with her partner.
She didn’t want to share her past with anyone. Her secrets were hers and hers alone. “I can’t let anyone in.” She let his hand go. She really did suck at lying, so why not just put all the cards on the table? Not like they were going to see each other again. It was kind of freeing to think that she could tell this man anything and not worry about being judged. She was only with him for this moment, so… “I don’t talk about my past with lovers. I don’t share my life. I don’t have much to give. I’m pretty much the worst girlfriend ever because I don’t trust easily.” Understatement. She didn’t trust at all.
He crossed his arms over his chest, cocked his head, and stared at her.
So she kept going. “I won’t introduce boyfriends to my family. I don’t talk to my family. Well, the family that’s left.” A shrug. That family was distant and scattered. They’d never looked for her. She wouldn’t look for them. “I don’t want some long-term commitment because I don’t think about the future. I’m not looking for love or happily ever after. Honestly, I’m just tired of being alone and I’d like to escape for a little while with someone who can make me feel good.”
Oh, crap. Her eyes widened. She’d been on a sharing roll there, and she’d gone overboard and overshared. Tess knew it with certainty. That whole I’m just tired of being alone had sounded desperate to her own ears.
Time to leave. Now. “Good night.” She spun around again.
“I won’t be introducing you to my family, either. There is no family. And if there was, trust me, you wouldn’t want to be around them.”
Her shoulders stiffened.
“I don’t believe in love or happily ever after. It’s just a nice way of explaining really dirty, hot sex.”
Uh, okay.
“I can take you out to fancy dinners, if that’s what you want. But if you want to skip the wining and dining because that’s not your thing, then I want to know what is your thing.”
She risked a glance back at him.
“Because I liked the part about making you feel good.”
Her throat was super dry.
“But I think I can do better than just good. I think I can make you feel pretty damn fantastic, if you give me the chance.”
What was he saying? She licked dry lips. Didn’t turn fully to face him, but her gaze never left his face as Tess asked, “Just what is it that you’re proposing?”
“Sex without strings. I’ve got a clean bill of health, and I’m happy to prove it, and I’ll be sure to take care of the protection.”
“I’m clean, too.” Her words sounded as if they came from far away. “I can prove it, too, but protection—yes, we still need that.” She didn’t take chances. Didn’t take risks. Not ever.
So what am I doing still talking to him?
“I’m not seeing anyone else,” he continued as his stare held hers. “And I won’t be, not while we’re together.”
This was all surreal. They’d just met. She shook her head.
“You won’t, either.” His voice roughened. “If we reach an agreement, it’s just us, until we’re done.”
“This isn’t happening.”
His lips thinned. “Why not? You think two people normally kiss and ignite like that? Because I have to tell you, that was damn unusual for me.”
It was the first time ever for her. But she gave another slow shake of her head. “I don’t…this isn’t me.”
He nodded. Took a step back. His nostrils flared, as if he’d just pulled in her scent. “You change your mind, you know where to find me.”
She yanked open the door. Hurried toward the stairs. Before she’d even reached them, though, Latonya appeared. She was smiling and holding a flute of champagne.
“That was fast for a—” Latonya stopped. Frowned. “You okay?”
“I need to go home.”
Latonya glanced over her shoulder. Tess followed her gaze. James stood in the open doorway, his arms still crossed over his chest, and that hot, golden stare of his on Tess.
“Did he hurt you?’ Latonya took an aggressive step toward him. “Because I will make him—”
Tess grabbed Latonya’s arm. “He didn’t hurt me. I’m just tired. I have a big shift tomorrow, and I have to go home.” Go home because my knees are jelly, and I’m thinking way too much about taking him up on his offer.
Sex without strings.
“I’m coming with you.” Latonya glared at James. “This place is dull anyway.” She made her voice extra loud—deliberately, Tess was sure.
As if on cue, Marilyn appeared. Her champagne flute was empty. “What’s up?”
“We’re doing a pissed walk out,” Latonya muttered as she slammed her flute—and Marilyn’s—down on a nearby table. “Let’s do it like we’re the queens of the universe.”
Wait, no, they didn’t have to act pissed. There was no reason—
Too late. Marilyn was regally leading the way down the stairs, sniffing as if she’d smelled something bad. Latonya nudged Tess forward, and, after one final look at James, Tess moved. But with every step, she swore she could feel his gaze on her.
All too soon, they were outside of the club and on the busy Savannah street. The wind was a bit brisk, and Tess sucked in a bracing breath.
“Bad boys are the worst,” Latonya said as her worried gaze slid over Tess. “I was just kidding earlier. That wasn’t like, advice you were supposed to follow. Those kinds of guys really aren’t for you. They’d chew you up and spit you out.”
Marilyn narrowed her eyes on Tess. “Do I need to go back inside and kick someone’s ass?”
She loved her friends. “No. And I promise, he didn’t do anything bad.”
“Hmmm.” Latonya didn’t look convinced.
He offered. Such a tempting offer.
Latonya and Marilyn hooked their arms with Tess and they all headed down the street. “Bad is over-rated,” Latonya told her. “Speaking from real experience here. You stick with one of those safe, solid doctors at the hospital."
She wasn’t interested in them. They pushed for more than she wanted to give. She didn’t have more to give.
Safety…what was really safe these days?
“You don’t need trouble. You don’t need that guy back there.” Now it was Marilyn talking. “I shouldn’t have pushed you to come here. This isn’t your scene.”
What was her scene?
With every step that she took away from the club, an ache seemed to settle in Tess’s chest. She had the weird, sinking feeling that she’d just lost something. But that was crazy. She hadn’t found anything in that club.
So there had been nothing to lose…
Right?
***
Well, that had sure as fuck been unexpected.
James Smith released a slow breath as he headed into his office on the second floor of the club. The club—hell, the place was just a hobby. A way to pass all of the free time that he suddenly had at his disposal. When he’d acquired the space, he’d decided the place needed an upgrade. He’d exposed some brick, ripped out some walls, and brought in a popular, local band. He’d made sure the staff completed updated training, and bam, suddenly, the club was the place to be.
He normally hated crowds. So for the last two weeks, he’d been watching folks in his club from a distance.
But this hadn’t been a normal night.
She hadn’t been normal.
She’d been wearing jeans. A flowing, black blouse. Her thick, dark hair had been pulled up in a bun, and loose tendrils had escaped to fall artfully around her delicate face.
Delicate. That word seemed to fit her, or at least, it had…as he’d viewed her across the club. He’d felt her gaze on him, had turned to see who was checking him out, and been surprised by the absolute punch he’d felt in his gut.
When he’d seen her, he’d just wanted.
Not normal. Not at all. He normally had much better control. With his, uh, former, line of work, he needed control. A lack of control would screw up a mission. Worse, it would get you killed.
He’d seen her, and he’d wanted to lunge off the barstool. Wanted to head straight toward her, and, before he’d even realized that he’d been moving—James had been on the way to her table.
Then he’d gotten a look into her dark chocolate eyes.
Not fragile. He’d seen a core of steel staring back at him. She’d been direct and blunt and he fucking loved—
“Ahem.” His assistant cleared his throat.
The guy had trailed James into the office. He’d known Barnes was there. Just as he’d known Barnes would give that gruff, ahem, once his patience wore out. Refusing to smile, James glanced his way. “Something I can do for you?”
“I’m assuming you want the standard report?” Barnes asked.
Barnes had actually been with him—on and off—for a year. James had initially tried to ditch the fellow, but Barnes just kept turning up, kinda like a bad penny.
You don’t kill the guy—one time—and he decides to stick to you like glue.
But at the question from his assistant, James hesitated. The standard report. When James became involved with anyone—even on the lightest of levels—he had an investigation conducted. He always had to look for enemies. Betrayals. It was the nature of the beast for him.
When you were a fucking ex-assassin, there were plenty of people out there who wanted to get some serious payback.
While Tess had certainly seemed genuine enough, he couldn’t take chances. But… “Not standard.”
Barnes blinked.
“I want in-depth.” He could still taste her. Still smell her. Vanilla cream. He wanted to lick her all over. James rolled back his shoulders. “I want to know every single thing there is to know about Tess Barrett.”
Barnes took a few quick steps forward. “Is there a problem?”
Yes, I want her too damn badly. But she’d run away. She might not ever come back to him, and that would be a freaking shame.
If she did come back, though…
I made her a promise, and I intend to deliver on my word.
He’d make her feel far, far better than just good. He’d have her screaming.
“Ahem.”
Right. Barnes. He focused on his assistant. Barnes had on his new glasses. Completely, unnecessary glasses that he thought made him look older and more distinguished. His black hair was slicked back from his forehead. His suit was perfectly pressed.
“Is there a problem?” Barnes repeated. For a moment, his ice blue eyes hardened.
It was easy to forget that the guy—barely twenty-one now—had once turned on one of the biggest crime families on the West Coast. Barnes looked different now and that was all part of the fellow’s plan. And the reason for the slicked back, dyed hair. And Clark Kent-like glasses.
Barnes was always afraid that someone else would come after him.
He didn’t have to worry. James had his back.
“No problem,” James responded slowly. “Just…I want to know everything.”
“Why?”
“Because I like her.” And letting her walk away, hell, he couldn’t shake the feeling that when he’d done that, he’d made one of the worst mistakes of his life.
Chapter Two
She shouldn’t be in the club. Tess brushed past the bouncer who barely glanced at her and headed into the thick crowd on the dance floor. She shouldn’t be in his club again. She should be at home but—
She’d lost a patient that day. A sixteen-year-old boy who’d flipped on his ATV. God, she’d tried so hard to save him. He’d died on her table, and his family had been gutted. She’d been gutted. The pain was still knifing through her, and she knew she was supposed to hold it together. Doctors didn’t break down and cry in front of everyone. They kept working. They got the job done.
She’d stayed at the hospital until her shift ended. She’d treated other patients. She’d talked with nurses and hospital administration. She’d done her job even though her insides were ripped and hurting.
But as soon as the shift had ended, she’d run.
To him?
The band blasted. Her hand flew over her cheek, swiping at the wetness there.
Why was she in the club? Why wasn’t she at home, in her rented condo, hiding where no one could see how torn apart she was?
Why—
“Who the hell made you cry?” James stood in front of her. He’d shoved his way through the crowd. “Tell me the name, and he’s dead.”
He is dead. I tried to save him, and I couldn’t. Another tear trickled down her cheek. “I-I changed my mind.”
She needed oblivion. She needed release. She needed—
Him.
Tess stared up at James and his blazing eyes. Now she knew exactly why she was in the club. She’d gone there for him. Because simply being closer to him seemed to ease the ache in her chest. She could breathe again without it hurting.
His hands lifted and curled around her shoulders. “Tell me the name.”
He thought someone had hurt her. She got that, and his protectiveness warmed her even more. Though he'd obviously been kidding when he said if she told him the name, the guy was dead. “It was…a bad day at work.” Understatement. Major, major understatement.
His eyes narrowed as he searched her face. Then James gave a jerky nod. “You want a drink?”
Someone bumped into her from behind. James growled and pulled her closer, sheltering her in his arms. It was nice to be there, surrounded by him. More of the cold faded. “No drink.” Tess tilted her head back. “I came for you.”
His gaze drank her in. “Not yet, you haven’t. But you will.”
He—oh. Got it.
“Let’s get out of here,” he told her.
Away from the crowd and music? Sounded wonderful.
“Be sure,” he rumbled.
She was sure. She’d run to him. But Tess licked her lips and asked, “The deal we agreed on before?” Her voice was soft.
He heard her, though. She knew it.
Sex without strings.
James nodded.
“I’m sure.”
Then they were heading for the exit. People got out of his way as he kept her tucked against his side. She was warm and safe because she was with him. Her feelings didn’t make any sense, she knew that, but in that moment, Tess didn’t care.
When she’d
been hurting, she’d thought of James.
She was going to do this. Going to let go and see what happened. One night. What could it possibly hurt?
The bouncer held the door as they hurried outside. A long, black limo waited at the curb. She’d vaguely been aware of it when she’d rushed into the club, but now it came into sharp focus as James steered her toward it.
“Wait—it’s yours?”
The driver had gotten out. He hurried to open the back door.
“Something new I collected.” James murmured. “That’s what I do. I collect things.”
That was interesting. “What sort of things?”
“Everything.”
She ducked inside the limo. The seats were made of leather, soft illumination filled the interior of the vehicle—coming from faint lights that had been strategically placed in the back—and champagne was chilling nearby. A lump rose in her throat. “You were expecting someone.” Someone who isn’t me.
He slid in behind her. The driver shut the door. James eased closer to her, and his hand brushed over hers. “Yes.”
This was awkward. And some of her delicious warmth faded. “You were going to hook up with some random chick tonight?” Anger—jealousy—twisted in her stomach.
James gave a low laugh. A sexy rumble of sound. “There is nothing random about you.”
Wait—he…crap. I’m the random chick?
Her gaze faltered. She couldn’t meet his stare as her eyes darted to the champagne. The driver was cranking the limo, and she had the fast and frantic urge to lunge out of the vehicle before it started to move down the road.
James caught her hand in his. Threaded his fingers with hers. “I hoped you’d come back. I wanted to be ready if you did. If you didn’t show tonight, then I just would’ve had the limo waiting tomorrow. I would have kept it waiting, for you.”
Her head turned toward him. “Is this a line? I have a really hard time telling if what you say is the truth or a lie.”
“Most people have a hard time deciding if I’m lying or not.” He shrugged.
“That wasn’t an answer.” The car was moving. Her chance to jump out had passed.