Felony Romance Series: Complete Box Set (Books 1-5)

by Jeana E. Mann

  When Chelsea returned, he lingered, unwilling to leave, but she walked him to the door, looking more rested, a little color in her cheeks. Myriad expressions flitted across her face as they stood staring at each other. He felt exhilarated, overwhelmed, and hopeful for the first time in a long, long while.

  “I’ll call my attorney to get things rolling,” he said. Chelsea nodded but didn’t look at him. “I’d like to come by again if that’s okay.”

  “We’ll see,” she said, her tone flat. When he reached the stairs, she called after him. “It’s Layla.”

  “What?” Uncertain, he turned and lifted an eyebrow.

  “Her name is Layla.”

  A smile spread across his face until the muscles of his cheeks ached from the strain. One corner of Chelsea’s mouth lifted in reluctant reply. He clung to the small seed of hope with both hands, knowing how fragile it was, desperate to protect it. It wasn’t much, but it was a beginning.

  CHAPTER 18

  AFTERNOON TRAFFIC sucked. Lauren groaned and banged a hand on the steering wheel of her Jeep as she sat through a second stoplight without moving. With her thoughts usurped by Elijah, she’d forgotten the summer festival going on in the city. Cars and pedestrians clogged the streets. Detours took her away from her normal route. She glanced at her watch. Twenty-five minutes late and counting. At this rate she’d never make it to work.

  “I’m stuck in traffic,” she told Pilar on the phone. “I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s okay. I’ll see you when you get here,” Pilar said. “Come to my office. We need to talk.”

  Even though she’d never been late to work before, panic tensed her shoulders. The detached tone of Pilar’s voice summoned an eerie sense of foreboding. The feeling followed her into the hospital and grew as the elevator lights ticked off the floors. She bit her lower lip in worry, her empty stomach churning and palms sweating at the sight of Pilar’s office door in front of her. By the time she sat down in the chair across from Pilar’s desk, her hands shook. She clasped them in her lap and waited an eternity for her supervisor to speak. What the woman had to say turned Lauren’s world upside down.

  “The Millers are threatening the hospital with a wrongful death lawsuit,” Pilar began.

  Lauren’s stomach plummeted to her feet, knowing where the conversation headed before it got there. “But you said yourself there was nothing more we could do.”. Her heart squeezed, feeling the pain of the Miller family’s loss resurface.

  “It’s unfortunate,” Pilar said, a tight smile on her lips. “The Millers are huge contributors to the hospital. They’re hurting and looking for someone to blame. I’m sure it’ll all be cleared up before anything formal is done. Of course, the hospital will conduct a thorough investigation in an effort to minimize any financial or public repercussions. Until then, I want you to take some time off.”

  Astonishment stole her words for the space of an entire minute. The walls of her throat tightened until she could barely breathe. Pilar called it a vacation. She saw it for what it was—a peace offering to the Millers. She blinked back tears, determined to keep her composure. “I don’t want to take time off,” she said, forcing down the stomach acid rising in her throat.

  “I insist.” Pilar’s tone left no room for refusal.

  “Are you saying I’m the one under investigation?”

  “No. I’m saying it’s in everyone’s best interest if you lay low for a few days. You’ve been working nonstop. Take some time, visit the beach, and reboot.” Pilar patted her hand, but instead of offering comfort, it felt like a slap. “You graduated with honors, and you’ve been an exemplary employee. I’m sure this will blow over in no time, and I’ll make every effort to keep this out of your file.” The legs of her chair scraped over the linoleum when she stood, signaling the end of the conversation. “Now, you’ll need to head down to Human Resources. The investigative panel will want your statement.”

  Four hours later, she sat in the refuge of her Jeep, too stunned and emotionally exhausted to leave the parking garage. Although the tone of the inquiry had been informal, the questions had dropped blame in her lap. She’d replayed the incident in her head a hundred times, scouring every second for wrongdoing on her part, and came up with nothing.

  After the birth, she’d bathed the tiny lifeless body with tender care. Through a haze of unshed tears, she’d wrapped the little boy in a blanket and returned him to his parents so they could greet him and say goodbye. She’d called in a grief counselor and watched the couple break down when someone took the child away for the last time. She’d done everything right and had followed the doctor’s instructions to the letter. It was all she could do, and still it hadn’t been enough.

  The thought of sitting in her house for a week made her want to implode. Perhaps she needed to follow Pilar’s advice and take a few days to clear her head. A small pinpoint of light beckoned from the darkness of her day. Before she could second-guess her impulse, she grabbed her phone and tapped out a quick text to Elijah.

  I changed my mind. How soon can we leave?

  CHAPTER 19

  THE HOUSE was a rambling three-story with floor-to-ceiling glass windows and unfettered views of the water from every room. Rolling ocean waves, the cries of seagulls, and the plaintive plink of wind chimes created a Zen-like atmosphere. While Lauren went from room to room of the first floor, drinking in the muted cream and white decor, Elijah carried in the luggage. She met him in the expansive living room, feeling as if she’d been transported to someone else’s life.

  “You like?” he asked.

  An air of estrangement hovered around them. The trip came about so quickly she’d barely had time to process it. The last few hours blurred together in a haze of airports, limos, and airplanes. Elijah had answered her text almost immediately and whisked her away before she could fully grasp the weight of what she’d done. In the center of his beach house, reality struck her like a hammer. She was hundreds of miles from home and alone with a guy she barely knew.

  “It’s breathtaking,” she replied, swallowing back the doubt. “I’m surprised you don’t live here permanently.”

  “I’ve only been here once or twice. My financial adviser thought it was a good investment.” He shrugged and turned in a slow circle, looking at the place as if seeing it for the first time. “It’s a little solitary for my taste.”

  She studied him, struck by the note of sadness in his voice. He seemed so lonely, so removed from reality. A quick glance about the room showed no photos, no random items, nothing out of place. Impersonal. Despite the warm, whitewashed wood and cozy furnishings, it could be a scene from any posh resort or hotel.

  “How about a tour then?” she asked, and wiped her sweating palms over her thighs.

  The somber expression lifted from his face, and his eyes lit like a little boy showing off his new toy. He threaded his fingers through hers and walked backward, tugging her with him.

  “Well, then,” he said. “This is the living room.” Without loosening his grip on her hand, he uncovered a panel in the wall, pressed a button, and watched her expression as the glass walls slid open. The sound of crashing waves and the scent of saltwater rushed into the room, carried on the wings of a soft breeze. Beyond the deck was an infinity pool and steps curving down to the beach.

  He pulled her through the rest of the house. She exclaimed over the beauty of the architecture and the tasteful decor. His enthusiasm grew as they passed through each room. The boyish delight in her praise tugged at her heart.

  “And this is the master bedroom,” he said when they reached the third story.

  The stairs opened into a suite encompassing the entire floor. An enormous king-size bed sat in the center of the room facing the ocean, decked out in sumptuous white furs, velvet throws, and fluffy pillows. She ran a hand over the intricately carved headboard and trailed fingertips over the gauzy curtains screening the sides. Elijah opened the wall of windows to let the outside in, as he had downstairs. />
  A second case of nerves twisted her stomach. She cast a sideways glance at Elijah, who’d stopped to take in her reaction. The smile slid from his face and his brow furrowed. A bed like this suggested wanton and licentious sex, something she had little experience in. How many others had been here before her? Did it even matter? She’d entered this trip fully aware of his history with women. For some reason, the thought of his hands on someone else bothered her more than she wanted to admit.

  Elijah crossed his arms over his chest. “I thought you could sleep in here,” he said. The tone of his voice gave nothing away. “I’ll sleep in the room downstairs.”

  She turned to face him, unable to hide the surprise on her face. Or was it disappointment that constricted her chest? She couldn’t be sure. He stood there, one shoulder leaning against the doorjamb, a two-day scruff on his jaw. With his shirt unbuttoned and the toned, tanned expanse of his torso on display, she decided disappointment won the battle.

  “I couldn’t do that,” she said and turned back to the wall of windows. She gazed out across the water. “This is your room. I’m happy to sleep downstairs.”

  “Oh, no.” His voice whispered into her ear, and a small tremor of delight shivered down her back. One of his arms slid around her waist and pulled her back to his chest. He felt warm, solid, and real. “You’ll stay here. It’s what I want. And if you should decide to invite me into your bed, well…” The curve of his smile brushed her ear. “That’s a whole other thing.”

  When she was settled in, she took a long soak in the claw-foot tub then ventured downstairs to find Elijah. He was on the phone, pacing the expanse of the pool deck, gesturing with his free hand. She stopped short in the living room to admire the view. He wore an unstructured white linen shirt, open to the waist, and matching drawstring pants. They hung indecently low on his hips, revealing the sexy V-cut of muscle that had her pulse racing. The ocean behind him looked good, too.

  “I don’t care, Gabe,” Elijah said. Disapproval sharpened his tone. “That’s what I pay you for. Figure it out.” He turned and caught sight of her. A genuine smile transformed his face as he took her in from head to toe. He disconnected the call without comment.

  She’d chosen to wear a tank top and a long, flowing skirt in muted taupe. With her hair flowing over her shoulders and chunky wood bracelets around her wrist, the outfit gave her a Bohemian flair. The breeze swirled the gauzy skirt around her legs, revealing the thigh-high slits on each side. Elijah let out a low whistle.

  “Damn,” he said. Two long strides brought him into the room in front of her. “I just want to eat you up.”

  On cue, her stomach growled. They laughed, and a little of the awkwardness between them disappeared. Elijah ran his hands up the length of her arms from elbow to shoulder. The callouses on his fingertips skimmed over her skin. He leaned forward and nuzzled his nose in her ear.

  “But maybe we’ll have supper first.” His lips tugged on her earlobe before he stepped back. “I hope you don’t mind, but I invited a few friends over.”

  “Of course not,” she lied. The thought of sharing him and this idyllic place with anyone else left her disappointed, but she put on a smile.

  The kitchen was stocked with food. After a quick inventory, Elijah announced the menu of steaks on the grill. Although Lauren’s cooking skills were minimal, she volunteered to make a salad and bake potatoes. They worked side by side in the kitchen, pausing occasionally to admire the seaside vista over sprawling granite countertops and to feed each other bites of chopped veggies. Conversation flowed easily between them. He had a great sense of humor and had her laughing nonstop with his playful antics.

  When everything had been prepared and the steaks were marinating, Elijah cornered her against the counter, trapping her between his braced arms. She drew in a sharp breath as he slid his nose down the length of hers. They didn’t speak but stood in silence, with her enjoying the heat and brush of her body against his. When his hands slid around her waist and down to cup her bottom, her stomach did a tiny flip. He lifted her up and set her on the counter, nestling himself between her legs.

  Their lips met in a slow kiss. She tangled her fingers in his hair, rewarded by his throaty moan. He tasted of salt and smelled of fresh air and soap. The pressure of his hips against hers sent a tide of longing through her. He angled his head to take her mouth deeper, their tongues tangling in a sensuous dance. A tiny whimper of delight escaped her.

  Someone cleared his throat, and Elijah pulled back, leaving her bereft. His mouth quirked in a slow, cocky grin. Still breathing hard, she slid from the counter and peered around Elijah to meet his guests.

  “Tasha!” Lauren threw her arms in the air and leaped forward to pull her cousin into a hug. Even though they lived in the same city, they rarely saw each other, and when they did, it was a true treat for Lauren.

  “Hey, bitch,” Tasha said as they broke apart. She looked good, better and happier than Lauren had ever seen her. Gone was the heavy Goth makeup and black nail polish. Except for Tasha’s colorful tattoos and Lauren’s violet eyes, they could be sisters. They shared the same brown hair and delicate features. “I can’t believe you’re here.” The hint of disapproval in Tasha’s tone sent her back a step.

  “Me neither,” Lauren said, searching Tasha’s face but finding no answer for her censure.

  “Dude.” Luke’s smooth voice distracted Lauren from thought as he reached to shake hands with Elijah.

  “Fucker,” Elijah replied. Both men grinned and clapped each other on the back.

  “I didn’t realize you guys were in Malibu,” Lauren said.

  “Yeah, we’re staying at the house next door,” Luke said. He wasn’t as tall as Elijah, but just as handsome in his own way. They’d only met once before, but Lauren approved of the way his eyes lit up when he looked at Tasha.

  “Elijah owns both houses,” Tasha said. “I don’t suppose he told you that.”

  “No. He didn’t. But he seems to be full of surprises,” Lauren said. Her gaze went to Elijah. He was watching Luke with an enigmatic expression that knotted her gut. Sensing her scrutiny, his eyes flickered to hers. His slow, secret smile erased her uneasiness, replacing it with anticipation of the night and days before them.

  “The house next door is nice, but this is amazing,” Tasha said. Her hazel eyes took in the open vista in front of them. “Show me around, would you, Lauren?” Lauren recognized this as girl code for we need to talk.

  “The men are going outside to cook meat and burn shit,” Elijah said.

  “Yeah. Fire and raw meat. What’s not to love about that?” Luke said. The pair gamboled outside like a couple of boys, laughing and hurling good-natured insults.

  “Are they always like that?” Lauren asked as she led Tasha into the living room.

  “Pretty much,” she replied. “They’re annoying when they’re together. It’s like grade school all over again.”

  Lauren studied Tasha’s reaction to the house. She stopped in the center of the living room and sucked in an awed breath. Her eyes traveled over the vaulted ceiling, the panoramic view, and came to rest on the white grand piano off to one side. She trailed her fingers over the keys. Discordant notes hung on the silence.

  “Sometimes I forget he’s mega rich,” Tasha said. “And then I see things like this, and it reminds me that he’s not like us.” She turned to Lauren and smiled apologetically. “I mean, you’re mega rich, but you’re normal.”

  “Thanks.” Lauren lifted an eyebrow. “I think.”

  “Does he know?” Tasha kept her back to Lauren, touching random things as she explored the space. “About the money and your family?”

  “No. I haven’t told him,” Lauren said. “We haven’t gotten around to that conversation.”

  “Are you going to tell him?” Tasha asked. She had come to a stop in front of a pastel watercolor painting hanging over the fireplace and studied it with arms crossed over her chest.

  “I don’t know.” L
auren rubbed the tension between her brows with two fingers. “Why would I?” She sighed and crossed her arms over her chest, mirroring Tasha’s stance.

  “No reason. I just didn’t want to give anything away if he doesn’t know.” An awkward beat passed. “What are you doing here, anyway?” Tasha turned to face her, disapproval plain on her features. “It was only supposed to be one date. A fling. Your words, not mine.”

  “Well, I’m still flinging,” Lauren replied. Tasha’s eyes crinkled at the corners, and her frown dissipated. “Besides, you said he was a nice guy. Are you trying to backtrack now?”

  “No. Not exactly.” Tasha pushed past Lauren and up the stairs. They wove in and out of the three guest rooms, opening dresser drawers and closet doors. Most were empty. One held a collection of guitars, an elaborate drum kit, and various other instruments. Some held odd bits of clothing probably left over from previous visitors. Tasha pulled a lacy thong from one of the drawers and dangled it in the air from a forefinger. She cocked an eyebrow at Lauren. “But this? This is what I’m talking about.”

  “So, you begged me to go out with him, and now you’re telling me it was a mistake?” She snatched the thong from Tasha’s finger and threw it into the drawer, closing it with a bang.

  “I’m saying that one date does not a mistake make,” Tasha said, smirking at her clever rhyme and earning an amused roll of Lauren’s eyes. “But a trip to Malibu is a whole other thing.”

  “That’s not fair. You can’t lay a rock star at my feet then snatch him away when things start to get interesting.” Lauren scowled at Tasha. A difference of opinion wasn’t new to them, but usually Lauren was the one lecturing Tasha about her impulsive behavior and not the other way around.

  “Okay. My bad. I just feel really protective of you both, and there are things you don’t know about Elijah.” Her gaze drifted to the open patio, where Luke and Elijah’s laughter could be heard over the crash of the tide. “He’s got a dark side.”