Unlaced

by Jaci Burton

  “I feel like the cheerleader who gets protected by the whole football team,” she ventured. “Not sure whether to feel offended or just amused.”

  She couldn’t deny the gratification she felt at Matt’s smile, though. “We are unapologetically male, Cassandra. I look forward to seeing you bust Lucas’s balls regularly. He needs it. Arrogance is an unfortunate trait.”

  “Really?” She arched a brow. “It’s so fortunate, then, that the rest of you don’t goad him by example.”

  A feminine chuckle showed Savannah in the doorway. “Truer words,” she said lightly.

  It was like a family gathering, one that made the low-level yearning simmering in her gut expand to a more painful size. This sense of belonging wasn’t for her. She couldn’t keep it.

  “I need to go,” she said abruptly. When she noted her briefcase was next to Matt, he beat her to it, but simply handed it to her. Though his smile had given her a rewarding sense of pleasure, his quiet and shrewd expression now was something she avoided. She cleared her throat, drew herself up, and swept a glance over all of them, lingering on none. She didn’t turn to face Lucas yet, still a weighted presence behind her.

  “I . . . this has been a profound experience, for certain, but obviously my work is done here. The remaining paperwork can be tied up via fax and e-mail. Thank you, Mr. Kensington. Mr. Johnson will be very pleased.”

  She nodded blindly to the men, moving through them, hoping none would shift to stop her, somehow wishing they would. A corset was no protection against these kind of forces. In fact, it was a damn liability.

  When she reached Savannah, the woman’s expression, like her husband’s, held a knowledge that terrified Cass.

  “I know just how you feel,” Matt’s wife murmured, with a poignant smile. “Run. He’ll catch you for certain, but make him work for it. Let him prove what a wonderful man he is, so you’ll never doubt it.”

  “It’s not him I doubt,” Cass said without thinking. Then shaking her head, she fled, as she heard Savannah give her the blessing of a head start.

  “Lucas, I need to ask you something . . .”

  Eight

  She had a problem, though. While a life-changing orgasm could make her merely short of breath, her own emotions could apparently make her hyperventilate. Why did this have to happen now? She’d avoided this type of thing for so long, blown off any attempts to get below the surface. Work, making money, taking care of the kids, that was what came first.

  Matt was on the top floor, of course, so she hit several buttons in the elevator and then got off on the fifteenth, fleeing to the stairwell. She went down a couple flights before she sank down on a middle step and fought for air. After spending twenty-four hours with this group, any other idiot would have removed the damn thing. Changed into a sports bra that allowed an Olympic runner freedom to drink in gallons of oxygen. It was a good lesson—the weapon that gave you an advantage in a world of mildly aggressive dogs could be turned against you in the company of a pack of sleek, sexy predators.

  Her mind was a mess. She’d be hard put to outthink Nate, her five-year-old brother, let alone someone as sharp as Lucas. But she would try. He had a high opinion of her bravery, so if she went the coward’s way, maybe she’d give him the slip. She waited, heading down to the lobby after about ten minutes, figuring he would think he’d missed her. He knew where her office was, of course, but that was her turf. He’d have lost the strategic and tactical advantage. Maybe now was the time to take that week of vacation she’d been thinking about. Take the kids somewhere camping.

  Maybe the remote mountain ranges of Tibet.

  She had to be wearing his shirt, feeling its heat and scent against her flesh, every movement of the fabric like his touch. She thought seriously about stripping it off, leaving it lying on the stairs and stomping through the lobby in just the corset and skirt. But it was a fall day outside and she wasn’t foolish enough to risk the cold, since she’d also left her coat behind. She’d get another.

  When she got to the lobby level, she slipped off the heels and stepped out the stairwell door onto the slick tile floor. Her legs were still shaking, down to her quivering ankles. She wasn’t going to risk making more of a fool of herself than she already had, but Lucas had been right. She hadn’t felt decimated in their eyes. Only in her own.

  Of course, there he was, like a promise. Sitting cross-legged on the floor in his cotton T-shirt, untucked over his slacks so she couldn’t help thinking about running her hands up his flat stomach beneath it. He’d shrugged the suit coat over it.

  The stairwell door closed behind her as he lifted his gaze. “Why didn’t you just come up the stairs to find me?” she asked.

  “I figured it’s like the women’s restroom. That sanctuary rule you all have.” When she raised a puzzled brow, he clarified. “If a lady goes somewhere by herself, you give her a few minutes. Particularly if she seems to need it. Then, there were all those stairs.” He gave a mock shudder. “Exercise. I might get sweaty.”

  Back in the glade, his body had looked like it was oiled under the touch of the sun. She shoved the distracting image away. “Wasn’t I in the restroom yesterday?”

  “Sometimes a woman doesn’t need sanctuary. Not that kind.”

  “Oh.” She narrowed her eyes. “And you’re a good judge of that, are you? You’re insufferably irritating.”

  “Not arrogant?”

  “Arrogant men like being told they’re arrogant. Romance novels have made them think that’s a good thing.”

  A trace of humor went through the serious gray eyes. “I owe you lunch.”

  “You don’t owe me the meal. I pay, because you won.”

  “No, I didn’t.” Rising, he brushed off his slacks. “Because I hurt and upset you.”

  “So let me out of it, then.”

  “No. You don’t need that.”

  “Of course I don’t.” She closed her eyes. When she opened them, he’d taken a step forward. Maybe two, for he was directly before her now. When he looked down at her bare feet, her painted red toenails, her hand tightened on the straps of her heels. “Your floors are terrible. I’m surprised you don’t have lawsuits.”

  “They’re pretty, though. Ben makes threatening lawsuits go away. I think he has connections to the Irish mob. Either that or he takes plaintiffs out and drinks them to death.”

  She stared at him. “You completely overturn my world, transform a business meeting into a . . . I don’t even know what to call it. A chessboard to accomplish getting up my skirt, and now charm and humor are supposed to work.”

  He looked toward the ceiling, pondering. “Fairly good summation. At least everything except it being all about getting up your skirt. Though that was a pretty good side benefit.”

  When she made a sound between a snarl and a sob, he caught her arms. Unfortunately for her, fortunately for him, he hadn’t forgotten the strength of her right hook. He pulled her against him, holding her there as she struggled. “Let go.”

  “Cassie, listen. Stop it and listen, will you?” When he gave her a little shake, she wished she still had on her heels so she could have punctured his foot. But when she looked up in his face, she didn’t see anything that suggested he was making light of the situation. Far from it.

  “You’ve got some formidable shields, and I’m not going to apologize for using the resources I have to get past them. Because you know as well as I do that what’s upset you has nothing to do with me getting up your skirt. If that was the case, you never would have stopped me a month ago. It would have been a fun fuck, and two adults would have gone their separate ways.

  “But I got in. In just those few minutes. So you’re scared shitless about what I’m going to find now that I’m there. Which means it matters to you.” A grim smile touched his mouth, though his eyes remained hard. “Which also gives me hope that this is more to you than just getting into my pants.”

  She fixed her attention stonily on his chest. “I had it all pla
nned out. I was going to use you and cast you aside.”

  “Like yesterday’s Wall Street Journal.” Lucas sighed, gathered her in, letting his chin rest on top of her head. “You know, some of those articles are good reference material.”

  As she let out a muffled snort, Lucas rubbed his hands up and down her back. “God, I want to get you out of this damn thing, feel your skin.”

  She couldn’t agree more, but she drew back. “Lucas, let me put on my shoes.”

  “No, you’re right. You’ll break your neck in these.”

  “I’m not walking into the K&A lobby with the CFO in nothing but bare feet.”

  “Okay.” Letting her go, he pulled off one loafer and then the other as she watched, nonplussed. He considered his black dress socks. “We had a sliding contest down here, late one night.”

  “A what?”

  “Sliding. You run fast and then slide in your socks across a slick floor? We had a bet on who could slide the farthest from a certain point. Kind of like shuffleboard, with people. Then we did all sorts of crazy acrobatics. We had an audience of homeless people standing outside the window, staring at us before it was all over.”

  “Who won?” Cass asked, for lack of anything else to say, her mind torn between the intensity of their exchange only a breath ago, and the whimsy of seeing the K&A team play like boys in their own lobby.

  “Peter. Damn mutant cyborg. He can run the fastest. I guess that’s a good thing, since when people are trying to blow you up or put bullets in your ass, being fast is important.”

  She shook her head. “You’re insane.”

  “We’re human, Cass. That’s all. We’re all kids playing grown-up. We do the best we can.”

  Taking her hand and holding his shoes, he walked into the lobby. She thought about digging in, but the floor was slick enough he’d probably haul her forward like a sled dog, so she went along with him.

  Traffic flow was always steady through the K&A lobby, and today was no exception. Some of the faces were known to her, but somehow with Lucas holding her hand and moving along as if it was the most normal thing in the world to be padding across the floor in his socks, her in stocking feet, she was able to assume an almost nonchalant air.

  As the receptionist gave them an amused glance, they won a snort from the security guard, who obviously knew Lucas. Then they were past, heading for the revolving door. “You’re shorter this way,” he commented. “Petite, like a doll.”

  “If you say Barbie, I’ll sweep your legs and crack your skull on your pretty shiny floor.”

  “Ouch. Kung fu Barbie.” Laughing, he dodged her shove, came back, and claimed her hand. “There’s the biker chick who stole my heart.” Guiding her into the revolving door, he took the same section, crowding her until they emerged into the crisp fall air that nevertheless was full of sunshine. When she started to put on her shoes, he shook his head, pulled her out of the flow of foot traffic. “Feel the warmth through the concrete.”

  “My stockings will tear. And the rest of me is a little cold.”

  “I swear, you’re as bad as working with metal. A man has to fire you up to get you to bend.” Gathering her against him, he wrapped her up in the open panels of his suit coat. “Now, feel the heat through your soles. Doesn’t that feel good?”

  Cass resisted the urge to bury her face into his shirt, rub her cheek against his chest beneath the stretched cotton. Instead, she tipped her head back to look at his eyes, narrowed against the glare, the sun forming a halo limning his golden hair.

  Yeah, right. Definitely a trick of the light, that. “Yes,” she admitted, glad he didn’t know what felt so good to her. The strength of his arms, his body pressed close. The coat around her, the way she’d imagined.

  “Here comes our limo, to take us to lunch.” At her arch glance, he shrugged. “What’s the benefit of being a big shot at K&A if you can’t use the limo pool for lunch?”

  “You don’t have a car?”

  He grinned. “You saw it in my office.”

  “You ride your bike to work? Where do you live? Are you insane?” She looked at the busy downtown traffic.

  “It was about ten miles in New Orleans. Here it’s about fifteen. It’s a good way to start the day. I do have a car,” he added. “I only use it when I have to. Green footprint, and all that.”

  “Glad to hear it. Because I’m not going on a date on handlebars or pedal pegs.”

  “Progress.” He smiled, holding her closer, his hands low on her hips. “You’re calling it a date.”

  Cassandra didn’t want to be so comfortable in his company. She needed to be out of sorts with him, convince herself she felt used, exposed, forced to an unwelcome vulnerability. But she wasn’t in the habit of lying to herself. She could avoid what she didn’t want to think about, though. So for the time being she decided not to dwell on the fact he’d made her do the unthinkable. As well as left her with a frightening need for more of him.

  In the limo, he slid an arm along the back of the seat, giving her a loose sense of being encircled, particularly when he toyed with her hair, coaxed her with amusing guile into leaning across him as he pointed out a landmark of interest. When she leaned back, she found his arm settled on her shoulder, holding her closer.

  “I said lunch,” she said. “Then you said I could walk away.”

  “Is that what you want to do?” he asked. “Walk away? Why won’t you give this a shot, Cass?”

  “I don’t really have a choice, Lucas. My life has no room for something like this. Much as I might want it.” She needed to give him that, but she almost regretted it because the softening of his expression made her wish fiercely she had more to give him.

  “There are always choices. Let’s at least talk about what the obstacles might be. Let me get to know you,” he insisted. “I want to know you.”

  “I can’t—” Thank God, her cell rang, but then she saw the caller ID. No, not right now. The timing couldn’t be worse, or more ironic. She told herself to ignore it, even as she knew she couldn’t. Any more than she could cover the questions it would raise. Suppressing a desire to scream, she opened the cell.

  “Yeah, George. How long ago? You should have called me.” She bit her lip. “Yes, I know you’re busy. No, I’ll come get him. Yes, I will. Damn it, George, we’ve been through this. I can’t.” She shook herself. “I’ll just be there in a minute, okay?”

  When she got off, Lucas’s eyes were on her face. Miserably, she averted her own, looked out the window at a world where the sun had dimmed, and everything she’d just done and enjoyed was laced with bitterness. “I’m going to have to skip lunch. If you’ll stop, I’ll get a taxi.”

  “Cass. Tell me what’s going on.” Tiredness had taken over her features the moment she looked at her caller ID, and there was a pain in her eyes Lucas wanted to erase. He touched her hand, but she drew away, shook her head.

  “My brother has some problems. He got picked up. Again. I need to go get him.”

  “This is one of the reasons you think I shouldn’t get involved with you.” When she pressed her lips together, he sat back, suppressing his own frustration. “Max, take us to the District One police station, will you? I assume that’s where he is?”

  “What?” Her gaze snapped to him. “I don’t want you involved in this.”

  “Tough. Now tell me what we’re dealing with.”

  “We’re not dealing with anything,” she said sharply. “I’m just going to get him. This is my business, Lucas. There’s no need to involve yourself.”

  “No need at all, if my interest was only in your beautiful body and eager pussy.” He’d pitched his voice low, but it still made her attention jerk toward the driver then back to him, her face burning.

  “That’s not what I meant,” she hissed.

  “Yeah, it was. You like men, Cass, but you view them like pets. You can only count on them for certain things, and you’re wholly responsible for taking care of them. Which, for what a dog or cat
provides us, is a wonderful symbiotic relationship. When you apply that to a human, it’s way too much work.”

  “Don’t you analyze me,” she warned. “We’re not in a board room now. I can make Max stop this limo, tell you to kiss my ass and go on my way.”

  “We’re almost there.” Lucas studied her. “I’m not trying to threaten you, Cass.”

  “Yes, you are,” Cass retorted. She tossed circumspection out, since he already had. “Okay, we can do sex. Hell, I’d be happy to fuck our mutual brains out. You’re the first man I’ve met in a while that might actually do the trick without taking too much time out of my day and still be satisfying. But my cunt is not the gateway into my life.”

  The limo veered, a quick brake. Lucas sent a grimly amused glance toward the front. “All right up there, Max?”

  A cleared throat and the driver, a man who looked to Cass like he also served as a bouncer, spoke. “Er, yes, Mr. Adler. I’ll just, uh, raise the glass. I’d like to listen to some music.”

  “You can stop right here, Max, and let me out,” she ordered.

  Max shifted his gaze to her in the mirror, then back to the road while Lucas sat silently. “All due respect, ma’am, but we’re in a section of town now where I wouldn’t kick my worst enemy out of the car, let alone a young lady. Mr. Adler isn’t going to allow it anyhow.”

  “I see the whole unapologetically male thing extends to your staff as well,” she said through gritted teeth as the glass scrolled up with a quiet hum.

  “You have more kids at home,” he said gently. “Don’t you? Are they yours?”

  “How did you—”

  “Because I’m as good at this as you are, and that was a rotten attempt to freeze me out. Now, are they yours?” Despite his indication that he was aware she was being defensive, the temper in his expression said he wasn’t going to let her insult him again without consequences. Cass wasn’t sure she could handle his idea of retribution right now.

  “Yes. Siblings,” she stated stiffly. “Five of them, from ages five to sixteen.”