“Reagan,” Bill said, and then shook his head. He was silent for a long moment before he spoke again. “You’re like a daughter to me, you know that—”
“I do, and that’s why I’m sorry—”
“I wasn’t finished,” he told her, and she clamped her mouth shut. “I only want the best for you. I don’t like to see you upset or in pain. Now, I don’t know the specifics of what happened between you and Evan, and I don’t need to. I know his past. I know there’s more to the story, and I know the man has been through more than most people should.”
Reagan narrowed her eyes. “What are you trying to say, Bill?”
He rubbed the bridge of his nose and sighed. “You’ve always been a spark of a thing. And I think…maybe…that’s helped him…” His voice trailed off, and he didn’t need to say any more.
In his own way, Bill was giving her permission to try again with Evan—if she wanted it.
Swallowing the lump in her throat, she nodded. “Thank you,” she said, her voice barely a whisper.
Bill raised a fist to his mouth and coughed a little, shifting in his seat. Then he eyed the unopened sugar packets on her desk. “Since when do you put sugar in your coffee?” he asked, clearly deciding now was the time to change the subject.
Since Evan put a coffee cup on my desk this morning stating:
Asshole.
But as she thought about his message, she couldn’t help the giddy feeling that accompanied it. He was playing with her, and if there was one thing Evan James was good at, it was playing you until he won. And she had to admit, she didn’t mind giving the victor the spoils when it came to him.
Thursday
DEAR MS. SPENCER,
I was disappointed to come into a caffeine-free zone this morning. But in case you feel inclined to rectify the situation, I’ll have my “usual” order. Make it a large.
Evan James
Dear Mr. James,
My, my, aren’t you presumptuous this morning? Your usual? As in the tar you enjoy in place of an actual coffee? Perhaps I can swing by and drop off the sugar you left for me. They weren’t needed, you see, since I’m sweet enough already. Or maybe you’ve forgotten and need to have another taste…
Ms. Reagan Spencer
P.S. As for the size of your…coffee—I never had any doubt ;)
Dear Ms. Spencer,
Are you fucking serious?????
Evan James
Dear Mr. James,
About which part?
Ms. Reagan Spencer
Not five seconds after she’d hit send, her phone rang, and she leaned back in her chair and crossed one leg over the other. She had a feeling whatever was about to come might make her…squirm.
She picked up the receiver, and as soon as it was by her ear, her lips quirked into a wicked smirk. “Reagan here.”
“I would appreciate very much if you would stop sending such inappropriate emails.”
Evan’s voice sounded strained through the phone, and she moved her hand up to stroke her fingers over her pearls only to notice… Fuck, where are they? She jerked up in her chair. “Shit.”
“Exactly,” Evan said through the phone.
“No, no…” she said, slightly frantic as she looked around the floor, having completely forgotten about flirting with Evan.
“Reagan? What’s the matter?” he asked, sensing her panic now that the line had gone silent.
“My pearls. I’ve lost my damn pearls,” she told him, her breath coming a little harder as she bent at the waist to look under her desk. When Evan’s low laugh came through the phone, she almost gave in to the urge to slam the receiver back on its holder. She didn’t need him laughing at her. This was serious shit. Her mother had given her that necklace.
“Reagan?”
“Hmm…” she said absently.
“Your pearls. They’re sitting on my nightstand at home.”
Wait…what? She sat up in her chair and blew her hair off her forehead. “What do you mean they’re at your home?”
He chuckled through the line and then told her in a voice that practically reignited the heat between her thighs, “They fell off your neck when I fucked you over the conference table.”
Her mouth fell open and her pussy throbbed. Well, damn. I asked.
“Oh, and Reagan…”
She swallowed and closed her eyes at the silky caress of his voice. “Yeah.”
“If you want them, you can come fucking get them.”
As the phone went dead, she stared at it and had two thoughts. One, Evan James was trouble with a capital fucking T. And two, there was nothing on the planet that was going to stop her from going and getting her pearls back.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
REAGAN HAD FOLLOWED him home. Evan smiled to himself that she’d come to his turf just for a necklace. Oh, who was he kidding. He’d taken the damn thing on purpose, hoping it would urge her closer, and it looked like the plan had worked. Well, maybe not as well as he would’ve liked. Her stubborn ass was still in the lobby refusing to come up to his apartment. He didn’t plan on hand-delivering, though, so she’d eventually be making that elevator ride. And while he waited he’d make himself comfortable.
After ridding himself of his jacket and tie, he grabbed a beer from the fridge. A buzz sounded, and he sauntered over to the intercom, taking a swig of his drink before answering. “Yes?”
“Don’t yes me. Get your ass down here.” Reagan’s annoyed voice had him chuckling.
“See, that’s not how it works. You followed me all this way. It’d be a shame not to get what you came for.”
“Evan—”
“Come up, Reagan.”
“Stop being such a pain in the ass, and get down here.”
“And what’s the magic word?”
“Now.”
He tsked. “Wrong answer. I’ll see you Monday.”
“Fine,” she said, irritation lacing her voice. “I’m coming up.”
“See you then.” He let go of the intercom button and took another swig of his beer. As he opened the door, a loud THUMP sounded from the neighboring wall. You’ve gotta be kidding me. The fucking sex rabbits next door had incredible timing.
Leaning against the doorjamb, he waited for Reagan to finally make her encore appearance at his place. When she stepped off the elevator, a scowl across her beautiful face, his cock twitched.
Fuck, but he wanted her in his bed again. Or in this hallway. Didn’t much matter the place.
“All right, where are they,” Reagan said, holding out her hand as she stopped in front of him.
“Nightstand. You remember the way.”
“I’m not going inside.”
“That’s too bad.” Evan pushed off the frame and went to shut the door when Reagan’s hand shot out.
With a glare, she marched past him into his bedroom.
“You know, this is an ill-fated attempt at getting me back in your bed. It won’t work this ti—”
Another loud THUMP from next door cut off her words, followed by moans of pleasure. She swiveled around and raised an eyebrow. “Mood music?”
Evan wandered into the room behind her and stopped at the foot of his bed. “How can it be mood music when you just told me I had no chance of—”
“Oh, fuck me,” came through the wall.
“—doing that to you.”
He saw Reagan’s eyes wander down his frame, and when she sank her teeth into that pillowy bottom lip of hers, God fucking damn, she wasn’t going to make this easy. She turned away from him and walked down the side of the bed to snatch the pearls off the nightstand. As she came back toward him with her prize in her hand, he stepped to the side, placed his beer on the tallboy, and blocked her path.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
“I got what I came for. Now let me pass, Evan.”
He lowered his eyes to the dainty fingers holding the necklace and then shook his head. “No. I don’t think so.” He held his hand
out to her. “Here, let me help you put them back on. I’d hate for you to lose them again.”
She eyed him warily, probably assuming the worst. Smart of her, really, but then again, nobody could call Reagan a fool. Lifting her hand, she placed the necklace into his outstretched one, and his mouth turned up on the sides.
“Turn around. It will be easier that way.”
She didn’t move at first, but he saw her swallow and lick her lips, as if thinking about her next move. “No funny business. Okay?”
Evan inclined his head slightly, but didn’t agree. Instead he repeated, “Turn around.”
* * *
REAGAN CLENCHED HER fingers into fists by her sides, trying to stop her shaking hands. She knew this was a bad idea. A monumentally bad one, but instead of pushing past the sexy man in front of her and running for the door, her masochist ass turned around, as per instruction.
She sucked in a quick breath when she felt Evan step behind her. The heat radiating off him made her fear for her clothes, thinking that if they touched they would disintegrate to ash. Then he spoke.
“You know, the very first time I ever saw these pearls, I had a wicked fantasy about seeing you in them and nothing else.”
His arms came around in front of her, and she remained frozen as the tiny, cool spheres touched the skin of her collarbone. She kept her eyes trained on the wall behind his headboard and tried to block out the moans from the woman on the opposite side, but if she were going to be honest, they were making her as hot as the man who was behind her, taunting her.
His mouth came down by her ear, his warm breath floating over her skin as he continued to whisper words that set her blood to a feverish boil.
“The clasp was broken when I found this. I guess it couldn’t hold up against the rigors of your workday, but not to worry. I got it fixed for you. It’s sturdier, so if you ever have to work so hard again, it shouldn’t fall off.”
Her breaths were coming harder, his erection pressed against her ass, and when his teeth grazed her lobe, she just about fell to her knees. His fingers trailed over the clasp at the nape of her neck and then ran down the line of her back to her waist.
Abort. Abort, she told herself as his strong arm banded around her. Get out now while you still can. But her legs weren’t moving, her voice wasn’t working, and when the heel of his hand applied a delicious pressure to the top of her mound, she gave in and leaned back into him.
The way his fingers were slowly dipping down between her thighs, combined with the erotic groans coming from next door, had her pussy throbbing and her hand grabbing the back of his head.
She pushed her hips back against him, rocking on his fingers as his other hand cupped her breast. With a moan, her head fell back on his shoulder, letting his hands take over her body.
This shouldn’t feel so fucking good. If it’s wrong, then why…
Evan nuzzled into her neck, his lips brushing the sensitive skin. “Reagan,” he whispered.
“Hmm?”
The hands cupping her breast and between her thighs squeezed gently before letting go. “I’ve gotta run.”
Reagan’s eyes shot open. “What?” When he didn’t respond, she turned to see if he was serious.
He was.
“You motherfucker,” she said, shoving him in the chest.
He laughed and grabbed her wrists. “Come with me.”
“I believe that’s where we were headed until you started talking.”
As she struggled from his hold, he pulled her against him and wrapped his arms around her. “I’m serious. Come with me.”
It was too easy to get lost in his eyes, too easy to fall into his well-muscled arms. There was a serious set to his mouth, and she couldn’t stop her curiosity.
“And just where are you going?” she asked.
“For a drive.”
“You just stopped my orgasm to go for a drive.”
“It’s a long drive.”
“To where? Queens?”
“North Carolina.”
Reagan laughed, thinking he was out of his mind, but when his face remained solemn, she stopped. “You’re serious.”
“Yep.”
“What the hell is in North Carolina?”
“Prison.”
“Ah, of course. Will you be visiting or checking in?” she joked.
“My mom was transferred down there. Thought I’d be a good son and make sure she’s not stealing from the other inmates.”
Though he said it in a lighthearted way, she could see the pain in his eyes. How did he end up with two of the most conniving, selfish people on the planet as parents? When she thought about the many Sundays spent around the dining room table with her own family, she felt a twinge of guilt. She only had to travel upstate to see her parents—he had to visit federal penitentiaries to see his.
Evan’s arms tightened around her. “Come with me.”
She leaned back, studying his expression. “I…don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Why not?”
Because I don’t think I could not fall for you. “We’ll kill each other.”
“Possibly.”
“I don’t even like you right now.”
Evan winked. “Well, we both know you’re a liar.”
“Jesus, if I can manage to stop talking about your Pretty Woman reenactment on a street corner, you can kindly shut that hole in your face about my indiscretions.”
“See? This is progress.”
Reagan shook her head. “I’m absolutely, positively not going with you.” When Evan raised an eyebrow at her, she said, “I mean it. I’m not.”
Forty minutes later, she stood on the curb outside her apartment, watching as Evan threw her overnight bag into the trunk of his car.
Well, shit.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
EVAN HAD BEEN shocked as hell when he’d asked Reagan to spend the weekend with him. The thought had never even crossed his mind, but as the words had tumbled from his lips, they felt right. He glanced at her now, legs crossed and casual in the passenger seat of his Range Rover. She looked perfect there, as if the car had been designed with her in mind. A yawn escaped her mouth then, and she stretched her arms over her head, letting them dangle behind the seat.
He looked away before he stared too long at the tight fit of her jeans, or the way her thin sweater had ridden up to show a hint of her ivory stomach. He also wasn’t thinking about the way her yawn wasn’t from being kept up all night underneath him. No, they’d been on their best behavior for once. Such a shame.
After he’d stopped by Reagan’s apartment long enough for her to grab a quick overnight bag, they’d started the long drive to North Carolina, stopping outside of D.C. for dinner before spending the night in a double-bed suite at the Charlton Hotel. It should’ve been torture, being so close and not able to touch. But she’d fallen asleep easily, and he’d watched her for hours, replaying their casual conversations from the car ride, and the arguments over which station they listened to (he’d let her win).
It was so easy with her. And even though the urge to be inside her never wavered, he found that this was enough. Just being next to her satisfied the craving and set his body at ease.
So it’d actually turned out to be a good thing he’d asked Reagan to come along with him on this trip. He hadn’t seen his mom in a while, and uneasy anticipation had settled into his gut.
“Looks like it’s the next exit,” Reagan said, checking the directions on her phone. Leaning back into the headrest, she turned her head to look at him. “You okay?”
How the hell does she always see right through me? “A little antsy. Walking into a prison will do that.”
“Seeing your mom there will do that too. Do you want me to come with you?”
“You would do that?”
She looked away from him to stare out the window, almost as if not facing him made it easier to admit, “I would for you.”
Her words and the tone of her vo
ice moved an emotion inside him that he hadn’t been sure he was still capable of. Hope. And as he let his eyes trail over her long brunette waves, he hoped he could be a man worthy of her.
He gripped the steering wheel and pressed his foot to the accelerator as the light turned green. “I’m not going to put you through that. Hell, I don’t even want to put myself through that.”
He caught her glancing his way from the corner of his eye, and she reached out to put her hand over his on the wheel.
“Okay. As long as you know the offer is there if you want to take me up on it.”
Evan turned his hand over and, for the first time in all his adult years, entwined his fingers with another. He looked at her long, slender hand in his and wondered how, in that moment, she was the strong one. She was the anchor holding him steady as he headed into uncharted waters.
“Thank you,” he whispered across the console, and never in his life had he ever meant two words more.
* * *
THIRTY MINUTES LATER, Reagan shut the door behind Evan as he left to go and visit his mother. She walked over to the mini fridge and opened it up, wondering if there was anything inside she’d be willing to drop six dollars on just to take her mind off what Evan was about to do.
It was too early for alcohol, and honestly, she wasn’t sure a bottle that size would do any good anyway. Hmm, the Snickers looked good, and so did the M&M’s, for that matter. Oh hell, why not both?
She grabbed them out of the fridge, refusing to look at the “actual” price, and moved over to the bed. Kicking her shoes off, she climbed to the center and flicked on the TV. Nothing like a midday Saturday movie to take her mind off things.
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