I press my phone to my forehead. What am I doing with this man? I stand up because apparently what I’m doing is going downstairs to see him because, well, I want to. I slip on sneakers, brush my hair, and spray perfume before I grab my wallet purse I use on occasion. I stuff a credit card inside for no reason other than I don’t like to be anywhere without money, slip the strap across my chest, and head downstairs. Once I’m in the lobby about to exit my building, butterflies flutter in my stomach. I’m nervous. Why am I nervous? This man’s hands have been all over my body, but even as I ask the question, I know the answer. I’m on dangerous territory with Reid. I’m vulnerable with this man professionally. I don’t want to be vulnerable personally, but I fear it’s too late. I already am.
I exit the building into the starlit night and travel the sidewalk, ocean air lifting my hair, cooling my skin that only turns hotter when I find Reid standing at the railing, facing the water. He’s dressed in sweats and a T-shirt, and he’s just one of those people who manages to radiate power and masculinity no matter what he wears. He doesn’t have to turn around for me to know this. I’ve experienced his impact quite fiercely.
I inhale and close the small space between us, stepping to his side. Close but not too close. Reid reacts instantly, pulling me between him and the railing, the ocean at my back, his big, hard body at my front. His fingers tangle in my hair and he doesn’t speak or ask permission for what he does next. His mouth closes down on mine, his tongue licking into my mouth, and I don’t even think about resisting. I sink into the kiss, my arms wrapping around him, hard muscle flexing beneath my touch. For eternal moments that are still not long enough, I’m lost in this man, in his spicy, masculine taste. The way he consumes me. The way he—
He tears his mouth from mine, his forehead settling against mine, his hand on my cheek. “What are you doing to me, woman?” He pulls back to look at me. “Come home with me. Spend the night with me.”
My hand flattens on his chest. “No. I’m not doing that, Reid.”
“Because you think I’m going to send you away? I want you there way too fucking badly to be that foolish. But take me to your place if it makes you feel better. You have control there. You can send me away.”
“What are we doing?” I ask yet again.
“We’ll figure it out.”
“You have everything to gain and I—”
“Have everything to lose,” he finishes for me. “I know. I can’t change that dynamic, but believe it or not, I now have a lot to lose as well. Come home with me.”
“No. That changes things. It feels different from the hate sex in your office.”
“So you can fuck me in the office, but not at one of our homes?” he challenges.
“Seems like that’s where we’re at.”
“Then let’s go to the office.”
I laugh. “We aren’t going to the office.”
He cups my face and kisses me before his fingers lace with mine. “Then let’s go to the coffee shop around the corner and talk. Yes?”
Talk. I do want to talk. I want to understand this man. I want to trust this man. “Yes.”
He kisses me again. “Or we can—”
“No,” I breathe out, but it takes effort. I want whatever he’s about to suggest. I want him to kiss me again. I want to be fully naked with this man and truly know what it feels like to be with him, to really be with him, but I don’t want to be owned. And Reid will own me if I let him.
“Coffee it is,” he says, leading me forward, and to my surprise, he folds our elbows and pulls me to him. “I’m holding on,” he declares. “I’m not letting you dart away.”
“Don’t be an asshole and I won’t.”
He laughs, a low, deep, masculine laugh that I feel in every part of me. “I can’t make a promise I might not keep.” He lifts our joined hands and kisses mine. “And I never make a promise I don’t keep, nor do I say anything I don’t mean.”
He lets those words linger between us during our short walk, and I decide they’re meant to drive home what he’s already stated. We are not enemies. We want the same things. We want each other. All words that mean more as my connection with this man grows more intimate. That doesn’t mean I proceed blindly or without caution.
We reach the door of the coffee shop, that really was just around a corner in one of the buildings along our path. He releases me and opens the door. “Ladies first,” he says motioning me forward.
“Honor and manners,” I comment. “If you weren’t such an asshole someone might think you were a nice guy.” I step in front of him, a memory punching at my mind. “But don’t worry, Reid. I listened to what you said to me after the call I heard between you and the DA. I won’t make the mistake of believing you’re a nice guy. If I did, I’d be in your apartment right now, and I’m not.” And with that, I walk into the coffee shop.
***
Reid
I stand at the door for a just a moment after Carrie enters the coffee shop, and I ask myself why I don’t want her to expect the worst of me when that’s exactly what I wanted only days ago. Hate means we fuck and move on and that’s what I do. I fuck. I move on. No one is ever hurt that way because I never claim to be anything but an asshole. But damn it, this woman is not every other woman. She’s under my skin. She’s in my head. I need to get her out before this becomes a problem, but for once in my life, I can’t seems to be in my vocabulary.
Entering the coffee shop, I scan to find us being the only patrons before joining Carrie at the counter where we order our drinks, the awareness between us jumping around like a live charge. When it comes time to pay, Carrie reaches for the purse at her hip. I catch her hand, honestly stunned that she’s trying to pay after all that she assumes that I’ve taken from her. “I’ve got it.”
“Thank you,” she says, those emerald eyes meeting mine, a hint of something in their depths I don’t understand, but I want to. Seems that I want a lot of things with this woman that I shouldn’t want.
Reluctantly I break our connection and turn my attention to the register. I pay for the coffees, and together Carrie and I walk to the end of the bar to wait for our order. I reach for her fingers and walk her to me, stroking a strand of hair from her face.
She catches my hand, her gaze probing, and this time I read confusion in her eyes. I’m confusing her, which isn’t a surprise. I’m right there with her, confused as fuck about what I’m doing with this woman. “Let’s sit,” I say, leading her toward a corner booth with a high back that blocks us from the rest of the room. It may not offer complete privacy, but it’s the closest thing we’ll get here until I convince her to come home with me.
“Drinks up!”
The shout comes before I even sit down. I cross the small space between me and the counter, grab the coffees and return to the booth where I slide into the seat beside Carrie, setting them down in front of us. “What are we doing, Reid?” she asks, our bodies automatically turning toward each other.
“You keep asking that.”
“You keep making me ask it,” she counters.
“We’re going to talk, though in fairness, I should tell you that I’m one wrong push left or right from taking you into the bathroom and fucking you.” I grab her leg and pull her closer. “It would take a very small push.”
She covers my hand on her leg. “Talking means answering my question in a meaningful way. What are we doing, Reid?”
“Apparently not fucking.”
“Because I don’t want to get fucked over.”
My hand slides to her face. “That’s not what this is. This is not about some agenda. This is just us. Not the company. Not a family name.”
“My family name is on the line.”
“Not with me or because of me,” I say, wishing like fuck it had nothing to do with my family. I lean in and brush my lips over hers. She rewards me with a shiver that travels her body and radiates into me. “I have no agenda with you, Carrie, besides wanting you.”
“Prove it,” she says. “No, let me be more specific. Prove that that I can trust you.”
I ease back and look at her, and when I would dismiss such a challenge from any other woman, I don’t even think about it with Carrie. “What does that mean to you, Carrie? What do you want from me?”
Chapter Twenty
Reid
What do you want from me?
Carrie doesn’t even hesitate to answer that question. “Tell me something I don’t know.”
Something she doesn’t know. That’s a wide open, widely definable question and for reasons she can’t know, I proceed with caution. “Ask me a question and I’ll answer if it’s at all possible.”
“If it’s possible?”
“You’re an attorney, just like me,” I remind her. “You know there are things I can’t answer.”
“Okay, what don’t I know about my father?”
And there it is. The question I dreaded. The one I can’t legally answer. “That’s between you and your father.”
“You tell me. You, Reid.”
“He’s gone. Focus on the company. Focus on you.”
She studies me for several beats and when I expect her to push on her father, she hits me from another direction. “Okay then. Elijah. Tell me why you won’t do business with him.”
She’s now hit two of my brick walls. I rotate forward and pick up my coffee. “No.” I take a drink.
“No?” she demands.
“No,” I repeat.
“Reid.”
I set my cup down and look at her without turning. “It’s personal.”
“Trust me enough to tell me. Because let’s be honest. You earning my trust is a façade. You don’t have to earn my trust. I’ve been forced into that trust.”
She’s right. Professionally she does have to trust me. Personally, she doesn’t, and trust is the most intimate and dangerous thing two people can share. It cuts. It burns. It destroys. I know this all too well, and yet, foolishly that’s exactly what I want from her. I turn to face her. “You demand that my trust be given freely and yet you say yours is forced.”
“If my gut didn’t say to trust you, Reid, I’d be looking for a job. I just want you to validate my gut feeling. And I want you to have the same gut feeling about me.”
My lips tighten. I’m diving into treacherous water with this woman. I need to pull back. “Elijah hates me. That’s what you need to know. You’ll lose everything if you get involved with this man. I’ll lose millions. You need to understand that. I put my name, my family name, on this deal.”
“I can talk to him. I can make him see reason. I can appeal to his humanity. This is my life. This is—”
I grab her arm and pull her to me. “He’s like me. He’s barely human. I ruin people. He ruins people. It’s business, the kind that requires no emotion be present to succeed. It requires no heart. In fact, a heart is a detriment. I am that and he is, too. You are not. He’ll cut you, fuck you every which way, and then leave you with nothing. All to cut me. I’m not going to let that happen.”
“Because you have too much to lose.”
“We, Carrie. We have too much to lose.”
“But you have no heart. You don’t care about me.” Her fingers flex where they rest on my chest like she wants to push me away as much as she wants to keep touching me. I know that feeling every damn second that I’m with her. “I know how quickly you could turn on me,” she adds, “and thank you for reminding me that I can’t let myself forget that.”
She hates me in this moment. Hate is what I need her to feel and if I told her exactly why Elijah wants to hurt me, she’d hate me even more, and yet, I don’t want her to feel those things. And fuck. I can’t seem to just let her go. “You’re different,” I say. “You’re different from everyone else, Carrie. I’ll protect you. I already am.” I pull back and let her see the truth in my eyes as I repeat, “I’m protecting you with Elijah and I know you don’t understand my decision on this. If my word isn’t enough, know this: I stand to lose millions if you fail. I would not let go of a deal that delivers us to our goal. This is not it.”
She studies me several beats, seeming to size up my statement before she says, “Okay then, I accept that he’s the enemy, but he’s the enemy with money. Can we not burn him the way he wants to burn us? And wouldn’t using his money to succeed be burning him?”
I release her, but my hand catches her leg. “It’s too risky.” And then I dive into the quicksand again. “I need you to trust me on this. Set Elijah aside, Carrie. I’ll make-up the lost deal. I’ll replace it and we’ll succeed.”
“I don’t want you to make this happen,” she says vehemently. “I want to do it. I want to make this happen. This deal with Elijah does that for me and us.”
“It doesn’t. It’s a set-up. It’s certain destruction. And as for doing this yourself, if we both bring a deal to the table, we’ll win even bigger together. Set Elijah aside. Promise me.”
“Reid—”
“Promise me.”
“Okay. I promise. What about my father?”
“Yes. Set him aside, too.”
“So everything I ask you, you tell me to set aside. How is this proving you have no agenda, well, aside from secret agendas?”
“Ask me something else, Carrie.”
“Tell me about the case you’re handling against the DA.”
I don’t ask her why this matters to her. I know. It’s a character assessment after I just told her I have no heart. “That I can do. I don’t know what you’ve pieced together, so I’ll recap. There was a serial killer. The clients I represent, Cole and Lori, are the husband and wife team that represented the innocent man accused of the crimes. When he was found innocent, one of the victim’s family members attacked Lori in a public bathroom. Had the DA reopened the case, that might not have happened, nor would the real killer have killed again, but he did.”
“How did you end up with this case? I mean, I know you don’t like to be called a raider, but you operate in a similar zone. Civil actions again the DA don’t seem like your thing.”
“It’s more Gabe’s thing, but in my early days out of college, I played this field, and Gabe wasn’t available this go around.”
“And you’re waiving your fees?”
“Lori and Cole have money. They don’t need the sizable settlement they’ll receive, so they donated it to the victims’ families.”
“And out of the goodness of the heart you don’t have, you did the same with your fees?”
“Do you know the column Cat Does Crime?”
“Yes. I love that column. Why? What does that have to do with your fees?”
“Cat’s my sister, and her husband and Cole are partners. Our firms support each other through a business arrangement. And Lori is a close friend of Cat’s.”
“So did you do this for your sister, your friends or because you have a business obligation?”
“All of the above, Carrie. Not to mention our firm had a scandal a few years back and the good press from this case helps bury that for good.”
“Now you just want me to think you’re an ass with an agenda.”
“I’m speaking the truth, which is the only way to earn trust. My decisions are not one-dimensional any more than our relationship at this point. Your turn. Tell me something I don’t know about you.”
She cuts her stare. “I love Cat’s column and her books.” She reaches for her cup. “She wrote about a serial killer’s trial that had to be this case.” She sips her coffee but still, she doesn’t look at me beyond a cursory glance. “I can’t believe I didn’t connect the dots to your case. I mean, how many serial killers are there in our city?”
“You’re deflecting, talking about my sister. Tell me about you.”
She glances over at me. “I am. I follow her writing because I’m a crime buff. I almost went into criminal law. I loved the idea of being a part of real justice. I would have if not for the family business.”
“We have that in common.”
She gives me a curious, interested look, the kind of genuine interest most women only have for my money or how well I fuck them. “You wanted to go into criminal law?”
“I did.” I don’t explain to her why. I don’t tell her how the system once failed me. How much I wanted to prove it could work, that I could make it work. “The family business made it unfeasible.”
“And what made you decide to be an asshole?”
I laugh. “It works for me. It’s a profitable position to take.”
“It’s a good way to keep everyone at a distance,” she comments. “And people who do that, have baggage. You have baggage. I see in your eyes. I taste it when you kiss me.”
She was right when she said that she sees too much. She does, and this would be a good time to shove her in a corner and fuck her, but with that off the table, I shift the conversation back to her. “Why could Royce find no man in your life?”
“You do know it sucks that you investigated me this thoroughly, right? Why don’t you have a woman in your life?”
“I’m an asshole who never married and that won’t change. Back to you. Why is there no man in your life, Carrie?”
“It’s a choice, but like most of us, I was young and in love once way back as an undergraduate.”
“And?”
“And not only did he sleep with my roommate, I found out that I was pregnant three days after we broke up.”
I go completely still. “And?” I ask again, my voice softening.
“And I was going to keep the baby. I mean, I had a family with money and a guaranteed job. I decided it must be my destiny.”
“Where’s the baby now?”
“I miscarried.” She looks away. “I don’t know why I just told you that.” She takes a drink. “Yes, I do.” She turns to me. “It tells you who I am. I haven’t gone down the emotional path since then. I won’t. I’m not that girl. You don’t have to be an asshole to keep me on the outside. I like the outside just fine.”
Which makes her the perfect woman for me, except that statement doesn’t feel as perfect as it should. “There had to be someone since college. What about sex? You had to have—”
Dirty Rich Obsession Page 12
