TRIGGERED: A Romantic Suspense Bundle (5 Books)

by Evie Nichole

  Chapter 6

  The next night Monica wore a dress that was less “wowing” than the one she’d worn on their first (second) date but that she still felt did wonderful things for her figure. It ended a few inches above her knees in a pencil-skirt shape and was a dark navy instead of black. The sleeves were quarter length and the neckline was square, showing off her defined collarbones and a hint of cleavage. She’d worn flats because she’d decided she hated how flimsy the heels made her feel.

  Jason had chosen a southern-style hipster place with rustic wooden furniture and walls, which served beer in boot-shaped pitchers and had everything from fried chicken to fried avocado. Their server had a full, lumberjack beard and was wearing a plaid shirt and a somehow-stylish cowboy hat. He had on jean shorts that reached his knees and ankle-high cowboy-style boots complete with spurs. Monica couldn’t help but giggle when he approached them.

  “Hey, y’all. Who’s ready for beer?”

  She looked up, Jason was clearly holding his laughter in, but she could see it in his eyes and the smile that he couldn’t keep off his face.

  “Good choice,” she said when the server left to get their drinks.

  “I thought it might be fun.”

  She nodded, looking around to take in the restaurant. The walls were decorated mostly with strange cowboy boots, including some with elongated toes that curved upward and one pair that was actually roller skates. There were also framed photos of various celebrities in cowboy hats, like Heath Ledger, and she thought she spotted one of Beyoncé. The one right above their booth was of a young Ronald Reagan that looked like it came from his acting years. Monica couldn’t stop smiling.

  “You were right,” she said, and he smiled in return.

  “I remembered your affinity for fried food,” Jason said teasingly. Monica ducked her head and covered her face to hide the blush.

  “Oh god, I was a pig.” Her voice was muffled through her hands.

  “You were adorable,” he said, chuckling. He reached over and pulled her hands down. She didn’t make eye contact with him; the shame of that night had flooded forward in her brain and she laughed because she felt so uncomfortable about it.

  She shook her head and said, “No.”

  “Yes,” he said simply.

  She finally looked up at him and sighed. “Well, you were wonderful.”

  He looked down humbly. “I just thought you looked like you could use a friend.”

  She looked at him, pondering his words. The word “friend” had stung her a little, and she found herself hoping that he meant that in a temporary sense…a “You needed a friend that night” kind of way. She reminded herself that he had already indicated that he would like to sleep with her, several times.

  “Thank you,” she said sincerely.

  “You already thanked me.”

  “Well, then you know I really mean it!”

  He chuckled. “So tell me about your project. Congratulations by the way!”

  She beamed. “Thank you!” She hesitated, and he noticed.

  “What is it?”

  “Are you sure you really want to hear about it?”

  “Of course!”

  “It’ll probably just bore you. Anyways, it’s no big deal.”

  “It’s definitely a big deal. Especially considering that when I met you you’d just been shafted out of a promotion you probably should’ve gotten. And look at you now, two weeks later you’ve got the boss eating out of the palm of your hand.”

  “It’s just…”

  “Alan never cared about your work?” Jason finished her sentence, startling her.

  She nodded.

  “Well, I’m not Alan.” He paused, looking briefly serious, and then a mischievous grin spread across his face. He reached his hand across the table as if requesting a handshake. “The name’s Jason, nice to meet you.”

  She laughed, loudly, and clapped her hands to her mouth to cover the sound. Once her laughter had subsided, she took his hand and shook it, firmly.

  “Ow!” he said, shaking his hand with a taunting smile.

  “Shut up.” She playfully swatted at him across the table. There was a pause. They were both chuckling. She looked at him; his hair looked so thick, and she wanted to know what it would feel like to run her fingers through it. He had opted out of a blazer tonight and was wearing a light blue button down that looked like some sort of denim, and it was again open below the neck. His shoulders were broad, and the shirt tightened around the muscles in his arms. “I like you,” she said, softly. He gave her a crooked smile, the kind that turns down instead of up but was somehow still a smile.

  “I like you, too, Monica.”

  ***

  She told him all about her project. It took a while because she ended up telling him about some of the basics of her job, and some of the other projects she’d done for the firm. She also told him about the planning session she’d had with Zoe and that led to her telling him how they had met and how they had become best friends and that led to several stories about college. He told her about his time in college, as well.

  “What were you studying?” Monica asked, crunching into a scrumptious deep-fried Oreo.

  He hesitated, trying to hide it by scooping up some of the whipped cream that had come with the cookies onto his finger and licking it off. Monica watched and wondered why it seemed like he was stalling. He looked at his watch and she was sure, once more, that he was reading a message. He nodded almost imperceptibly and then looked at her, smiling as if nothing strange had happened.

  “Forensics.”

  She was surprised. “But you work in sales?”

  “Yeah,” he said, shrugging and swirling his spoon through the whipped cream idly. “After college, I was in the service, and then when I got out—I don’t know—I wanted to go in a different direction, I guess.”

  She nodded. “I was originally going to study business,” she said.

  “What made you change your mind?”

  “Business is boring.” She giggled as she said it and scooped some whipped cream onto her own finger. He chuckled for a moment, and then stopped to watch her bring her finger to her mouth; she felt him watching and her cheeks grew warm, but she felt more excited than embarrassed.

  “You’re right. Turns out, I hate sales.” She smiled, licking her lips, noting that he was still watching her mouth. His tongue snuck out of his mouth quickly, wetting his own lips in response.

  “Hey, Jason?” she asked with a quiet confidence.

  “Yes, Monica?” he replied teasingly, and as if he knew what she was going to ask.

  “Would you like to come home with me?”

  He paused, looking down at his spoon, with which he was making random designs across the plate of cream and crumbs. Her heart started to sink, but then he replied, “Yes, I would love to.”

  ***

  She immediately wished she had cleaned more before she’d left to meet Jason for their date. As she led him into her apartment, she spotted her work clothes on her bed through her bedroom doorway and the sink half-full of dishes. There were drafting papers still strewn across the top of the coffee table.

  “Sorry it’s such a mess,” she said, dropping her keys on the table beside the door and closing the door behind them. They both stood still momentarily, surveying her home, but for different reasons. She was noticing everything she didn’t want to see. He was taking in her private space, her decorations and belongings. She looked up at him after a few seconds, a frown creasing her forehead; she was shocked to see that beautiful smile on his face.

  “Why are you smiling?” she asked, exasperated.

  “I like it.”

  She shook her head, amused. Well, if he didn’t mind a bit of mess that was a good sign. Even so, she crossed to the coffee table to gather the drafting pages, starting to straighten them into a neat stack.

  “Wait. Is that for your project?” Jason crossed to where she had perched herself on the edge of the dark
brown leather couch; her father had donated it and the matching large armchairs as a housewarming gift when she’d graduated college. Jason sat next to her, careful to keep a couple inches between them. “Can I see?”

  She looked at him, bemused. He looked sincere, however, and adorably earnest. She laid the pages back down, smoothing them out on the tabletop. She flipped through them, carefully, as she spoke. “These are some of the designs for the logo I came up with. Zoe drew that one, but she said I could take credit for it because she thought it was crap.” She shook her head with a smile and he chuckled. “And these are ideas for magazine ads. We could also use them for our catalogue ads, and I’m thinking about designing a brochure featuring our services with graphics that also has a digital copy on our website, so I’ll have to work with our web designers. The next step if we implement these ideas is going to be to revamp the website as well, so it, you know, matches the aesthetics.”

  He was looking at her with a sort of impressed bewilderment.

  “Sorry, I get excited about my work.” She looked away, casting her eyes to the papers but not really seeing them.

  “Hey,” he whispered, and he reached out to gently cup her chin between his index finger and thumb, encouraging her to turn back to him. “Don’t apologize. I was just thinking how impressive all of that sounded.”

  She rolled her eyes, and he dropped his hand, chuckling. “Seriously, I can tell you’re really passionate about this, and you have a lot of confidence in what you know about it. That’s really cool. I know a lot of people who hate their jobs.”

  “I love mine,” she whispered, feeling mildly emotional. “Thank you.”

  He nodded and looked back at the papers, sliding a few around to reevaluate some of the images. “I don’t know anything about any of this, but I think these all look great. I really like this logo,” he said, holding part of the page up carefully.

  “That’s my favorite one!” she exclaimed, brushing off the momentary self-consciousness that accompanied her blatant enthusiasm.

  “It’s great, Monica. You’re really talented.”

  She beamed at him, again, still feeling emotional. “Thank you, Jason.”

  “Not that my opinion means anything,” he said, shrugging.

  She rolled her eyes again, “Are you baiting me, mister?”

  He chuckled once more. “No, no, I promise. It’s just that we met, what, five minutes ago. You don’t need my approval.”

  She looked at him, pondering what he’d said. It was true. They hadn’t known each other long. She still had a nagging feeling about what was going on with his work. And she didn’t need his approval. She didn’t need anyone’s approval—outside of her bosses’—and she often disregarded Zoe’s opinions to go with her gut about her own best design. She didn’t need his approval, certainly. “But I appreciate it,” she said, both continuing her own thoughts and responding to his statement.

  “Happy to give it,” Jason said, leaning back into the couch with his arms behind his head. His shirt rode up a little, revealing a taut stomach and the sensuous dipping V right above the waistline of his black jeans. He sighed and opened his eyes, catching Monica staring at his exposed skin. She looked up at him, guiltily, but with a fire in her eyes. He leaned forward slowly, taking her chin again and slowly bringing his full lips to meet hers. His mouth was soft but firm, and she felt all of the breath leaving her body as their lips explored. Her hand found his jaw and slid around to the base of his neck, finally tangling in those thick waves. She let her other hand gently rest on his hip bone, and he began to mirror her, sliding his hand into her hair and then wrapping a strong arm around her waist, pulling her closer to him. She then began to move slowly, carefully keeping her mouth on his and straddling him, wrapping both arms around his neck and subtly beginning to grind on his lap. Her skirt rode up so she could feel him through her thin panties.

  He groaned into her mouth, and she thought she might explode at the sound. She let her tongue slide between his parting lips, and it was met with his. Her head felt so light that she was glad she was sitting and that he was holding her so firmly. He wrapped his arms even tighter around her, still meeting her tongue with his, pulling her almost flush with his torso. She moaned almost desperately, as she felt him hardening against her. He reached one hand up to the back of her hair again, threading his fingers through her hair and pulling her head back with just the right amount of firmness. His mouth left hers and slid down to her exposed neck and collarbone. He kissed and sucked every inch he could find above her breasts and below her chin, grazing his teeth along her flesh and sucking it between his lips. Her moans grew louder and louder as she ground herself against him.

  He moved his mouth back to hers, still keeping a strong grip on the back of her head. She pulled back slightly, keeping his lips on hers, and moved her hands to start to unbutton his shirt. She could smell his spicy cologne, which hadn’t been overwhelming until she had started to forget how to breathe properly. It made her head feel even lighter, and she was desperate to let her mouth follow the trail of her hands and taste him.

  Before she could disengage her lips to pursue her fantasy, a loud ringing began to issue from Jason’s pocket. They pulled apart. Monica’s eyes were glazed and her face flushed; Jason was breathing heavy, but his face had shot back to seriousness almost instantly.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, using his grip on her waist to lift her slightly, helping her move off his lap. “I have to take that.”

  She fell back against the couch, skirt still above her thighs, chest heaving. She closed her eyes, trying to calm her breath and nodded reluctantly. “Okay.”

  He stood, almost yanking the phone out of his pocket. She was surprised when he walked to the door and stepped out, closing it behind him. She sat up confused. Almost instantaneously, every suspicion she’d had about him since the night they’d met came flooding back into her mind. She stood up and crossed the room quickly, her footsteps muffled by the carpeting, all the while chiding herself for her paranoia. If it’s nothing, then there’s no harm in it, and if it’s something, I should know sooner rather than later, she thought to herself. She was determined not to date someone like Alan ever again. She hoped that Jason wasn’t actually hiding something.

  She leaned her ear against the door, but Jason’s voice was audible when she got within a foot of it. He was almost yelling. “I’M NOT ON DUTY, SIR. IT IS MY NIGHT OFF!”

  There was a pause, and Monica heard his footsteps on the wooden floor of the hallway growing louder and softer intermittently; he was pacing.

  “I apologize, sir,” he said, quieter. “It is my night off, and I informed my team where I would be and who I would be with. I don’t think—” His footsteps stopped. “Yes, sir.” There was a pause. “I know sir.” Another pause. “I do, sir.” More footsteps. “She’s—yes, sir.” And then, “I don’t think she knows anything that can help us.”

  The conversation seemed to go on and on:

  “I know, sir.

  Yes.

  We talked about him briefly, nothing important.

  He never took an interest in her work.”

  Jason chuckled, though it sounded slightly forced. Then he continued again, “I understand sir, but I thought—

  Yes sir.

  Well, then, I would like to request to be transferred off this case.

  Yes sir, I am serious.

  I know that.

  Yes.

  It’s worth it. Yes.”

  There was a long pause. Monica realized she was shaking.

  “Yes, sir, I understand.

  I’ll fill out the paperwork in the morning. Thank you sir.”

  Monica realized he was hanging up only a moment before he knocked on the door. Hiding the fact that she’d been eavesdropping didn’t matter to her at all in that moment, however, so she swung the door open immediately, noting the shocked look on his face. She held the door open, blocking the way into the apartment.

  “Monic
a! I—”

  “What the HELL is going on?” Monica was shaking; she felt heat in her face and knew it must be red as a beet. Blood was rushing through her head, creating a pounding in her ears. She was too angry to cry, but her jaw was tensed and her throat had a knot in it as if she could at any moment.

  Immediately, he was defensive. “Were you just listening to—?”

  “Yes! I was fucking listening to your conversation. And apparently with damn good reason. Now, tell me what’s going on before I—I kick you in the balls or something.” She felt lame saying it; her anger was clouding her thoughts. The hint of a smile that appeared on his face, however, sent her right back into a focused rage. “I swear to God, if you don’t tell me what’s going on right now, I’m calling the cops, I’m calling Alan, I’m calling Zoe, we’ve both taken multiple self-defense classes so trust me when I tell you that that is a serious threat. Now. Spill.”

  Jason’s eyes were wide. He looked like a toddler who’d just had his favorite toy snatched away, but only momentarily. Then his face shifted into a somberness mixed with disappointment and rage; though, he didn’t seem to be angry at her, he seemed to be angry with himself.

  “I can’t tell you, Monica. Please—”

  “Please, nothing. Tell me, Jason. Tell me now.” The tears that weren’t there a minute before started to threaten their way forward now. She looked at him, his face full of remorse, his shirt almost completely unbuttoned, his hair disheveled. Flashes of kissing him, straddling him, watching him look at her work, watching him laugh ran through her mind. Her anger was compounded by her feelings for him, by the feelings still left by the relationship and breakup with Alan, and by the fear that she had screwed up royally and trusted the wrong person.

  He took a deep breath; his brow was furrowed as if he were trying to work out a very difficult math problem. Then he sighed and said in a monotone voice, “I work for…an agency. I can’t be more specific than that, you have to trust me. I’m part of a team that is investigating an international drug exchange.”

  Her mind halted, and it seemed like her heart did, too. She looked at him, scrutinizing his face, replaying everything he had just said. She shook her head, her brow furrowing, trying to understand.