Tricks

by Cambria Hebert

  Our eyes collided.

  For long seconds, time stood still.

  In that fleeting moment I realized two things:

  1) Clearly this wasn’t a time of day when Max would be home.

  And

  2) Her eyes were fucking gorgeous.

  They were round and wide, almost innocent. Hazel-colored orbs stared down at me, and from this distance I could make out the green and gold flecks that swam around, combining to make a color unique to the wearer. The outside edges were trimmed with a forest green, the kind of green that I only ever saw when living in Pennsylvania. It was the kind of green that bloomed deep in the forest, a natural green that up until now I thought only Mother Nature could create.

  The almond shape of her eyes was rimmed with gold-colored lashes, long and sweeping, that turned up at the outside corners.

  “Do you always greet Max like this when he comes home?” I asked, the words literally falling from my lips before I could even think about what I was saying.

  A single drop of water dripped from the end of her cascading hair and splashed on my cheek, instantly rolling down the side of my jaw.

  The action seemed to break whatever the hell was happening.

  She wrinkled her brow and used her thumb to wipe away the rogue drop of water. “What did you say?” she asked, straightening up when the water was gone.

  My eyes slipped down to her chest, where the white towel wrapped around her body was coming loose.

  It wasn’t a very big towel.

  I stared at her and the blood in my veins began to move faster, began to furiously make its way downward into the controlling force inside my jeans. Her hair was long and damp; it tangled around her face and strands clung to her shoulders like Velcro.

  Damn, her skin was smooth. And wet. I watched with apt attention as another drop of water escaped the strands and slid downward, leaving a damp trail over the swell of her breast and disappearing beneath the white cloth.

  “Max?” she asked, reminding me that she was waiting for an answer. Her voice was breathless and the raspiness of it brushed over my senses, setting my cock to throbbing.

  My hands itched to slide up the inside of her thighs and tug away the towel so I could feast in all her naked glory. I cleared my throat. “I said I wasn’t expecting you to be home,” I finally answered, hoping to God that what I was saying was actually accurate.

  I needed to get this woman off me. STAT. The only brain that was operating right now was the one in my pants. Usually, I liked it that way, but this wasn’t a good time.

  This was my brother’s woman.

  Shit.

  “I have a business meeting over dinner and I wanted to change before I met the client.” she replied with a nod.

  Wrapping my hands around her narrow waist, I lifted her up, off my lap, and set her aside. Her mouth formed a little O of surprise, and I wondered what the hell I was doing that was so O-worthy.

  I smirked. It wasn’t the first time I’d seen that face. All chicks thought I was O-worthy at one time or another.

  “You scared the crap out of me!” she said, a relived giggle in her tone.

  “I didn’t mean to,” I said, getting up off the floor and turning toward the kitchen. When I went around the island, I discreetly shifted the stiff junk in my jeans and hoped it would go down before she noticed. Keeping my back turned, I went toward the fridge. I needed a beer.

  There weren’t any.

  Lamps and fridges without beer. Was this the fucking Twilight Zone?

  I grabbed a bottled water (It was that or Snapple. What man actually drank Snapple?) and twisted the cap, shooting it into the sink like a basketball. I took a long drink and realized the silence in the room was a little intense.

  I looked over, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. She had come closer. What the hell was her name again? She was only gripping the towel closed with one hand, and I thought about telling her to go get dressed. I mean, what the hell kind of woman just parades around wet and practically naked?

  A woman who thinks she’s at home with her man.

  Her eyes were wide as she took me in, and I realized that I was still wearing my clothes. Clothes I knew Max would likely not be caught dead in.

  “Where did you get those clothes?” she asked, starting at my feet, taking in my ratty jeans, T-shirt, and black leather jacket.

  Yep. She had to be a lawyer.

  “I borrowed them from someone at work.”

  Her light-colored eyebrow rose in defiance. “Someone at the office wears jeans and leather?”

  I shrugged. It was the best I could do.

  “Did you get your hair cut?” she asked, studying me anew.

  I set the water on the counter and ran my palm over the top of my head. Of course my hair was shorter than Max’s. Mine had to be short because of the Corps. I was out now so I could let it grow, but it was a habit to keep it short.

  “Yeah. I thought it would be easier, you know, with my schedule,” I said, hoping she believed me.

  “It looks good on you.” She gave me a small smile. A gentle lift to her full, heart-shaped mouth. Thoroughly kissable lips.

  Mentally, I gave myself a slap. Knock it off! This is your brother’s woman! the brain in my head screamed, thankfully taking over the situation.

  “Thanks,” I rasped, giving all the attention to the icy-cold water bottle on the counter.

  “Did you get any sleep last night at all?”

  Where did she think I was all night? She didn’t seem worried, not at all. It kind of ticked me off. She should be worried, frantic even, that Max hadn’t come home last night. I mean, shit, it was late afternoon and she’d still heard nothing from him. Yet here she was, taking a shower and getting ready to go out to dinner. I snatched the water up and took a long sip, hoping to clamp down on my irritation. I knew for sure that Max wasn’t the kind to get irritated easily. I was the hothead, not him.

  Behind me I heard her move into the kitchen, her bare feet barely making a sound against the tile. I turned as she reached out and took the bottle of water I had just been drinking out of. I watched her heart-shaped lips wrap around the bottle as she took a dainty sip.

  Just when I thought I was gaining control of the situation, she went and used her lips. On my bottle. “I know sleeping in your office isn’t the most ideal place,” she replied.

  So she thought I spent the night at work. She wasn’t surprised either. Was this a normal thing?

  I nodded. “I got a couple hours. Then I spilled coffee all over my suit and had to borrow a change of clothes.”

  “Do you have to go back in?” She shifted and some light floral scent wafted toward me. She smelled good. Fresh and… calm.

  I never knew a person could smell calm. She had this quietness about her; not quiet in a literal sense, but in figurative way. In a stable way. Like if she were an electrical panel, she would be the grounding wire. She would be the wire that would keep the other wires around her from electrocuting everyone they came into contact with.

  The irritation I was feeling moments before ebbed away and I was left feeling composed. “No, I’m not going back to work tonight.” I ignored the fact my voice dropped an octave.

  Her impossibly wide eyes widened even more. Was she that surprised I wasn’t planning on rushing back to work? Had I already done the wrong thing?

  Before I could make an attempt to fix whatever the hell I just did, the sound of a ringing phone nearby had her reaching into the brown bag on the counter. I watched as she held the black encased phone up to her ear.

  “This is Charlotte Carter.”

  Charlotte! That was her name!

  “Yes,” she was saying. “I see, yes, of course. Tomorrow is just fine…”

  She kept talking, but I stopped listening as my gaze wandered down her body and to her legs again. Her toes were painted red.

  It was sexy.

  She sighed and pulled the phone away from her, setting it on the coun
ter.

  “Everything okay?” I asked, forcing my gaze up.

  “The client had to reschedule for tomorrow.”

  “So you get to play hooky?”

  She got this funny look on her face and she glanced at me. Then she said, “I suppose so.”

  “We can have dinner, then,” I said. I hadn’t planned on dinner with her. I planned on spending as little time as possible with her.

  But that was before she tackled me, half naked, and calmed me with a single look from her golden lash-lined eyes.

  Besides, I could use this dinner as an investigation of sorts. This woman—Charlotte—lived with my brother. Maybe I could learn things that would help me nail the fucktards who murdered my twin. Maybe she knew where the flash drive was.

  “Dinner?” she asked. The way she said it made me think this suggestion was a surprise. Did my brother never take her out to eat?

  I shrugged. “I’m off. You’re off. I’m starving. You’re thin. You could use a meal. Let’s eat together.”

  Judging by the look on her face, I went and said something un-Max-like again. Damn, being someone else was hard.

  “You think I’m too thin?”

  Well, shit. Not only did I say something out of character, but I committed the cardinal sin that every man knew to never commit. I commented on a woman’s weight.

  I decided to blame it on the twilight zone atmosphere of this tiny apartment.

  I sighed heavily. “I don’t think you’re too thin. I think you’re gorgeous. Go get dressed so we can go.”

  Her face softened and she smiled. “Okay.”

  Well, that was easy.

  Before going off to find some pants—Please, God, let her cover up those legs—she tilted her head to the side. “Aren’t you going to change?”

  Right.

  It was time to trade my leather jacket for something far less comfortable. “Of course.” I followed along behind her, toward the bedroom, which was just off the living room.

  My cock was twitching again because I was envisioning both of us in the bedroom getting dressed…

  Charlotte didn’t go into the bedroom, instead veering back into the bathroom. “I’ll be ready in a few minutes,” she called as she closed the door behind her.

  My shoulders sagged in relief as I stepped into the bedroom. I couldn’t help but look at the bed, the very large bed that dominated the room.

  I pictured Charlotte’s long, bare legs and peek-a-boo chest. I was supposed to share a bed with that and not touch it. I’d never shared a bed with a woman I didn’t plan on touching.

  It was going to be a very long night.

  8

  Charlotte

  I leaned against the bathroom door, pressing a hand against my chest as if the movement would somehow calm my racing heart. The rapid rhythm against my palm only served to remind me how worked up I was.

  When had my life become so crazy that when faced with a noise in the other room, I immediately thought it was an intruder instead of the other person who actually lived here?

  I pushed away from the door and stepped in front of the mirror and looked at my reflection. My cheeks were flushed, my eyes bright. My hair looked like someone took an egg beater and twirled it around on my head on the highest speed it could go.

  Get control of yourself, Charlotte! I demanded of myself. It wasn’t an intruder.

  So why had my body reacted with such surprise when I saw Max? It was almost as if my brain hadn’t recognized him right away. I had been about to clobber him with my hairbrush. He likely thought I was insane because I’d never acted so impulsively in the year we’d been together.

  Last night freaked me out more than I realized. It altered the way I reacted to situations. It made me feel less in control. It made me feel more vulnerable. It seemed silly that an “almost” kidnapping could have such an effect on me. I was mildly embarrassed. I mean, I practically attacked poor Max.

  He didn’t seem to mind… a voice whispered in the back of my mind.

  The flush already in my cheeks deepened and I glanced around the room as if to make sure no one was watching me. I felt as if I’d been caught doing something I wasn’t supposed to be doing. A little thrill coursed through my body. Judging from the solid length I felt against my thigh earlier, Max definitely hadn’t minded my attack. His reaction surprised me. I’d never thought he was the kind of guy to get so turned on so fast.

  He seemed different tonight, starting with the way he looked. The shorter hairstyle defined his jaw, making it look more square, his features more angular. It also looked like he hadn’t shaved that morning, which was very unlike him.

  And then there were his clothes. The outfit was definitely borrowed because Max didn’t dress that way; he was a suit and tie kind of guy. But tonight worn-out blue jeans hung low on his hips, loose and relaxed. The jeans he usually wore were dark, crisp, and fitted. The leather jacket was also worn looking and hugged his upper body like it might be a little too snug, but instead of making the jacket look too small, it made him appear broad and built.

  And his grip… dear God, his grip. The way he palmed my waist and lifted me off him like I weighed nothing at all had been… Well, it had been sexy. Max never manhandled me in any way. He was also so respectful, so careful of me, like I might break. Those were things about him I always thought were sweet and gentlemanly. But tonight, he hadn’t been sweet.

  I liked it.

  Clearly, last night’s events affected me way more than I realized. Aside from becoming a paranoid overreactor I had also become… Well, I wasn’t sure. But if I kept standing here scrutinizing everything I felt, I was never going to be ready for dinner.

  For the first time in a long time I felt a little giddy rush at the thought of a dinner date. I no longer wanted to curl up with a movie in a pair of pj’s. The thought of going out to dinner with Max was exciting. It wasn’t as if it was the first time we’d gone out, but tonight felt different.

  After re-combing my hair and blasting the long strands with the blow dryer and applying a quick five-minute makeup routine, I dressed in the panties, bra, and camisole I took in the bathroom with me. Then I smoothed my tangle-prone, thin strands back into a neat bun at the base of my neck.

  I stepped into the bedroom with anticipation coiling low in my abdomen. My eyes immediately went to his side of the closet, where I was hoping to see him standing.

  The room was empty.

  Feeling the sharp sting of disappointment, I quickly dressed in a black pencil skirt, a white silk top, and a black fitted jacket. After slipping into a pair of black heels, I went out into the living room in search of Max.

  He was sprawled—not sitting, but sprawled—across the sofa, making the couch seem much smaller than it actually was. Both his arms were thrown out across the back, one leg was up on the coffee table, and one was flung out with his foot resting on the floor.

  I’d never seen him appear so relaxed. The first thing I thought was that he was going to wrinkle the suit he was wearing.

  “Are you watching the sports channel?” I asked, taking in his appearance once more.

  He sat up abruptly and flipped off the television. “It was the news, but they were talking about the game,” he replied, standing up.

  I forgot about sports.

  The suit he was wearing wasn’t anything I hadn’t seen before. In fact, it was just a regular navy suit with a jacket and matching slacks.

  But the way he was wearing it… It looked new.

  The jacket seemed to hug his shoulders a little more closely than before. The pants clung to the thickness of his thighs instead of falling away. And he wasn’t wearing a tie. The white dress shirt was left open at the throat, exposing the smooth skin of his neck and throat.

  He still hadn’t shaved.

  The contrast of his rough-textured jaw against the sleek lines of his suit was… stunning.

  Just when I thought my heart rate was back in control, it began to beat unevenly o
nce more. I swallowed thickly, unable to tear my gaze away from the hollow of his throat.

  “You ready?” Max asked. Something in his tone made me look up into his chocolate eyes.

  I cleared my throat and composed myself. “Yes.”

  “Where do you want to go?” he asked, holding open the apartment door for me as I grabbed my purse off the counter.

  I started to reply, stepping around him and into the hallway, when the dark shape of a man rushing me caught my attention.

  Flashes of last night assaulted me and with a squeal, I stumbled backward, trying to get away. The heel of my black pump snapped with a cracking sound, causing my already teetering frame to buckle and fall.

  Solid arms wrapped around me from behind, and an unyielding chest stopped me from falling any farther.

  “Whoa there,” he said, his voice right beside my ear, and the deep baritone in which he spoke caused the nerves in the back of my neck to tingle with awareness. “I got you.”

  And he did. It was like his body had become my safety net and I knew that as long as his arms were around me, nothing bad was going to happen.

  The man who was barreling toward me kept going, his muttered curse following along behind him as he went. I watched, from the safety of Max’s embrace, as the man cornered something at the end of the hallway. He bent at the waist and scooped it up and an angry yowling sound filled the air.

  He spun and looked at us apologetically. “I’m sorry. My girlfriend’s cat got out and while I think he’s a pain in the ass, she loves it.”

  The pain in the ass cat seemed offended and began swishing its tail back and forth, slapping his jailor’s thigh with the white-tipped end.

  I let out a little relieved laugh and straightened, pulling away from Max and his incredible warmth (Had he always been this warm?). “It’s no problem.”

  The man started to smile, but it was short lived because behind me, Max wasn’t as forgiving. “Watch where you’re going next time,” he said, short. “She could’ve been hurt.”

  “I’m sorry,” the man said again, hurrying back down the hall, giving us a wide berth. I glanced at Max, shocked that he would even say anything, and became even more shocked that he was glaring at the man as he and his cat hurried to the threshold of their apartment. Before going inside, he glanced back to give me an apologetic look, but when he caught Max’s stare, he rushed inside and shut the door.