Sinner-Saint Box Set (Sinner-Saint Series)

by Roxie Odell

  At once her anger swelled. As mad as she was at Thomas, though, she was also glad to see him, a secret she planned to keep all to herself. He was so incredibly handsome, so tall and out of place in his casual attire, those well-fitting jeans and that t-shirt, his cowboy boots on that marble floor as he stood among the bleached birch of the fancy law firm. She couldn’t help but notice that there was a manila envelope in his hand, and she instantly thought the worst.

  “You’ve been blowing up my phone,” she barked. “What do you want?”

  “I just wanted to bring this to you,” he said in his delicious baritone.

  His voice melted her heart a little, and it certainly had an effect on the young, blonde receptionist, but he didn’t seem to pay her any mind.

  Cheri put her hands up and refused to accept the envelope he was holding out to her. “Are you serving me with something now?” she demanded roughly.

  “Easy,” he said softly. “Just open it.”

  She pushed it back toward him. “No,” she said, “and please don’t come to my office again.” She then turned on her heel to head back to her office.

  “Cheri!” He called her name with such command that it stopped her in her tracks. “It’s a witness statement,” he said when she turned and looked at him with a rude scowl on her face. “I tried to call you about it. I already delivered the original to your attorney, but I figured you would want a copy. I asked him not to tell you so I could tell you myself.”

  Cheri felt her face soften, all the tension of her anger draining away. Nevertheless, she wasn’t about to throw herself at him; she’d done that before, and it hadn’t gotten her anything but a sore body and a broken heart. “Okay,” she said, trying her best to hide her emotions. “Just leave it with the receptionist. She’ll make sure it comes to me through office mail.”

  “If you like,” he replied somberly, looking at her expectantly, as if he wanted a thank-you, an invitation to dinner, or something else from her.

  Somewhere under the turmoil of feelings he disturbed in her, there was a wish that she could just grab her purse and take off with him, but that desire wasn’t strong enough for her to act on it, so she simply nodded and walked away.

  By the time she was back at her desk, Cheri had received an email from her attorney stating that he had forwarded Thomas’s statement to the other side. That was all well and good, and by the time she checked her messages before bed that night, she had received word that the other side had dropped the charges. All it took was Thomas stepping up to the plate, and as much as she was irked by some of his behavior, that ballsy move had worked wonders. Once again, like so many times before, the sinner-turned-saint had come to her rescue.

  It had been a very long twenty-four hours, so she pressed her eyes closed and took a moment to relish the fact that the entire ordeal might be all behind her. She wanted to text Thomas to let him know his statement killed the lawsuit, but she decided not to. With no need for streaming distractions, she lay back in bed and sank into a deep, much-needed sleep that wasn’t infiltrated with dreams of bankruptcy and prison cells, and that was a sweet relief.

  Chapter 10

  It was a new twist on Murphy’s Law. Now that the case was behind her and life was basically back to normal, now that Cheri thought she didn’t need him anymore, of course she spotted Thomas all the time among the sea of bobbing heads in the metro. It was a tormenting reminder, the pain of which was only slightly beginning to dull.

  One morning, she sat in the back of the metro train where the train benches faced each other. She wasn’t particularly paying attention to those around her, but as she kept her head down staring at the floor, she spied cowboy boots from the corner of her eye. She didn’t want to glance up, but couldn’t stop herself.

  “Good morning,” Thomas said, sitting right across from her, his deep voice husky and strong, hitting her hard in the chest, right by her heart.

  “Are you following me?” she snipped.

  “I am,” he admitted boldly, “and from the look and sound of it, you’re in need of a little…company.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You’re awfully bitchy, Cheri,” he said, winking and smiling from ear to ear. “Seems you need something—or someone—to, uh…take the edge off.”

  She eyed him skeptically, searching inside herself and questioning things. Is he flirting with me, or just trying to get in my pants? She wasn’t sure she’d argue with either, but she only offered him a stern glare in response.

  “Just hear me out. I need to cop to what a jackass I was the last time you and I were alone.” He gave her a half shrug, as if admitting his wrong made it all okay.

  “Did I ask you to apologize? Did I even ask you to talk to me?” she fired back. She crossed her arms defensively across her chest, knowing full well that she sounded like a five-year-old throwing a tantrum. She listened but she was boiling inside, furious that he thought he could actually call the shots. Who does he think he is, telling me when to have dinner, when I need sex, when we need to say goodbye, then trying to take it back? Jackass is putting it lightly, buddy!

  “The truth is, I haven’t been able to get you off my mind,” he said with a chuckle.

  “Not for lack of trying,” she murmured acidly.

  He smiled again, then extended his booted foot to her shin and stroked it lightly.

  She jerked her leg away.

  “Yeah, you’re right. It hasn’t been for lack of trying,” he agreed, “but everything about you, from our meeting to the hurricane to my inability to let you go, has been a total surprise.”

  Cheri turned her head away from him.

  “Tough crowd,” he mumbled.

  “Aw. Poor guy, after you signed a statement and everything,” she mocked.

  “Look, I’m not asking for a medal or anything, but I know it helped,” he countered.

  Cheri gasped so sharp and loudly that all nearby riders on the train collectively turned their head to stare at her. “You know? So, my attorney discussed it with you?” she whispered.

  “No,” he replied coolly. “I looked up the case status online. My attorney helped me draw up the statement, all that legal jargon and shit, but if I had asked her to check the case for me, she would’ve charged me. Google’s still free, right?”

  Cheri made the mistake of remaining silent once more. The magnetism flowing between them was heady and undeniable, and it was getting to her. She feared she would make a fool of herself if she sputtered another syllable, and the last thing she wanted to do was throw herself at him at the back of the train; her want for him could easily trump her dignity, and she couldn’t give in to it.

  “We never did get to finish that dinner at Carmine’s,” he said easily.

  “If that’s an invitation,” she snapped, “it’s a weak attempt.”

  “Okay,” he answered patiently. “Cheri Holt, would you have dinner with me at Carmine’s, tonight? Things didn’t go so well the last time. We should fix that, have a do-over.”

  Cheri stared at his boots for a moment, deliberating. Then, in a last blast of anger, she demanded, “Why do you wear those damn shit-kickers if you don’t even like them? You said you have money. Surely you can go to a shoe store.”

  Thomas belly-laughed, a deep laugh that lasted quite a while.

  Cheri almost smiled in the wake of his amusement, but she was not ready to give up her insult just yet, and she didn’t want to let him off the hook so easily.

  “I wear these boots because of…you,” he finally managed to answer.

  Chapter 11

  Thomas texted her as the dinner hour grew near. “You didn’t say no to dinner,” he wrote. “Does that mean we’re on?”

  “Whatever,” she answered back, refusing to give him a straight answer.

  “It’s beautiful out, not a cloud in sight. I was thinking of taking my bike,” he texted.

  “You want to bike to Carmine’s?” she texted back.

 
“Not the pedal kind, silly,” he replied. “I’m talking motorcycle.”

  The notion of being on the back of a motorcycle with him made her shiver. A sweet surge flushed her, from head to toe. Once again, by the mere power of his suggestion, he made her feel something that no one else had ever made her feel. Am I being a total fool? she wondered. I shouldn’t even give him the time of day, let alone a dinner date.

  “So? Are you hungry now, ready for me to pick you up? And, more importantly, are you good on the back of a Harley?” he pressed.

  “Hmm. Well, the bike does curtail the attire a little,” she replied.

  “We can take the truck if you’d rather,” he responded, but there was disappointment in his voice.

  “No, no,” she replied. “I keep a pair of jeans here at work, so I can change. I get off at six. Can you meet me out front?”

  “Absolutely. I’ll make the reservations.”

  “Do we really need them?” she quickly texted.

  “I do. I’m all about control, as you know,” he replied, with a winky-face emoji. “I want to make sure I get the full experience of dining with you at Carmine’s.”

  After she texted him goodbye, she couldn’t help but rush to ladies’ room for a quick change. She worked for a high-end firm, so the bathrooms had all the amenities: showers, towels, razors, and hair appliances. It didn’t take her long to switch her skirt for jeans. She lost the blazer but kept the pumps, then mussed her corporate hairstyle a bit and touched up her makeup, giving herself a bit of a cat-eye with her eyeliner, more appropriate for dinner. Last of all, she brushed her teeth and applied a fresh coat of red lipstick. Good to go, she headed down to the entrance of the building to greet Thomas.

  She pushed through the revolving door and spotted him immediately, even through the blur of spinning glass. He was parked right out front, beside the curb, his long legs balancing his bike. He looked like a rebel, and the look suited him. He wasn’t a cowboy, but atop that steel horse he sure resembled one Bon Jovi would gladly croon about.

  As she approached, she realized that the difference in elevation between the sidewalk and the street gave them equal height. She found it hard to look him in the eye, but he didn’t seem to have any problem with it.

  He reached his powerful arm around her. Before, that would have led to a kiss, but they were no longer in that place. In fact, Cheri wasn’t sure if she could go through with the evening at all, since he stirred such a rich mess of emotion within her.

  Thomas had the saddest look in his eyes as he softly said, “I really do wanna apologize.”

  Cheri turned away. The moment was just too intense, and she wasn’t ready to talk about it.

  He maneuvered her so she was standing in front of him, and then he wisely changed the subject. “That ponytail looks absolutely awesome, but I’m going to do something just for the ride,” he said.

  Cheri felt some gentle tugging as his fingers moved swiftly down the length of her hair, quickly twisting the tresses into a braid. His attention sent tingles throughout her, and her breath swelled in her chest.

  The helmet he slipped onto her head fit her perfectly. She didn’t know a thing about bikes or gears, but intuitively, she realized the headgear had to be made for women, and that realization sent a green wire of jealousy twisting into her heart. She knew it would be stupid and naïve for her to think she was the first or only woman Thomas Graham had ever known, especially after that suspicious mascara. Someone had gotten past the walls he had so carefully put in place, so much so that he’d bought her a helmet, and now that helmet that belonged to someone else was perched on her head. She wanted to take it off, but she knew she was being too sensitive.

  She watched as he swung his long leg over the bike to straddle it, and that helped to kill her pain; he was good medicine. She braced herself against his magnificent back and climbed on behind him, but she sat very primly on the bike. He masterfully reached behind her knees and pulled her closer to him, as tightly as he could.

  Cheri had to rest her forehead on the center of his back as she absorbed the thrill that washed over her. Every move he made sent her over the edge. Theirs was a powerful magnetism that not even hurt and anger could allow her to deny. Everything he did had the potential to turn her on.

  Thomas was pure power as he pulled away from the curb of her office into traffic, as powerful as the roaring engine of his bike. He wove through the city blocks, toward Carmine’s, and Cheri had to admit to herself that she enjoyed him being in charge. They had to stop a few times on the way, at stop signs and traffic lights, and in those moments of stillness, clinging to him as they both straddled his machine, she began to think the ride itself might even be better than the dinner they were about to embark on. She was softening toward him, and she wasn’t sure how to feel about that after the hurt he had caused her.

  They arrived at Carmine’s rather quickly, and she pulled off the borrowed helmet. She could have easily removed the braid herself, but she waited to see if he would. Once again, his fingers toying with her hair put her on a nod. “That’s gotta be the most relaxing thing ever,” she thought out loud, her eyes widening as she forgot herself.

  “What’s that?” he asked softly.

  “You messing with my hair,” she whispered.

  “I find it relaxing, too,” he said. “Now, shall we try this again?”

  Cheri snapped out of it and stiffened, recalling all the things that had upset her before.

  Ignoring her silence and the disgusted look on her face, he motioned them forward and took her hand as they entered the restaurant.

  The fact that she had stormed out of Carmine’s the last time they were there wasn’t lost on her, and it wasn’t a foregone conclusion that she would make it through this meal either, especially when she saw how he interacted with the hostess.

  “Two,” Thomas said, “for Graham.”

  “Nice to see you again, Mr. Thomas Graham,” the girl said with a sappy smile, batting her eyelashes in a most exaggerated fashion, the lashes as long and plush as bat wings.

  Jealousy rifled through Cheri. The fact that the woman knew him by name bothered her. She felt insecure, and that made her even angrier.

  The flirty hostess seated them at a very lovely booth. “If I can do anything for you, just let me know,” she said before she sashayed away.

  Thomas seemed to ignore her and immediately picked up the wine list. “Do you mind if I make a selection?”

  Cheri wasn’t much of a connoisseur when it came to wine. “It’s all yours.”

  “How about a California red?”

  “Sounds good to me, but what about your bike?” she asked, arching a brow at him.

  “Don’t worry about drinking and driving,” he said. “If worse comes to worst, we can walk the bike back. It promises to be a beautiful night.”

  For a man so standoffish, Thomas was also very romantic. Her mind flew back to the two of them furiously chasing their passion in the rain, an experience she would never, ever forget, and one that still sent a shiver through her.

  He touched her hand when he noticed the tremble and quiver in her chin. “I really hurt you, huh?” he said. “If you think this is a bad idea…”

  “I had a great time with you during the hurricane, Thomas. I admit it was weird the way we met, but I dug you right off the bat. That first kiss…” She had to close her eyes just thinking about it.

  The wine arrived and sidetracked her speech. The wine steward was a woman as well, and she offered him a secret smile along with the chilled bottle. Cheri was so envious, and her mind instantly swarmed with all sorts of images of the two of them together, a couple that involved the hostess as well.

  “How about some of that calamari?” he asked the steward.

  “I’ll tell your waiter,” she said, then smiled again before she walked away, swaying her hips from side to side shamelessly.

  Thomas turned and focused on Cheri, who was still busy taking inventory of all the women
who insisted on flirting with him, even while he was obviously on a date with her. When she put all the pieces together—the mascara owner, the helmet wearer, the hostess, and the wine girl—it was really quite a harem. “Seems like you get plenty of attention around here,” she said, unable to keep the edge out of her voice.

  He scrunched up his face. “What are you saying?”

  “You know what I’m talking about. I’m sure you have no shortage of women in your life, Thomas. You don’t need me.”

  “I see,” he said, challenge dripping from his deep voice. “I suppose you think I’m the kind of man who’s incapable of finding satisfaction in being with one woman.”

  “It’s not my place to judge. I’m just saying…”

  “Saying what? That I’m a waste of time?” he asked with a smirk.

  Exactly, she thought, irked that he didn’t even seem to be put off by it.

  “What if I work on making it worth your while, proving you wrong?” he suggested.

  “It’d still be a game,” she said softly. She tried to sound firm and resolute, but her heart was beginning to warm and melt. Though she realized her anger could return at any moment, it was taking a temporary vacation, and she almost found herself helplessly lost in his hazel gaze again.

  “Did you expect it to go full tilt after our weekend?”

  “It’s not even that,” she said, feeling much lighter than she had when she walked into Carmine’s. “We had great sex, Thomas, but I’m a grownup. At the risk of sounding cliché, that wasn’t my first rodeo, cowboy, not my first lost weekend.”

  Thomas’s eyebrows rose at that.