“I would have guessed him hardworking, but he’s a tad too charming for me to brand him ‘honest.’”
Eli narrowed one eye.
“I can’t find him charming?” She raised her wineglass and sipped, enjoying Eli’s mild jealousy.
“You can as long as you don’t get that swoonlike sparkle in your eye when I mention him.” Eli rested his elbow on the table and wiggled one finger accusatorially at her.
“Why, Eli Crane. I had no idea you were capable of this kind of flirting.” She was having such an amazing evening with him. It was unexpected. Exciting.
“I used to be capable of a lot of things,” he murmured. There was a hint of grief behind his comment she didn’t like hearing.
The pasta arrived shortly after the salads and Benicia herself left the kitchen in a tomato-sauce-stained apron to introduce herself. She was small, gray-haired, with a large nose and a larger smile. She shook Eli’s hand, then Isa’s in a flour-dusted, bone-crushing grip.
She’d informed them that the tiramisu was on the house, then scuttled back to the kitchen to send it out. Eli and Isa ate in companionable silence much like they did at his house every weekday. They’d shared a lot of meals together, which made tonight feel less like a first date…if that’s what it was.
Dessert and espresso followed, but before she dug into her tiramisu—layered with homemade ladyfingers—there was a question she had to know the answer to. Tonight, he was being open and honest. How much more would he tell her?
“Eli?”
“Yeah?” He didn’t look up, piercing his dessert with his fork.
“Do you miss your leg?”
* * *
In typical Isabella Sawyer fashion, she crashed through the barriers of politeness. Rather than tiptoe around the topic, she’d busted in headfirst. It was a manner he could appreciate.
“Yes,” he answered honestly. Then waited to see where she’d go with the conversation.
She ate a bite of her dessert and chewed thoughtfully. He watched her full lips, no less tempting without the bright pink lipstick, his own fork suspended over his plate.
“In your journal—”
“That you weren’t supposed to read.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I was so…intrigued. You wrote you didn’t miss it. But I would think you’d have to.”
“Well, it’d been with me my whole life.”
She gave him a small smile he returned. Then he told her exactly the way he saw things.
“Battle is nothing new. Men have fought brutal battles to protect what is theirs, what they love, since the beginning of time. Whenever I shipped out, I had one clear mission: keep the men and women around me safe. That was the only mission.” His throat tightened as he considered how he’d failed two men in particular. “I’d sacrifice a part of my body to protect others. God knows Benji and Chris gave the ultimate sacrifice to protect me.”
She reached across the table and stroked his hand. The shock of being consoled over this matter in particular sent a drove of pins and needles up his forearm. Sure his family knew the details and had given him plenty of attention, but from a woman…a woman on a date. This was new. Unexpectedly welcome.
“They gave the way you would have, Eli. They protected you. You can’t deny them the same right to protect their friend.”
“They shouldn’t have.” His lip curled, that hollowed-out feeling returning to his chest whenever he thought of that day. “Christopher had children. Benji had a wife.”
“That’s heartbreaking.”
“I know what it’s like to grow up without a mom. Christopher’s kids won’t ever see their father again—and Benji won’t get the chance to have children.” As much as he missed and longed for his mother, Eli had been blessed to have her around for most of his childhood. Reese had more time with her, Tag had less, but at least they could cling to years of memories.
“For what it’s worth”—Isa gave his hand a light squeeze—“I’m glad your friends sacrificed for you to be here. If you’d have all been lost, I’d never have met you.”
He soaked in her words like rays of sunshine on a chilly day. She held his eyes with hers, her gaze unyielding. Unwavering. As usual, he was caught in a web of her strength and her beauty.
“You don’t dwell, I’ve noticed,” she said.
“No reason to.” He slipped his hand out from under hers and she sat back in her seat. He was as relieved as he was disappointed to lose the attention.
“Yes, but I think it’s because you’re simply not a dweller. It’s like you said, men have been sacrificing parts of themselves as long as humans have been on the earth. You know that, you accept that. The same way you lost your leg and accepted it. The same way, ultimately, you accepted my help.”
“Were you inevitable, Sable?” She was the one who’d danced around the topic of fate—so maybe that was why the word flashed onto the screen of his mind. He wasn’t sure if he and Isa were fated to meet, but she definitely fit him in a way no other woman had. With Crystal, there had always been a push and pull to get along—so fierce he would practically sweat from the effort. With Isa, there was that same dynamic, but the push and pull felt natural. Like no matter what, she was never truly at odds with him.
“I admit”—she lifted her tiny espresso cup and peered at him over the rim, a vision with her dark hair up and dangling earrings twinkling in the candlelight—“you drew me in. I mean, I didn’t have a choice. You unsheathed your claws and stomped off every assistant I sent you. It was either show up myself or let you ruin my hard-won reputation.”
A surge of attraction hit him so hard he didn’t know what to do with it. The restaurant’s sights and sounds dissolved around her like an ethereal cloud until she was the only one in clear focus. Isa was a force he wouldn’t avoid. Even in a bright pink dress offsetting her warm skin tone, she reminded him of a cold wind snapping off the lake, burning his face as he walked into it.
“Beauty is a rare thing in war,” he said, his own lust-infused voice sounding foreign.
Her cocksure smile slipped as she rested the mug on the tablecloth.
“When I came home, I didn’t find beauty here. Months of rehabilitation, keeping my head down and working on the Refurbs project became my focus. Then you…” He shook his head in wonder as the epiphany hit him. “You come along, Sable, and absolutely choke a room with it.”
Her whiskey-colored eyes darkened, shadowed by thick black lashes. Her voice wasn’t more than a stunned whisper when she said, “Thank you.”
“I’m not talking about the way you look.” Though, God, Isa was a vision in every way. “I mean your spirit. You’re fierce. Strong.”
She quieted and he wondered if she was working through what he’d said. No doubt this woman had been told she was beautiful—gorgeous—a million times. Her body alone had to have drawn men like moths doomed to incinerate in the flame. But there was more to her. Layer upon layer of trust and power, independence, and a healthy dose of snark.
He was intrigued by every layer.
“Come home with me.” It was out of his mouth before he’d meant to say it.
“Um…” Her smile was nervous.
Shit. Why had he blurted that?
“Sorry.” He lifted his own espresso for something to do with his hands. “I haven’t done this in a while—a long while. Not since—”
“Eli.”
He expected to meet a pair of sympathetic eyes and hear a well-versed excuse. Instead, Isa’s eyes sparkled in the candlelight and a rich, velvet laugh echoed from her throat.
“I was going to suggest my place instead,” she said. “It’s closer.”
If he’d had a mirror in front of him, he knew he would have seen a grin that matched hers.
* * *
This was it.
An unexpectedly romantic evening with wine and food and delectable dessert was about to be followed by her inviting Eli into her bedroom. So lost in the magic of their conversation and the
subtle ways he shared his secrets, Isa hadn’t considered, until Eli pulled into her parking lot, that she wasn’t only asking him in…
She was asking him up.
Outside the windshield, she mentally counted the steps leading to her cozy top-floor apartment. Her heart sank. To Eli, the flight must look a mile long.
The engine died when Eli turned the key and the only sounds in the car were her own heartbeat and their quiet breaths.
“Sable.”
“I know. I didn’t even think about it when I suggested we come here.” She hazarded a glance over at him to find his eyebrows lowered. “We can go to your place. I don’t expect you to compromise.”
“What are you talking about?”
“The stairs.” She pointed needlessly. “There are a thousand stairs leading to my front door.”
He glanced out the window, then back at her. “I see that.”
“But you can’t…or maybe you don’t want to—”
“If you’re having second thoughts, just say it.” His tone was clipped.
Her heart hammered. From excitement or nerves? Isa hadn’t had sex in three years. Three. Years. When she looked at Eli, there wasn’t a single part of her that didn’t want to explore what was between them.
Unless things went beyond sex.
She’d thought Josh had been emotionally unavailable—and he had—but Eli Crane took the proverbial cake. She’d had her first date in forever with a stubborn, closed-off Marine, for God’s sake. Sex would be amazing if his kiss would be anything to go by, but what about after? How would she continue to see him or work for him? How messy would things get if she were dating the epitome of Mr. Emotionally Unavailable?
True, Isa was strong and brave. But a relationship with Eli would test both those limits. She didn’t know if she was ready to put herself in a position of such vulnerability—not yet.
This was a mistake.
“Sable—”
“You know what? I’m going to go. I’ll see you Monday.” She flashed a quick smile and climbed from the car, shutting the door behind her before he could say another word. Not that he did. The last visual she had of him was his frowning mouth and crinkled brow. A peek back at his car from the staircase didn’t reveal more than a dark, reflective windshield.
Who knew what he was thinking right now?
All she knew was that the timing was wrong. Or…not the timing, but something. Something was off.
She’d done the right thing.
For her future. For her heart.
Chapter 9
Mondays were for overachieving.
Eli loved the fresh possibility of the first morning of the workweek, unlike most people who treasured Garfield-style litanies about hating Mondays. To him, a new week was a fresh start. A chance to make up for a week that didn’t go well or a weekend where he’d indulged.
Or a weekend where he’d been blown off.
He’d wanted to indulge—to overindulge—over and over with Isa, but at her apartment she’d balked. The stairs. The goddamn stairs. At the Vancouver, she’d rerouted him, and then at her apartment, she’d given up on him. She’d proven to him that she was a lot like everyone else—first by coddling him, then by feeling sorry for him.
The entire evening had left a sour taste in his mouth and a fresh ripple of loneliness swamped him when he’d returned home alone. He regretted getting swept up in the moment at dinner as much as he regretted driving back to his place without arguing with her further.
He wasn’t a total pig. He would have understood if she balked because she’d changed her mind or because she simply didn’t want to be intimate. He couldn’t help thinking she’d balked because those stairs acted as a reminder that he was different from who she was used to dealing with—a special case. A man with a missing limb that she didn’t know how to accommodate.
Emasculating? Yes. Frustrating? Hell yes.
Today was his clean slate—Eli could start over, get back into the swing of things. Regimens were nothing knew. He was accustomed to following a routine. In his former life as a Marine, his days had been regimented. Once he’d come home, his days were regimented in a different way—organized by rehabilitation and relearning the basics like walking and how to care for and clean his wound. Now he worked out to maintain strength and muscle, ate a healthy amount of protein, veggies, and fruits, and focused on launching Refurbs for Vets.
He’d learned repeatedly that life was anything but routine. Once he’d found a decent gallop, there’d be a hiccup that temporarily set him back. Lately, it was family dinners, assistants in his house and in his way, and the occasional swamping fatigue reminding him to slow down.
Those hiccups paled in comparison to the major upset of Isa.
The woman wasn’t a hiccup; she was an attack—the kind requiring a rushed visit to the hospital for emergency surgery.
Today he was ready for her. He’d been up since five this morning, had started with a protein shake and an aggressive workout that spent his muscles and left him panting and sweating on the mat in his exercise area.
Then it was shower, shave, prep his meals for the day. He wasn’t going to have takeout lunch with his assistant any longer. He’d crossed more than one line with her. He blamed proximity and good old-fashioned lust. Isabella was a beautiful, beguiling, and intriguing woman. He was drawn to her, which meant either she needed to stay out of his way or he would have to fire her.
For good.
The elevator whined, signaling Isa’s arrival. He had mentally prepared for a low-cut shirt, short, short skirt, and high, high heels. But when she slid the elevator door aside, she wasn’t dressed like the Isa of his memory. She wore a navy blue dress with a collar. The sleeves went to her elbows, the front buttoned all the way up, and the skirt hit her knees. There wasn’t a single sexy thing about the frock.
Except that she wore it.
She scuffed in wearing flats instead of clicking along the concrete in a pair of impractical high heels. He found her scuffling less appealing than the clomping he’d bitched about prior.
“Nice shoes,” he grumbled. She’d done this on purpose. Trying to tone herself down so he wouldn’t find her attractive? It was no use. Isa permeated the room with sensuality the instant she stepped in it. Good thing he was immune.
Mostly.
“Mr. Crane,” she stated primly. She wore a pair of large-framed glasses on her nose, and her hair was pulled into a high ponytail.
His libido was panting for her. He couldn’t not be attracted to her. If she’d breezed in here in a paper grocery bag he’d still want her.
Well, too bad.
Right. He had shit to do.
Since most of that “shit” was up to him to assign, he’d prepared ahead. He slapped a stack of file folders down on the dining room table—aka, her desk.
“Need you to dig into these for me.”
“And what are ‘these’?” She rested her bright orange, fancy-looking purse on one of the fabric chairs at the table.
“Candidates for Refurbs. I need estimates on what kind of upgrades each of them requires. Zach’s estimations are in there, along with my budget. You can go through and tell me what fits and what doesn’t.”
Her mouth formed a little O.
“I also need you to schedule the construction.”
“Schedule…the construction?” She picked up a folder and thumbed through it. “Eli, I know nothing about—”
“There is an estimate of man-hours and materials in the folder from Zach. If you have questions, call him. His phone number is in there.”
She blinked, her long lashes brushing the lenses of her glasses, her eyes big and innocent. She was so damn sexy his mind muddled.
“Why are you wearing those?” he asked through clenched teeth.
“These?” She pushed the glasses up her nose. “I wear them when I drive. My eyes have been getting tired from staring at a computer day and night. I do have to actually run Sable Concierge in additi
on to working here doing”—she closed the folder—“construction scheduling, apparently.”
She was challenging him, but he wouldn’t back down. She was the one who wanted to work for him so damn badly.
“You sure you want me to call Zach?” She propped a hand on her hip in challenge.
“Be my guest.” He added a nonchalant shrug that felt forced because it was.
Yes, he’d asked her not to date Zach. And, yes, Eli had done it because he thought—for a few insane moments—that there was something between himself and Isa. After Saturday, it was clear there wasn’t.
She doesn’t want you. Let it go.
When regret filled his chest this time he did his best to ignore it. He didn’t have to look far into his past to find proof that he wasn’t good dating material, and he didn’t have to look anywhere but down for a reminder that he was a challenge. Crystal hadn’t signed up for him, and Isa didn’t want to either.
“My lunch is prepared for the week, so I won’t be needing takeout,” he said, putting an end to his own personal pity party. He knew who he was. Knew what needed to be done. He didn’t need Isa to validate him. “I have a coffeemaker in my office now, so you’re off coffee duty. You have your orders, Sergeant. I suggest you get started.”
He turned and marched to his office, head high, adrenaline spiked. Back in control. Of himself. Of his surroundings.
As long as he ignored that niggling in his gut telling him he was acting like an ass.
* * *
What on God’s green earth…?
Isa, manila folder in hand, stood scowling in the direction Eli had vanished, shaking her head at the interaction. She knew absolutely nothing about the construction business, though Eli had given her enough information and forms to ensure she wouldn’t be speaking to him all day.
Coffeemaker in his office. Pfft.
His lunch was prepared. Double pfft.
“Fine,” she said to herself, dropping the folder and tightening her ponytail. She plopped into the seat and tore the glasses off her face. They were from the dollar store. She didn’t need them. She hadn’t fibbed about the eyestrain, but her main purpose in buying the frames was to try and look more like a professional assistant. After their awkward departure Saturday, when she’d tucked her tail between her legs and fled up the stairs, she hadn’t been sure she’d be able to face him Monday morning. First, she’d insulted him by suggesting he couldn’t scale the stairs to her apartment, then she’d delivered the felling blow. She’d left him sitting in the car without thanking him for dinner or for being there for her through the Josh debacle. Without telling him the real reason she no longer wanted him to come up to her apartment.
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