He ended the call.
“Who was that?”
Ignoring her for the first time all morning, he stuffed his phone back in his pocket, typed a string of commands on the DOS screen, then pushed her computer back enough he could lean one hip on the edge of her desk. Gone was the man who’d flirted, cajoled and outright teased her all morning, replaced with the casual man she’d gotten to know Saturday night. “Okay, so you good on how the VPN works?”
“Umm.” She stared at her computer and gave her mind a few precious seconds to reboot. “Triple authentication. Use the fingerprint scanner, the key fob for the single-use password, then the pass phrase.”
“Perfect.” He stood and motioned to her desk. “You can work remote if you want, but my advice, you want to get on Knox’s good side, hit the office.”
Really? That surprised her. He seemed more of a work anywhere and all the time guy. Plus, if he wanted them to keep distance between them, coming into the office would make for more of a challenge.
Still, she agreed with the suit up and show up routine. The act of preparing and physically going to work, no matter how casual the environment, always sharpened her focus. At least it did when Beckett wasn’t crowding her space. She nodded. “I’ll be here. Every day.”
“Good call.” Beckett jerked his head toward the main lobby. “Katy worked late every night the first year she was here. Refused to leave until after Knox did. Totally paid off with her. He trusts her almost as much as he trusts me and that’s saying something.”
Interesting. Far more information than was appropriate for someone new and untried. Her instincts prickled.
Beckett stared back at her, steady and unwavering.
“Put in the hours,” she whispered.
“Definitely,” Beckett said back, though it sounded like he was asking more than telling. “You do, I gotta hunch it’ll be worth it.”
He stood and started typing a new DOS command. “A word to the wise, this unit’s got cameras and mics on all the time.” He hit the enter button, closed the command window he’d been typing in and straightened, the tone of his voice shifting to something more appropriate for discussing the weather. “You need me, you know where I am. Knox’s office is right next door.”
He ambled toward the door.
So that’s what he’d done with the DOS prompts. Killed the mic and camera long enough to share his advice. And he’d put her office right next door to Knox. Close to his brother.
“Beckett?” she said before he disappeared into the hallway.
Pausing with one hand on the jamb, he looked back at her and lifted both eyebrows. So innocent looking on the surface, but his eyes practically danced with mirth.
He was trying to help her. And not just on a professional level either. How she knew it she wasn’t sure, but the thought was there, drifting through her soft as windswept cotton. “Thank you.”
The stare he returned was intense, a demand and a plea all rolled up into one. He stepped back into the hallway’s shadows and dropped his voice low enough the camera mounted in the far corner would struggle to pick up his response. “Whatever you’re doing, keep doing it. Don’t give up.”
And then he was gone.
Chapter Fifteen
Darya hustled into her blessedly cool apartment, juggling her duffel bag full of workout clothes, her laptop bag and purse as she quickly shut the door against the brutal afternoon heat. She leaned against the door and huffed out a tired breath. The persistent beep beep beep of her freshly installed security system matched the still pounding rhythm of her heart. Thirty minutes it had taken her to drive home from Knox and Beckett’s office and she still hadn’t recovered from Beckett’s merciless workout routine. He’d said continuing her self-defense classes was a job perk, but her sore arms and ass said otherwise.
She pushed off the door with an ugly oomph and punched in her alarm code. Her conversations with Knox over the last week had been limited at best, only an hour here and there to go over her lessons and endure gruesome code reviews, though there had been one unguarded moment where he’d ranted for the better part of thirty minutes about how her landlords were “certified fucking idiots.” Hence, the reason she had only the most basic of systems instead of something that could control a third-world country. A fact that Knox was clearly not pleased about.
Her bags sat like anvils around her feet and sweat trickled down her spine. Never in her life did she think she’d ever experience triple digit heat, but as if Mother Nature had decided to celebrate the arrival of August, her thermostat had firmly shown 101. Truly, summer in Texas was hell on Earth.
She scooped up her bags, trudged past her makeshift office to unload her laptop and purse, then tossed her duffel into her bedroom on her way to the bathroom. Her haggard reflection stared back at her, hair dampened around her face with chunks that had escaped her long braid plastered to the back of her neck.
“Just keep doing what you’re doing.”
At least once a day, Beckett had found a way to reiterate the message. Sometimes with words. Sometimes with a pointed look.
She wasn’t so sure the detached and dedicated worker bee approach was working, though. Every day she strode into the office never knowing which Knox she’d bump into—the one who seemed frustrated just to be in the same room with her, or the one who looked like he was contemplating fucking her against the nearest wall.
Her vote was definitely for the latter. Time and distance hadn’t helped her forget that night or the morning after in the least. If anything, the memory had stroked her need twice as high and left her irritable and edgy. The only consolation was that he seemed to be in as bad of shape as her. Or worse. He covered it well, but his eyes didn’t seem nearly as sharp, and she’d busted him countless times either raking his hands through his hair or gouging his thumbs against his eyes.
Sighing, she peeled off her tank top, ditched her yoga pants and sports bra and cranked the tub faucet to full blast. If nothing else was meant to happen between them she’d live. And she’d do it knowing she’d not only maintained her professionalism, but survived learning from the best.
Because Knox Torren was absolutely the best at what he did. No doubt about it.
A ping sounded from the bedroom, the sound so faint it was nearly drowned out by the rush of water.
She poked her head out of the bathroom, checked to make sure the living room blinds were fully closed and scampered to her hastily discarded purse. Rummaging past her sunglasses and cosmetic case, her fingers closed around her phone near the bottom.
The green text bubble flashed Knox’s name and one line of text a second before the automatic print reader unlocked the device and sent her to the main app screen. Hands shaking from workout fatigue and an onslaught of fresh adrenaline, she flipped to her texts and nearly dropped the phone when the message came into focus.
Knox: Have you eaten?
Finally.
Her arms trembled, her palms so slick she had to grip the device with both hands to keep it steady.
Darya: No.
Simple and straightforward. Nothing he could read into one way or another and lobbed things right back into his court.
The answer came faster than she expected.
Knox: Are you hungry?
She smiled to herself, her heart picking up steam as she wandered back to the bathroom.
Darya: I thought we’d established I’m always hungry.
She leaned one hip against the vanity and bit her lip, the rush of the water splashing ferociously against the old porcelain tub as tumultuous as the blood coursing through her veins.
Knox: Can you cook?
Darya: I’m not a gourmet but I can hold my own.
Knox: Good. Then unless you tell me otherwise, I’m coming over with groceries.
Why wouldn’t she tell him to come over? Unless he was just coming to eat and nothing else. Or maybe he was coming over for work.
Darya: Why would I say no to food?
For the longest time, she stood there, staring at the screen and waiting for the answer that refused to come. She was just about to toss the phone to the counter and let her sore muscles soak in the nearly full bath when the little dots that promised an incoming message danced along the bottom of the window.
Knox: Because after you feed me I plan to fuck you until you don’t know your name. So, what’s your answer?
Her heart seized then tumbled back to a jagged rhythm. On the surface, the response was crude. Utterly disrespectful and harsh. But something told her there was more behind it. The same frustration and need she’d combated for seven very long days veiled beneath a bold dare.
And he’d left the ball squarely in her court.
Surely she could keep herself in check. She had to. Because saying no to him wasn’t an option. Not even something temporary and decadently shallow. Her body needed it. Demanded it.
She straightened away from the vanity and let her thumbs fly across the keyboard.
Darya: Technically, I have two names. You’d have your work cut out for you.
The little dots popped up right away and she held her breath.
Knox: Challenge accepted. Be there in thirty.
“Yes!” Her triumphant exclamation bounced off the stark white tiles, bringing with it the reality of what she’d just read.
Her head snapped up to the mirror. The bold and energy efficient LED bulbs shone down on her, spotlighting her bedraggled appearance. Thirty minutes was nothing. Barely enough time to get her hair dry let alone make an impression.
As soon as the thought ricocheted around in her head, another more calculated one slid in behind it. Only a woman out to tempt a man would race to make an impression. An indifferent one would be herself. She smiled back at her reflection. She could do indifferent. In fact, she knew just the right way to pull that off.
Chapter Sixteen
Knox stomped up the last few steps to Darya’s apartment, shifted the sack of ingredients he’d pilfered from his and Beckett’s pantry to one hip and knocked on the front door.
Darya’s muffled voice sounded through the thick wooden door. “It’s open.”
“You gotta be shittin’ me,” he said under his breath and curled his hand around the knob. Sure enough, the damned thing twisted smooth as butter and whisked open without a sound. Even the POS security system he’d had Danny put in was silent.
He shut the door behind him, threw the bolt and punched in the code. “You want to tell me why your front door’s unlocked?”
The rush of running water sounded from her bathroom, but no answer came.
Knox stomped toward the open bathroom door. “Darya?”
The water stopped. “What?”
“Why the hell did you leave your front door unlocked?”
She stepped into view, not a stitch on except a fluffy white towel wrapped around her chest. “Because I just got out of the shower and I still needed to brush my teeth.” Her hair was wet, but combed through and swept to one side so it spilled over one breast and her face was completely void of makeup.
Fuck, she was beautiful. Stunning just the way God made her. He clenched his hand tighter against the brown paper bag filled with food and fought the need to toss the lot of it to the ground. To rip the offensive towel away, plant her ass on the sink behind her and sink his dick inside her right now.
“You’re running from someone,” he said instead.
The easy smile on her face disappeared, replaced with caution. “Was running.”
“What if whoever it is is still looking? I changed those locks and put that system in for a reason. You think it’s a good idea to just leave yourself exposed?”
She cocked her head and lowered her voice. “I saw you pull up in the parking lot. It was only unlocked from the time you got out until the time you walked through the door.” She gripped the top of the towel and shifted it as though making sure it was properly in place. “I wouldn’t take unnecessary risks.”
Of course, she wouldn’t. She was too smart for that. But he’d sure shown his ass storming in and jumping her shit. He dipped his chin and stepped away. It was either that or pull her against him and hold her there until his heart stopped its angry tantrum. “I’ll get the stuff set up.”
Not waiting for a response, he strode to the kitchen. He had everything unpacked and a skillet and casserole dish ready to go by the time Darya strolled toward the counter. He dumped the ground beef into the skillet, watching her from the corner of his eye.
She tilted the jar of spaghetti sauce back enough to check the label then shifted her attention to the crumpled and food-stained piece of paper beside it. Gently tracing one side, she said, “Whose recipe is this?”
“Momma McKee’s.”
Her head snapped up. “Who’s Momma McKee?”
He put the lid on the skillet and forced himself to face her. The full-on experience sucker punched him hard. Her feet were still bare, but she’d put on pale gray leggings that looked as soft as his down comforter at home and a worn oversize button-down that begged a man to unbutton it. Slowly. And it was thin. So much so, the light behind her just barely outlined the lower swell of one breast.
He cleared his throat and forced his brain back online. He’d just jumped all over her ass without even a hint of provocation, and here he was planning out how and when to get her undressed. “Axel’s mom.”
She smiled, the genuineness of it so open and sweet it moved through him like a cleansing rain, forgiving him and luring back out into the sunshine all in one sweep. “I’m not sure what is more surprising. That Axel has the type of mother to share recipes, or that you actually use them.”
He laughed at that, all the tension that had gripped him the last five minutes melting away along with it. “Actually, Sylvie almost never shares her recipes. She’d rather cook for us than make us self-sufficient, but she knows I’ve got a thing for fat and cheese.” He nodded to the piece of paper loosely pinched between her fingers. “She calls that one Bachelor Lasagna.”
Her mouth twitched. “So, you’ve actually made it?”
“Several times.” He backed away from the stove and motioned her into his place. “You think you can finish up while I work?”
She scanned the counter and glanced at the recipe. “I don’t see why not.”
He nodded and started to amble back to the living room and his backpack, but hesitated before he got more than three steps in. “Darya?”
She looked up from the stove, a spatula in one hand and the skillet lid in the other.
“I’m sorry I jumped your shit. I just...” Didn’t like the thought of some asshole getting his hands on her. Hell, he didn’t like the thought of anyone’s hands on her. Which was precisely what had driven him here tonight in the first place. “You need to be careful.”
Her gaze slid back to the stove, but not before he caught the surprise in her eyes. “Believe me. I’m very, very careful.”
Before things could dive any deeper into awkward, he snatched his backpack off the living room floor and unpacked his tools. As televisions went, hers wasn’t very big, but at least it wasn’t ancient. It was also lightweight, making sliding it and the ebony particleboard stand it sat on a breeze.
“What are you doing?” Darya said from behind him.
He froze for a second, considered tossing her some bullshit excuse then decided against it. “Fixing your lackluster cable selection.”
“But I can’t afford anything more than basic.”
She might not, but he could. And while he’d tried like hell to fight it the last seven days, he’d be blowing sunshine up his o
wn ass if he didn’t admit he had every intention of spending at least a few more nights here. “You’re not going to pay a dime. Consider it a job perk,” he said to the now exposed connection. “Payback for putting up with my attitude this week.”
Her presence behind him stayed locked in place, but she kept her silence. At least at first. Then she nearly knocked him from his crouch to his knees with her soft voice. “You’re who you are and you’re taking a chance on me. That is benefit enough.” Her footsteps padded away a second later, leaving him alone with his swirling thoughts.
He really had been an ass. Cold. Insanely distant. But what the hell else was he supposed to do? He didn’t dare give in and make himself available for the same affection she gave everyone else. Let alone reciprocate it. That path spelled a hard ending that would kill him because he actually liked this woman. Respected the hell out of her intellect and her wit. Not to mention wanting to lock her up in a room, curl around her and indulge himself on her body.
Shaking off the round-and-round in his head, he screwed the faceplate back in place, gathered up his tools and put her furniture and TV back to rights. By the time he’d stowed things away and ambled into the kitchen to wash his hands, she’d already stowed the six pack of beer he’d brought, started building the layers in the casserole dish and had the skillet soaking in the sink. “Oven pre-heated?”
Her gaze slid to his hands under the cold water and her lips twitched. “Yes.”
What? She thought he had the manners of an oaf or something?
Tempted & Taken Page 13
