by Lexi Ryan
“I saw you crying,” Chrissie said, her tone softening.
Josie grabbed a paper towel and dried her hands. “I’m pretty screwed up when it comes to this stuff. I don’t want you and Paige looking at me like I’m a kicked puppy dog all the time.”
“What are you looking for? How does it connect to the fertility clinics? We can help.”
Josie shook her head. “It doesn’t.”
Chrissie frowned. “Okay, but don’t expect me to be happy about some SIA guy getting to help you when I’m not allowed.”
“Fair enough,” Josie said.
“Let’s blow this joint.”
***
Josie frowned at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. At twenty-six, she could see age creeping into her face. Not in an obvious way. Not yet. But the last ten years had taken its toll on her—first the stress of her parents’ mysterious deaths, then a job she poured herself into, heart and soul. She could see evidence of this around her mouth and eyes when the makeup was gone.
Josie and Chrissie had gone back to Stilettos, Inc. headquarters to hang out, and Josie’s friend Chad had called. He was in town and wanted to hook up. She’d turned him down. Again. She wouldn’t be surprised if he stopped calling. She hadn’t accepted his invitation in months.
Though she didn’t want to admit it, it had been because of Tanner. Her visions of them together were so powerful and so real. Even now that she’d decided she couldn’t be with Tanner, being with another man felt wrong.
She groaned. All the more reason to do it.
But she didn’t feel like playing the part of the giggly, airheaded girl tonight, and she’d known that was what Chad would expect. Better to turn him down than wear herself out. She had an investigation to worry about. Wasn’t that why God made vibrators?
Something caught her attention in the edge of the mirror, but it was gone as soon as it appeared. She stilled. She wasn’t alone. She knew it as surely as she knew she wasn’t the same bombshell beauty with her hair pulled into a ponytail and her makeup washed away.
She closed her eyes. How could she have forgotten? She’d seen this when she touched Tanner earlier tonight. She’d seen him in her apartment. She hadn’t known it would be tonight. Or had she? As pissed as she was that he was going to look through her things without her permission, hadn’t she gotten turned on by the thought of him lingering while she went about her nightly routine? Hadn’t she liked the idea of him watching as she stripped out of her clothes? Hadn’t it slipped into her thoughts all evening?
She had told herself she was turning down Chad because she wasn’t up for company, but there was more to it. She wasn’t up for Chad’s company. She’d been more interested in the company of a certain green-eyed special agent.
She pulled the tie from her hair to let it tumble around her shoulders before sauntering into the bedroom. He wanted to spy on her? She’d give him something to spy on.
Aware of every move, she pulled her T-shirt over her head and wandered to her bookshelf in nothing but her bra and underwear. How lucky that she had fantastic taste in lingerie. Tonight she wore a lace demi-cup and matching thong in blush pink.
From the shelf, she selected Anais Nin’s Delta of Venus—not that she needed it. With an invisible Wiley looking on, she could come with nothing but forbidden lust to arouse her. She slid onto her bed with the book, leaving the overhead light on. If she was going to give him a show, she wanted him to see all of her. She wanted to know he could see all of her.
She leaned against the pillow and opened the tattered paperback to where she’d last left off. Her fingertips trailed over the bare skin of her midriff. She couldn’t focus on the words. Her thoughts continually returned to Tanner. She’d wanted him since the first time they met. He probably had that effect on most women, but Josie had never reacted to another man as she had to Tanner.
He had a face of hard lines and sun-ravaged skin, and despite the loneliness Josie sensed in him, he always appeared more at ease than the other men in his unit. He had the complexion of a man who spent more time living life and experiencing the world than doing paperwork behind a desk, and had a body to match.
She’d moved a hand to her breast, slipping it into her bra. Rolling her nipple under her palm, she wished it were his rough hand and not her soft one. Was he here? Was he close? Standing at the foot of the bed, waiting for when she might part her legs? Was his cock hard as he watched, hoping for a glimpse of her swollen sex?
She went slick at the thought. She let her knees fall open and slid her hand between her legs, rubbing herself through the wet lace of her panties. She was so swollen for him and couldn’t have him.
But this—letting him watch while she touched herself, letting him think she didn’t know he was there—this was harmless. It might make him hard, but it wouldn’t make him fall in love. It wouldn’t start anything she knew she couldn’t finish.
She slid her fingers under the lace, thinking of him watching, thinking of him reaching for his cock as her fingers slid over her clit. She pictured him squeezing his shaft in his hand, working it with just enough friction, just enough movement.
She moaned, thinking of those always-changing eyes studying her, imagining his balls growing tight as he watched her.
Her eyes flew open and she looked around. That sense of another presence in the room, gone.
She sat up. She was no empath, but she was a lot more in tune to energy in the room than some average human, and the only energy in this room was her own.
She threw herself back against the pillows and let out a quiet moan of frustration. She needed to finish what she’d started if she was going to be recharged for tomorrow, but it would be a hell of a lot more interesting if he were watching.
***
Tanner slid down the living room wall and closed his eyes, but the image of Josie spreading her legs and slipping her hand between them was seared on the back of his lids.
Her soft moans traveled through the thin walls. Tanner pressed his head back, listening to her soft mewls as she touched herself.
He couldn’t stop imagining he was still in there with her, watching her. Wishing she were watching him, her eyes locked with his as she stroked herself.
Her long cry echoed through the house, and his aching cock demanded release.
Was she parting her labia? Slipping a finger inside her pussy and rocking against it?
Her long moans shifted to more staccato exclamation, and he had to force himself to stay put. Not to, at the very least, slip his cock from his jeans and stroke himself to the sounds of her pleasure.
He stood and paced. He wasn’t here to jack off. He was here to figure out what the hell she was hiding from him. To get off while listening to her pleasuring herself when she thought she was alone—it was…
Another long moan.
He paced faster, almost wishing she’d hear his invisible footsteps. What would she do if she discovered him here now?
She murmured something. Was that his name?
He couldn’t resist, and he found himself at her bedroom door. He couldn’t see her, but he her words were clear.
“Watch me,” she murmured. “I want you to watch me while I come.”
His balls tightened. Fantasy, Wiley. It’s just her fantasy. She’s not talking to you.
But, dear Mother Mary and all that was holy, what if she was?
He leaned against the wall again, listening as her breathing became more and more rapid and her moans grew into short little bursts of exclaimed pleasure. And when the moans stopped all together, and all he could hear was the bucking of her hips sliding against the sheets, he told himself he was a better man for having left the room.
After all, when he first saw the rosy post-orgasmic glow on her cheeks, he wanted to be the one who put it there.
He edged back quickly when she emerged from the room.
In nothing but that lacy pink bra and thong, Josie sauntered to the kitchen—hips swaying as if she knew
he was there to taunt. She turned on the faucet, licking her swollen lips as she filled a glass.
He couldn’t help but watch her face as she drank the whole glass in one go. She was flushed and glowing. Her hair was tousled, falling around her shoulders in soft blond waves.
She looked around the room, a half-smile on her face, as if she were searching for something she lost.
“Was it as good for you as it was for me?” she asked with a smirk.
Tanner froze. His heart kicked into double time. Was she joking? Talking to herself?
“Quit screwing around, Wiley. I know you’re there.”
Smooth, Wiley, real smooth. He dropped his mental cloak and materialized. “Hey, Jose.”
She quirked a brow and lowered her gaze to his crotch. “Is that a hard on in your pocket, or are you just spying on me?”
He winced, muttered, “You knew I was here.”
“I can see the future.” She looked him up and down. “But I have to say, I’m disappointed.”
“Josie, I left the room as soon as I realized what you were doing.” He stared at the ceiling and silently added, as much as it cost me.
“Huh. I would have thought you’d help me out.” She strode from the kitchen until she stood two feet in front of him, her skin flushed and exposed, her eyes hot, challenging. “I thought you’d have the balls to watch.”
“I’m not some peeping Tom.”
She narrowed her eyes. “No, you’re just the ass that broke into my house to go through my things.”
Chapter Three
Tara Sykes smoothed the short hair at the nape of her neck for the tenth time and wiggled her foot. She eyed Chrissie cautiously.
“What can I do for you?” Chrissie asked. Tara looked nervous, so Chrissie tried to sound reassuring. No, she didn’t just look nervous. She looked like she believed Chrissie had a nasty habit of spontaneous cannibalism.
“Thanks for meeting with me,” Tara said, swallowing. She clenched her hands in her lap. “I was going to meet with Josie, but...”
“Josie’s not here. I don’t know when she’ll be back.” Or what this latest mission of hers is really about, or why she’s keeping so many secrets from us.
Chrissie crossed her legs and studied Paige’s little sister. Though only nineteen, Tara had spent more time in the hospital than most people do their whole lives. For most of her teenage years, she’d suffered from what the doctors had called leukemia. Six months ago, she’d tried to sacrifice herself to stop the then-president of the United States, the Ascendants’ leader. To keep him from making non-Specials into little more than slaves and cattle, she’d put herself in his clutches so he would drink her toxic blood. Paige had saved her, but not before Winston had drained a significant amount of blood from Tara. No one really understood why, but after it was over, Tara’s “leukemia” was gone. And so was her power.
“What can I do for you, Tara?” Chrissie repeated. Okay, it was a little weird to have Tara ask to meet with her, but she was playing the ungrateful little sister and not speaking to Paige more than absolutely necessary, so Chrissie wasn’t entirely surprised.
Tara wrung her hands and studied her feet. “I want a job,” she blurted.
Chrissie relaxed. Maybe this would be easier than she thought. “So, put in some applications.” She attempted her best reassuring smile. This shit just didn’t come naturally to her. “It’s easier than it sounds.”
Tara shook her head, still avoiding Chrissie’s gaze.
Chrissie’s eyebrows shot up. Surely the kid didn’t mean—
Before Tara could muster the courage to take her eyes off her shoes, Chrissie put on a professional, neutral expression. “A job where?” Never assume. Maybe Tara wanted a job...at the mall. There was no reason to panic and think she wanted a job as a Stiletto Girl—which Paige would let happen just as soon as hell frosted over. Paige wasn’t just a little protective of Tara. She sometimes treated the girl as if she were a small child who might run into the street.
Tara set her jaw and lifted her gaze to meet Chrissie’s. “A job with Stilettos, Inc.,” she said, her tone—if not her words—spelling out what an idiot Chrissie was.
“The hell you do,” Chrissie said, then felt like a bitch when Tara winced as if she’d been slapped.
Chrissie sighed and cursed Paige. Damn it, if Paige weren’t being so difficult about forbidding Collin to see Tara, then maybe she and Tara would be talking. Then Paige would be the one having this conversation. “Tara—”
“Don’t Tara me. Will you please take me seriously for a minute instead of treating me like Paige’s little sister?”
Chrissie sighed. She could understand the girl’s frustration. “Okay.”
“I’m a woman now,” Tara said.
Chrissie winced. You’re only nineteen!
“I know I don’t have the experience that you, Josie, and Paige do, but when you all started this firm, you didn’t have any experience, either.”
Chrissie held her tongue because she didn’t think Tara would appreciate it if she said, But we weren’t nineteen. She also didn’t mention that they’d had their share of hard knocks before starting the firm. Tara had been in the field once, and a suicide mission was a hardly standard Stiletto Girl protocol.
Tara rolled her shoulders back and lifted her chin a fraction of an inch, clearly gaining confidence from Chrissie’s silence. “I’ve been watching you guys work since you opened, and I know more about the business than you realize. I can also see where you’re holding yourselves back from being a truly great firm.”
Chrissie’s jaw dropped. She couldn’t believe this kid. “Holding ourselves—”
Tara held up a hand. “Now, don’t get upset. You’re just too close to it, so you can’t see. You guys have so much potential.”
Potential? Were they not the number-one most recommended firm in the metro D.C. area? Were they not turning away clients?
“What you really need is a big thinker,” Tara went on. “That’s where I come in.” Tara smiled and looked at Chrissie expectantly.
Chrissie reached for her coffee, suddenly wishing it were laced with vodka. She took a slow sip and concentrated on not slapping the kid or at the very least giving her a solid piece of her mind. A couple of semesters of college and suddenly the kid was Bill Gates. Did she even realize this was Chrissie’s life she was criticizing?
But this was Paige’s little sister, so Chrissie forced a smile. “Can you...” Play nice, Chrissie. She dug around for strategies she’d learned in that stupid anger management class the court had required her to take. “Please tell me what you mean by that?”
Tara smiled, obviously not sensing the irritation Chrissie was doing her best to stamp down. “It’s been the three of you from the beginning, and you’re hot, you’re cool, you’ve got that whole Charlie’s Angels thing going for you, I get that, but...” She gave a condescending shrug. “It just doesn’t make business sense.”
Chrissie’s tongue refused to stay bitten. “And what would you know about how well we’re doing?”
“Well, sure, you’re turning a profit, but aren’t you turning away clients?”
“We get enough business that we can be selective with our cases, but—”
Tara turned her palms to the ceiling. “You see? There it is. You see this as a sign of success, and it is, but it’s also an opportunity to make a change you could profit from.” She held up a finger. “Let me finish. You three pass on all these cases that are small beans, but the clients are willing to pay Stiletto Girl rates. Essentially, what you’re doing is turning away easy money. Why not take on a few new Girls and have them handle the cake cases you’re passing on now? More profit for the company, and you’re grooming your replacements.”
Chrissie coughed up the coffee she’d just sucked into her lungs. “Our replacements? What, now you’re forcing us into retirement, too?”
Tara leaned forward, heady on momentum now. “I know you love what you do, Chrissie,
but don’t tell me you want to be kicking ass forever. Think about the future. Someday you’ll have babies at home...babies in your belly.”
Chrissie drew in a sharp breath. Score one for team Tara. Maybe the little shit was more observant than she let on. Most people saw Chrissie’s punk exterior and assumed none of that happily-ever-after crap appealed to her.
“Do you really think you’ll want to carry on then as you do now?”
Chrissie studied her coffee. She didn’t have babies in her immediate future, but Tara was right. She couldn’t carry on like this forever. She wasn’t even sure she’d want to. Damn it if the girl didn’t have a convincing argument. “Paige will resist the idea,” she warned.
Tara grinned, and her whole face brightened in a way that reminded Chrissie just how young she was. “You’ll talk to her, though? I promise you won’t regret it!”
Unlikely. “I can’t make any promises, Tara. The three of us make decisions together and—”
Tara flew around the desk and threw herself into Chrissie’s lap, wrapping her arms around her waist. “Thank you so much, Chrissie!”
Chrissie sighed and returned the hug. Tara was the closest thing to a little sister she’d ever have. The girl had no way of knowing how lonely life as a Stiletto Girl could be. And Paige had sheltered Tara too much for her to even know how dangerous. But Chrissie saw something in the girl she recognized. A desperate need to have a purpose.
She’d talk the other girls into it.
“I knew I could count on you to give me a chance,” Tara said.
As she fingered the dark hair on the back of Tara’s head, Chrissie wondered, a chance at what, exactly?
***
“So what’s our story?” Tanner asked Josie as they exited the Metro and moved through the throng toward the street.
“We’re married,” she said, pushing toward the exit. “We’ve been trying to have a baby for a little over a year, and we’re looking for a fertility doctor to help us conceive since we can’t seem to do it on our own.” She kept her eyes averted as she told him their cover. Last night, after giving him a piece of her mind for going through her things, she’d kicked him out of her apartment and gone to bed feeling cocky as hell.
