by Lucy Score
Waverly winced. “And I accused you of flirting instead of doing your job.”
“I was flirting, but it was in the line of duty.”
“I was a tiny bit jealous,” she confessed.
“I was jealous of Wrede.”
“If it’s any consolation, you’re a much better kisser.”
“I’d bet that I’m better at a lot of things,” Xavier muttered.
“A lot of things that are off the table,” Waverly reminded him. “Oh, God. This is going to be awkward. First I didn’t want you around, and now I’m going to be thinking about how good it felt when you—”
“Don’t even think about finishing that sentence,” Xavier threatened. “We need to make one more deal.”
“What are the terms?” Waverly asked.
“You can’t run from me again. It turns me into a predator.”
Waverly caught her breath and held it. “That feels like a commitment.”
His grin was wicked this time. “It is. I need you to trust me, Waverly.”
He was asking for the nearly impossible. “We’ll play it by ear.” It was as far as she was willing to go.
“Fair enough.” He rose and crossed the short span of concrete to her. “If the negotiations are over…” Xavier held out his hand.
They shook solemnly and Waverly tried not to remember what it had felt like minutes before to have those big, hard hands on her.
“Now, let’s talk about why you’re sitting on a motorcycle in Kate’s garage when I told you to stay home.”
Waverly heaved a sigh. “You’re just going to get mad again.” Although that might lead to another kiss, so it wasn’t entirely a lose-lose.
“Try me,” he said.
“Don’t you ever just want to be someone else? Even just for an hour?”
He crossed his arms, considered her. “Everyone does.”
“Well, I spend my entire life being someone else. Whoever my agent, the studio, the director, the journalist, my parents need me to be. Sometimes I want to be just me.”
“Who are you?”
She shrugged her shoulders in a quick lift and drop. “I don’t know, but I’d like to find out.”
“And you’re going to find out on a one-hundred and seventy-five-horse street bike?”
“Very good, X. You know your bikes.”
“How long have you been riding?”
“Four years. I learned for a movie before the insurance put the kibosh on me doing the stunts. But it was too late. I already loved it.” She patted the gunmetal gray tank. “This was my secret birthday present to myself when I turned eighteen.”
“Are you any good?”
She grinned. “Hell yeah, I’m good. Do you ride?”
“I’ve done my fair share.”
“I’ve got another one, if you’re interested,” she nodded toward the bike-shaped tarp in the corner.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Xavier wasn’t exactly clear on how Waverly had talked him into it, but he found himself astride her sweet Victory Hammer cruising toward the coast with the balmy summer breeze ruffling his suit jacket.
He’d at least had the presence of mind to secure two promises from her. She’d buy them dinner and stay under the speed limit. They’d ridden through neighborhoods, past gated homes with emerald green lawns and crews of gardeners, through streets neatly lined with identical townhouses in beiges and stucco. When they hit the PCH, the Pacific waters glittering below them.
Once he was confident in her competence on the bike, he let Waverly have the lead. She obviously had a destination in mind, and he was content to watch her back.
With her thick curtain of hair tucked up under her helmet and molded dark backpack, she could have been just another anonymous rider on the road. Except for that long, lean body with curves more impressive than the highway under sexy biker jeans and a tight leather jacket.
He’d had his hands on those curves. And Xavier wasn’t sure how he was ever going to forget it. Or stop wanting more.
They crested a hill, and he watched as Waverly let the bike move with the road, flying downhill. Her laugh through the headset in his helmet went straight to his groin. He accelerated smoothly and pulled alongside her, ready to let her see his displeasure for breaking the rules. But the smile, the unadulterated joy on her face, had him grinning back at her through his visor.
“Try to keep it under eighty, Sinner,” he told her.
She whooped in his ear, and together, they flew through the descent. He knew what she was after, what she’d found in that moment. Freedom. And it was heady.
They slowed with the next ascent, and Xavier spotted a road sign promising food at the next exit. “I think I found dinner,” he said into his headset.
Waverly glanced at the sign and laughed. “Perfect.”
They found the Taco Bell tucked away on a side street in a tiny beach town and parked side-by-side in a parking space. Waverly tugged off her helmet and shook out her hair. Xavier cut the throttle and pried off his own helmet.
“That was awesome,” Waverly said, twirling in a tight circle between the bikes.
“You can ride,” Xavier admitted, running a hand up the back of his head. She was tantalizing when she was happy. She’d scrubbed off her event makeup and with nothing more than lip gloss and flushed cheeks, she was perfection. The walls were down and she was just a happy, beautiful, California girl.
She shot him that grin that had his cock stirring restlessly.
“You’re not so bad yourself,” she winked.
“Well, I didn’t have professional stunt training, but I get by.”
She grabbed his hand and tugged him off the bike. “Come on, X. I’ll buy you dinner.”
“You take your dates to the nicest places,” he commented, letting her pull him into the restaurant.
They went blissfully unidentified at the counter and took their bag of tacos and nachos to go.
Back on the bikes, he let her lead the way to their final destination. She navigated through the little town and just beyond where the traffic was nearly non-existent. There, squeezed between cliff and sea, was a quiet ribbon of sandy beach.
They parked against the dunes, and Waverly shucked off her helmet and jacket. Her boots and socks came next. “Strip,” she ordered, giving him the onceover.
“This isn’t a nude beach is it?”
“No, but I’m sure they’d make an exception in your case.”
“Funny.” He shoved his tie in the saddlebag.
“You can lose the jacket, too,” Waverly suggested.
He opened his jacket to reveal his shoulder holster.
“Right. I forgot,” she said. She picked up her backpack and tossed it to him. “Here, pretend you’re a mere mortal for a few minutes.”
Warily he scanned the parking lot. There was one other vehicle, a hatchback with stickers proclaiming the driver’s love for rescue dogs and Valley Sun Preschool. He sighed. How many other rules would he break tonight? he wondered as he slipped out of his jacket, draping it over the bike and releasing his holster.
He checked the chamber and safety before slipping the gun and holster into the backpack’s molded compartment. When he moved to unbutton his shirt, he didn’t miss the way Waverly’s eyes flickered over him. Maybe he wasn’t the only one struggling with the idea of “out of the system.”
He stripped down to his undershirt and stepped out of his oxfords. He slung the backpack over one shoulder. “Happy?” he asked her.
“Ecstatic.”
They trudged over the dunes, his free arm draped loosely over her shoulder. They could have passed for a typical couple enjoying a romantic evening picnic. The only other beach occupants were a family of three and their two dogs, some kind of retriever mix and a bulldog that seemed more content on the blanket than chasing the surf with his friend.
“They don’t look overly threatening,” Waverly teased.
> “Neither does Les Ganim,” he reminded her.
They chose a spot in the sand above the tide where Waverly could watch the waves roll in while the sun sank lower in the sky. Xavier angled himself so he could keep the family and Waverly in his line of site. The backpack stayed open and within arm’s reach.
Waverly unloaded the food and bottles of water into a haphazard pile. She tossed him one of the tacos and unwrapped one herself. “What’s your take on him? On a scale of one to ‘I’m Going to Murder Waverly,’ where does this guy fall?”
She took a healthy bite of taco as if they were discussing the weather or baseball.
“I think he’s a concern. One you should think about before you try sneaking out again,” he said as sternly as he could while eating a taco.
“I gotta ask,” she said through a mouthful of chicken and cheese. “How did you know it was me? My own mother has seen me leave as Kate before and had no clue.”
Xavier felt his eye twitch. “Christ, Waverly, how often do you do shit like this?”
“Uh-uh. My question first.”
He thought back. “Your jaw lines are a little different and I noticed yours was still, which meant you weren’t chewing gum. Then there’s the wrist tattoo,” he said, wrapping his fingers around her right wrist and flipping it palm up. “Kate has a sun tattooed here.” He ran his fingers over her where her pulse flickered just a little faster.
He released her hand, took another bite.
“Damn,” Waverly sighed. “I underestimated you.”
“Yeah. Right back at you. I didn’t expect someone who just had an encounter with their stalker to decide it would be a great night to ditch her security and run amok.”
She pretended not to hear him. “I’m going to have to wear a cuff bracelet and shove a fistful of Big League in there next time.”
On the words “next time,” Xavier flopped back into the sand and stared up at the sky. “Please, for the love of all that’s holy, be joking right now.”
Her beautiful face hovered over his. She was smiling and the sky was going to gold behind her. “Relax, X. Maybe you can come with me next time instead of scaring the hell out of me.”
“Angel, I still don’t think we should be working together.” He sat up and wiped his palms on his pant legs.
She arched an eyebrow. “Why not?”
He shot her a hard look.
“Ohhhh,” she drew it out sarcastically. “Because we kissed. You’re afraid you won’t be able to control yourself around my hotness.”
He gave her a shove and she landed on her hip in the sand. “You’re such a smart ass. First off, that was not just a kiss. And I’m less concerned with my desire to kiss you again than my desire to throttle you.”
She snorted and wiggled her ass into the sand to sit cross-legged. Behind her, the toddler wandered over to the bulldog and sat on him.
“Don’t you get tired of always being on alert?” she asked him, licking sauce from her thumb.
“You get used to it,” he said, finally glancing in the direction of the ocean. “For the most part.”
“Is there anywhere you can just relax?” Waverly wondered.
He crumpled up an empty taco wrapper and shoved it in the plastic bag. He shrugged. “My parents’ house, I guess.”
“Do they still live where you grew up?”
He nodded.
“My parents’ house isn’t very relaxing.”
“No it isn’t,” he said, thinking back to his conversation with the Sinners. “You looked pretty happy on the bike, though.”
“That was freedom,” she explained with a wry half smile. “I’m not sure what happy looks like.” The surf rolled in on a rumble. It threw a tangy mist heavenward. Seagulls swooped and cackled near the trashcan on the way to the parking lot. The sky was fading to washed out water colors, and Waverly turned her face toward the glow of the sinking sun.
His golden girl, he thought. No, not his, he corrected himself. The world’s.
He was building a business. For the first time, he called the shots in his life, not some commander behind a fancy desk with a luncheon or a golf game to get to. He had things to do, a reputation to build, money to make. He wasn’t ready to add someone into that mix. Especially if that someone was Waverly Sinner.
Xavier’s phone burst into Katy Perry’s California Gurls.
“Fuck.” He frantically dug through his pants pockets.
“That’s an interesting ring tone you’ve got there, Xavier,” Waverly said, opening the nachos.
“It’s my sister,” he said, fumbling with the phone. “She thought it would be hilarious.” And now he was going to have to kill her.
“She was right,” Waverly snickered.
When his thumb hovered over Ignore, she slapped at his hand. “It might be important,” she warned him.
He swore under his breath and answered the call.
“Chelsea.”
The irritation he’d let seep into his tone had no effect on his sister. “Oh, my God,” Chelsea hissed in his ear. “Xavier, Mom is driving me insane. She won’t listen to me.” Her voice echoed on the line.
“Why do you sound like you’re in a canyon? And why are you whispering?”
“I’m in the bathroom at Mom and Dad’s.”
He felt his eye twitch again. “Why are you calling me from their bathroom?” he sighed.
“Mom’s got one of those pop-ups on her laptop telling her she has a virus and to call this number for tech support.”
“Christ. Just tell her it’s a scam.”
Xavier yanked the phone away from his ear so his sister’s indignant screech didn’t puncture his eardrum. “I take it you already tried that.”
“She won’t listen to me. She wants to hear it from the prodigal.”
“Mom doesn’t need to hear it from me. Try reminding her of your college education in computer crap that they paid for.”
“I’m putting her on.”
“No! Don’t put her on the—Hi, Mom.” He rubbed the spot between his eyebrows and felt a headache begin to brew.
He glanced over at Waverly who was eating and watching him like she was enjoying a matinee at the movie theater. She looked thoroughly entertained.
His mother held a PhD in history and taught at a local college but was somehow technically deficient when it came to personal computers.
“Xavier!” she sounded thrilled to hear his voice, and he instantly felt guilty for not thinking to call recently. “What are you doing calling your sister?”
Well, at least he’d get the points.
“I, uh, have an issue with my email, and I wanted to ask a computer expert,” he fibbed. “What’s going on with you and Dad?”
His mother launched into a description of their garden, the neighborhood’s new playground, before finally circling back to her laptop. Xavier inserted “uh-huhs” where appropriate and snagged a nacho from Waverly.
“I don’t know, Mom. I think you should listen to Chels. You know she’s a genius when it comes to this stuff. That’s why I go to her with all my IT stuff.” Waverly nudged him with her foot, and he captured it, warming it in his hand. She purred when he pressed his thumb into the arch.
“Well, okay. I just don’t want the FBI thinking I’m downloading porn or trying to buy missiles or something if it’s a virus.”
“Mom!”
“Just kidding, sweetheart. What are you doing tonight?”
“Right now?” he asked. He shot Waverly a sideways glance and squeezed her foot. “I’m enjoying a beach picnic.”
“With a beautiful woman I hope.” He could hear the smile in her voice.
“As a matter of fact, she is, and before you ask, no I’m not sending you a picture.”
“Well, don’t let me interrupt. Call us this weekend, and we can talk about your visit home, which is…?”
“Soon. I promise,” Xavier said, smiling.
<
br /> They hung up, and Xavier tucked his phone back into his pants pocket.
“You lied to your mother, X! I’m shocked,” Waverly teased.
“You think you’re the only one who does that? My motives are pure.”
“It’s nice to know that you’re a little bit human,” she smiled softly.
His hand tightened on her foot, thumb in the in-sole. “A little too human sometimes,” he said quietly.
“Well, I admire the way you handled the problem while turning all future responsibility back on your sister.”
“It takes a great mastermind to recognize one,” he said dryly.
Waverly smirked and stared out at the sea. “They sound blissfully normal, you know? My family dynamics are closer to a hostile takeover,” she said wryly.
“They care about you,” Xavier told her.
She arched an eyebrow.
“In their own way,” he amended.
Still, she stared at him, looking like she was trying to work something out. Finally, she spoke. “What do you think of them? Of me?” she wondered out loud.
He shook his head. “Waverly, my opinion isn’t important. What matters is my ability to protect you.”
“Fine. Forget opinions. You’re an observant man. What are your impressions?”
He shot her a look.
“Oh, come on, indulge me.”
“You might not care for my impressions,” he warned her.
“I’ve had people critiquing my work, my face, my wardrobe, and my body since I was six. I think I can take it.”
Xavier released her foot and took his time unwrapping the taco. “Your parents—your mother specifically—hired me to protect you when what they really want is to keep you in line. Performing in whatever capacity she, or they, see fit. They pull your strings, and you’re starting to pull back. It terrifies your mother. You’re supposed to be Sylvia 2.0, her best chance at remaining relevant.”
He paused to assess her reaction, but Waverly’s flawless face was impassive. Accepting her indifference for permission to continue, he moved on.
“Your mother’s a functioning alcoholic, but the functioning part is beginning to slip. Your father checked out of your life and his own a long time ago.”
