by Roni Loren
He suspected Cora had a lot of tightly locked doors that were dying to be opened.
He grabbed his car keys from his drawer, headed toward the door, and flipped off the lights. “Ready, Han?”
“Yep, let’s blow this joint.”
He grinned and lifted a brow. “Interesting choice of words considering our first meeting.”
“Joint?” she asked hopefully.
“Not the one.”
She made a let’s-go motion with her finger. “Aaaand . . . we’re walking.”
He chuckled and fell into step beside her. “Come on. It’s been a shit week. We’re off the clock and I, for one, would like to talk about anything else but this hacker.”
“So you choose this topic?”
“We may as well joke about it at this point. And really, you said blow. How could I resist? I’d lose my smartass card if I passed that one up.”
She kept her face forward as they strolled down the empty hallway. “I’m making a mental note to refrain from using the word in any of our conversations going forward since apparently you’re thirteen.”
The words were so formal, so devoid of any hint of humor that a laugh tumbled out of him. “Fine. Shall we go down in the elevator, then?”
She sent him a narrow-eyed look that was all faded freckles and wrinkled nose. “I take it back—you’re twelve.”
“Probably. But I find it interesting that our unconventional first introduction is still making you blush. I wonder why that is, Benning.”
She stiffened a bit at that. “I am not blushing.”
He reached out and tapped her cheek. “You totally are.”
“Ugh, maybe it’s because I’m a nice, professional person. And it’s natural to feel awkward about seeing someone you work with in a compromising position.”
“Believe me, I wasn’t compromised,” he said wryly.
Her lips clamped together at that, the pink in her cheeks darkening.
“And I get the feeling you’re not that nice. Nice girls don’t become hackers. Nice girls don’t join games like Hayven.” They passed the abandoned front desk and he punched the button for the elevator. “Where’s the fun in nice?”
She cocked her head. “No offense, but you don’t know anything about me.”
He turned to her and gave a little nod of acquiescence. “Fair enough. Let’s fix that, then. We should grab dinner.”
Her eyebrows went up, genuine surprise on her face. “You want to go to dinner?”
“Why not? Have you eaten yet?”
“I had a bag of Cheetos from the vending machine.”
“Very nutritious. That doesn’t count. Come on. There’s a great Mexican place down the block. Good tacos and cheap beer. Five-minute walk. Let’s do something besides work.”
The way she was looking at him said she was trying to figure him out. What was his angle? This woman obviously didn’t go into anything without analyzing. But he forced his expression into a neutral one. Truth was, yes, he needed a break from all this, and he needed to eat. But he’d be lying if he said his intentions were entirely based in practicality. It’d been a long damn time since a woman had intrigued him like this. Cora said she liked puzzles. Well, he did too.
And he was ready to unravel Ms. Benning.
—
Cora had no idea what she was doing. She’d had every intention of going home tonight and collapsing into bed. Of locking herself in her place behind the dead bolts and reconnecting with Dmitry before bedtime now that the messaging system was back up. But somehow on a random Friday night, she found herself sitting in a loud, divey, Mexican restaurant with her second beer in her hand and a ridiculously gorgeous CEO across from her.
Ren had ordered them a street-taco sampler, so they were working their way through that, but he’d been asking her questions along the way and offering anecdotes of his own. She couldn’t figure him out. Sometimes he was flirty and funny, other times serious and focused on work. And she knew of his intimidating dominant side—which she was most definitely not thinking about because that would be very unprofessional. But since they’d arrived at the restaurant, he’d been nothing but friendly and gregarious. Relaxed. Hell, maybe he wanted her as his bro.
Ugh.
He talked a lot and jumped from topic to topic—a little manic—but that was kind of a relief for her. She liked when someone else drove the conversation and she could sit back and listen. It allowed her to catch her breath and get her bearings with new people.
“So you’ve been drawing since you were little?” she asked in between bites of food. He’d been telling her about how he got into designing games and how he’d drawn all the set pieces and the looks of the characters in Hayven.
He took a sip of his beer. “Mmm-hmm. Much to my family’s horror. My mom’s a medical researcher, Dad’s a dentist, and my twin brother has a PhD in robotics. The artistic ADHD kid was so not in their wheelhouse. They had no idea what to do with me. And I had no idea how to deal with them.”
She frowned. “That must’ve been tough.”
The easy smile that had been on his face sagged a little and his gaze drifted to some spot behind her. “Yeah, well, what are the teen years without a little drama, right?”
“True enough,” she said, though she sensed she’d somehow hit a nerve.
“So”—he turned back to her and grabbed another taco—“tell me about your first big hack. I know you couldn’t have started as a white hat. You had to play first. Test things out.”
The question caught her off guard and she set down her food. Her first big hack? Her stomach turned. “Discussing illegal activity with my new client would not be very smart. And I’m very smart.”
He grinned. “Come on. I won’t tell. We’re after hours. And believe me, when I was younger, I did my fair share of things that I could be arrested for. You tell me one of yours. I’ll tell you one of mine.”
The waiter stopped by and asked if they needed anything else. Cora told him they’d take the check. Maybe she could distract Ren from this line of questioning. “Wow, it’s getting late.”
Ren’s mouth tilted up, lips that were made for mischief. “Oh, no you don’t. Now I really need to hear this story. Come on, did you break into the government or something?”
She sighed and set down her beer. “I wish it were something as cool as that. But no, it was just petty revenge. There was a guy in college who I hooked up with at a party after too much cheap liquor and a lot of bad decision making. The next morning without my knowledge, he took an unflattering picture of me and made a meme that went viral on campus.”
Ren grimaced. “Classy guy.”
“Yeah.”
“And you made him pay for that, I hope?”
“I’d been messing around with minor hacks for a while, was part of a little underground club and stuff. Nothing major. But when that happened, I was so . . .” Mortified. Embarrassed. “Pissed. I broke into the guy’s social media accounts and posted some updates on his behalf.”
Ren leaned forward onto his elbows, eyes lit with interest. “Okay, now I need to know what these updates were.”
She shook her head. “Uh-uh. I’ve said enough.”
To prove her point, she shoved a tortilla chip in her mouth and chewed, pointing to her mouth. See, no more talking.
“Come on,” he goaded. “Don’t leave me hanging. Was it that he likes to pick his nose or he secretly loves Justin Bieber?”
She coughed, almost choking on her chip, and she could feel the mild buzz of the beer messing with her resistance. He looked so eager to know, so openly entertained. That type of attention was its own kind of buzz. She lifted a shoulder and swallowed her bite of food. “It was nothing, really. But I’m sure his friends and family were fascinated by all his deep admissions about how he humps his childhood Care Bear to get off and t
hen cries about it. I may have also posted a photo of said Care Bear—who really was looking a little abused.”
A loud laugh escaped Ren, one that rang through the restaurant. “Amazing. Mental note: Don’t piss you off.”
She lifted her almost empty beer and pointed the neck at him. “Wise advice. A woman scorned is dangerous. Scorn a woman with hacking skills and that’s your ass.”
“No kidding.” He grabbed the check from the waiter and tucked his credit card inside. The guy was back in a minute and they finished up the last of their drinks. “Ready to get out of here?”
No. Yes. Maybe. “Sure.”
Ren stood and pulled out her chair. When she got up, his hand easily rested on her lower back again to lead her out. So much of this had felt like a date, but she had to keep reminding herself that a) he’d said nothing of the sort, b) he seemed to be friendly to everyone, and c) he was not like this with the women he slept with. He was a dominant. She’d seen that side. This was nice-guy Ren. She’d misread the last guy she was with. She certainly wasn’t going to read more into this one than she should.
They stepped outside and turned down the street that would lead them back to the parking lot outside of FoxRen.
For a while they were quiet, and Ren’s hand slipped away from her as they walked along the row of darkened storefronts. Just two co-workers sharing the sidewalk. “So what was the meme? He must’ve really did you wrong to get Care-Beared.”
She flinched at that. “Not important.”
They reached the spot where her car was parked and he turned to her, concern in his eyes. “That bad?”
She looked away and her jaw flexed. “It was called Beer Goggles: You think you went home with this but woke up to this. I was, of course, the After picture.”
“Ouch.”
She shrugged, suddenly wishing they had ended the night fifteen minutes ago. “Yeah, well. Boys suck.”
“Not all of us. Some of us get sucked.”
Her head snapped up at that and without thinking, she shoved him in the shoulder. “Oh my God, you’re . . . I don’t even know what you are.”
His smile was sly. “I’m completely inappropriate and incorrigible, or so I’ve been told. But it got that sad look off your face, so mission accomplished.”
She met his eyes at that, the words pinging through her, and shook her head. “I can’t believe I told you. Remind me not to drink around you. Next I’ll be telling you about my first period.”
“Sure, let’s talk about that,” he teased. “Was it like the movie Carrie?”
She groaned. “I resign.”
“I don’t accept this resignation.” The night breeze ruffled his hair, but his eyes didn’t leave hers. “And you realize it was bullshit, right?”
“What? The movie?”
“What that guy said. The meme.”
She looked down and then made a show of digging her keys out of her purse. “I’ve got to get home.”
“Hold up.” He stepped closer to her. “Seriously?”
She crossed her arms and looked up. “What?”
“You believed him?” He stared at her, awareness dawning. “Shit. You still do.”
“He was an asshole. I don’t even think about that anymore.”
She was lying. There were some things you couldn’t forget. They were burned onto your psyche. She held her elbows tight, her defenses rising. The last thing she’d wanted to do was ruin this nice night with Ren by dumping all her insecurities into a big stinking pile between them. That guy in college had been a jerk. But he’d also been the first to let her know exactly where she stood in the desirability food chain. That fact had only been confirmed since. She wasn’t the woe-is-me type, but she also wasn’t one who could ignore hard evidence.
“Ren, I’m tired and I drank when I shouldn’t have. Let’s not get into our deep, dark teen traumas, all right? All of that happened a long time ago. And I think that whole thing was more about him impressing the pretty cheerleader he’d chosen for the Before side of the meme than insulting me.”
“The pretty cheerleader.” Lines appeared around his mouth. “I see. So you’re the opposite of that, right?”
“Thanks for dinner.” She turned to unlock her car.
“You have no clue, do you?” His voice hit her in the back.
She stilled.
“Turn around, Cora.” The command was quiet but thrummed with authority.
She closed her eyes and took a breath. She needed to get into her car and go home. But she couldn’t resist the pull, the tug of that voice. She slowly spun around.
Ren was two steps from her, affable expression gone. The hard set of his jaw and the fire in his eyes had replaced it. She recognized this man. She’d last seen him in a dark hallway. Her heartbeat ticked up a notch.
“Hear me, Benning.” His gaze held hers. “You’re a smart, sexy woman. I saw it the night we met and I see it even more now. Any guy with any sense would thank the goddamned universe if he woke up and had you in his bed. So fuck that dude. Anyone who would say that about someone is an insecure douchebag anyway. Don’t for a second let what he said hit your radar and don’t you dare take it as truth.”
All the air whooshed out of her lungs.
“And don’t look so shocked. You’re beautiful. And interesting. And different. Own that.”
“I—” She pressed her lips together. Her head was reeling, but she couldn’t help the knee-jerk reaction, the instant disbelief. Beautiful. That wasn’t a word to describe people who looked like her. That was a word reserved for supermodels and people like Grace. She shifted backward, bumping into her car. “Please don’t do that.”
He brows dipped. “Don’t what?”
“Try to make me feel better. Give me a boost or whatever. Because, seriously, I don’t need your pity.”
He laughed. This sharp bark of a thing that echoed through the empty parking lot. “Pity? Are you kidding?”
Her teeth clamped together, anger rising. “You—”
But he moved so fast it made the rest snag in her throat. Both of his hands landed on the car behind her, caging her in and bringing his face close to hers. “Ready for completely and wholeheartedly inappropriate?”
He wasn’t touching her anywhere but he may as well have pressed his entire body against her for the way her blood went hot. She couldn’t speak. Couldn’t move. All she could see were those dark eyes and she inhaled the scent of him, spicy food and man.
“I reeled myself in tonight. I asked you to dinner for selfish reasons. But once we were there and got to talking, I had a crisis of conscience. You’re working with me. You’ve been through hell this week. You didn’t need me complicating that. I forced myself to play by the rules. I made myself be good.” He leaned close to her ear, his breath coasting along her neck. “But don’t think for one second that I didn’t want to talk you into my bed tonight, that I didn’t want to show you that side of myself you saw in the hallway, and that I haven’t been thinking exactly how good it would feel to have you beneath me.”
All ability to breathe ceased inside her, her body going still as stone and melty as lava.
“So you can accuse me of a lot of things, Cora. Crossing lines. Being selfish. Acting inappropriately. Because I’m doing all of those things right now. But one thing you can’t accuse me of is pity.” He pushed off the car, freeing her from the invisible hold, and took a step back. “I’ll see you on Monday. And if you decide not to show up anymore because of this, I’ll make sure you’re paid through the next two weeks.”
He turned and strode toward his car, leaving her standing there trembling and breathing hard and . . . way too turned on.
She wet her lips, a surge of bravery welling in her. “You never told me your breaking-the-law story.”
The words rang through the distance between them, and she t
hought he might keep walking, but he stopped and turned around. “We’ll need to schedule a seven-course meal to get through all of that.”
“That long of a list, huh?”
His mouth kicked up at the corner. All bad boy and charm. “Yep, you game?”
She swallowed past the dryness in her throat, knowing what he was asking was about way more than a dinner. She was so damn far off the reservation. “I might be . . .”
His gaze heated, slid over her with open appreciation. “It’s a date, then. Good night, hallway girl.”
She sank back against her car, watching him go. Good night, blow job guy.
ELEVEN
Cora rolled over in bed, too restless to sleep. After getting home from her dinner with Ren, she couldn’t stop replaying every moment, vacillating between analyzing the night to death and then getting warm all over again every time she thought of him bracing her against her car. She almost couldn’t believe those things had actually happened. The way he’d looked at her when he leaned in, the things he’d said. God.
She’d never had a man be so blatantly sexual with her. Or made her feel so wanted—like he was truly fighting to hold himself back. That kind of focused attention was like a drug.
Guys usually stumbled into a hookup with her. Men didn’t ask her on romantic dates. They didn’t flirt with her in bars. It almost always started as a casual friendship that turned R-rated because it was convenient. She could earn a degree in Friends with Benefits. She’d long ago accepted that guys didn’t think of her in that way until they knew her, and even then, it was contextual. Yeah, we’ve had a few beers and watched a few TV shows and wow, it’s late and hey, we might as well since we’re both horny and have nothing else to do.
But Ren hadn’t played any of those games or made any of those excuses. He’d just put it out there. I think you’re hot. I’d like to have sweaty, kinky sex with you. You game?
