by A. C. Arthur
“Hey, Melanie,” Pam said, giving Kalina a pointed look. “Good morning.” Her head gave a nod to Kalina, but her eyes were saying something else.
This woman, Kalina noted, had a lot to say, all the time. If she weren’t so loud and boisterous Kalina might have thought about pumping her for information, but something told her it was best just to steer clear of this one.
“Good morning.”
“You ladies working on something together?” Pam asked.
“We’re going to the kitchen for coffee, Pam. If anyone’s looking for either of us that’s where we’ll be,” Melanie said with a syrupy-sweet voice.
The minute they rounded the corner, leaving Pam and her nosiness behind at the receptionist desk, Mel made a gagging sound. “She’s like nine-one-one central.”
“Like her much?” Kalina asked.
“Yeah, like I want to poke needles in my eye while walking on hot coals.”
Kalina was laughing as they stepped through the glass doors. She was beginning to like Melanie Keys.
“So you said Mr. Reynolds wanted to know when I was hired?” She had moved right to the counter, reaching up to open a cabinet to look for the mugs.
“Here, they’re in this one,” Mel said, opening another cabinet and taking down a cup. When she offered it to Kalina, she tilted her head as if studying her. “I’ve been here for ten years so I know my way around.”
“This is my first law-firm job.”
“Really? Where’d you work before now?”
Kalina didn’t even blink before saying, “An accounting firm in Baltimore. I just moved to DC about six months ago. Needed a change of scenery, you know.”
Mel nodded. “I understand. I wish I could get away. I’ve been here all my life, my family’s here, my job. God, my mom would freak if I even mentioned moving to another state and taking the kids.”
Now Kalina did falter. She could lie smoothly when it was a surface lie, something she’d memorized from the file the DEA had given her. But Mel’s mention of family, of roots was something else altogether. She sort of had roots here in DC; the Department of Social Services downtown was the one that placed her with each of her foster parents. That meant she belonged here, right?
“That’s nice you have a family.” Clearing her throat, she tried again to focus. “You don’t look old enough to have kids with an s,” she said with a smile as she dipped the decaffeinated tea bag in and out of her hot water.
Mel had already poured her coffee and was holding the sugar dispenser over it while a steady stream of white emptied into her cup. Kalina liked her tea the same way. It made her smile to have something in common with someone.
“Twins, Matthew and Madison, eight years old, beautiful at birth, terrors as toddlers, and now more than a handful in elementary. Jonathan’s thirteen—cell phone, Facebook, and girls, that’s all he’s thinking about right now. And Addy, a gorgeous sixteen-year-old, plays field hockey like a pro but can’t grasp algebra to save her life.” She stopped pouring, setting the sugar down with a clunk. “Pete and I’ve been married for twenty-two years, high school sweethearts. You? Kids? A man? I don’t see a ring,” she noted, lifting a dark eyebrow.
Kalina’s chest clenched. Wasn’t she supposed to be the one pumping Mel for information? This wasn’t about her, not on a personal level. It couldn’t be. Besides, the answer she had to this question, honestly, was dismal at best.
“No kids. No man.” She shrugged. “No time.”
“Well, you can’t be dedicated to your work. Especially not here. Even though I hear Dan’s brutal to work for.” Mel seemed to go from one subject to another without much effort, which was a relief to Kalina.
After adding her own sugar to her tea, Kalina lifted her mug to take a test sip. The warm liquid filled her like an empty container. She blinked, trying not to think of how pitiful it was that a cup of hot tea and trivial conversation with a co-worker could make her feel just a little more complete.
“He’s been okay so far. What’s Mr. Reynolds like to work for? He seems a bit rigid.” As rigid and unyielding as a pit bull.
“Oh.” Mel waved a hand, her silver charm bracelet dangling on her left arm. “He’s all right once you get used to him and his moods. I’ve been with him long enough to know exactly how to deal with him. Today, for example, he has depositions all morning; they’ll break for lunch and he’ll close himself up in his office. Then, if the morning sessions haven’t completed, he’ll go back into the conference room and chew the other attorney’s ass out a little more. Then he’ll return to his office where he’ll brood until about six, then he’ll go home. Now, tomorrow—” Mel kept right on talking as they walked toward the door, mugs in hand.
“Tomorrow is Friday. He has this big gala to go to at the Linden Hotel. The cleaners already called about his tux being ready. I’ll pick that up at lunch today.”
“Does he like going to political parties?” It hadn’t slipped Kalina’s mind that Roman could be shielded by some higher-up in the US government, hence explaining why they hadn’t been able to pin anything on him up to this point. Besides, that was the name of the game here in DC—I wash your back, you wash mine. It would be no surprise if there was a contact or two in government helping him. “Does he usually take a date?”
Mel stopped. Her head tilted again in that way that Kalina was beginning to realize meant she had questions coming. “Are you interested in him? Of course you are,” she answered herself. “Every woman with eyes is hot for Rome. But let me give you a piece of advice, he doesn’t like timid women. So if you want him, go for it. Don’t dilly-dally around. Just make your move.”
They were back at Kalina’s cubicle by this time so she stopped, looked at Melanie Keys, and admitted she liked the woman. “I won’t be making any move. He’s not my type. I just remember seeing articles in the paper about his very active love life.”
“Lies,” Mel said quickly then sipped her coffee. “They print what they want, what they think’ll sell papers. He’s actually very discreet in who he dates and when. Hey, let’s do lunch. There’s a great sandwich place on Pennsylvania and it’s near the dry cleaners.”
Lunch with Mel. She’d probably talk about her kids, her latest PTA meeting, soccer practice, or something else … normal. Kalina warmed a bit but she wasn’t sure if it was from the tea or the prospect. “Sure. Lunch sounds fine.”
“Meet you at the elevator at one. I like to go later—makes the afternoon pass quicker.”
Kalina nodded. “Me, too.”
“Be good till then,” Mel said, tossing her a smile and walking away.
Be good, Kalina thought, taking a seat. How could spying on a man and using the nicest woman she’d ever met be good?
* * *
The next afternoon, Rome felt like a stalker. Sort of, but not really. He was on his own property, doing something that wasn’t totally out of the ordinary for an employer. There was no law stating he couldn’t walk around his office, take a tour of what he’d created.
If he stopped in the accounting department, just a couple of feet away from the cubicle occupied by his firm’s newest and sexiest employee, well, that was just coincidence.
He heard her voice just seconds after he picked up her scent. A scent he figured he might just be a little addicted to, even though he hadn’t smelled it personally for a couple of years. He still remembered, as if it were yesterday, the first time she’d been close to him, close enough for him to feel a part of her reaching out to him.
“You could back up off me just a little, you know,” she was saying, and Rome’s protective instincts quickly kicked in. Surely no one in his employ was giving her a hard time. If so, he’d definitely deal with them. Despite their little encounter in his office the other night, or possibly because of it, he wanted to make sure he kept her in close proximity this time.
He took a step closer to the cubicle, ready to intervene and reprimand if necessary. But she continued.
“I’d b
e a lot better off if you’d stop calling every five minutes and let me do my job.”
So she was on the phone, he surmised since the conversation seemed one-sided. He moved closer, the ammonia-like scent of hostility permeating his senses. Whoever she was talking to, she didn’t much care for.
“Fine! Just don’t call me back again.”
Her words were terse, and she really meant them. As he turned the corner of the cubicle they were face-to-face and she wasn’t happy to see him.
“Boyfriend problems?” he said without hesitation.
She didn’t seem startled, only more agitated. “Creeping around the office after hours doesn’t seem like your style,” she quipped.
“No. That would be more your arena, right?” was his reply and her brow furrowed. He’d made her angrier, which really wasn’t his intention. Hell, Rome had no idea what his intentions were where this woman was concerned. What he knew for certain was that he didn’t want another confrontation. It was obvious they were attracted to each other, and from experience it was a lot easier to act on an attraction when you weren’t biting each other’s heads off every time you were together.
So he inhaled slowly, thought about the situation another second, then said, “Is everything okay?” He eyed the cell phone she was slipping in her purse as she stood.
“Fine,” she said through clenched teeth. “Just dandy.”
Lie. But he smiled anyway.
“Want to get a drink and talk about it?”
“No, thanks. I already have plans for tonight.”
She made sure her computer was shut down then moved to pass him. Rome had plans as well, but didn’t mind being a little late as long as it meant he could spend more time with her.
“Then at least let me walk you out,” he continued, falling in step beside her.
She was tall for a woman—not as tall as him, but she could almost look him eye-to-eye. She walked with self-assuredness and purpose, her heeled shoes eating up the carpet as she moved. There was no problem keeping up with her as they rounded the corner to where the elevators were.
“You parked in the garage?”
“Yes,” she said. Rome hit the DOWN button on the marbled panel.
“If there’s a problem you’re having, I can help,” he said when she’d folded her arms over her chest. Today she wore slacks that covered her long legs the way he wished he could. Her blouse was a snug white material with just enough softness to have the insides of his palms tingling to touch. Her hair was slicked on the sides, spiked at the top, giving her eyes an exotic slant he wasn’t sure he noticed the other day in his office.
Rome’s body radiated heat, his dick so hard he bet he could push her against this wall and fuck her right here in the hallway. But that would be classless, something Rome was not. He didn’t take his women in public places, not if he could help it. With Kalina Harper, he wasn’t sure restraint was going to be his friend.
“I don’t need a hero,” she said as the elevator arrived and she stepped inside. Moving all the way to the back, she leaned against the wall and sighed. “Look, I’m sorry if I seem rude.”
He let that comment linger a moment because she was straddling that fence to rude, but he sensed it was more of a defense mechanism than a purposeful snub.
“Guess I’m just having a rough day.”
Rome nodded, pressed the GARAGE button, and stood beside her while the elevator began its smooth descent. “It’s Friday, they’re usually rough.” She didn’t respond. “But you said you have plans for this evening. So maybe your weekend will pick up.”
She looked at him then; Rome knew because he couldn’t keep his eyes off her. Again, he felt almost like a stalker staring at her every chance he could, even standing a little closer to her than was probably polite. But the way she was looking at him said she was more than a little intrigued herself.
“I hope so.” Her tone was markedly lighter this time, the corners of her lips even going so far as to tilt upward in a slight smile.
As the elevator doors opened, Rome put his arm up to keep the doors ajar and nodded for her to walk out first. “Which way is your car?”
“I’m on this level at the end. But it’s fine, I can manage alone.”
Rome shook his head. “My mother would not be happy if I let a woman walk to her car alone in a deserted parking garage. Come on,” he told her.
She walked beside him, stealing a glance at him every now and then, which only made his erection grow harder.
When they stopped in front of a dark blue Honda, he waited while she found her keys.
“Thanks,” she said with that timid smile again. “For this, I mean, and for the other night.”
He hadn’t thought she’d mention it but was glad she had. Their little tryst on his desk had been one of the foremost thoughts in his mind today. “No problem. I should be thanking you actually.”
“Me? For what?”
She’d found her key and moved in to slip it into the driver’s-side lock. When she moved so did Rome, coming to stand directly behind her, so close that he could smell whatever products she’d used in her hair that morning. “For awakening something in me I thought was long buried.” The words were more truthful than he’d intended, but she wouldn’t know the real meaning behind them. Hopefully, he thought with only the slightest regret.
She didn’t move, not even a flinch. But her body temperature spiked, mingling with his own. “That wasn’t my intention,” she said.
“Maybe not,” he said, finally touching a hand to her arm. “But there it is.” He leaned forward, kissed the nape of her neck. “And here we are.”
They were in a very public place. Even though the garage was empty, there were cameras everywhere per his own security specifications. Not to mention the fact that his guards were always close by. Even though he didn’t see the two shifters assigned to his personal detail, they were around, no doubt about it.
But try as he might, Rome couldn’t stay away from her. It both baffled and aroused him.
“This is so not a good idea,” she said, slipping the key into the lock and clicking it. She had to back up to pull the door open. Rome moved with her, remaining close enough to keep both their body temperatures elevated.
“I thought that myself a couple of times with you being my employee and us barely knowing each other. But you cannot honestly tell me you don’t feel what’s between us.”
She turned then, so that her back was to the open door and her front facing him.
“I feel the lust, Mr. Reynolds. I’m not a corpse and I’m not crazy enough to deny it. But acting on it’s a whole other can of worms I’d rather not open.”
Kalina lifted her palms to Rome’s chest, the contact sending an electric charge through his system that almost had him gasping for breath. Then she pushed him back, far enough so that he was now a full arm’s length away from her.
“I know a man whose mother trained him to be so chivalrous as to walk a lady to her car also knows how to take no for an answer.”
She dropped her arms, sliding into the front seat without hesitation. Rome held the door to keep her from closing it on him. Leaning forward, he got close enough to touch his lips lightly to her ear.
“I didn’t hear you say no, Kalina.”
Her body tightened; the only movement was the rise and fall of her chest. She thought he was going to kiss her or at least try to. But he didn’t. He simply stayed right there, inhaling her scent, letting every nuance of her filter through him. She hadn’t said no and wasn’t saying it now. He doubted she could any more than he.
Finally, she sighed. “Good night, Mr. Reynolds.”
Rome pulled back, closed her door, and watched as she pulled off. “A very good night to you, too, Ms. Harper.”
* * *
“Where’d you find this?” Nick asked the minute Rome slipped into the backseat of the limousine.
Tapping the glass, Rome gave the signal for Eli to drive. “The collar of my jack
et.”
“Tonight?”
He nodded tightly, remembering the moment he’d slid his hands over the lapels and under the back collar. The device was small, intricate, designed to be missed upon inspection. For a minute he’d thought it was a pin left in by the cleaners until tiny hairs on the back of his neck had stood on end.
“It’s tracking you. Why didn’t you destroy it?” Nick asked, still fingering the small diamond-like piece.
“Because whoever’s bold enough to get close to my clothes wants to get close to me. I figure it only makes sense to oblige.” Rome might be calm in his approach, but when pushed he definitely pushed back. If somebody wanted to know where he was, he wasn’t going to make it hard to find him.
“Let the games begin,” Nick added, pushing the left side of his jacket back just enough to reveal the gun he had holstered there.
Rome rarely carried a weapon to functions like this, but Nick was always strapped. So there was no surprise seeing the gun and there was no doubt his friend would use it the minute he felt it was necessary. “We’re keeping a low profile tonight. Ralph Kensington needs this fund-raiser to go well.”
“And I know how much you like Ralph Kensington.”
Rome hated the man, hated the stench of his lies and duplicity like a kid hated visits to the dentist. Still, it helped to keep up pretenses. Besides, Jace Maybon—the Pacific Faction Leader—had picked up a Rogue scent when Kensington visited LA last year. They were positive Kensington wasn’t a shifter, but he’d obviously been in contact with one. Whether the well-known legislator knew that or not had yet to be proven. With that piece of information, Rome made a point to keep in close contact with the man who tonight would announce his run for the US Senate.
“Kensington’s up to something. He knew Baines personally—they gave a dinner together earlier this year.”
“You think he may know something about Baines’s murder?” Nick’s normally cultured tone was slipping, the wild edge to his voice revealing the animal within. It was a subtle change but one Rome knew well.
