Damage Control

by Lisa Renee Jones

  “Emily has moved in with me,” Shane announces, wrapping his arm around me. “So take good care of her.”

  Tai beams with this news. “Always. And just let me know when, I’d love to bring you dinner from my daughter’s restaurant to celebrate this weekend.”

  Celebrate living with Shane. Who would have ever believed that my leaving Texas, and saying yes to a one-night stand with Shane, would lead here. “That would be amazing,” I say with approval, and Shane is quick to agree. It’s a good twenty minutes later when Shane and I step onto the elevator and he settles me in front of him, those wonderful hands of his resting on my hips, while his eyes promise me they will be many other places, soon. I’m pretty much melting by the time we exit and enter the apartment, Shane at my heels.

  Before I can even turn, his hands are at my waist and he’s turning me, backing me against the wall in that dominant way of his, his powerful thighs framing mine. “I want that taste of you I didn’t get in that coffee shop.” And then he is on his knees, and my skirt is already at my waist. “Shane. The food.”

  “I’ll make it fast, I promise.” He closes his hand around my panties and yanks. “Good thing you have on thigh-highs.”

  “I was cold, actually,” I pant out for some silly reason.

  His hands bracket my upper thighs. “I’ll warm you up.” He lifts my leg to his shoulder, and his thumb strokes my clit.

  I pant again, my nipples tightening as if they were where he’s touching. He strokes two fingers across the seam of my sex, and there is no time for me to prepare myself before his tongue flicks my clit. I rest my head on the wall, hands pressed there as well, every muscle in my body waiting for what comes next, until it’s there. He’s there and his mouth is on me, sucking, licking, teasing. His fingers slide inside me and I moan, biting my lip in the process, shocked at how fast that familiar deep ache in my sex begins.

  “Oh,” I rasp out. “Oh.” I grab his head, steeping my fingers into the long, thick locks of his dark hair that give me plenty to hold on to. My nipples tighten painfully beneath my bra, that deep ache radiates through me until I can’t move or breathe, seconds ticking by before I tumble into an explosion of desire. There is nothing but pleasure spiraling through me, and his mouth on my body, his fingers stroking all the right places. Time passes, yet stands still. I don’t know, but I don’t want it to end, but too soon the intensity fades, and that tight knot in my sex relaxes, the leg that is holding me up turning rubbery.

  Shane seems to know; he always seems to understand what I need, even though the two men I knew before him were selfish, focused on themselves. It’s a thought that comes from nowhere, but he drives home that point by wrapping his arm around my waist before easing my leg down. Then he is shoving up my blouse, his lips are on my belly, a rush of emotions crashing over me. I didn’t want to care about anyone the way I do him, ever again.

  The doorbell rings and Shane slides my skirt down my legs, calling out, “Just a minute,” before pushing to his feet, cupping my face and kissing me, the taste of me on his lips. “Just in time.” He smiles and strokes my cheek before reaching for the door, and my gaze lands on my panties smack in the middle of the floor, and in full view of the hotel staff person bringing our food.

  I scramble forward, my knees wobbling, as I bend down to scoop up my panties at the same moment Shane opens the door. The result is not good. I fall flat on my ass but fortunately Shane’s big body is blocking me from view, and my panties would never have been seen. Shane shuts the door and turns to find me sprawled on the floor. He sets the bag down by the door and kneels beside me.

  “What happened?”

  I hold up my panties. “They were in front of the door and my knees were still recovering from ah … what you did to me.”

  He laughs, and snatches my panties, stuffing them in his pocket, and helping me to my feet. “Let’s eat dinner and I’ll have you for dessert.”

  “Promise?” I ask again.

  “Oh yes,” he assures me. “I promise.”

  * * *

  Shane sheds his tie and jacket, while I lose my shoes as fast as I had my panties, and we set up our dinner on the coffee table. I choose a spot on the soft rug beneath it while Shane appears with not one, not two, but three bottles of wine, before claiming a spot for himself on the couch.

  “I’m never going to make it past one bottle, let alone three,” I warn him.

  “This gives you a chance to pick one you like.” He opens one of the bottles and fills my glass.

  “I’m not going to waste wine,” I say, lifting my glass. “This one will be fine.” I take a sip and the woodsy, bitter taste takes me off guard and I grimace.

  Shane laughs, downs my wine, and then opens another bottle. It’s bottle number three that my taste buds finally enjoy, along with the meal, which we eat while watching the news and just enjoying our time together. And for once, we talk about politics and current events, finding we are in sync in all the ways that ensure we won’t later want to kill each other. It’s this normal kind of couple’s thing that is not forced, but amazingly natural.

  Once the food is gone, and we’ve cleaned up, Shane turns off the television and sits on the edge of the couch right in front of me, those gray eyes studying me. “What?” I ask.

  “I don’t remember the last time I just talked with anyone,” he says, and it’s clear in the way he says it that he’s a little taken off guard.

  “Well, since I live with you,” I say, “I think you’d better get used to a lot more talking.”

  “The unexplainable thing is that I’m already used to it.”

  “You are?” I ask, sipping my wine.

  “Yes. I am. I told you. I’ve never lived with a woman, because frankly, I didn’t want a relationship.”

  “Me either,” I confess. “I haven’t lived with anyone.”

  “Did you ever come close?”

  “No,” I say. “My relationships have been—” I laugh again but this time without humor and amend, “My train wrecks are kind of embarrassing.”

  “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. Experiences make us who we are, and sometimes the bad ones are the best at making us grow.”

  “Experiences,” I repeat. “Yes well, I’ve certainly had those.”

  “Tell me,” he presses softly, those two words becoming his familiar way to push me to expose some part of me I never thought to show anyone, and yet, I’m about to now.

  “Train wreck number one,” I say. “That affair I mentioned with a professor before, was actually a much older law professor. Not my law professor because I wasn’t in law school. I was a freshman and still living at home to protect my brother.”

  “How much older?”

  “Twenty years and one of my father’s friends. Obviously he was some kind of screwed-up daddy issue I was working through. Feel free to judge now.”

  “I’m not judging you, sweetheart.”

  “I do and the worst part … When my mother died—”

  “How did she die?”

  “A car accident, so it was a real shock. We’d fought over my stepfather the night before as well. It was misery, guilt, and pain.” I am reminded of his father’s coughing attack. “Things I promise you are coming with your father, despite how you feel about him. Are you ready for that?”

  “No. I am not ready for that and right now, I’d rather talk about you. You were telling me what happened when your mother died, in relation to this professor.”

  “Right,” I say, because he knows I’m here for him, and he has to deal with this his way. “I went to the funeral with my brother, and that led to us fighting over him and his Gemini connections. I was a mess afterwards. I showed up at the professor’s house, and that’s when I found out he was still married. I lost it and made a scene and so did she.” I shake my head. “Why would I make a scene over a man that was clearly an asshole? That is not even the person I know myself to be.”

  “You were in pain and it sounds lik
e I was right. That moment helped define who you are.”

  “You’d think, but I wasn’t done self-destructing. I barely dated for the rest of my undergraduate years and then I started law school. It was some kind of trigger, and I went off the ledge, like a really late rebound with the complete opposite type of man. A tattoo artist who was into hard rock, hard sex, and not a lot of anything else. I guess the appeal with him was that I knew what I was getting and I didn’t want more. There could be no heartache to come because there was no emotional attachment for either of us.”

  “How long ago was that?”

  “We dated for six months and it ended about a year ago.”

  “And since then?”

  “School took over and I lost myself in my studies.”

  “Which explains your LSAT score Seth mentioned.”

  “I’m very competitive,” I say, “which fed an obsession with winning every challenge presented and snagged me an internship at a top firm.”

  “Which firm?”

  “Norton, Mash, and Company.”

  He whistles. “That is not a spot that’s easy to come by, but I can see why they chose you. And speaking of challenges: Let’s talk about my proposition.” He reaches under the table and produces a stack of files I didn’t know were there and sets them on the coffee table before reclaiming a spot on the couch.

  “What is all of that?” I ask.

  “Potential acquisitions,” he explains. “I want a clean slate for Brandon Enterprises, free of the often questionable ethics of my father. The acquisition of Brandon Pharmaceuticals was meant to produce large sums of money, thus allowing the painless shedding of those other divisions.”

  “Has it?”

  “It’s getting there, but it’s come with high risk and liability. We need to balance that out with a lower-risk, high-profit addition to our brand. That’s where you come into play.”

  “Me?”

  “You,” he confirms. “I don’t have time to look for that next venture. You’re smart and I trust you. I’d like you to help me narrow down the prospects to two or three, and then we’ll run numbers and do the due diligence.” He pats the folders. “These are the companies I looked into with my notes, but we’re not limited to these choices. They’re simply where I’ve begun looking.”

  “I’d love to help,” I say, both thrilled and honored he wants me to do this.

  “I have a private CPA to help with the back end. If there’s something you have a question about, and need answered, he’ll help.” He flips open a folder and indicates a card stapled in the front. “This is him and I’ll make sure he is accommodating.”

  “Are you going to get rid of the financial division your father runs?”

  “Everything that exists now will be replaced, but that knowledge is to stay with a small group of insiders, which includes Seth, Jessica, and the CPA.”

  “Because people are going to be upset.”

  “Yes. They will.”

  My mind flickers to our morning and his abrupt handing off of the Bentley. “Did that black Escalade that showed up in the garage have anything to do with your plans to exit any of these divisions?”

  “It was about exiting a bad business deal Derek got us into.”

  “Since I’m looking for replacement investments, can you tell me what it was and why it was bad, so I don’t make the same mistake?”

  “You are not Derek,” he says. “You would not have made this deal.”

  “What was it?”

  His hands come down on my legs. “Nothing you need to worry about.”

  “But I’m curious. I want to do a good job.”

  “You will do a good job.”

  “You don’t want to tell me,” I say, confused by his mixed messages. “Is it a trust issue?”

  “I trust you. You know I do.”

  “But obviously there are boundaries to what you feel comfortable sharing.”

  “Don’t do this. Don’t put a wall between us that doesn’t exist.”

  “I’m not trying to put a wall between us. I just want to know that there will be a point when we’re closer—”

  “You are closer to me than anyone has ever been. I repeat. This isn’t about trust. I can’t say that enough times.”

  “Then what is it about?”

  “You are too good to be a part of Derek’s creations. That’s what it’s about. You’re the future, not the past. You’re the good that I need while I get rid of the bad.”

  “You’re protecting me.”

  “You’re damn right I’m protecting you.”

  “Like I was protecting you, but I ended up telling you everything. You insisted.”

  “And now I can keep you safe from everything.”

  “Who keeps you safe?”

  “I don’t need to be protected.”

  “But you decide when I do?”

  “In this? Yes.”

  I have a flashback of my mother questioning my stepfather and him saying something similar. Only she accepted the answer. I won’t. “I don’t like secrets. My life has had too many secrets.”

  “This isn’t a secret. You know this is about Derek’s bad business.”

  The doorbell rings. “That’s going to be Seth. He’s bringing you the details on all the holes he plugged in your background. We’ll finish talking when he leaves. We’ll figure this out.” He stands up and walks away. I sink back onto the floor, pick up my wine, and instead of drinking, watch the red liquid swirl in my glass. Secrets. Lies. Trust. Love. Hate. Family. Sex. I guess I’d rather have silence than lies. Wouldn’t I? I down my wine and reach for the bottle, refilling my glass before opening the first file, which ironically appears to be a winery. This intrigues me, but is it low liability? Maybe, if we aren’t the ones doing the retail sales.

  Footsteps sound behind me, and I shut the file. Shane reappears, and I twist around as he sits on the couch, placing a file on the table. “This has all the details about your past filled in. You’ll want to study it.”

  “Of course.” I narrow my gaze, noting the hardening lines of his expression. “What’s wrong?”

  “I need to head to a meeting with Seth and Nick, the person running much of our private security.”

  “Is there a problem?”

  “We’re working on a solution to last night’s security breach at BP.”

  “Oh right. I forgot about that. What happened?”

  “We don’t know and that’s unacceptable. I’m not sure how long I’ll be gone.”

  “Any word on my security guard Randy?”

  “I’m sure I’ll get an update on that at this meeting, but no one has mentioned it to me since Seth started looking into it.” He pushes to his feet and offers me his hand. “I have something to show you upstairs before I leave.”

  Curious, I let him help me to my feet and lead me forward. “What is it?” I ask as we start up the stairs.

  “A surprise I arranged today.”

  Extra curious now, I’m excited to see whatever this might be. We enter the bedroom and he flips on the light, and then guides me to the closet. “Ready?”

  “Yes. I’m dying to see whatever it is.”

  He opens the door and I walk inside while he flips on this light as well. I gape then, at the rows of women’s shoes and clothes lining the closet. “Oh my God. Oh my God.”

  “You can take anything you want back and I’ll get you a credit card tomorrow.”

  I whirl on him. “No. No, I don’t need a credit card and Shane, this is too much. I don’t need all of this.”

  “But I want you to have it. I want to take care of you.” He snags my hips and walks me to him. “Please look at it and enjoy it. I need to go, but tell me how we did when I get home.”

  “Shane—”

  He kisses me and then says, “You’re beautiful,” and then he’s gone, leaving me standing in the closet. I stare after him, a tight ball of emotions beginning as a pebble in my chest, my body frozen in place as that pebble g
rows and expands. I squeeze my eyes shut and replay the past. I was fourteen and my stepfather had come home after being gone for several days without a call. He’d greeted my mother by going down on one knee and handing her a blue Tiffany box. Flash forward, to the moment he’d put the necklace on her neck, and then cupped her face and said, “You’re beautiful.”

  My eyes snap open and I face the row of clothes, tags from expensive brands dangling from several sleeves. This would be the fantasy for many women, but it is not mine. Shane has secrets. Shane has money and power and I am enthralled. I am in love. Have I become my mother?

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  SHANE

  With Seth by my side, I pull on my suit jacket as we exit into the public portion of the Four Seasons garage, where no one expects us to depart. One of Nick’s men waits for us there, and we quickly exit the hotel facilities and hit the highway. Our destination is Nick’s private facility, which I readily agree to visit if it means a solution to get Martina out of my company and life, especially with Emily asking questions I can’t answer. We make a fast exit to downtown, but it turns out Nick’s facility is on the other side of town, so we get stuck in one of Denver’s many traffic jams; a twenty-minute drive transforms into forty-five. Considering I don’t know the driver from Adam, Seth and I ride in virtual silence, and my mind lingers on my need to kill Emily’s curiosity over my morning visitor. I’m not giving her a drug cartel to fear on top of the Geminis. I’m going to make this go away and she never has to know about it.

  When finally we pull into the parking lot at our destination, the sight of an old warehouse does little to instill my confidence in Nick and his team. The private state-of-the-art garage we enter begins to sway me in the other direction. The building houses a half-dozen motorcycles and a classic Mustang, and a massive cobra painting on one wall.

  Seth shrugs into his suit jacket that he’d abandoned somewhere along the way, and steps to my side. “Nick calls his team the Cobras.”