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I suck in a breath, preparing for the impact of his presence, and then he’s replaced Isaac in the doorway, big and broad, with all that ink and muscle everywhere but next to me. I want him next to me again, and it doesn’t seem to matter what he might think of me if that happens. His eyes, those crystal perfect eyes, meet mine—no they crash into mine, and seem to grab hold of me, deep inside and hold on.
“This isn’t on you,” he says, stepping closer, lowering his head near mine. “He’s responsible for every decision that drove you to me.” He pulls back to look at me. “And later tonight, ask me what I want again.” With that, he turns away and exits the kitchen.
Chapter twenty
Harper
At four-thirty, I pack up my briefcase and contemplate calling Eric, or at least texting him, to tell him I’m leaving. He declared himself my new boss and on that, there is no argument to be had. The silence since that claim, however, is disconcerting, and I’m feeling generally confused about what he and I are doing. I head for the lobby, let the receptionist know that I’m leaving, and exit the building into the chill of a November day. Quick stepping as I dig my keys from my purse, and click the lock on my Kingston vehicle and wonder what it would be like to have the freedom to drive something else. I try to remember my early years here when I was all about the brand.
I’m about to cut between cars to my door when a car pulls up next to me, and I hear, “Get in.”
At the sound of Eric’s voice, I turn to find the passenger window down on a black F-TYPE Jaguar and him inside it, causing my heart to flutter. When has any man but this one ever made me react in such a way? I force a tiny breath, which is remarkably hard to draw in, and walk to the open window where I lean in and find those blue, blue eyes of his fixed on me.
“Get in,” he repeats.
“I have a meeting,” I say. “That union thing I was talking to Isaac about. I’m on my way there now.”
“I know. I’m going with you.”
He’s going with me? Do I want him to go with me? Yes. No. “The thing is,” I say, “you can’t go with me. The union contact wants a one on one with me.”
“To grope you and make you miserable. I get that, which is why I’m going with you. Now, get in.”
He wants to protect me from being groped? Iwantto be protected from being groped. “If you come, he’ll be difficult.”
“I’m good with difficult people,” he assures me. “I had a year of practice with this family which for all their faults, have served me well.”
“You’re in a Jaguar.”
“Quite the statement car, don’t you think?”
“Like your ink?”
“Like sending the princess to bring the bastard home.”
“That’s not how that played out,” I say.
“No?”
“No,” I say.
“Get in the car and tell me.”
“We make Kingstons,” I counter. “Let’s take my car.”
“For the love of God, woman. Would you just get in?”
“Fine,” I breathe out. “I give up. I’ll get in.” I open the door and he grabs my briefcase and sets it in what little backseat there is in this version of Jag. “A hundred-thousand-dollar F-TYPE,” I say, claiming the seat next to him, the earthy, clean scent of him teasing my nostrils. “Impressive ride considering you just got into town.” I reach for my seatbelt which doesn’t want to move. “Well, except for the seatbelt.” I yank hard and Eric catches the belt halfway across my body and the two of us end up holding it, a warm blanket of intimacy surrounding us.
“The dealer warned me that the belt can snap back,” he explains softly. “I wouldn’t want you to get hurt.”
But I will, I think, and not by a belt or this family. By him. He will steal my breath and own my body, and then leave. I can’t stop it. I don’t think I even want to try. He slides the clip into place, his hand intimately brushing my hip as the belt snaps together, but he doesn’t move away. His eyes sharpen. “You have to be careful with shiny, new things. They look pretty but sometimes they bite.”
He’s not talking about the belt or the car. He’s talking about me. He’s telling me he doesn’t trust me and yet he’s here.
He settles back in his seat and places the car in drive while I decide that I’m back to generally confused with this man. “Starbucks, right?” he asks.
“How do you know where my meeting is being held?”
