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“For right now?” he said, his eyes intent on mine. “A cup of coffee. Then perhaps we can discuss your penchant for all things…vanilla.”
8
The drive to Breakaway Point was a familiar one to me. It was where many of my business associates and contacts lived, being that it was the most affluent neighborhood outside of the city. But on this day, I wasn’t making the thirteen-mile drive to meet with any of them. Today, I was trailing the one person I never suspected would venture out this way—Jesse Clark.
As a heavy fog rolled in off the Pacific, it hung low amongst the dense pines that bordered the narrow road that wound its way up the side of the mountain, and I made sure to keep a couple of car lengths behind the rusty red car sputtering its way up at the front of the slow-moving pack.
The little lamb was fearless, because anyone sane wouldn’t brave the drive to Breakaway Point in a car that had barely managed to start a few days before. I, on the other hand, had the luxury of making the trek in my black Range Rover, which I’d chosen both for the terrain and anonymity. Where we were going, my SUV would fit right in, and Jesse wouldn’t be alerted to my presence.
Yesterday’s date had gone the exact way I had intended. I’d charmed that poor boy right out of his discomfort and managed by the end of it to have him handing over his cell number of his own free will. Yes, I could’ve looked it up on the den’s log, but I wanted that trust built. I wanted Jesse to give himself over piece by piece. And the first step had been his number, which I now had stored and at the ready for whenever the time was right—but that time wasn’t now.
As his car reached the plateau and picked up some speed along the flat strip of road, the silver BMW that had been trailing Jesse most of the way sped around him and then the driver floored it, clearly aware his car could more than handle the winding road a couple of miles ahead. That only left one car between Jesse’s and mine, and I eased my foot a little off the gas.
Where is he going? I knew for a fact he could barely afford the coffee he had insisted he pay for yesterday, and the dilapidated building he lived in was a far cry from the mansions that were nestled into the side of the mountain we were now at the top of. Then, just up ahead, I saw him make a left turn across the street and into a drive.
I pulled my vehicle into a driveway several houses down and watched Jesse pull his car to a stop and push open his door. When he stepped out, I immediately took notice of his casual jeans, shirt, and lightweight cardigan, as he walked up to one of the brick pillars flanking a large gate and reached out to push what I assumed was an intercom.
Trusts his car to make it to the top of a mountain, even though he doesn’t trust the window to wind down and back up…
As Jesse waited for someone to answer, he shoved his hands into the pockets of his cardigan and kicked around a stone as the fog turned to mist and dampened his light hair, turning it to a dirty blond.
I wanted to touch that hair. Wanted to run my fingers through it and take a hold of it. I wanted to use it to guide him where I wanted him to go, and I wanted to be the one to turn him from a clean, sparkling blond to something incredibly fucking dirty.
I knew I should leave him alone. Trinity was right about that. But the base side of me, the side that drove me to act in the ways I did, was such an integral part of me that I didn’t know how to ignore what it was driving me to do. Long ago I had sold my soul for the high of the chase, and that was the day I had become addicted—and now? Now there was no stopping me.
A voice on the intercom had Jesse’s head jerking around to face it, and when a beatific smile lit his face, I felt the sharp prick of jealousy claw at me. I wanted to be the one to make him smile that way. I wanted to be the one to make him laugh as he was now, and when he turned around to get back in his car, the gate opened and Pretty Baby slowly rolled forward, entering the estate behind the gates. Entering a property I had no business getting closer to. But that didn’t stop me from driving my Range Rover a mile or so down the road, parking it in a side nook behind the dense foliage that flanked the street, and trekking back on foot to get a closer look at who the little lamb was visiting.
