Page 30 of Entwined With You

I nod, disappointed. But he’s right. He’d mentioned on the drive home that he has to pop into his office. Apparently he works at a data-entry company. “I have enough saved from the various jobs Sabrina and I pulled to only need to work part time,” he told me. “And now that I’m a grown-up, insurance is important.”

I’d told him that I’d made plans to meet a friend for breakfast. “A girl I almost conned back on the East Coast, but ended up being friends with. She thinks I’m a marketing consultant. Turns out she’s on vacation here,” I’d added.

All of that is a lie, of course. But I can hardly tell him I have to get to work.

“So no movie,” I say, sliding my hands into the pockets of his robe.

He cocks his head as he looks at me. “Do you want to?”

I know he’s talking about the movie, but my mind has gone someplace else entirely. He intended that, I’m sure. I’d heard the hint of invitation in his voice. And I know better than anyone that look of desire in his eyes.

But is it really desire? Or is he playing me? Working a con to get closer to Samantha. Trying to make sure she’s being upfront with him. Playing games so he can nail down exactly what she wants from him.

The possibility doesn’t sit well with me at all. I’m the one who pulls the cons, not the one who gets sucked in.

So I just shake my head and tell him I’m tired. Then I head to his bedroom and shut the door without giving him any chance to respond.

But moments later, as I’m curled up in his bed, I can’t stop my racing thoughts anymore than I can control the way my body still craves him.

What if he’s telling the truth?

What if he never tried to hurt you at all?

I close my eyes, blocking out the words my alter ego is whispering into my ear. Because if she’s right—if nothing was ever what it seemed between us—then my entire life for the last fifteen years has been a lie.

And that’s not something I’m prepared to believe.

Brax groaned as he sat up on the sofa, shirtless, but still wearing his jeans. He frowned, wondering what had awakened him. Then he heard the final beep of the keypad lock, and realized that someone was entering his apartment.

He wasn’t surprised when seconds later Cami poked her head in. She was the only one other than his landlord—and the locked drawer of the personnel file at Stark Security—who knew the code.

“Toss me your shirt, will you?”

He blinked at her, still not awake enough for that sentence to make sense. She shook her head in mock exasperation and came toward him, then pulled the T-shirt he’d worn yesterday off the coffee table. She turned around so her back was to him, pulled off her tank top, then slid his shirt over her bra.

When she faced him again, she shrugged. “I spilled coffee all over myself in the car. Guy in front of me slammed on his brakes for no reason. Idiot.” She looked him over. “Speaking of, I’m guessing you haven’t started a pot.”

“You guessed right.”

He needn’t have said anything. She was already on her way to his kitchen to remedy that little problem.

He sat up, stretched, then dragged his fingers through his hair.

“You look like hell,” Cami said, calling to him from over the breakfast bar.

“Great to see you, too.”

“You fall asleep watching a movie again?”

“Just didn’t sleep well. I’ll be fine.” He shoved the blanket the rest of the way off him, then got up and went to the kitchen. She already had the coffee brewing, and had pulled a carton of eggs out of the fridge.

“Out,” she said, shooing him away. She pointed to the breakfast bar. “Sit and talk and let me do this. Otherwise I’m just stealing your food. This way, it’s payment.”

“You are a marvel of rationalizations. But I’m not going to argue because that means you can deliver me a coffee.”

“You got it.” She grabbed his favorite mug out of the cabinet, filled it almost to the brim, then slid it in front of him. He took a sip, hoping it would bring him back to life. Honestly, Cami had it right. He should have put in a movie. That at least would have distracted him. Instead, he’d lain there on the sofa trying to sleep, but instead thinking about the woman in the bedroom.

No, not the woman in the bedroom. Sabrina. He’d been thinking about Sabrina.