Page 77 of Falling for the Enemy

“We can pick her up on the way when we drop off your car.”

“I can drive.”

“No need.”

“I’m not letting you kidnap me, Soren. Everyone knows you never go to the second location.”

“Oh, I’m not just kidnapping you. Once I get you to my place, I’m holding you hostage. I plan on locking you in, stealing all your clothes, and helping myself to every square inch of your body until I have to go to work on Monday.” He opened her door and waited until she buckled herself in.

She didn’t argue, but she also didn’t fully surrender. “Do I get a safe word or a last phone call? What if I need to phone a friend?”

“I’m your friend. When you need to talk, I’ll be ready to listen.”

He could read the reservations in her eyes. But he was getting her to that second location one way or another. And once he had uninterrupted time with her, time where she couldn’t chase him out or run away, he planned to prove just how much he planned to face this thing head-on.

CHAPTER 10

“YOU CAN HIDE BESIDE ME, MAYBE FOR A WHILE”

Cordelia’s barking echoed through the two-story foyer as she raced inside Soren’s home like she owned the place. Upstairs, in the muffled distance, King’s booming woof followed.

Cordelia bolted up the elegantly curved staircase as if she knew exactly where the other dog was and felt compelled to rescue him. King’s pounding steps rattled the rafters like thunder above as he barked at her approach.

“This was your idea,” Jocelyn reminded, still giving him a chance to send them back.

“No regrets yet,” Soren said, with irritating calm.

She didn’t know why he was so invested in this new strategy. He had a temper and a short fuse, and she, more than anyone, could send him into a tantrum. His bullshit act that everything was hunky-fucking-dory would eventually get old, and he’d go back to snapping at her.

Until that happened, she couldn’t seem to relax.

Stepping further into his home, she had the sense that she was walking into some sort of museum. The scent of furniture polish hung in the air. Pristine was the first word that came to mind, followed quickly by expensive, then priceless, and then breakable. They could not afford to be here.

Jocelyn wasn’t what anyone would consider tidy. She ate over the sink, drank out of milk cartons, and didn’t think twice about dropping a sweaty glass on a wooden table. She had a paper-plate soul and was currently a hostage in a bone china house.

“I’m gonna let King out.”

“‘Kay.”

Her stare remained locked on the vaulted ceilings where moonlight spilled through the enormous glass windows. Even in the dark, this place was noticeably pristine.

Setting her bag on the imported tile floor that was probably cleaner than her silverware, she searched the walls for a light switch. A strip of touch controls filled a panel by the door. She barely pressed one switch and the wall to her left lit in a soft amber glow.

“What the…” It took her a minute to realize they were bottles. “Holy shit.”

“Incoming!” Soren yelled as King’s booming bark shot through the air. The dog barreled down the stairs like a stampede of buffalo and, for a split second, she feared meeting Mufasa’s fate, but the giant animal only attacked her with wet kisses.

“King! Heel!” Soren ordered, and the dog stiffened, then bolted back to his rescuer.

Cordelia yapped in his wake as he whimpered and danced, licking and kissing his master’s face without even needing to rise on his long, gangly legs.

“King, down!” Soren hauled the excited Great Dane into a seated position. “Sorry. He doesn’t quite understand personal space.”

Like his father, she thought.

Cordelia followed them out back, nipping at King’s flank like one of those little fish that form a symbiotic bond with larger whales.

Soren returned a moment later, frazzled and glistening with sweat. “Sorry.”