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I close my eyes and picture Luke sitting so close to me in the car, my crush right there. Only, in my thoughts, I reach over and hold his hand confidently, then I lean up and bring my lips to his. Even though the shower in my new apartment is crazily nice, I don’t want to use it. I don’t want to wash away the feel of his touch against my body.
I’ve got to remember the loneliness and the terror. I mean, hell, it’s not like I could ever forget. I need to keep it at the forefront of my mind, just in case Luke shows signs I might misread. I’ll let my crush-fueled thoughts gallop ahead. When he leaves, I’ll experience it all over again.
When I open my eyes, a man stares at me from the opposite side of the park. It’s difficult to make out his features. He’s not standing under the streetlamps, and the trees’ shadows block out the moon- and starlight. As I stare, he raises his hand, an intimidating silhouette as he slowly drags his hand across his throat—an unmistakable gesture of violence.
“Can I help you?” I call, standing quickly, ignoring the instinct to run rushing through me. I approach him. “Hello?”
He makes the same motion, then turns away.
“Hey—”
“Ma’am.” Christopher is at my side. “Please, don’t go any farther.”
He raises his hand as if to touch my arm, to stop me, but then he lowers it. I wonder if Luke instructed him not to touch me, and a shimmer teases me at the thought. Luke wants me all for himself.
Yeah… or he’s keen to avoid a lawsuit.
“Did you see that?” I ask Christopher.
“Yes, I did. Probably some junkie thinking he’s being funny. Perhaps we should head home, ma’am.”
“You don’t have to call me ma’am.”
“Respect costs nothing.”
I sigh. “Fine, let’s head home.”
As we walk, I think about what Christopher said about that guy being a junkie. It’s difficult to figure out exactly how, but his words reeked of a lie. He’s hiding something from me.
In the apartment’s lobby, I turn to him. “I think you know who that man was.”
He looks at the floor.
“Am I wrong?”
He sighs. “I’m sorry, ma’am—”
“Christopher…”
“I’m sorry,” he says, “but I can’t tell you anything. If you have questions, I suggest you direct them to Mr. Hart.”
Returning to the apartment, I take Luke’s phone number from the fridge and sit at the counter, staring down at it. A cell phone was waiting for me in the upper drawer of the computer desk, brand new, shiny, probably costing at least one to two thousand dollars. Does he do this every time he plays the Good Samaritan, or is there more going on here?
Luke’s done so much for me already, though. I don’t want to bother him. Maybe Christopher was right. That man was a stranger and had nothing to do with Luke, but I can’t help but think otherwise.
My crush burns in me like a promise, as though everything holds greater significance. I don’t call Luke. In the end, I shower, standing under the high water pressure, the temperature knob responding as soon as I turn it. Once I’ve got the pressure and the heat exactly where I want it, I burst into manic laughter. I sound insane even to myself, but this shower is a miracle. This apartment is a miracle.
This new chapter of my life… All of it is a wonder. I should try to enjoy it while it lasts.
CHAPTER SIX
Luke
“How did he know where she’s staying?” I growl down the phone, sitting on my rooftop garden, my black coffee throwing up hazy steam.
“I don’t know, sir. They must’ve followed us from her apartment.”
“He threatened her?”
“Not with words, but he made a motion. A hand across his throat.”
I squeeze the phone, my forearms tense, my chest swelling with anger, rage, and animal intent.
“Why am I only learning about this now?”
“I know you had a big meeting last night, a conference call with an overseas office. I didn’t want to bother you, and Jane is safe. She hasn’t left the apartment since.”
“In the future, you call me the second there’s a problem. Meeting or no meeting.”
“Of course, sir. I’m sorry.”
I hang up, pacing the garden, walking past the flowerbeds beneath the well-tended foliage. I was planning on trying to stay away from Jane until this Russian crap was sorted out, but, in a twisted sense, they’ve done me a favor, not that I truly believe I could resist her for long. Last night, she was all I could think about—her curly hair, innocent eyes, and ripe, curvy body made just for me.
I’ll kill every mob bastard in the city if that’s what it takes. Going downstairs, I tell my driver we’re taking a detour before we head into the office.
Oh, damn…
She answers the door in shorts, her bare legs even juicier than I knew they’d be. Her shirt is tight, showing the outline of her bra. Her face is gorgeous, her lips curved into an inviting smile, and her hair’s tied up in a curly, messy, alluring bun.
