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“Maybe you should tell Beck. He seems to have a handle on the rest of it.” Cassie cocks her head and narrows her eyes. “You know, maybeshe’sthe stalker.”
I’ve had that thought before, too. “No. She’s sending texts. Not the other notes.”
She shrugs. “Maybe—or maybe she’s sending the texts to keep you from thinking it’s her.” She taps her finger against her temple. “She’s crafty, that one.”
“Either way, whether she’s the stalker or not, you should tell Beck about the messages and calls. She can’t just torture you and get away with it.”
She’s right. I don’t owe Viv my silence on this. If Beck wants to go ham on her ass, then I’m all for that.
One problem at a time. The Bloodhound and the stalker will have to wait.
Vivian St. James can fall first.
25
SLOAN
When I get home in the late afternoon, Beck is sitting on the sofa in a suit and tie. I raise an eyebrow. “You’re awfully fancy for tonight’s planned festivities of a rom-com and a bowl of buttery popcorn.”
He smiles and stands, then takes my hands in his and tugs me closer to lay a soft kiss on me. When he pulls back after my heart is about ready to explode, he smiles.
“I don’t know what I did to deserve that,” I joke, “but you’re welcome. Feel free to keep thanking me for a while, though.”
He grins and reels me back in for another kiss. This one is slower, his lips caressing mine, his tongue soft, almost delicate. I could kiss him forever.
I end the kiss because I want to look at him. There’s something so enticing about Beck right after a kiss. His eyes are smoky and there is a slight hint of a subtle, teasing smirk that makes my stomach flip and flop.
“I’m taking you on a date tonight,” he informs me.
“Are you now? Well, okay,” I say, doing my best attempt at being the kind of cool girl who gets asked this kind of thing all the time and is super casual and laid back about it. “Can I change first?”
Of course, he looks like he stepped out of a men’s fashion magazine. I look like I just went out for brunch with my friends and drank three mocktail mimosas while talking shit about the gossipy hags at the table next to us. I’d prefer to look like I’m not on a Make-A-Wish date with the hockey star.
“Fine, but hurry. I don’t want to waste a minute of tonight.” He walks me to the stairs but only kisses my hand and doesn’t follow me up to the bedroom.
“Ten minutes, I promise.” Fortunately, I have full makeup that only needs to be touched up, and I won’t be wasting time trying to find something to wear because I have the perfect dress in mind. It’s black with small, embroidered flowers, spaghetti straps, and a short, flared skirt.
When I walk down the stairs, he nods approvingly. “Eight minutes and forty seconds. Nice.”
He walks toward me, sleek and graceful anddeadly,like he’s a panther stalking his prey. My breath catches at the look in his eye. It’s smoke and darkness, sensuality and sex. It’s honestly remarkable I ever have clothes on in his presence.
“I didn’t want you to change your mind.”
He wraps his arm around me and tugs me against his chest. “Never.”
He guides me through the house with his hand at the small of my back. There’s something about a touch like that that sends a warm purr through me.
He takes my hand and helps me into the car, kisses my knuckles, and then lingers for a second, his breath warm against my skin. It’s intimate, sexy, makes my heart beat faster, and he’s onlykissing my hand.
God help me if he takes that show on the road, so to speak. If his kisses travel south… well, there’s only so much a girl can resist.
When he climbs in the car, the scent of his cologne wraps around me. If this is the date, just sitting in his car and inhaling his smell, that’d be fine by me. I could stay here forever.
But he fires up the engine and pulls us out.
“So, I talked to one of the equipment guys today. He was telling me about a preschool his kids go to. I got us a meeting.”
I balk. “Preschool? We should—We didn’t—Beck, we haven’t even picked out names yet.”
