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“Someone cut the line.”
My brows pinch together. “What?” I ask, confused.
Lawrence tips his head back and stares at the ceiling. He takes a deep breath. Then another. And another, before leveling me with his gaze. “Someone. Cut. The. Power.” He shakes his head, not believing it himself. “Who can do such a thing? How? What the hell is going on?” he whispers, more to himself.
I step into him, wrap my arms around his waist, and kiss the base of his throat. “I don’t know, Law.” Leaning back, I study the shadowed lines of his profile. “But we’ll figure it out. C’mon.” I take his hand and lace our fingers. “Let’s get what we need and go.”
With a nod, he leads us back to his room, where he stuffs an overnight bag. He locks up the house and we drive our cars to my place. After minor conversation with Kirsten and Delilah, we head to bed, exhausted from the day. We hit the sheets and spoon, foregoing sex. And as Lawrence’s hold around my waist relaxes, his breath low and rhythmic at my ear, I stare at the wall, wondering who the hell is fucking with him. It may only be a couple dots, but I will connect them.
The first person on my shit list? Kelli Langston. Because I took what she thought was hers with a fucking smile on my face.
Chapter Ten
LAWRENCE
After a shitty week and zero answers on why the Barron account is short and a hefty bill to fix a power line I didn’t tamper with, a weekend with my girl is in order. Starting tonight with dinner at Calhoun’s Bistro.
Yes, her employer owns the restaurant. No doubt she has eaten almost everything on the menu. But dinner with me at Calhoun’s is different. My guess is she hasn’t sat opposite a man, eyes locked, lit candle in her periphery, and shared a decadent, intimate meal in public. I better be the first. And last.
After a dab of cologne at my neck and wrists, I adjust the collar of my black button-down and comb my fingers through my hair. I step back from the bathroom vanity and give one final glance in the mirror.
When was the last time I wanted to impress a woman? I jog my memory. Search weeks and months. Recall the last time I purposely dressed to arouse the opposite sex. It has been far too long.
Before Skylar, Kelli had been the last woman I flashed a smile and begged for undivided attention. That was eight months ago at the Stone Bay Financial annual client appreciation banquet held each November. That was before I knew the real Kelli Langston. The woman who smiled for the crowd, flaunted her inheritance like a weapon, and didn’t take no for an answer.
Had I known last fall how narcissistic Kelli is, that she would be more difficult to shake than a venereal disease, I would have passed on her dinner invitation. I would have said no from the start.
And damn, I have tried to shake her since late January without success.
All along, Skylar was the answer. The quiet woman who knows what she wants and isn’t afraid to fight with fire. Little phoenix.
I pocket my wallet and keys, then send her a quick text.
Lawrence: Leaving now.
Skylar: Perfect timing. Almost ready.
The few miles between our houses vanish in no time. I park on the street and walk to the door. Before my knuckles rap the wood, the front door opens and her roommate, Kirsten, stands opposite me.
“Hey, Law.” She tosses me a wave. “Come in. She’ll be out in a sec.”
My shoes clap the tiled foyer as Skylar enters from the hall. My feet glue to the floor as my eyes rake down her body. Take in the sight of her.
I swallow the lump in my throat and shift in place to adjust the bulge behind my zipper.
Skylar and I see each other every day. For dinner and the occasional lunch. For lazy weekends or hot nights between the sheets. The more time we share, the more addicted I become to my little phoenix. Right now, though… I may cancel dinner, take her home, and dine on her instead.
“Wow,” I mutter as she steps into my space.
The forest-green dress hangs from thin straps at her shoulders. Silky fabric loose on her petite frame. A slit down her sternum exposes the medial swell of her breasts. The skirt swishes with the sway of her hips. A thin silver chain looped at the base of her throat and trailing between her cleavage.
My favorite smile plumps her cheeks as she flattens her palms on my pecs. “Right back atcha.”
“We should go,” I choke out. “Before I change our plans.”
Her brow cocks, her smile morphing as devious thoughts enter her mind. “If you say so.”
I wave over her shoulder to Kirsten, then guide Skylar to the car. The drive is filled with talk of our day and upcoming events.
