Crossing the Line: Without a Trace series, a contemporary erotic romance novel (2 page)

With a grin, he offers me a seat so we can go over the itinerary. While his party isn’t for another two weeks, I like to make sure all the details are in place long before the actual date. We’re halfway through the food selections when he reaches for my hand. “This is stunning,” he comments as he lightly rests his fingers on my knuckle.

The touch surprises me, and I swear, I can feel the electricity crackle between us. My cheeks flare with heat as I extend my hand so he can admire my ring. The wide, white gold band holds a chocolate diamond, the stark design softened with curved edges and a slightly buffed finish. “Thanks. It was my mom’s wedding ring.”

His eyes turn knowing. “Was?” When I nod, he continues. “I’m sorry. I lost my dad not too long ago.”

“Then I’m sorry as well.”

With a strange expression, he stands. “Can I show you something?”

“Of course.”

“It’s upstairs, if that’s okay.”

“The actors will need to get dressed somewhere,” I point out as I follow him towards the stairs in the center of the room, the only divider between the dining and living room areas.

He leads me to a small room just off the steps. The interior has been softened with muted plum paint and comfortable furnishings. A large desk butts up to an expansive window overlooking the back courtyard, and to the right hangs a framed comic book.

“This was my dad’s.”

I lean closer. “
The Amazing Spider-Man
. Oh, it’s the first issue.” The edges are ruffled a bit from wear, and the ink has long since faded to a patina of washed out shades.

“It’s my prize possession. My dad gave it to me when I was eight, and I’ve loved Spiderman ever since.” His smile turns shy at his admission. “I have a lot of my dad’s things, of course. But this...well, I’m guessing it’s a bit like your ring.”

I smile, appreciating his sensitivity. “Both my parents died when I was twelve. My brother was eleven. It was a car accident, drunk driver...you know the drill.”

His eyes widen in sympathy. “God, I’m sorry. That had to be impossible. My dad passed a couple of years ago. One day he was fine, and the next day, he was gone. Heart attack.”

It’s an odd thing, the connection that shared sorrow offers. One moment you’re strangers, and the next, you have some intangible link that brushes aside the unknown and allows deeper communication.

“What about your mom?”

“She’s actually doing pretty good, now. I didn’t know if she’d bounce back. No relationship is perfect, but they were one of those couples that just ‘got’ each other, you know?”

I nod. “I do.”

“She finally met the right guy—they just got married a few months ago.”

“That’s great that she was able to find someone again.”

“I’m happy for her. And he’s great. Nothing like my dad, though, which...I don’t know why I’m telling you this.” He offers a wry grin. “I actually just got home from work. Must be the hunger talking.”

I check my watch. “I’m sorry to keep you. It’s getting late. Let me just show you one more thing…”

He touches my arm lightly as I step towards the door, and when I turn around, there’s something in his expression that makes my insides curl with desire.

“Are you hungry?”

“Um...” I stall, not sure what to say. While I’ve had a client or two try to ask me out, I’ve never wanted to say yes...until now. Aren’t there business rules about that somewhere? Still, I’m tempted. But I take the smart way out. “I haven’t eaten yet, but I’m going to grab something on my way h—”

“There’s a sushi place just around the corner. We could finish going over whatever it is we need to there, couldn’t we?”

I’m not sure how we got from dead parents to eating raw fish, and I’m fumbling for an answer. “I guess we could. I—”

His smile widens, interrupting my train of thought. The man’s got teeth worthy of a toothpaste commercial.

Within minutes, I find myself ensconced in a dimly lit restaurant, a cup of sake in hand, and a delicious man across from me. I really wish I would have worn my dress pants and high heels instead of jeans and an Old Navy sweater, as I’m pretty sure I caught Ian checking out my ass as I shed my coat when we reached our table. He was careful to meet my gaze when I sat down, though, so I’m not sure. I could be imagining it.

Don’t get me wrong: I know I’m not bad to look at. I won’t win any beauty pageants, mind you, but I have a symmetrical face, dark brown, curly hair, and typical Midwest features. I’m what most people refer to as “cute” or “pretty.” Never gorgeous or stunning, like they say about Lux. I carry a bit too much weight in my thighs, and despite my efforts at Victoria’s Secret, no pushup bra is going to make my B-cups into Ds. Still, I find myself warming inside at his possible notice.

Probably has something to do with the long swig of sake I just imbibed, too.

“Can I ask you a personal question?” he says, after we’ve discussed the last of the plans for his party.

His query surprises me, but I nod, curious what he might want to know.

“How did you get the idea to start something like this?” He gestures to the folder between us, enclosing his event details. “This is brilliant, but—forgive me if this is presumptuous—you seem very young to have committed to something this...” He struggles for words.

“Adult?” I grin when he looks uncomfortable. “It’s okay. You aren’t the first person to ask me that. I just look young.” I toy with the napkin on my lap. “I’m actually twenty-seven, and this is kind of...a brain child between me and my brother. His idea, really, but we both fell in love with it.”

He appears interested, so I keep going. “We were in college—our last year.”

“I thought you were a year apart?”

“We are, but after our parents died...well, we’ve always been really close. So I waited to start college. We both wanted to go to NYU, and the expense of staying on campus...well, it just made sense for us to do it together.” The explanation has become so pat, even I believe it.

“And you loved the city enough to stay, eh?” His sherry-colored eyes never stray from my face, and the attention heats my cheeks.

“Noah loves it here. He felt like he came home when we arrived. And I like it.”

He chuckles. “But you don’t love it.”

“I don’t. But I’m thankful I’m here. Where else could I start a business like this and have it be this successful in such a short time? Don’t get me wrong—we’ve been working on Elementary for years now. We had the idea when we were in our last year of college, but it was a huge undertaking. We’ve only been officially ‘in business’ for the last two years, and my brother and I were able to quit our other jobs not quite a year ago so we could focus on this one hundred percent.” I’m not sure if I should be telling a client this, but it tumbles out before I can stop it, and the admiration in his gaze makes my insides tingle a bit. Outside of Lux and the people who work for and with us, I don’t often get to gush about my pride and joy.

“You work out of your home?”

“Most of the time I work out of a coffee shop. Just Call Me Joe—best organic Guatemalan dark roast in Brooklyn.” I grin. “But yeah, between there and our dining room that we converted into our office, it’s pajamas all day for the win.”

“Incredible. Truly. When I was an undergrad, I was more focused on getting a new flat screen television for my first apartment. I hadn’t even thought about going out on my own.”

“You went to law school—that’s no small thing.”

We’re interrupted by the server delivering our order, and we take a moment to get acquainted with the chopsticks and enjoy first bites before he takes up his tale again.

“Law school was expected. My dad was a doctor, my mom an accountant with her own firm. Everyone just assumed I’d keep going to school. And don’t get me wrong, I love what I do. I’m well suited to being an attorney, and I’ve been privileged to have incredible opportunities with my firm, but I never gave it much thought. Not like you and—Noah, right?” He confirms before continuing. “What you two did, and that it’s been successful...that’s amazing.” After a bite of sashimi, he asks, “So where do you get your mysteries? Is that something that you buy, or do you contract to have them written?”

I can’t help the small smile that curves my mouth. “Um, I write them,” I say softly.

He drops his chopsticks on his plate. “Get out. Really? I’ve heard awesome things about your stuff. A friend of mine—the one that referred me to you—he said it was like having a professional stage show put on in your living room.”

“Noah acts in them, as well.”

“You two are like the Wonder Twins. Write, act, manage a successful business.” He ticks them off on his fingers. “Is there anything you don’t do?”

I think about it a moment. “We both stink at cleaning our apartment.”

He laughs, a deep, resonant sound that I want to lean into. “I daresay that won’t be an issue when you make it big. You can hire someone to do that.”

“I have it on my list as the first thing to do when we can afford it.”

When we’re finished, we are both slow to leave, so we set a relaxing pace back to his apartment.

“Where would you live if you could live anywhere?”

“Austin, Texas,” I say without hesitation.

He glances down at me. “I’m betting that’s home for you both? That accent is definitely not from the East Coast.

“Born and raised.”

“Why didn’t you go home after college? Why stay here?”

I don’t want to get into my real reason with a guy I barely know, so I come up with the next best answer, which is also largely true. “Noah wanted to stay,” I say simply. “There was no way he could afford it on his own, and we had the idea for Elementary, so it made sense at the time.”

He nods, but by the way his gaze meets mine as we near his building, he seems to know that’s not the whole answer. “Well, I’m glad you did. It looks like my birthday party is going to be amazing.”

“It will be. No one’s seen this mystery yet, so you’re the very first one. And it’s the best one I’ve written.” All the actors told me when they read it that I’d outdone myself, and secretly, I agreed.

At his door, he glances from the entrance to me. “Would you like to come in for coffee?”

I can’t get to my watch between my sweater, coat, and gloves, but I know it’s late. “I should probably be getting back.”

He nods, looking away. Then he meets my eyes with a charming grin. “I just got a new coffee maker from my aunt in Italy. I’m told it’s one of the best in the world. You might regret missing out on experiencing a cup.”

A shy laugh escapes me, and I hear myself say, “I wouldn’t want that.”

“Neither would I,” he agrees and holds the door.

CHAPTER 2

COFFEE AND SUCH

A
fter the brutal cold of the night, his apartment feels welcoming and cozy. He takes my coat, his fingers brushing mine. The unexpected touch sends delicious shivers down my back. I don’t know what I’m doing here—he’s a client, and an important one. We’ve been trying hard to get into neighborhoods like his. Plus, he’s friendly and seems sincere—I don’t want to ruin anything for Elementary.

But there’s something about him—and I don’t mean the fact that he’s stunning to look at—that makes me want to spend more time in his space. He’s different. Most of the guys I’ve met here have been professionals, driven and goal-oriented. And they seemed to treat their romantic lives the same way. Ian feels more…relaxed. Maybe a bit impetuous? I don’t know. But there’s something here I haven’t felt in a long time, and I’ve missed it.

We make small talk about his firm while the coffee brews. He’s hoping to be made a partner in the next few years, and he mentions a case he just finished. He’s loosened his tie, shed his suit coat, and when we relax onto his leather couch with our respective mugs, the conversation slows as we enjoy the aroma and flavor of the drink.

“My God, you weren’t kidding.” I sigh after I take another sip. “This is incredible.”

“I’m not sure if it’s the machine or the beans she sent, but I haven’t been able to stay away from the damn thing since it arrived.”

“I can see why.” I imbibe a bit more before setting my mug next to his on the coffee table. There are several feet between us on the couch, and even though we were probably seated closer together at the Japanese restaurant, this feels very intimate.

“You said earlier that you never gave much thought to going to law school. Where did you think you’d end up?” The gas fireplace crackles, punctuating my sentence, or perhaps mocking me as I’m trying to ignore what’s going on and why I’m still in this man’s apartment.

“I never gave it much thought. Honestly, I was a stupid kid.” His grin is a bit embarrassed as he stretches back against the couch cushions. “Between undergrad and law school, my father forced me to take a year off. When he retired, he’d decided to travel, but not in conventional ways. He visited friends working in third world countries and helped them treat those who couldn’t afford medical care. So he dragged me along with him, as a payback for him paying for law school. It forced me to grow up…in a lot of ways.”

“Wow. Your dad was hardcore.”