Ex-Con: Bad Boy Romance (3 page)

For a minute, he looked nonplussed. Then he chuckled. It was a rusty sound, like he didn’t laugh often.

In the next moment, the elevator opened on a whisper and we all spilled out. Everybody else fanned out into the room.

I stood there staring, trying not to let my mouth hang open. I could think of exactly one thing I’d seen that had been this beautiful. And it was the woman who turned to look at me with an amused expression on her face.

“Are you going to join us?”

Chapter 2

“I need a drink.”

While I was still standing there trying to take everything in, Carly made her announcement to the room in general.

“Anybody want to join me?”

I heard a few denials. Nobody said yes. Considering what just happened, I had to give them credit for refusing.

“What about you over there?”

Realizing she was talking to me, I looked away from the elegant white of the room to meet her gaze. “What?” As soon as I asked it, I felt stupid. She’d been talking about drinks, so she was offering me one. I shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. I still had no clue what I was doing here. “You don’t need to do that.”

Carly rolled her eyes at me. “Of course I don’t need to. If I didn’t want to, I wouldn’t have offered it. So do you want one? After what happened the past twenty minutes, you could probably use one.”

I jutted my chin at the suits. “If that’s the case, why aren't they having one?”

She shook her head, an amused smile on her face. “Julio’s boys don’t drink on the job.”

A dark-skinned dude built like a tank smiled faintly as she gestured at him. I assumed the men behind him were his boys and he was Julio.

She gestured to the other men, including the one with the broken arm. “And my boys? They don’t either, even though I keep telling them it’s not a big deal when we’re here. But they won’t ever relax.”

“It’s our job not to relax, Carly.” The guy with the broken arm spoke through gritted teeth.

He was going to need to get that looked at.

She rolled her eyes again and then smiled at me. “Have a drink with me. Makes me look a little less like a lush.”

“Ah, yeah. Sure.” I shrugged. If I was going back to jail, I figured I should probably enjoy the moment. “Whiskey, I guess. If you’ve got it.”

She didn't even blink. “What kind?”

Kind
? Running my tongue across my teeth, I thought that through. Okay. Yeah, I knew there were
kinds
. I was born in Kentucky after all and even if I hadn’t had much chance to
experience it, this was the land of milk and bourbon. But my idea of variety, as far as whiskey went, ran the gamut from the kinds that didn’t burn your stomach lining right off and the kinds that did. Rather than confirm my ignorance, I acted like it didn't matter. “Anything is fine.”

She studied me for a moment, and then she smiled. It was a somber kind of smile, one that was curiously sad, and because it made my chest feel sort of tight, I looked away. This was why I tried to avoid people. No one looked at me like they actually saw me, just who they thought I was.

While she busied herself at what I guessed was the bar, I moved over to the window. I found myself staring out at a city I barely recognized. I supposed when you lived in the west end, in some armpit apartment that really ought to be condemned, then maybe you didn't notice the bright and shining lights, or the pretty glow of the bridges at night. My city was vastly different from hers.

“Here.”

I turned at the sound of her voice, and I found myself caught up in the sight of her again, the scent. Really, she was an entire experience. Golden curls, pale, soft skin and sweet, sweet female. The kind of sweet, sweet female I’d never had the pleasure of knowing, and when her fingers brushed mine, it made me twitchy.

It had been way too long since I’d been with a woman, any woman, and she was right here...

“Here,” she said again, smiling as she pushed the glass of whiskey into my hand. “Try this. I bet you’ll like it.”

To cover the flush that seemed to be rushing up my neck, I grunted a response, and turned back to stare out the window. Then I tossed back a swallow, ready for the burn of it.

It didn’t burn.

It glided. Like hot, sweet silk.

“Damn,” I murmured a second later.

“Nice, yeah?”

Instead of responding, I lifted the glass and took another drink, a smaller one this time, taking care to savor it. It was just as good this time as the last and I enjoyed it that much more for taking my time.

“Nice is one word for it.” I lifted the glass and studied it, decided I could maybe make it last ten minutes if I was careful. I'd learned a long time ago that ten minutes could last a lifetime. At least these would be a good ten minutes.

“Angel’s Envy,” she told me.

I frowned and looked over at her.

She tipped her glass at me, tapping it with a nail that was painted pink to match her dress. “The bourbon. Angel’s Envy. Good stuff. It’s one of my favorites. Kentucky makes some excellent bourbon, I must say. It’s almost as good as Pappy Van Winkles.”

She had to be joking with that one. Squinting at her, I said, “Pappy Van Winkles?”

“Yep.” She winked, one quick drop of her lid. “If you’re nice, maybe I’ll share it with you some time.”

With a name like
Pappy Van Winkle
, it would probably taste like pure rotgut. Then again, she didn't exactly look like the sort of woman who'd throw back that shit. My experience around the opposite sex had been with that sort, and she sure as hell wasn't like those women.

I gave her a tight smile and went back to savoring the bourbon. Angel’s Envy – the name was perfect. It was almost gone, and I wished I hadn’t belted that first drink. If I had more, I’d have a reason to linger, and considering what I had waiting for me when I left, lingering didn't sound like a bad idea.

Around me, I could hear the low murmur of voices, the two men who’d chased after Carly at first, and the others who joined up soon after. I heard what sounded like a report, and then a stream of cussing, a promise of regular updates. I didn't look at any of it, letting myself enjoy the time alone with my drink.

I finished it far sooner than I wanted to and finally turned around. I saw the neat little bar area where she’d poured the glass and went over, intent on washing it up. I may have been rough around the edges, but I had some manners.

“Do you have a job?”

Carly's question stopped me in my tracks.

I went still, my spine going poker straight. Slowly, I turned. Meeting her gaze dead-on, I inclined my head. “Why?” It came out more harshly than I'd intended, but I didn't apologize.

A cute, impish sort of smile curled the corners of her pretty mouth. Man, I should have stolen a kiss when I'd had the chance. I’d regret that for the rest of my life. Maybe she’d never remember anything else about me, but if I’d kissed her, I could have given her something to remember.

“You don’t know who I am, do you?”

That question caught me off-guard, and I didn't have an answer for her. Scowling, I reached up and rubbed the back of my neck, trying to figure out the best way to answer.

From the corner of my eye, I saw the looks a few of the hotel suits slid me. They were quick. Subtle, too. But I know that kind of look.
You stupid or something
?

Or something.

I curled my lip in their direction.

Judging by the subtle tensing of Julio’s body, he realized something was amiss. Now he
was real subtle, but I caught the quick turn of his head, the way he cocked his eyebrow at his people. Their faces blanked quick as you please.

Fuck ‘em.

“I figure you had to be somebody,” I said, shrugging. “Reporters don’t go around shoving their cameras in the face of your everyday average bombshell just for the hell of it. But...no. I don’t know who you are.”

Carly’s head fell back as she laughed. Maybe I should've been embarrassed by that, but the sound of it wasn’t mocking. I knew when I was being laughed at.

And I knew that wasn't it. I hadn’t heard the sound of pure and simple happiness very often, and maybe that was why I recognized the difference so easily.

She was just happy. Delighted, even. And it had something to do with the fact that I didn't know who she was.

This day just kept getting weirder.

She came toward me, still grinning, although the laugh was fading. I could still hear the echo of it, and it was hard not to let my mouth curve up in reaction. I wanted to smile at her, share in that bright, infectious pleasure, despite the fact that I didn’t really understand why she was so delighted.

It was a puzzle, and I was so busy trying to figure it out that she caught me off-guard. Not something that normally happened to me. It wasn't smart, not for a guy like me. It could end up getting an ex-con like me dead, so I'd spent years honing my awareness. But she was something I'd never expected. Or experienced.

I tensed as she reached out, my body reacting instinctively. When her fingers brushed my cheeks, I caught her wrists. What the hell was she doing?

Then she swayed closer and the shock had me loosening my grip. I didn't understand why her goons weren't stopping her. Because there was no way she actually wanted...

She dragged my mouth down even as she rose up on her toes. Before my brain could process, she pressed her lips against mine.

Hard.

Lust, visceral and hot, twisted through me like a punch to the gut.

Fuck.

She was already retreating when I caught her shoulders and did exactly what I’d wanted to do pretty much from the second I’d tackled her out on the street. Then, it would have been pretty damn out of place. Now...well, maybe it was out of place, but for that split second when her lips had brushed mine, I felt it. That strange, seductive tug.

And, hell, she started it.

I waited for her to pull back, but she sighed against my mouth and leaned closer.

What should have been a fast, impersonal kiss became something slower, softer...sweeter. I licked at her lips and she hummed deep in her throat, opened her mouth for me. My fingers tightened on her shoulders and I started to slide my hands down.

But the loud clearing of somebody’s throat interrupted before things could go any further.

We broke apart and I could feel my face heating up while she studied me. There was something in her eyes I hadn’t seen until that moment, and I wasn't sure how that made me feel.

She took a step back and I wanted to grab her, pull her close, make everybody go away, make the whole world go away. And I knew she could do that for me, do the one thing that no one else had been able to do. She could make me forget. Forget where I was, who I was.

Instead of acting on what I wanted, however, I put more distance between us. My booted foot kicked something and I looked down, realizing I’d dropped the glass that had held the bourbon. I stooped down, grabbing it. When I straightened, I caught sight of her from the corner of my eye.

Lust clenched my stomach at the look on her face. She was still watching me, wearing a small smile. The kind of smile a woman gets when maybe she wants a man to make the whole world go away.

I could do it, too. But she’d hate me after, either because she'd found out who I was or because I'd left before she could.

“So.” One of the suits cleared his throat again, cutting through the silence.

I hunched my shoulders and cut around her to the counter. I needed something between us.

The hotel suits were studiously looking elsewhere, while the other two – I decided to call them Tango and Cash – were glaring at me. Hard. That was fine. I planned on getting the hell out of here anyway. Once I left, maybe Tango would finally call that damn cab and get his ass to one of the hospitals a few blocks away, so they could set his arm. He was all pale, his forehead shiny and his mouth tight with pain.

I hurt just looking at him.

He was older than I'd realized too, and that just made me feel worse about what I'd done. He wasn't exactly old, but he had at least half a dozen years on me.

“Are you going to answer my questions?”

I shifted my gaze to Carly, for just a moment, and tried to remember what she'd asked me. After a moment, it came to me. “No, I don’t know who you are, and no, I don’t have a job at the moment.” I paused and then gave a thin smile. “I’m between projects.”

Between projects
sounded so much better than
unemployed
. Especially when I was unemployed – again – for the third time in a year. I’d start job hunting first thing tomorrow and, sooner or later, I’d find something. But it would be suck work, for suck pay, despite the fact that I was qualified for all sorts of jobs. There were plenty of people out there willing to hire people with a record, but there were ex-cons and then there were
ex-cons
. I was one of the latter.

“Between projects,” she echoed. “So does that mean you have something else lined up?”