Page 15 of Edge of Secrets

She was afraid of something.

Curiosity ignited inside me. What could a girl like her have to be afraid of on a well-lit, crowded street? An asshole ex? That was an old classic.

I could rip the shithead’s throat out for her if she wanted me to. I had the skills.

Whoa. That bloodthirsty thought had sneaked up on me while I struggled not to stare at the way that button strained over the swell of her tits. How sooty and long her lashes were. I loved the exotic, cat-like upward tilt to her eyes and brows. Hers wasn’t a glossy magazine sort of pretty, and that was fine with me. I’d never gone for hollow cheeks or toothpick legs. I liked a nice round ass, and that deep inward curve at her waist that cried out for the grip of my hands. She had that Mediterranean milkmaid look: creamy golden skin, wide hips, full, bouncing tits. Dimpled knees, maybe. The skirt was just a shade too long to ascertain the knee situation. But a guy could hope.

She finally saw me lurking and gawking, and shrank in on herself, clutching her blazer closed. So she felt the animal rattling its cage, after I’d tried so hard to play it cool. So much for my best efforts. With this girl, they were sure to always fall short.

“Looking for a cab?” I asked.

“Not having much luck.” Her gaze darted around, avoiding mine. “It’s so hard to get one when it’s raining.”

I couldn’t stop gawking at her—despite her discomfort, despite the fact that I had already drawn my conclusions about how I would handle this. Which was to say, according to my rock-solid principles and innate common sense. Don’t think with your dick. That’s never been its forte.

But it was late, and she was all alone, and the rain was pattering down harder now. I needed to know what she was afraid of, and if something could be done about it.

And, incidentally, if her knees were dimpled.

“I’ll drive you home,” I blurted out.

Chapter Seven

Nell

“Oh, no. Thanks, but I couldn’t. It’s okay,” I babbled. I waved my arms wildly at the next cab that went by, even though its light was off. “It’s far. All the way out to Williamsburg, and with all this traffic, too. It would eat your whole evening. I’ll just walk downtown until I find a cab.”

Or Snake Eyes finds me. My sisters and I had promised each other that we would take cabs as often as possible. Not that catching cabs had helped Nancy much. She’d been nabbed out of a crowded hotel restaurant, surrounded by all the people she knew.

“No.” Burke’s voice was low and authoritative. “You’re not walking. It’s late, and it’s raining. I’ll drive you.”

I opened my mouth to politely slap him down to size. Who did he think he was, anyway—announcing what I could or could not do?

Then I looked into his eyes, and the anxious babble in my mind just stopped.

It was dark, wet, and no cabs were stopping. My neck was prickling in the worst way. The people on the street had all hustled for shelter, leaving the street dismal and deserted. Why not just accept his offer?

I tried to talk myself down from this silly clutch of panic. Burke was plenty intimidating in his own way, but he was no Snake Eyes. And I was no brainless bimbo, whatever he might think with his I-don’t-hire-young-women-just-for-scenery comment.

I could handle anything this guy dished out and serve it right back. And have fun doing it, too, I realized. Being uppity with Duncan Burke was kind of fun.

I licked my dry lips without thinking and quickly regretted it when his gaze flicked to my mouth and stayed there.

“Um, thank you.” My voice felt dry and scratchy. “I appreciate that. If you’re sure.”

“Great. I’m in a garage close to the office building,” he said. “Just a couple blocks.”

We took off down the sidewalk, side by side, in total silence. I was freshly strangled by shyness, and angry at myself for feeling this way. For God’s sake, I had just accepted a job from this man. We had plenty of things to talk about, but my voice was huddled into a tight, nervous ball in my throat, like a twelve-year-old at her first dance.

He led me down into an underground parking garage near his office building. I stumbled on the steep concrete slope, clutching the folder that held the game outline I was supposed to study tonight. He caught my elbow and held on to it, all the way to the sleek silver Mercedes that answered his remote beep with a pert flash of lights.

He helped me into the car, which smelled luxurious and new. The soft, plushy leather seat felt like it was hugging me.

My mute and strangled state did not improve, even after the necessary interchange about the best route to take to my Williamsburg address.

After a few minutes, he spoke up. “What are you so afraid of?”

That question took me utterly by surprise and left me floundering. “What on earth are you talking about?” I demanded.

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