Page 2 of Crossing the Line
Hercules flashes his trademark sexy, lopsided grin, one that I remember so well. “We’re old friends, Lake.”
Lake posts her amused expression on me as though she’s seeking corroboration. I’m so lost for words and too flustered to respond to the look on her face.
The truth is, we weren’t always friends. We were both students at Dorset Meacham Academy, a private high school on the Upper East Side. Before the start of my senior year, I still lived in California, but after my grandfather died, my mom and dad relocated to Manhattan, and I had to go with them. And although I had nearly worshipped Hercules from the moment I laid eyes on him, we didn’t really say more than “hi” or “thanks” to each other until one fateful Monday afternoon when he showed up late to our fifth-period computer-programming class.
Minutes before he arrived, Mr. Northam had asked us to pair up for the next assignment. As usual, I ended up without a partner even though my classmates knew teaming up with me was a guaranteed A-plus. The entire school knew I was a computer-coding genius. While Mr. Northam pondered which duo needed a third person, Hercules gusted into the classroom and plopped down in his regular seat.
“Aha, you two,” Mr. Northam said, peering at us over the top of his horn-rimmed glasses. “Problem solved.”
But the problem wasn’t solved. Everyone knew that our families, the Lords and the Groves, were enemies. As a matter of fact, I’d heard plenty enough times that Dorset Meacham Academy—DMA—was Lord country. Even though Hercules and I never showed any overt disdain for each other, the rule was set long before he or I arrived. Before us, his brother Orion and my cousin Lynx had fought tirelessly to dominate DMA’s hallowed halls and win social dominance for one family and ruin for the other. Orion had been the victor, leaving Lynx—and then me—hopelessly trying to figure out how to survive DMA’s jagged, Lord-polluted terrain.
Lake is still waiting for me to confirm Hercules’s claim.
“Yes, we are old friends, I say to keep the explanation of our complicated history simple.
He and I stare at each other with conspiratorial grins.
Lake starts to say something but thankfully Hercules quickly turns to her and says, “But wait a minute. Does Mason know you call him as Kirkie when he’s not looking?”
“Oh no, you called me that name in public, babe?” A tall, dark, and very handsome man slips into our circle of three, positioning himself between Hercules and Lake. Once he’s in place, he curls an arm around Lake’s narrow waist.
Lake giggles as she kisses her fiancé and then asks where has he been. She and Mason are a striking couple. He has a charming quality. And ever since we met, she’s proven to me that she just might be the happiest woman on earth. She’s always smiling, content, and looking on the bright side of stressful situations.
“Your cousin’s a pill,” he says, complaining wearily.
Lake’s grunt expresses that she understands his tone.
But I’m back to gazing into Hercules’s eyes as Lake introduces me to her fiancé. My chest rises high as I inhale deeply and then retracts with deliberate control as I release my breath. I’ll admit that, momentarily, I am completely under Hercules Lord’s spell.
“Whoa, is she—are you—thePaisley Grove?” Mason asks.
I’m on the verge of turning to get a look at the expression behind the way Mason asked that question, but I’m unable to take my eyes off the gorgeous woman who links arms with the man of my dreams. She’s wearing a silver body-con dress that’s so short and with a neckline so deep that it leaves nothing to the imagination.
She holds Hercules tighter. That one possessive act makes me focus on how Hercules’s crisp black shirt clings to his perfect, not overly muscular but very strong bicep. I also notice how delicate her feminine arms appear next to his.
When my gaze finds its way to her face, her eyes are grinning deviously at me, but her lips are not. That’s when realization slams into me like a tsunami.Holy moly—this woman has just come out of nowhere to claim the man of my dreams.
