Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
Gigi
I know I’m dreaming, but it feels too good to fully wake up.
I rub my thighs together, the need for friction so strong, I turn over, letting out a little moan of frustration.
And then I fall back into the dream.
In it, Rush spreads my thighs apart, his dark penetrating eyes holding mine as he kneels between my legs.
I stare up at him, silently begging him to relieve the sweet ache that is torturing me.
His hand comes to my belly, his fingers splaying out on my skin. I gasp and lift my hips, inviting…begging him to touch me where I need it most.
He gives me a wicked smile and then slides his hand down my skin, lower and lower until he’s almost?—
The jangle of my phone jolts me awake.
I sit up, my eyes flying open, my body still aching with a desire so strong, I can hardly catch my breath.
I look over at my phone, Erika’s name on the screen.
Groaning, I lay back down, slapping a pillow over my head. I’m excited to hear about her date, I really am.
But also…
My night last night was anything other than fun, and after a night spent tossing and turning, I’m going to be running on coffee and adrenaline most of the day.
At least it’s Saturday.
The phone stops ringing and then instantly starts again.
Reaching my hand over, I grab the phone and with barely one eye open, as I slide the answer bar over to pick up the call, I bring the device under the pillow and to my ear. “Your date was that good?” I mumble with my face pressed into the mattress.
“Pouring over proposal documents hardly feels like a date,” Rush’s deep rumble has me sitting up again.
“Mr. Smith…I mean…Rush…I…” I don’t even know. “I thought you were someone else.”
“Clearly.”
I swallow, trying to find my composure. This is the man I was just dreaming about. The carnal thoughts feel so fresh, my body throbs again, remembering them. “Can I help you with something?” My voice comes out husky and wanton. I jump from the bed, spinning to look in the mirror.
He can’t see me, but somehow, I’m mortified by the way I look.
My cheeks are flushed, my hair all kinds of tousled, my eyes wide.
“Can you help me with something?” he repeats, his voice dropping too.
The ache between my legs throbs. I know he’s not asking me for that kind of help. Whatever was happening between us last night happened before he found out about Emma.
I pull the phone from my mouth, drawing in a deep breath to try and steady myself.
“As a matter of fact, you can.” His voice moves over my skin, making me shiver. “Go through the report you sent me last night and see if you can find any specific discrepancies.”
And then he hangs up.
I’m standing in the middle of my bedroom in a tiny tank top and underwear, looking like I was having sexy dreams, or just sex, my phone clutched in my hand.
I blow a breath of air up, fluttering my hair. Luckily Emma is exhausted after her first week of school, and she’ll be content to have a quiet day.
But this job is going to be anything but nine-to-five, for a whole host of reasons.
Running a hand over my face, I head into the bathroom, at least running a brush through my hair, and brushing my teeth before I go out to the kitchen to make coffee.
The first few sips infuse me with some life as Emma comes out of her room in her pajamas, rubbing her eyes.
I pour her a cup of milk and place a straw in it, as I drink more of my coffee, cutting up some berries for her to have with her yogurt.
That’s when someone bangs on my door.
It’s not as shocking this time, but I look down at myself.
I’m still in just a tank and my little bikini underwear.
“Find anything?” Rush’s voice calls from the other side of the door.
Emma looks at me, her eyes big, as she hugs her blanket close.
I let out a long breath as I cross to the door. Leaving the chain on, I open it a crack. “No. I haven’t.”
He stands on the other side of the door, clearly showered and dressed, his hair neatly styled, his jeans hugging his trim hips, his scowl firmly in place. “Why not?”
“Because,” I haven’t had enough coffee to sugarcoat anything, “I’m still in my pajamas.” I see his gaze move over my face, the bare arm he can see through the crack. The rest of me is tucked behind the door.
“Pants or shorts?” he asks and every part of me heats. It’s an intimate question, and I’ve got way too much exposed skin to not feel embarrassed.
“I just need to feed Emma and then I can look at the documents,” I say and then I close the door.
It’s not like me, but also, he’s doing his best to be irritating. It’s a Saturday morning after my first week of work. I’m just trying to catch my breath.
He knocks again.
“What?”
“I’ll feed Emma if you want to take a shower.”
I blink at the closed door, before I open it again, still leaving the chain in place. “You like kids?”
“No. Not very much.”
My mouth drops open as I stare at him. I’m confused enough that I shift, my left hip and leg coming into view.
His gaze travels down me, his eyes growing dark.
I gasp, pulling myself back behind the door. “Then why would you want to feed Emma?”
“Because…” He lets out a long-irritated breath of air. “I have a very short window with which to find answers and the clock is ticking.”
“I just need to put on pants,” I say. “I’ll be right back.” And then I close the door.
But that doesn’t keep me from hearing him rumble. “You need pants to shower?”
I stop, my eyes bugging out. He can’t be serious.
But I scurry into my bedroom, grabbing sweatpants, that I yank on before I head back out to open the door.
I’m still in a tank and no bra, but I scurry back to the door, pulling off the chain and opening it. “You’re sure this is all right?”
He moves forward, and I automatically step back to allow him to enter. “It’s fine. Where is her breakfast?”
I frown. Emma isn’t super frightened of men, but between my ex and a child’s natural tendency to be more reserved with strangers, I’m not sure this is going to go well. I point to the kitchen.
He turns, his gaze sweeping over my abandoned cup of coffee and the food I’ve already prepped. With a jerk of his chin, he starts for the kitchen.
But instead of going to the bathroom, I follow him.
He stops at the counter, looking down at the strawberries I’d cut into sections and the grapes I’d quartered. “You can take a shower, Ms. Hope. I’m capable of cutting grapes.”
I grimace, my voice dropping to a whisper. “She can mostly feed herself. I just sit with her to make sure she doesn’t choke.”
He lets out another breath, like I’m irritating him. I’ve got my arms around my body, covering my breasts, but I step closer. “She’s a little afraid after what happened with my ex, so the less you talk, probably the better.”
He looks over his shoulder at me, his nostrils flaring. “What happened with your ex?”
I wave my hand. If he’s in a hurry, now is not the time to discuss Vigo.
Not that I intend to tell Rush about him ever.
“I’ll be right back. She might not even be hungry yet.
This is more of a just-make-sure-she-doesn’t-climb-anything-and-hurt-herself assignment.
” And then I turn and race toward the bathroom, closing the door.
And that’s when I realize, I have no clothes to change into. I sigh. I’m not going back out there now.
Turning on the shower, I step in, the water still freezing cold, as I start scrubbing. Maybe ice water will help me regain my senses because this is crazy.
I wash my hair, even though I won’t have time to dry it, just so it smells nice at least. I’m out in a flash, and pulling an old robe around my body, before I pick up my dirty clothes and head back out to the living room.
When the door opens, both Rush and Emma look at me from their spots at the table. Emma is in her booster seat, Rush holding a spoonful of yogurt in front of her. “Everything all right?” I ask, pulling the frayed edges of my robe tighter around me.
“Fine,” Rush says and he does a good job of keeping his voice low, his rumble to a minimum. Emma still eyes him like she’s not sure what to think.
I only bob my chin and then head into my bedroom to dress. Pulling on a bra, T-shirt, and some leggings, I comb out my hair and then grab my laptop.
I swipe my cup of coffee from the counter before I join them at the table.
Pulling open the device, I draw in a deep breath of air. “What am I looking for?”
“Anything that doesn’t make sense.”
Emma reaches out and taps his hand. Automatically, he gets her another spoonful of yogurt, placing it in her mouth.
I don’t know how to tell him that she can feed herself with a spoon. He’s being played by a three-year-old.
So instead, I start looking through the sheets. Telling me to look for something that doesn’t make sense is ridiculous.
There are hundreds and hundreds of lines of proposed expenses, involved companies, contractors, and more.
But then, one pops out at me. Wilson’s Tire and Auto.
First because, I’m not sure why a place like that would even be on the list of contractors for a major real estate development project. Maybe to repair construction equipment?
But also…it rings with a familiarity that makes my stomach dip and swoop.
Sure enough, I make my way through the document and find it listed multiple times, each for hundreds of thousands of dollars.
That can’t be right…
I nip at my lip. How did no one pick up on this before? “When was this document sent?”
“Yesterday,” Rush says even as Emma taps his hand again. Honestly, I’m relieved to see her touch Rush freely.
She hadn’t been afraid of his brother yesterday either. It makes some ache I’ve been carrying ease, to think she’s not completely frightened of all men.
“Do you have the old document?” I ask, even as I google Wilson’s Tire and Auto. Maybe they sell large construction equipment or…
A website comes up, but the address listed on the front page makes my heart leap in my throat. I’ve been there many times.
It’s a front shop owned by Vigo.
He’s changed the name, added a new sign, but the place is the same.
This is his doing…