Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
LARKE
A blast of cold stung my lips.
My eyes popped open, and I blinked until I made out a face in the darkness. Dez was looking down at me, the space between his brows more wrinkled than a Shar-Pei puppy. I was lying across my bed, his large body perched over mine and his hands planted on either side of my head.
I reached for whatever he’d used to zap me into alertness just as he withdrew an ice-filled sandwich bag, the thin plastic dotted with condensation.
“You wouldn’t wake up,” he said, gently wiping the moisture from my lips with his thumb. “So, I improvised. Lips have some of the densest concentrations of nerve endings in the body.”
I tapped the space beneath my nose. “What about here? I got my ‘stache threaded exactly one time, and it was so painful, I considered taking out additional life insurance.”
He smiled. “The philtrum is pretty sensitive, yeah.”
“And the clitoris.”
“That as well. I’ll start there next time.”
“I’m only providing information, not an invitation.
” I relaxed into the gentle sensation of his fingers, knowing the moment would be over sooner than I wanted it to be.
“And, by the way, your salary’s guaranteed.
You didn’t have to wake me up. You could have let me drift off into the eternal abyss.
Your direct deposit will still come through. ”
“Tapley, I wouldn’t know what to do with myself if I wasn’t protecting you.”
He eased away.
I yawned and stretched my arms above my head, sitting upright. While I wasn’t unfamiliar with a blackout every once in a while, this level of darkness seemed to exceed anything I’d ever encountered. The only reason I could see at all was because Dez had set a flashlight on the nightstand.
“What are you doing here so late?” I asked, covering another yawn. “You usually don’t do night duty. I beg, and I beg, and you never come.”
He tossed the sandwich bag on the nightstand. “If you actually ever did beg me, trust me, I’d come. But, after what happened at your office, I’m not leaving your safety up to anyone else.”
“You can’t leave that bag there.”
“It’s not real wood. There’s nothing to warp.”
“If you’d like, I can draft up a contract that says, ‘Dez gets to make the rules about my furniture because he agrees to pay my bills, starting from today, in perpetuity.’”
He swatted the outside of my thigh. “Get to work then.”
I rolled my eyes and scooted over on the mattress. The man was as good-looking in dark pants and a gray T-shirt as he was in the suits he wore to work.
“Did the hospital give you something?” he asked, claiming the space next to me. “A sedative, maybe?”
I’d been in such a deep sleep that I forgot to wear a headscarf to bed, and my silk pillowcase was still in the hamper. At the very least, I’d managed to slip into a tank top and plaid sleep shorts. Thankfully, it was too dark for him to make out that I wasn’t wearing a bra.
“They didn’t take me to the hospital. Every last one was full, so I told EMS I wanted to go home. My vitals were stable, and they had no other options, so they agreed. One of the medics snuck me a pill.”
“And you just…took it?”
“Uh, yeah. He was wearing a uniform.”
He snorted a laugh.
I playfully elbowed him in the side of his arm.
“There were extenuating circumstances, if you recall,” I reminded him. “I needed something. How did the rest of the day go for you?”
Usually, he wore his hair pulled back and away from his face. Tonight, the strands brushed his shoulders and kissed his jawline in ways I could only dream of doing—and had dreamed.
“I had a ton of paperwork to do, and I had to brief the Feds about the incident,” he said. “I haven’t slept yet, though I might fall asleep now that I know you’re all right. If the ice didn’t work, I would have carried you into the shower and blasted the water on its coldest setting.”
“And get my hair wet?”
“To save your life.”
“I’ll take my chances.”
He shook his head, the expression on his face every bit incredulous. “And what do you mean anyway?” he asked. “What’s wrong with getting your hair wet?”
I gasped, left the bed, and headed for the living room. He grabbed the flashlight and the melting bag of ice and followed.
“One year, Dez. It’s been at least a year of me educating you about all things Larke Tapley. Now, I’m forced to ask…do you even know me?”
“Quiz me. Let me earn back my prestige.”
I spun around to face him. “Okay, then. But I’m going all the way back to information you should have learned around month three of our relationship.”
“Ah,” his mouth twitched, “back when we were still in the honeymoon phase.”
I tamped down my desire to smile along with his amusement. “Question one: don’t get my hair wet unless it’s time to get it wet. When is that time?”
“When that time is,” he answered.
I held in a laugh. “Correct. Two, what color did I realize I get if I mix brown and gray together?”
“Lotion.”
A small laugh spilled out.
He grinned.
“Good. Now, how do I know when a bad storm is coming?”
“Um…humidity?”
“Did you even study, Mr. Harding?”
I started to turn.
“Wait.” He gently grabbed my wrist. “I know this one. Is it…is it if the Waffle House is closed?”
“Very good, very good. Now four,” I paused for effect, “what are the three cardinal rules, generally recited before entering a retail or grocery establishment, that guided Larke Tapley’s childhood?”
“Don’t touch anything, don’t ask for anything…and don’t look at anything?”
“It’s don’t touch ‘nothing,’ but,” I eyed him, “I guess I’ll accept those answers.”
“Larke Tapley, you are the most interesting woman I’ve ever had the pleasure of getting to know.” He released my wrist so that his fingers traced the length of my palm, casting goosebumps over my skin. “Honestly, that’s one of my favorite things about you.”
“What’s another?” I prodded.
“How about you tell me a favorite thing of yours about me?”
It was easy.
Laughably easy.
Still, I took a moment as though I needed to think. As attracted as I was to him, I didn’t want to throw myself at his feet, only for him to look down at me with pity.
“The way you said you’d pay my bills.”
His brows shot up, and he dashed to the sink to dump out the bag of ice, loudly exhaling as if he’d dodged a bullet.
“I’m still drafting that contract,” I threatened. “Oral agreements have validity.”
“Maybe you should be sedated more often. This is the most relaxed I’ve seen you in a long time.”
I shrugged. “Yeah, you’re right.”
The break in the conversation clued me in to just how dark it was in the living room. Dez had the flashlight, but it was less effective in this larger space. Curious, I walked to the window and peered out.
The entire block was dark.
There wasn’t even a lick of moonlight.
“It’s a blackout,” he said, now standing directly behind me. “It was completely dark on the walk from my place over here.”
“How long did it take you?”
“I was more focused on getting here as soon as possible, so I don’t know. I did steal a bike on the way, though.”
“You could have stayed home until the morning,” I said, although I was more than happy that he’d shown up. “The U.S. Marshals could have handled it. Plus, now you’re a fugitive.”
“You’re a lawyer.”
“A prosecutor, Dez.”
He bent lower, the side of his face lightly touching mine. “And what U.S. Marshals?”
I forced myself not to turn my head and “accidentally” brush my lips against his. “The U.S. Marshals I was told had been assigned to watch my place.”
“There was no one out there.”
“Maybe they had to leave because of the blackout?”
He scoffed. “I wouldn’t, but my team had eyes on your building anyhow. The feed didn’t go down until I was a few blocks from here. That’s how I knew you were at home, but this place is so secure, you can’t even get DoorDash without the security desk securing my approval first.”
“Is that why my food’s cold sometimes?”
“No, it’s because your cheap ass won’t pay for priority delivery.”
I elbowed him in the stomach. Then, needing space to breathe without inhaling his body wash, I went around the two-bedroom condo, grabbing every candle I could find.
While I searched, he went to a drawer in the kitchen and grabbed the extra batteries I kept there, yet I had no recollection of ever telling him where I kept my batteries.
“You’ve surveyed my place before or something?” I half-teased. “How’d you know where to find those?”
He shined the light beneath his chin, his voice going from smooth to raspy. “I know your place very well, Ms. Tapley. Very well.”
I faked a look of pure horror. “It’s…it’s you.”
“The monster under your bed? Why, yes.”
“It makes sense now, why you weren’t there when I went looking for you.”
He cocked his head to the side. “Why is that?”
“Because you…ghosted…me.”
He paused and then broke out into a laugh.
I grinned, chewing on my bottom lip. Maybe there was something to whatever knockout drug the paramedic had given me. This was the lightest I’d felt since I started working on the POTUS-appointed case. It was as if the weight of what I’d been called to do had been momentarily set aside.
After lighting and switching on all the candles we’d managed to locate, which only made the situation marginally better, we took a seat on the sofa.
I’d slept long enough to feel refreshed, but I knew it was merely a matter of time before fatigue claimed him.
Once he was out, I would go back to bed.
“Do you have a battery pack by any chance?” I asked him.
He settled into the cushions, the back of his head resting at the top of the sofa, and turned his face toward me. “I do. I have several. They’re all fully charged. Got some solar ones, too.”
“The way you prepare in a crisis, remind me to ask you to be my husband if the lights ever come back on.”
“If I’m lucky, they’ll come on in five, four, three, two, one…”
We waited.
Nothing happened.
He snapped his fingers. “Damn.”
“Was that your first-ever proposal?” I asked.
“Yes, ma’am, though I fear it might be my last.”