Chapter 49
We both laugh quietly.
“I don’t know what I expected to happen.”
“Magic,” he says, his voice kind.
I should put the crystal back, but something tells me to hold on to it. A good-luck charm or maybe a reminder to temper my expectations—who knows?
“Silly, right?”
He covers my hand with his. “Hope is never silly.”
Moira bags up my purchase with a twinkle in her eye. Oh gosh, she probably saw us kissing back there.
My blush holds firm as we make it back into the frigid afternoon air.
Lucky grabs my hand. “I’ve got an idea.”
* * *
“Um,” I say, looking up at The Observer, “what are we doing here?”
“We’re going to get your job back.”
I stop in my tracks, and the man walking behind me grunts his frustration but passes by when Lucky glares at him.
“Monica will never go for it.”
“So, there’s nothing to lose.” He pulls me into the elevator.
If there’s one constant in the world, it’s that musicians are always trouble. Always. In the best and worst ways.
Or perhaps it’s because I’ve never been able to resist a man with a guitar.
Trust me, I know it’s an issue. I’m working on it.
At least, I’m trying to.
Which is how I know Lucky is bad, bad news.
Because every fiber of my being is currently screaming, Touch him. I know how good it’ll be too—those strong hands gripping my hips, palms big enough to really get a handful of my tits, biceps that look like they could haul me anywhere I want to go.
See?
Trouble.
Sterling is at his desk when we arrive. I’m praying he doesn’t see us, except, no, Lucky’s walking us straight toward him. My heart slips and bangs against my ribs, struggling for purchase.
“Lachlan?” Then he sees me. “What—”
Lucky grabs Sterling’s arm and keeps walking, now with the two of us in hand. “Conference room’s back here, yeah?”
“Yes, but—”
Lucky isn’t listening. He’s on a mission, and apparently, it’s to steer Sterling and me into the conference room, ignoring the obvious stares along the way.
He closes the door behind us, and I drop into the nearest chair.
It doesn’t help much. I still feel like the rug has been pulled out from under me.
Sterling doesn’t look much better.
“Are you done? If you wanted to talk—and I know we need to—there—”
He’s stopped by Lucky’s brow rising. I’ve never seen Sterling stop for anything. Anyone.
“Nope, this isn’t about us; it’s about Mia.”
I’m not sure what to focus on first. The us? Somehow, I’ve managed to wedge myself in the valley between their past and present, and I shouldn’t find that as enticing as I do.
Even if the glimmer in his gaze makes it clear Lucky would be on board for that. Emphatically, hungrily, eagerly on board.
There goes my heart again.
Flushing, I blink up at Sterling. That should be safer; he’s never looked at me with anything other than …
Oh.
Lucky was right. I shouldn’t have touched that crystal.
“I don’t understand what’s happening.”
“What’s happening is, we’re going to make things right. You wouldn’t have been late this morning if it wasn’t for me, and—”
“That’s not true.” I would’ve been late regardless.
“If anyone has the pull to change that, he does.”
“I want to help—you have no idea how much—but it’s complicated.”
“Always is with you.”
I freeze. Sterling is staring at me. The seconds pass, a slow trickle, until he looks away, blowing out an explosive breath.
“There’s more going on here than you realize, Lucky. I’m already too involved, and—”
“Fuckin’ hell, Mac.” Lucky squares off against him, tall enough to be eye to eye. “Again? I mean, not that I’m surprised. She’s—tell me you at least handled it better this time.”
Sterling looks away, causing Lucky to curse again.
I’m lost, and it’s completely different from losing myself in my work or chasing what I want off the beaten path. That’s the good kind of lost, where I still know where I’m going and how I got there.
No, this is the type of lost that is too close to cluelessness, to standing beside a group of people who all turn their backs on you.
I’ve never handled that well.
“Make it right, would you?”
Sterling nods. “I’ll talk to Monica.”
I give in to the urgent buzz under my skin and get up to pace. “No.”
Their attention follows me. Whatever. I can’t … let them see the anxiety. I need to breathe. I really wish this room had windows.
“She’s made it perfectly clear she doesn’t respect me, and I won’t work like that.
I don’t need your pity, and if the only reason I have a job is because the great Sterling Ross commanded it, I’ll spend the rest of my career wondering if every opportunity is simply someone trying to get into your good graces. ”
They share a look, and I know how it sounds. The naive little girl, trying to be a grown adult in a big, bad world. I’ve heard it all before.
I fall back into a chair. “Look, it’s nice that you want to do the honorable thing here, but—”
Lucky lets out a laugh that quickly morphs into a cough when Sterling elbows him. It’s the most … human I’ve ever seen Sterling, like I’m looking at a different version of him.
This can’t be the real him. He’s too expressive, too responsive.
He’s kneeling at my feet.
“Uh …”
“Mia.” That’s it. One word. Laid between us as if it answers anything. Said like it answers everything.
“What is going on?” I ask.
His glasses do nothing to limit the impact of all that blue—nothing—and it’s not fair. How dare he look at me this way, after all this time! It’s all I’ve wanted.
“You’re usually more observant than this,” he says.
And he’s right; I’m never blindsided like this because I’m a damn good reporter, but how does he even know that? He doesn’t know me.
When was he going to tell me how well he knew me?
“I thought you hated me. Now you’re looking at me with stars in your eyes. It doesn’t make any sense. Why have you been pushing me away?”
“I’m trying to protect you.”
Protect me … right. By staying as far away as possible. By making me think he hated me. It worked.
The chair drags against the carpet as I stand. “No, you’re trying to control the situation by hiding. You’ve made a career out of exposing everyone else’s secrets, but you can’t handle your own. Is that it?”
He pushes up to stand. It puts him above me again. A tall tower, far from anyone’s reach.
“All right, you’d like honesty?” he says. “I think you’re scared.”
Of course I am. I’m terrified. Is that all he’s got?
He ducks down, trying to catch my eyes. “Two years of writing articles you hate. Why?”
“Monica would have—”
“There are other papers. You could have gone anywhere you wanted—”
Anywhere? There is nowhere else.
“No, I couldn’t.”
Lucky has retreated, keeping a watchful eye. Close enough to step in if this gets out of hand.
Sterling’s gotten closer, keeps getting closer, and I’m not prepared for it. I’ve gotten used to him keeping his distance, damn it. I figured out how to handle it, how to crush my silly feelings into a tiny pebble and get used to the blisters.
“Why?”
I step back. He follows.
“Because.” It’s a weak argument, and we both know it.
“You’re scared.”
“Because …”
He’s close enough now that I have to tilt my head up to look at him. This is unfair. He’s right—of course he’s right—but he doesn’t understand.
“Because you’re not there.”
It’s the answer he’s been waiting for, apparently, and hooray for him, knowing so much and being head of the class. Have a gold star.
He touches me, sliding his fingers along my jaw. It’s instinct to press my cheek to his palm, the heat of his skin sparking lightning in my veins.
“Stop looking at me like that.”
“No,” he says. “I don’t think I will.”
He’s smiling—holy hell, he should never stop. I never want him to stop. Is this why Lucky brought me—oh God, Lucky.
My stomach drops to my shoes. How could I forget? An hour ago, it was Lucky I was kissing, and now he’s …
Watching. Waiting.
“Fuck, Mac, just kiss her already, or I’ll do it for you.”
In the breath before Sterling kisses me, my heart migrates three inches to the right.
Everything stops, stills, restarts.
I don’t know how to prepare for this; it’s never been a possibility, never in the realm of anything close to reality, and yet my eyes fall closed, and he’s there, skimming his thumb along my jaw, keeping his touch tender, but there’s no denying the strength beneath it.
Sterling Ross. The man who can’t be moved … wants me.
My lips part on my next breath, and there’s no warning before his mouth meets mine. It’s electric. Tingles flare to life across every inch of my skin, waking up parts of me I forgot existed and some that have never been touched before.
Everything narrows down to him. The press of his glasses against my cheek, the soft gust of each breath he takes, the all-too-tender way he’s handling me.
“Let me talk to Monica,” he says, his lips skimming mine.
“I pressed her to hire you because I could see your potential, and she took my interest out on you. It’s why I’ve kept my distance.
Let me right the wrong I should have two years ago.
You deserve this chance, Mia. You’re going to be better than I am. Let me help you.”
“Okay, yeah, yes.” I want that. I want him.
When Sterling pulls back, I can’t help that I search out the last unknown—Lucky, who’s leaning against the wall, legs crossed, radiating an air of casual contentment.
He’s smiling, soft and small, but it doesn’t reach his eyes, which is weighed down at the corners with something he’s intentionally holding back.
It’s unlike him.
One last kiss, and Sterling leaves us alone, acting on his promise to make things right. Monica isn’t going to like it, and she might actually make life harder for me after this, but all of that can be dealt with later.
I step up to Lucky, place my hand on his arm. “Thank you.” There’s so much more I want to say, but this is the most important.
“Anything for you, love.”
There’s the smile I’m used to. Deep. Honest. Beautiful.
“I owe you one. Now you have to tell me what you want, so I can repay the favor.”
I wait for his answer, but I don’t need it. I know what he wants. It’s obvious. It’s been clear since I met him, since he grabbed Sterling’s hand and led us both into this room. All he has to do is admit it.
He reaches up, brushes my hair out of my face. “Some other time,” he says. “You’re about to have your hands full, and I feel a song coming on.”
Disappointment sinks heavy in my gut. “Oh, okay. Of course.” Still, I hate leaving things like this, so I lift up and kiss his cheek, breathe in his heady scent. “Promise me it’ll be a love song.”
More of that innate joy shakes loose in him. “It’s never going to be anything else, is it?”
Yes, I think before he leaves. It’ll always be love.
* * *
Oh, Lucky …
please tell me there’s an epilogue (go to 83)
go back (go to 32)