Chapter 14 #2
I lean against the doorframe, watching Iris jump around, trying to clean up the spilled coffee. “Rogan is in,” I announce. “Zeeshan Rogan, master shipwright from Connecticut. He’s willing to meet tomorrow night at the Vivan Hotel.”
Iris freezes mid-cleanup, a handful of soggy napkins in her hands. “Zeeshan Rogan? The Zeeshan Rogan who restored the presidential yacht?”
“The very one.” I can’t help the grin spreading across my face. “And here’s the best part: he’s got connections. If we secure him, we get access to his entire network. He can hook us up with the metalsmith and leather specialist we need. We’ll be back on track for the Serastra launch.”
“Oh god.” Iris drops the napkins, her face lighting up. “Caleb, this is huge. This could actually save the campaign.”
Jake straightens from where he’s been helping clean up, shooting me an impressed look. “Nice work.”
I shrug, but I’m feeling pretty damn good about myself. “Just doing my job.”
“No, seriously.” Iris wipes her hands before running them through her hair, looking more animated than she has in days. “Rogan’s reputation alone will legitimize everything. The board will eat this up.”
“That’s the plan.” I check my watch. “It’s getting late. You should also go home.”
Iris smiles. “Yeah.”
Jake steps forward, tossing the used napkins into the trash. “I’ll drop you home,” he offers casually, but there’s nothing casual about the way he’s looking at her. “I’m heading that direction anyway,” Jake adds, his tone innocent as hell.
I glance between them, noting the slight flush still coloring Iris’s cheeks, the way Jake’s standing just a little too close. “Really? How convenient.”
Iris looks between us, clearly flustered. “I can get a cab—”
“Nonsense.” Jake’s already grabbing her coat from the back of her chair. “Come on. You look dead on your feet.” I watch this little dance with growing suspicion. Jake might be smooth, but I know him too well. The way he’s hovering around Iris, making excuses to check on her...
“I’ll just grab my purse,” Iris says, heading back to her desk.
The moment she’s out of earshot, I step closer to Jake. “You seem pretty interested in making sure she gets home safe.”
His grin doesn’t waver. “Just being a gentleman.”
“Right. That’s what worries me.”
“Relax,” he says quietly. “I’m not going to blow your cover.”
Iris returns with her purse, and Jake’s expression shifts back to casual friendliness. “Ready?”
I shake my head and walk back to the break room. Eve’s exactly where I left her, curled up on the couch like she owns it. Her hair has fallen across her face, and she’s making these little huffing sounds in her sleep.
“Eve.” I shake her shoulder gently. “Come on, Sleeping Beauty. Time to go.”
She swats at my hand without opening her eyes. “Five more minutes.”
“It’s after midnight. You need a real bed.”
“This is fine,” she mumbles, burrowing deeper into the couch cushions. I roll my eyes and scoop her up again. This time she protests, sort of.
“Put me down, Wilder. I can walk.”
“Sure you can.” I can’t help but smile indulgently down at her. In her sleep, she’s more innocent, cute almost. She’s not struggling too hard, and her arms automatically wind around my neck. “My car’s in the garage.”
“I drove myself,” she says against my shoulder.
“You’re in no condition to drive. I’ll bring you back for your car tomorrow.”
She’s quiet until we reach the parking garage, then she dozes against the passenger window while I navigate the empty streets toward her place. I’m two blocks from her apartment when I feel it: the telltale wobble of a flat tire.
“Shit.”
Eve opens her eyes. “What’s wrong?”
The car lurches as the front tire gives out completely. I manage to pull over to the curb, but there’s no way I’m driving any further tonight.
“Flat tire,” I mutter, turning off the engine.
Eve sits up, looking around at the empty street. “Can you change it?”
“Not at one in the morning on a city street.” I scrub my hands over my face.
“I’ll call you a cab,” she says, already reaching for her phone.
I grin and get out of the car. “No.”
“What do you mean, no?”
“I mean I’m crashing at your place tonight.” After she frantically steps out of the car, I lock it and start walking toward her building. “My place is across town, and I’m not waiting around for a cab.”
“Absolutely not.” She hurries to catch up with me. “You can sleep on the street.”
“The street? How generous of you.”
“Fine. I’ll lend you a blanket.”
I stop walking and turn to face her. “A blanket. For the street.”
“It’s a very nice blanket,” she says primly. “Egyptian cotton.”
“Egyptian cotton for the sidewalk. You’re all heart, Lopez.”
“I could always rescind the blanket offer.”
“And let me freeze to death? That would look bad on your performance review.”
She crosses her arms. “There’s a hotel three blocks away.”
“At one in the morning? Without a reservation?” I shake my head and continue toward her building. “I’m sleeping on your couch.”
“My couch is occupied.”
“By what?”
“My personal space.”
“Your personal space can share.” I hold the building door open for her. “Unless you want to explain to HR why your colleague died of hypothermia outside your apartment building.”
“I’d tell them you were trespassing,” she sneers.
“After I gave you a ride home? That’s cold, even for you.” I put my arm around her shoulders. “You’ve forgotten one teeny tiny detail, Lopez.”
She gives me a wary look. “What?”
“I generously agreed to help you get rid of your stalker ex by dating you.”
“Fake dating, Wilder. Fake. As in, not real.”
I grin at her. “True. But all that time I have to spend with you, my own love life will be neglected. So you can do the decent thing and let me sleep inside your apartment. Seeing as we’re together and all.”
She shudders at the last part, and my smile just widens. “I take it that’s a yes.”
She gives me a displeased look. “I really don’t like this fake dating nonsense. It sounds like something that would blow up in my face.”
“That’s what I like about you, Eve. You’re so optimistic. Now, come on. I’m freezing my ass off. I left my jacket in the car.”
Her apartment building is a third-floor walk-up in a decent neighborhood. By the time we reach her door, we’re both dragging. She fumbles with her keys, cursing under her breath.
“Here.” I take the keys from her and unlock the door in one smooth motion.
“Show-off,” she mutters, walking inside and flipping on the light switch. “Couch is there.” She waves vaguely toward the living room. “I’ll get you a blanket.” But when she comes back with a pillow and blanket, she’s swaying on her feet.
“Jesus, Eve. Get to bed before you fall over.”
“I’m fine,” she insists, even as she grabs the wall for balance.
“Right. That’s why you’re holding up the wall.” I toss the blanket aside and follow her toward the bedroom. “Come on.”
“What are you doing?”
“Making sure you don’t collapse in the hallway.”
She stops at her bedroom door, turning to face me. “The couch is—”
“Too short for me.” I step closer, backing her against the doorframe. “And I’m sleeping in your bed.”
Her eyes flash. “Like hell you are.”
“Watch me.” I reach around her for the door handle, my chest brushing against hers. “Unless you want to fight me for it?”
“I could take you,” she says, but her voice comes out breathier than she probably intended.
“Could you?” I lean down until my mouth is inches from her ear. “Because from where I’m standing, you can barely stay upright.”
She shoves at my chest . “You’re such an ass.”
“And you’re exhausted.” I straighten up, smirking at the flush creeping up her neck. “I’m not sleeping on that damn couch of yours. If you’re so afraid of not being able to control yourself around me, you sleep on the couch.”
“It’s my bed!” she hisses.
“And I don’t mind sharing it with my cranky girlfriend.”
She glares up at me for a long moment, then spins on her heel and stalks into the bedroom. “Fine. But if you snore, I’m suffocating you with a pillow.”
“If I snore, you’re welcome to try.” I follow her in, stripping off my shirt without ceremony.
When I slide under the covers, she’s already curled up on the far edge of the mattress, as far from me as possible. “This is ridiculous,” I mutter, reaching for her. “Come here.”
“Don’t even think about it, Wilder.”
“I’m not going to attack you, Lopez.”
“I don’t trust you,” she shoots back.
“You probably shouldn’t.” I tighten my hold when she tries to pull away. I press my face against her hair, inhaling that scent that’s driving me crazy. “Go to sleep, Eve.”
“This doesn’t mean anything,” she says quietly.
“Of course not.” But my hand is already sliding down to rest on her hip, and she’s not pulling away. “Just sleeping.”
“Just sleeping,” she agrees, but her fingers are splayed against my chest, and there’s a slight catch in her breath that she can’t quite control.
* * *
The first thing I notice when I wake up is warmth. The second thing is that Eve is wrapped around me like a damn octopus, her leg thrown over mine, her face buried in my neck.
“Not again,” she groans against my skin, and the vibration makes me tighten my arms around her.
“Shut up,” I mumble, pulling her closer. “Let me sleep.”
“Let me go.” She tries to push away from me, but I’m not having it. “And while you’re at it, get out of my apartment.”
Instead of answering, I bite down gently on her shoulder, the salt of her skin immediate on my tongue while that understated vanilla notes of her body wash lingers in the air between us. “Behave,” I tell her sleepily, wrapping my arms even tighter around her.
“I’m not a pillow, Wilder.”
That’s when she goes completely still, and I know she’s felt it—the very obvious evidence of exactly what waking up with her pressed against me does to my body.
“I’m aware,” I murmur against her shoulder. “So stay still.”