The Dare Collection: August 2018. Avril Tremayne
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he said throatily.
My whole body reacted to his words, going from zero to furnace-hot in seconds. “Thank you.”
His eyes slowly narrowed. “Something’s wrong.”
I waved my phone. “Email from Chance. He’s bringing someone else to the meeting today.”
He tensed. “Who?”
“He didn’t say.”
“Has he done that before?”
“Not at the last minute, no.” I took another sip of coffee, swallowing it down with my anxiety.
“And you’re worried,” he observed.
I shrugged. “I can do without the extra pressure.”
He set his mug down and cupped my cheeks. “I’ve watched you all week, batting away problems from your team without so much as pausing to look up from your keyboard. You’ll kick ass today. I’ve no doubt.”
Like last night, his gentle touch, together with the encouraging words, sent fierce prickles to my eyes. I blinked rapidly, dead certain I didn’t want to cry in front of Caleb. “Thanks.”
One thumb drifted along my jaw. “You’re welcome,” he murmured.
His gaze dropped to my mouth, and a different emotion swirled around us.
He stepped away first, picked up his cup and finished his coffee. “You ready to go?”
My nod was as shaky as the emotions zipping through me.
In the hallway, he picked up the waist-length jacket I dropped next to my satchel and held it out for me. I stood in front of him, put my arms through the sleeves, secretly breathing in the heady scent of aftershave and pure man. When I went to do up the single button, he brushed my hands away, pulled the lapels close and secured it.
Then he gripped my waist tight and pulled me back into his body. “I don’t know how well you slept last night,” he breathed in my ear, “but mine was pretty damned fucked because all I could think about was how magnificent you looked when you came. Just thought you should know.”
I was struggling to breathe as he shrugged into his leather jacket and we left home without exchanging another word.
What could I say? That knowing he hadn’t slept made my panties wet? To hell with waiting for my stalker to be caught. I wanted him to pull over and bang me on the backseat.
Conversation became redundant as his phone blared to life. He reached for it, his brows creasing when he looked down at the screen.
“Ross,” he answered with a cool voice. “Yes, Maggie told me you’ve been trying to reach me. I’ve been a little busy.” His eyes flicked to me before returning to the road. “What can I do for you?”
Traffic was light, and with the radio in the SUV set to low, I heard the other voice on the line. “The band won’t take me back.”
Caleb suppressed a sigh. “Have you been showing up for rehearsals like we agreed?”
“Every day. I even blew off my weekend plans to put in some extra work. They said it was too little, too late.”
“It’s only been a week. Maybe they’re testing you to see whether you’ll disappoint them again. Where are you right now?” Caleb asked.
There was a moment’s hesitation before Ross-whoever-he-was answered, “At the Beverly Hilton.”
A muscle rippled in Caleb’s jaw. “Didn’t we agree you wouldn’t go back there again?”
“Yeah, but if the guys won’t take me back then what’s—?”
“You better not be thinking of pulling that stunt again or I’ll hang up right now and block your number permanently,” Caleb interrupted harshly.
“I won’t... But it’s hard, man,” the other man whined.
“That’s what happens when you let people down, Ross. They stop trusting you.” His voice gentled. “If you really want this, you just have to keep trying. They’ll come around eventually.”
“And if they don’t?”
“Then you have to find answers elsewhere. You’re talented. You just need to take a little more responsibility for your life. Ultimately, it’s down to you whether you want to succeed or fail.”
“I...want this. The band,” Ross said.
“Then you know what you have to do.”
A sigh echoed down the line. “Yeah. Umm...thanks, man.”
“You can thank me by checking out of that hotel and getting your ass back home.” He hung up and slid his phone back into his pocket.
Silence throbbed through the vehicle for a few blocks.
“You’re good at this... Being a fixer.”
The corners of his mouth lifted, but the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Thanks. That’s high praise coming from you.”
“I mean it. It can’t be easy dealing with people who aren’t always receptive.”
He eyed me. “Are you including yourself in that?”
I hid a grimace. “Maybe. But what you said to him, just now...is that why you’re a fixer? Because people let you down?”
His face tightened. “That’s too heavy a conversation for this time of the morning, sweetheart.”
“You’re avoiding.”
“And you’re searching for something to take your mind off your meeting. This subject isn’t it, Lily.” There was a touch of warning in his voice.
“Why not? I’ve told you my secrets. You owe me something. Quid pro quo. Isn’t that what it’s called?”
His lips flattened. But he blew out a breath a moment later. “Yeah, a bunch of people let me down. But more than that, they let my mother down when she needed them the most. It’s not a good feeling, being that helpless, so fixing became my thing.”
“When did you start?”
“Officially? When I was twenty. Unofficially, shortly after my mother died. There was a lot of fixing to be done in Trenton Gardens.” There was a hard, bitter note in his voice that drew shivers down my arms.
“I don’t know where that is.”
“Consider that a good thing, baby.”
I looked at his rigid profile, and burning with a need I couldn’t suppress, I tapped the name into my phone.
And grew colder. “Trenton Gardens, home of the most notorious gangs in South Central LA. Five people are killed there every week!” I read out loud with growing horror.
A flash of anger lit his eyes as he glanced at the phone, but then he gave a grim shrug. “Not exactly fairy-tale reading, is it?”
I put my phone away, my chest tightening with sympathy for this man with the hard exterior and flashes of tenderness. I wanted to know more, uncover his layers.
“I hear you sometimes,” I murmured.
His body tensed. “Excuse me?”
“In the night. You don’t sleep very well, do you?” I probed gently.
“What makes you think I’m not checking on things? Keeping you safe?”
“Are you?”
His fingers tightened around the steering wheel. “Leave it alone, Lily.”
“My mother left just before I turned eight. I didn’t sleep through the night for a year,” I blurted. “My stepdad and I woke up one morning and she was...gone. Left