Prime Target (6 page)

I press a finger to her lip. “I adore you.”

She blinks at me. “What?” she asks from behind my finger.

“Before you continue castigating yourself, let me do a little confessing of my own.” I take my hand from her tempting mouth. “That chair, the one you love to read in—I purchased it just for you. The jelly beans and hot chocolate—for you. I don’t have another customer who comes in each week and sits for hours, reading, eating, and drinking. I don’t have someone else who comes to my shop and genuinely enjoys my company.” With every word, I’m breaking off another piece of the wall of iron I’ve constructed around myself. I clench my hands into tight fists. “I wait to open your boxes until you come, so you’ll have to be there longer. If I thought it were possible, I’d have each book arrive on a separate day, just so you would have to come in more often.”

Everly’s eyes widen when I stop my monologue. Her mouth falls opens, and then closes.

Oh fuck me, I’ve ruined everything.

“I think that’s the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard,” she sighs, her expression turning dreamy.

Male satisfaction roars at the knowledge that I put that look on her face. Me, alone. God help us both when I see the look on her face while she comes by my hand, my mouth, and my dick.

She loops her arm under mine and leans on me, head coming to rest on my shoulder. I smile a little. “By the way, what you said earlier about our kiss—I felt the exact same way.”

Tilting her head back, she looks up at me, all trusting and vulnerable. “What do we do now?”

Images of what I want to do to her flash behind my eyes. Every single one of them involves my dick in her pussy or mouth.
Get to know her better first, you horny bastard
, I berate myself. “Dinner.”

Disappointment shines in her eyes, and then disappears as she smiles brightly at me. She stands up first, pulling at my arm. “What are we waiting for? Let’s go.”

*

She leads us
to a restored Victorian-era home. A cursory glance at the name and menu displayed outside on the porch reveals that it’s an Italian restaurant. The hostess greets us like we’re long-lost family, and then leads us to a private table in the back.

“For the lovers,” she says with a wink, making Everly blush a little. She hands us the menu before she walks away.

“Come here often?” I ask, scooting my chair a bit closer to hers.

Everly grins. “First time. My friend, Elle—she’s the director at the community center—recommended it. I can’t say no to pasta, and she knows it.”

A waitress stops by, taking our drink and entrée orders.

“How’s business?” I ask, feeling like a fool. I haven’t been on a proper date since…well, since… I inwardly frown. Have I ever been on a proper date?

Everly laughs. “Roman, you can ask me other things, you know. I promise I won’t be offended.”

“Very well.” I lean back in my chair, thankful that my seat is nearly flush to the wall. I can see everyone and everything. “What do you like to do in your spare time?”

“Read romance novels and bug a certain bookseller.” Her eyes twinkle.

I shake my head. “You’re not a pest.”

The waitress brings us our drinks and replenishes the breadsticks, then leaves us once more.

“What do you like to do in your spare time?” Everly picks up her drink and takes a sip, gazing at me expectantly.

Clean my Glock, research upcoming targets, and work out like a madman. However, I can’t share that, can I? “I read, work out, keep up to date on the latest research, and occasionally visit my family. What can I say—I’m a simple man with simple needs.”

“Who drives a not-so-simple car,” she points out.

“My one weakness.” Actually,
she’s
my weakness. The car is a toy, one that I can abandon at any time.

“I probably looked pretty dumb when I offered to set up an online bookstore for you, huh?” She grabs a breadstick and breaks it in half. “Usually, people who drive Porsches and don’t worry about ruining leather seats have more money than they can shake a stick at.”

“Why would I shake a stick at money?” I ask, unfamiliar with the phrase.

“Ah…that wasn’t very nice of me,” she says, looking down at the table. “It means you have more money than you know what to do with.”

“I do have a lot of money.” And I’ve earned every damn penny of it. “But I know what to do with it—investments, real estate, and taking care of my mother. The car is for entertainment.”

“Taking care of your mother—of course you do,” she mutters. “And now I feel like that much more of a jerk.” She chomps down on the bread and tears off a piece.

“You’re not a jerk.”

She gives me this
yeah, right
look while she chews.

“Okay, so you’re a compassionate jerk.” Everly sputters, bread flying all over the table and me. I flick the crumbs from my suit jacket. “First you insult me, and now you attack me with food. Honestly, I’m starting to get worried what will happen next. Perhaps you’ll accidentally spill your drink all over my head?” I grab the umbrella and open it, holding it like a shield. “You will not get the best of me.”

Everly bursts out laughing. She keeps laughing until tears run down her cheeks and the tension dissipates.

As the food runner delivers our entrées, he gives us a funny look, but she doesn’t seem to mind.

“Oh my gosh,” she finally says, twirling the pasta noodles around her fork. “That was the funniest thing ever. You should see yourself, holding that umbrella like a weapon. So ridiculous. I swear, Roman, any man who would take in an alley cat and put up with a woman hitting on him for months without banning her from his shop isn’t capable of hurting a fly.”

On one hand, I’m flattered she thinks so highly of me, but on the other… I quickly close the umbrella and tuck it behind her chair. Then I pick up the steak knife from the table. The feel of the blade is off slightly, but I don’t let that stop me from balancing it on the pad of my thumb.

Child’s play.

I flip the blade up in the air and catch it, twirling it in my fingers before setting it down again. Then I make my gaze meet Everly’s, hoping to impress her, just a little. I can take care of myself, which means I can take care of her.

“I guess you don’t need self-defense classes either,” she says glumly. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to go to the ladies’ room.”

Damn my pride to hell and back. I stand before she does, intent on helping her out of her chair, but she gives me another odd look, almost like she’s not expecting me to be there when she returns.

Deliberately holding her gaze, I sit down. “Don’t be too long; we need to make a decision about dessert—once we’re done eating the main course.”

She licks her lips, that odd look fading.
That’s right, love. I’m not going anywhere, until you’re safe in bed—mine or yours.
“I won’t be.”

Out of habit, I scan the room, searching for signs of danger. Finding none, I scan the room again, then take a bite of bread and drum my fingers on my thigh.

She returns a few moments later, gloss reapplied to her lips. Automatically, I stand and hold out her chair.

“Thank you,” she says primly.

We eat in silence. Normally, I would be comfortable with silence, but I know her silence comes from a place of hurt.

“So, dessert. Here or somewhere else?”

Everly traces a pattern on the table, a sure sign of nerves. She wants something from me, but she is afraid to ask. “I baked something for you today. I thought we could have dessert at my place, but you don’t have to. I won’t force you to continue to be in my company.”

“You came to that conclusion while in the ladies’ room?” Clearly, she needs to be banned from going there ever again.

She nods. “This date…it’s not going right. It’s like we’re forcing the conversation.”

No, darling, I’m protecting you from the real me.
From assassins who do a hell of a lot more than merely go bump in the night. “Do you have vodka?”

“Vodka?”

“Yes. All good conversations start with a shot of vodka.”

“Not where I’m from. All good conversations start with ‘Y’all aren’t going to
believe
this’.”

It wasn’t a no. “Perhaps we could combine the two and do it our own way.”

“I have no idea why I’m saying yes,” she mutters.

I take her hand in mine and lift it to my lips, kissing the soft skin. “Because you can’t help yourself.”

A sharp intake of breath is her reply, before she says, “You can’t either.”

The truth, so simply spoken, nearly breaks me. She’s right. I can’t keep playing this game with her, but I have to keep her safe. To watch the light fade from Everly’s eyes, either by my hand or another, would slay me. For her to learn the truth of me is equally as reprehensible. But…I was basically ordered to be with her. Surely, that affords some sort of protection.

After our date tonight, I will contact Viktor and ask him point blank. He has always been honest with me, even when the truth was unbearable. After all, I’ll have to leave in a month, and perhaps I won’t return. I’ve lived here long enough that people are getting used to seeing me.

Though I hate to admit as much, it’s time to move on. Perhaps to the west coast. Would Everly miss me? Would she think of me? Or would she hate me?

None of that matters, because breaking Everly’s heart is one thing, but to be the one responsible for that heart never beating again…

I give her the one vulnerable truth I
can
allow. “No, love. I can’t help myself when it comes to you. We’re inevitable.”

T
he walk back
to her place is uneventful, nothing but light traffic and spots of rain. A large truck passes us as we reach her front porch, tires splashing through dirty water. I grab Everly and whisk her out of the way, only to get soaked in the process.

“Thank you, but your poor suit!” She swipes at the water on my shoulders.

With water dripping from my head and onto my face, I let go of her and smile, running my hand through my hair. I can feel the grime on my scalp. “Good thing I brought a change of clothes.”

“You did? Oh, the class.”

“If you’ll allow me inside to change?”

She nods. “I’ll wait here for you while you grab your clothes.”

Dashing to my car, I press a button on my key fob. The trunk opens. I grab a black duffle bag and close the trunk, then jog back to her.

Everly digs her keys out of her purse. “Why don’t you take a shower while I wash your clothes?”

“My suit is dry clean only.”

She shakes her head. “Then I’ll have it cleaned. It’s the least I can do for you being such a gentleman and taking one for the team.” She fingers my shirt, and I tense up. “Shower and change, then we can drink vodka and you’ll finally relax around me.”

“I am relaxed,” I say, following her to the front door.

Everly snorts as she unlocks and opens it. There’s a light on inside. Automatically, I take a cursory glance around to inspect the place. Hardwood flooring with neutral-colored furniture offset by brightly colored rugs and pillows. It’s inviting and non-threatening. The exact opposite of my flat.

Then again, Everly is the exact opposite of me.

“Sure would hate to see you tense.” She pauses in the middle of her tiny foyer and glances over her shoulder. “Aren’t you coming in?”

Feeling a bit foolish, I walk inside and shut the door behind me, then secure it before checking the street. My car is still there, parked in the same spot.

“It’s a nice neighborhood, Roman. No one will take your car. Drool on it a little, sure, but other than that…” She touches my shoulder and I spin around, pinning her to the wall. One hand on her throat and the other behind me, on my Glock.

Panting in obvious fear, her eyes are wide. “Sorry,” she rasps. “I didn’t mean to sneak up on you.”

Easing up on the pressure of her throat while letting go of my gun, I lower my forehead to hers. “Damn it. I’m the one who’s sorry.”

Her chest rises and falls rapidly, like she’s been out for a run, but I know what’s sending her heart into overdrive. Me. More precisely, terror that she’s invited a madman into her home. “You already took self-defense classes, didn’t you?”

A perfectly reasonable conclusion to justify and excuse my behavior. “Love, you… I… Yes.”

“And you didn’t want to hurt my feelings by telling me the other day.”

“Hurting you is the last thing I want to do. I might as well cut off my hand or cut out my heart… You are undeserving of such pain.” My façade is fading. The rhythm of my speech falling into a more familiar cadence.

Everly’s hand wraps around my wrist, gently tugging. I allow her to pull my hand away. I close my eyes and lift away from her slightly. She lets go of me, but doesn’t move from her spot.

Cool air brushes my chest and I open my eyes, glancing down to see her small hands working on the buttons of my shirt.

“What are you doing?” I ask, though I know the answer. Or at least, I think I know the answer.

“Getting you out of these wet clothes.”

“My jacket is in the way.”

“Then take it off.” She leans forward, pressing a kiss to my chest, and I cup the back of her head.