Stay With Me (3 page)

So he
had
noticed.

“He works with Trevor, and he’s straight, by the way,” I said, irritated. “And for the last time, I got these streaks surfing.” It was true. Not that there was anything wrong with L’Oreal, but a little time in the sun had burnished my brown hair with some golden highlights that I adored. And so what if a man sprayed a little lemon juice on his hair before hitting the beach with his board?

He ignored my declaration about both Jordan’s sexuality and the genuineness of my hair color. “And Trevor is so trustworthy.”

“Trevor’s a jackass—agreed. But he’s not a murderer either. He’s a lawyer at the firm. I saw his card… and his ID,” I added. “He’s legit.”

“Did you at least call Trevor and see if he’s heard of this Jordan Channing?”

“I did better than that. I googled him on my phone.”

“Because the Internet never lies.”

“For God’s sakes, Drew. We’re just going to a Starbucks. You can follow us if you wish. I have to schmooze a little.”

“And it just so happens that you get to schmooze with a guy that looks like that? Where were you when the Bobbsey Twins parked their respective rears in my office this morning?”

The “Bobbsey Twins” were actually two sweet old ladies who thought their neighbor was… well, there’s no easy way to say it… a murderer. And by sweet old ladies I mean harridans that argued with strangers, argued with us, argued with each other, argued with themselves… I shuddered to think of it. Really, I did owe Drew for that one, especially since I had been surfing with Asher and not doing anything remotely productive. The sisters swore the ax-murdering neighbor brought home a different woman every night, and she never left. The two bickering sisters also swore that he was stealing their TV Guide, and to be honest, I think that was the most important issue of all to them. Not the murdered women who were stacking up by the dozens, if their testimony (gathered from a pair of binoculars) was to be believed.

“Hey, if he happens to be good-looking, well, that’s just one of the perks of the job. Like stealing paper clips. Eating the extra french fries off someone’s plate. Snacking on grapes in the produce section. That kind of thing.”

Drew wrinkled his nose. “Good God, you don’t do that, do you?”

“
Anyway
, I’ll call you when we’re finished, and you can pick me up from the coffeehouse.”

“Because I have nothing better to do?”

“Exactly.”

“This had better be worth it,” he grumbled.

“Hey, this guy may be our newest client.”

“He may also be a freaking serial killer.”

“Ahem.” Our gazes swung to see Jordan standing slightly past my left shoulder, dumping his coffee cup in a street receptacle. He did a nerdy move, using his index finger to push up his frameless glasses on his nose. It
should
have been nerdy. Of course it made him even more attractive, and I almost stuck my tongue out at Drew. “I’m actually not a serial killer,” he continued, a slight smile on his lips. “But if I were, I would have definitely rerolled my duct tape and cancelled my plans by now.”

Even Drew’s mouth lifted a little at that one.

“Coffee?” Jordan asked with a lifted eyebrow.

“Coffee,” I said in confirmation.

Drew pointed a finger in my direction. “If you don’t call me in an hour, I’ll assume you’re dead.”

“And then call the police,” I said in a way that let everyone know I’d heard it all before.

“No, then I’ll just assume you’re dead and move into your office. You’ve got a better view.”

I blew him a kiss. “I love you too,” I said sarcastically.

As he peeled away, I got back in the car with Jordan, feeling strangely excited. I quickly banked the feeling. He was a potential client. Nothing else. I looked down at my cargo pants, glad they were loose fitting. Tell that to my dick, apparently. I sighed and buckled my seat belt, annoyed, as Jordan took the gearshift in hand. He even looked sexy driving. Glad to know my gaydar was still on the fritz.

I’
D
FORGOTTEN
how far the Starbucks at Riverwalk was from the parking lot. Not that I wasn’t enjoying walking with the best-looking man I’d seen in a long time. We ambled down the red-bricked street, passing little shops and corner cafés and saying very little—I had taken the proverbial class of small talk and failed miserably. By the fifth block, my teeth were gritted miserably as my leg began to voice its complaints, and I knew I didn’t have long before I’d have to sit down. The damn thing had been a pain in my ass since the accident, and I’d never quite forgiven it for making me quit the force. Although I suppose it could have been amputated, and that would certainly suck. As is, I’d had four months of rehabilitative therapy, and the right thigh was still numb in places and tingly. Of course, by tingly I meant that sometimes I’d get sudden pains like someone had shoved an electric poker up my ass.

I cast a side look at Jordan. “Hey, where is this Starbucks, exactly?”

“Not sure,” he said.

Helpful lad, he was.

We turned a curve, passing another café, and I swore silently. Soon I’d be limping like a three-legged dog, and I didn’t want to ponder why that bothered me. There were no possibilities here with Jordan—hell, I wasn’t even looking. We were just guys, two guys getting coffee while we discussed business. If one guy noticed how they were the exact perfect height to complement each other, then that was all right.

I’d never been gladder to see the green awning of the Starbucks and even managed a smile at Jordan as he let me go in front of him. Soon we were at the sugar and cream station, a caramel latte in my hand as I watched Jordan open sugar packets efficiently and dump them into his cup. Grande again.

“Maybe you’d like some coffee with all that sugar,” I suggested.

He grinned. “At least I didn’t order that froufrou caramel latte.” After another handful of yellow sugar packets disappeared into his cup, he took a sip and nodded. “Good.”

“Hey,” I protested, “compared to other Starbucks patrons, my order was relatively simple.”

“Double skim milk, a shot of french vanilla, and oh, do you happen to have any Truvia? No? All right, then three Sweet’N Lows.” He copied my mannerisms and tone exactly, making me blush. If he’d been my brother, I would have socked him in the arm or at least cuffed his ear.

“Funny.”

I pressed my fist into my upper thigh and couldn’t avoid the wince.

“You all right?” His eyebrow raised in query.

“Fine.”

“I noticed you favoring that leg on our way down here.” He paused. “There are chairs right here.”

Though the Starbucks was overflowing with business, most of the customers were getting cups to go. Only two of the tables were occupied. The contrary part of me wanted to remain standing in case he pitied me. My leg made the deciding choice, as well as his matter-of-fact tone, and I sank into one of the chairs gratefully. Now I really needed a smoke.

“When did you get injured?”

“You ask a lot of questions, Channing.” Questions I didn’t feel compelled to answer. I took a sip of my latte.

“You answer very little, Williams,” he said in a way that made me laugh.

I dug deep and forced myself to exercise little-used conversational skills. “You from around here?”

“In the Boca area, actually. Originally from Dearborn. Michigan. You?”

“Fort Lauderdale born and bred,” I said. “Went to school in Miami, so I lived in Coral Gables for about five years, but then right back here.”

“University of Miami?”

“Where else? You?”

“Duke.”

“Well, la-di-dah,” I said with a grin, and he laughed. “What made you come down here?”

“I was offered a job straight out of law school down here, with the contingency that I pass the Florida bar. The firm made me an amazing offer, and I have no ties anywhere else. I would have been crazy to pass it up.”

“No family back in Dearborn?”

“I have two sisters that both live in Philly, and my parents are retired. They spend all their days traveling now, so there is no home base. Last I heard they were touring vineyards in Tuscany.”

“Must be nice.”

“That’s what I said.” He grinned.

God, his grin should be illegal.
I blinked away the sight of Jordan’s amazing smile and spent a moment people watching through the Starbucks window. It was silly, really, but I didn’t want to know any more about him. I didn’t want to know any more about his life or his family, his interesting parents or his success at his job. I already liked him way too much. Besides, who was I kidding? I didn’t want to get to know him. I wanted to
do
him. Or be done by him. It didn’t matter what order.

“The only thing I regret about the move is the weather,” he said. “But the benefits are good.”

“If that Benz is a sign of how much they’re paying you, they must be pleased with you indeed.”

“I don’t know about that. I was supposed to be in court today and sent a junior associate instead,” he said, smiling that ridiculous smile. “So they’re going to pitch a shit fit.”

“Ah, the benefits of working for myself.” I pulled out my phone and thumbed through the applications until I brought up the word processing app. I typed Jordan in all caps at the top of the page before giving him a frank look. “Which brings us to the crux of the matter, I suppose. Tell me, Jordan,” I said in my usual blunt manner, “who the hell would cheat on you?”

He went red a little, which should have made him look like a tomato. It didn’t. “I suppose there’s a way to snatch a compliment out of that.”

I shrugged. “Take it how you will.” I leaned back in my chair. “Let me guess. Some girl you want to marry, but you think she’s after your money?”

“Rachel has her own money,” he said. “I just feel like we’re not clicking like we used to. All of a sudden, there’s like this wall between us.”

“And you thought,
ding
, I need a private eye?”

“No, I thought I should follow her. See what she’s up to. Who she’s into. Then a private eye caught me,” he said, making me laugh. “And now I think you might be a little better at surveillance than me.”

“Give me some details,” I said, rubbing my hands together.

He shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know what would help you. What are you looking for?”

“Something salacious, honey. I don’t give a damn about helpful.”

He looked startled before laughing. “You’re a bit crazy, no?”

“And don’t think I don’t know it. Where’d you meet? What’s she look like? What are her routines?”

He spent the next fifteen minutes giving me the rundown on who, exactly, Ms. Rachel Graven was. A Stanford graduate with a high IQ. An only child whose stepsister gave Jordan the willies with her excessive flirting. An associate at a firm in the same building, but foreclosures and asset seizure as opposed to his tax law. Worked eighty-hour weeks and was back for more on Monday. Dark hair, dark eyes, and an affinity for blood red lipstick.
Oh no, girlfriend
. She sounded like one cold, smart bitch. If she wasn’t cheating on him, she could be my new drinking partner.

“I don’t know.” His deep sigh tugged on my heartstrings a little. “Maybe she’s just not that into me,” he said with a self-deprecating smile.

I didn’t deny it. “Maybe she’s just a ho.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be neutral?”

“That’s Switzerland, dear. This is America, and we take sides.”

He smiled. “So you’re on my side, then?”

And your back, and your front.
I forced my dirty mind back to reality. “I’m on whoever’s side is paying me.”

“Well, that would be me,” he said, holding out his hand for a handshake.

I mock-squealed like a Miss America pageant winner instead. “So I’ve got the job?”

He laughed and shook his head. “Against my better judgment.” He checked his watch and did a double take. “Damn, it’s been an hour. I’ve got to get going, and your friend is probably filling out a missing persons report.”

“Drew?” I shrugged. “Bastard is probably so into his homemade sauce, he doesn’t even realize I’m gone.”

“You want me to give you a lift?”

“I’m good,” I said, not wanting to be in his gorgeous proximity a moment longer. “I’m pretty sure biting a client’s neck is a horrible way to begin a working relationship.”
Oh shit.
“Good Lord, did I just say that out loud?”

From the looks of his red, stunned face, I did.

“You want to bite my neck?” he repeated slowly.

I want you to fuck my ass, actually. Long and slow. Bent over a countertop somewhere.
I told my raging hormones to calm down before I lost a potential job. “Kidding, Jordan. Kidding.”

“Right. The sarcasm thing, right?”

I nodded, a sanguine look on my face.

“Are you going to be all right?” He paused at the door, giving me an unreadable look.

“Perfect,” I said and then winced.
Asinine.
I had a bad habit of using the word “perfect” when things were anything but. I waved him off. I felt a pang that I probably wouldn’t see him for a while, and that was ridiculous.

After he disappeared, I left a message for Drew that went a little something like this: “Hey, you bitch, I know you went home without me. How the hell am I supposed to get home? See you tomorrow.” I added one more bitch for good measure and hung up.

The older woman at the table next to mine was using all the peripheral vision she could muster to spy on me, and I sipped my coffee with an innocent look. “What?” I asked, facing her full on. “He knows he’s a bitch.”

She glared.

After I had prolonged my coffee as long as I could, I began the long walk back through Riverwalk, determined to call Drew until he answered. On second thought, because I knew him very well, I decided to head to the bus stop just in case. I walked to the bus stop, feeling the stretch and pull of the muscles of my knee. Oh, I was going to pay for this tomorrow. Hell, I was paying for it now. I sank down on the bus stop bench gratefully, wondering if it was lazy to call a taxi to pick you up from a bus.