Crash Point-epub (7 page)

Chloe smiled gratefully. “I’m sorry. I forgot about the meeting. Give me a second to…” To what? What was she supposed to do now? Blake didn’t look like he was going to go peacefully.

Justin crossed his arms, letting her know he was going to watch her every move. She shot him a dirty look, then turned to Blake.

“I really do need to get back to work.”

“What are you doing for dinner tomorrow night?”

She rolled her eyes. He was like a dog with a bone. “Listen, Blake. We tried the relationship thing once and it failed…miserably.”

“We were kids, Chloe. That hardly counts as a serious attempt.”

He was right, but that didn’t mean the way things ended hadn’t hurt. A lot. “I’m nothing like the girl I used to be.”

“So we’ll go out for dinner, get reacquainted.”

“Looks like you already did that,” Justin muttered.

She turned around. “Dammit, Justin. Mind your own business.”

Blake buttoned his shirt. He leaned closer, keeping his ultimatum quiet enough only she could hear it. “I’ll go as soon as you agree to dinner.”

“That’s blackmail,” she whispered.

He didn’t reply. Just gave her that wicked, bad-boy grin that always got her into trouble.

“Fine. But just dinner. Nothing else—not a movie or dancing or coffee at my place afterwards. And I’m meeting you at the restaurant. No riding together.”

Blake looked like he might argue, but she raised her hand to cut him off. “Those are my conditions. Take it or leave it.”

“Fine. I’ll call you later with the details.”

She shook her head. “Just text me.” Until she gathered her wits about her, she wasn’t about to get roped into another conversation with him. Texting was safer.

Blake nodded, then kissed her, the touch too fucking familiar and sexy when his tongue brushed hers.

She half-heartedly pushed at his shoulders. She was about to get the mother of all ass-chewings from her brother. Of course, that was a given. So…she might as well get her money’s worth. She felt Blake’s brief spark of surprise when her tongue entered his mouth and she gave his ass a quick squeeze before she stepped away.

“Goodbye, Blake,” she said, proud of the strength in her voice.

He grinned. “I’ll talk to you later.”

Justin didn’t bother to step out of the way as Blake left. The two men faced each other like adversaries on the battlefield and for a moment, Chloe thought she might have let her guard down prematurely.

Then Blake stepped around her brother, leaving without another word. Chloe released a long breath when Blake slid the door closed behind him.

“Does somebody want to confirm that’s who I think it is?” Ned asked.

Ned Stevens had been Justin’s best friend since their freshman year in college. They were assigned as dorm roommates and they’d been inseparable ever since. In truth, Ned had become a member of the family, another damn overprotective brother. Just what Chloe needed.

“My old boyfriend, Blake,” she answered, realizing the simplicity of the answer would never satisfy either man.

“Are you sure he’s not a current one?” Ned asked with a wicked grin.

“What the hell was that, Chloe?” Justin threw his hands up in disbelief. She didn’t blame him. She’d been pretty cold to Blake at Sunday dinner. Now, forty-eight hours later, she was boinking the guy on her couch.

“I don’t know what that was.”

“The guy’s a thief,” Justin added.

“He gave Mama the money back on Sunday.” Chloe wasn’t sure why she was saying that as if it forgave all. She certainly hadn’t felt that way two days ago.

“Oh. Did he tell you why he took it and ran off?”

Chloe shook her head. “No. I didn’t ask.”

“Why not?”

She couldn’t explain why she hadn’t asked Blake. Not even to herself. The question had been on the tip of her tongue every single time she’d seen him since his return, but something always caused the words to get lodged in her throat. “What difference would it make, Justin? We know he did it. Can you think of a good reason why he would steal Mama’s money and disappear without a trace for nearly a decade?”

Justin considered the question briefly, and then shook his head. “No, I can’t. Which is why I don’t understand your reason for playing hide the salami with the guy again.”

She blew out an annoyed breath. “Don’t be such a juvenile.”

Her brother grinned, used to her admonishing him for his colorful, somewhat vulgar nicknames for sex. Justin wrapped his arm around her shoulder, pulling her close and placing a sweet kiss on her forehead. “Just be careful, pipsqueak. Maybe the guy has changed. But maybe he hasn’t. Keep your eyes open this time. Okay?”

She nodded. Eyes open was her initial intent. Then Blake had fucked her into a state of delicious delirium and she’d allowed it to blind her once more.

“So, tell Ned all about this idea you had for him, a bed, a box of chocolates and no clothes.”

Ned crossed his arms and scowled. “I told you, Justin, I’m not doing that.”

Justin’s face reflected pure mischief as he ignored his friend’s complaint. “And listen, Chloe, don’t waste a bunch of money on the big heart-shaped box. A small sampler will be more than enough to cover his—”

Justin didn’t get to finish his joke as Ned punched him in the arm.

Chloe laughed, grateful for their timely interruption and the welcome distraction. She spent the next hour plotting with Ned over possible locales and poses, while Justin cracked jokes at both of their expenses and made a general nuisance of himself.

It was exactly what she needed.

For now, it was her turn to escape.

Chloe had postponed her dinner date with Blake, putting him off for four straight nights. She hadn’t intended to skip out on him, but she’d been knocked down by a killer case of the flu. The illness had put her in bed for two days before she graduated to resting on the couch for two more. As a result, she was days behind on her shooting schedule and scrambling to make up for it.

Blake had offered several times to take care of her, but she’d refused, claiming she didn’t want him to catch what she had. Even so, that hadn’t stopped him from making little deliveries outside her apartment door. One day, he’d left flowers, the next a quart of homemade chicken soup. Two days ago, she’d found an erotic romance novel. Inside Blake had written an inscription, telling her he hoped it would inspire her for the next time they went out. All it had done was leave her hot and bothered. And she’d been too worn out to use her vibrator to nip the problem in the bud. She’d read him the riot act for that after he called to see if she’d gotten his gift. Asshole had just chuckled and told her to hurry up and get better.

Chloe ran a comb through her damp hair and sighed. She’d gotten a shower first thing this morning, hoping it would wake her up and give her some sort of energy. She was tired of being…well…tired.

She dragged herself to the kitchen counter, fired up the coffeepot, then sat down to look at her calendar. If the models could be a bit flexible with their schedules, perhaps she could double up on shoots and still hit the publishing company’s deadline. She hated missing deadlines and refused to see the fundraiser lose even a single dollar due to her illness.

She picked up her cell and for the next hour, rearranged everything until she managed to fit in every single model. While Chloe was laid up in bed, her mother had managed to find guys for the last two months, so they had a full year’s worth of hotness ready to roll. All Chloe had to do now was dash from one end of New Orleans to the other every day, then spend her nights choosing the best photo for each month and enhancing it.

She looked at her schedule. Eleven photo shoots and twelve portraits to touch up in less than two weeks. She was screwed.

Her phone rang. She glanced at the number and sighed. Her last model. Blake was the only man who hadn’t answered when she’d called. “Hey, Blake.”

“Back in the land of the living?”

He’d called her every day since their impromptu hook-up on Tuesday afternoon. It was strange how easily they’d fallen into familiar patterns. Blake called her as soon as he got off duty and then again before bedtime. Their conversations had only touched on safe subjects—like their jobs, the weather, sports—but they’d become the highlight of each day for her.

She hadn’t questioned him about his disappearing act ten years earlier and they never addressed what his return in her life meant.

“Yeah,” she replied. “I’m back and sort of wishing I could crawl under the covers and hide again. There’s no way I’m going to hit this calendar deadline.”

Blake didn’t sound concerned. “Of course you can. I’m around if you need help.”

“Uh, thanks, but no thanks. I tried to give you some photography lessons a long time ago. All you managed to master was dark and blurry.”

Blake chuckled. “That was before I got my iPhone 5. Now I take great pictures.”

Chloe groaned.

“Besides, I wasn’t offering to take the photographs, just to lug your equipment, help you set up the shoots, stuff like that.”

“And you’re doing this all out of the goodness of your heart and not because you want to play chaperone while I’m taking pictures of the shirtless, hot guys, right?”

“Absolutely.” His tone was pure innocence, but she knew him better than that.

“Forget it. You’d just clam jam me.” She restrained her giggle at the silence that followed her comment, then he gave into curiosity.

“I give,” he said. “What the hell is a clam jam?”

“Female equivalent of a cock block.”

Blake snorted with laughter. “God. There is something seriously twisted and wrong with you. I blame it on all those brothers you grew up with.”

She leaned back in her chair, propping her feet up on the one across from her. She was smiling and happy for the first time in days. In less than five minutes, Blake had found a way to make the stress she was feeling over her work vanish and the tension in her shoulders subsided.

“So I see I missed your call. You putting off our date again?”

She had called him for that reason. “Yeah, I’m sorry. I’m wicked busy.”

“I understand.”

“Hey listen, I need to try to find a time to do your photo shoot. Are you still determined to take the pictures on your Harley by the lake?”

“Yep. And you’re riding with me.”

“I told you, Blake, my equipment—”

“Downsize it as much as you can. I borrowed a big-ass motorcycle bag from a friend of mine. We can put your cameras and stuff in there.”

“What if it rains? My equipment costs—”

He cut her off. “It’s waterproof.”

“Why do you want me to get on that bike again so badly?”

“Why are you so resistant?”

Chloe wasn’t sure how to answer. They’d spent that entire summer so long ago on his motorcycle. It was the last time she’d felt carefree, wild, over-the-moon happy. He’d also driven off into the sunset on that motorcycle. While it wasn’t logical, it was easier to forgive Blake, the cop, the man who didn’t exist all those years ago, and hold on to her anger toward his bad-boy biker persona.

“I just don’t think they’re safe.”

Blake snorted at her obvious lie. “What day did you leave open for me?”

“Let me see. I’m popping over to Justin’s office this afternoon to take the pictures of Ned.”

“No box of chocolates in bed?”

Chloe thought she detected the slightest trace of relief in Blake’s voice. “He wouldn’t go for that. The most he would agree to was an open shirt with a tie hanging around his neck. We thought it would look cool if he was sitting at the head of a conference table. Set it up for today because none of the employees will be in the office since it’s a Saturday.”

“Sounds very tasteful.”

No doubt she and Justin had given him a bad impression of what the calendar was about. Truth was all the pictures would be PG with none of the men exposing more than their chests and arms. Her musician had been sitting sideways on his piano bench, shirtless, in a vest and simple black pants as he toyed with a couple of keys. While she’d selected the shot she wanted to use, she’d come down with the flu before she could tweak the print.

“It’s going to be a classy calendar.”

“Of mimbos,” he added.

She frowned, then a light went on. “You were eavesdropping on my phone call with Mama that first day.”

“Yep.”

She grinned wickedly. “Well, if you’re expecting me to take it back or revise my opinion, I won’t.”

Blake chuckled. “You will. Eventually. I’ll make sure of it.”

His deeply spoken threat was laced with just a hint of sexual malice. Chloe grew wet and warm at the thought of it. She pressed her legs together, suddenly annoyed at the way Blake could turn her into a raving sex maniac in mere seconds.

“In fact, what are you wearing right now?”

Chloe wanted to ignore his question, but that damn dirty book he’d given her had fired up some needs she really wanted taken care off. She hadn’t bothered to get dressed after her shower, just donning her robe.

She decided to play hard to get. “Why do you want to know?”

“Tell me, Chloe.”

“Just a robe.”

“Nothing under it?”

She shook her head, trying to ignore how hot his questions were making her. “Nothing.”

“Slip it open, but keep it on.”

Chloe rested her phone between her shoulder and head as she untied the belt around her robe.

She heard Blake chuckle softly. “There’s this feature on cells called speakerphone. Turn it on and put your phone down where you can still hear me. You’re going to need both hands.”

“Blake,” she started.

“Just do it.”

“Where are you?” she asked, suddenly worried about him initiating phone sex with her in the middle of the precinct.

“I’m at home. On my couch. Just got off-duty.”

She turned the speakerphone on and placed the cell on the table. “Okay.”

“Where are you in your apartment?”

“My kitchen table.”

“Nice. I want you to do what I tell you. Follow my instructions completely. If I suspect you’re cheating, I’ll come over there, toss you over my knee, and paint your ass red with my hand until you learn to obey.”