Layers Deep (8 page)

“No, my gut
told me to pack it.” I felt my cheeks warm up.

“I like your
gut.” He shut his eyes closed. “Shit, that sounds wrong.”

Was Cross
nervous? It was the first time I’d heard him fumble. And I thought
I saw a hint of red decorate his cheeks. The vulnerable shade
flipped my heart. He might as well have been holding his newborn
son the way radiance beamed from him when he looked at me.

“I’m glad you
took this dress.”

The quirky
feeling of being a teenager on a date came back to me in a
flashback. The one where the boy who picks you up for your first
date is standing in the doorway, waiting until you powder your nose
or finish getting ready.

“My mother’s
well. She’s happy I visited.” I didn’t know what else to say, and I
wasn’t ready to say, “Hi, I wore this dress because I thought you’d
like to rip it off me.”

“Did she like
the tequila?”

“We both did,”
I chuckled. Gosh, he knew me better than I thought.

“I thought you
would. I’m glad you’re here, Allie.” He lowered his palm on top of
mine. “I don’t get much time to relax these days. This is
perfect.”

I wasn’t too
sure what that meant, but it felt right. Amazingly perfect, in
fact, which frightened me. Was he referring to the trip, or the
hotel, or us here together? I wasn’t sure, but I was glad to be
here with Tristan as well. Or perhaps it was the smooth Comisario
conspicuously working its way through my body.

“Me too. Do
you have other siblings?” I asked.

“A younger
sister. She lives at home with my parents in New Jersey. She was a
surprise for my parents late in their life. With two boys in their
early teens, my mom had her hands full, but my father kept us busy
with work. He founded our company and has been prepping us to take
over ever since I can remember so he can retire.”

Cross had a
sister. My heart ached. I should have had one too. Emma would have
been thirteen by now, and I probably would not have been sitting
with Cross at a bar. Or perhaps fate would have found a different
way to unite us. Maybe our sisters could have been friends?

“Your father
is still working?” I asked, feeling more at ease with Tristan.

Tristan
laughed. It was a subtle laugh, full of happiness and distant
memories. “He’ll never retire. He says he will, but he won’t. And I
don’t blame him. What we do can get pretty addictive.”

“What you do
sounds dangerous. I mean undercover operations, body guards for
government officials, secret surveillance. I bet there are plenty
of men who’d like your head on a platter for exposing their
infidelity or criminal activities.”

“My father
used to do the muscle work. That’s why he trained me and Julian,
but we rarely get to use our skills out in the field. I’m usually
behind the scenes working from my office to put the operation
together. My cousin Gabe Silver is our partner. He deals with
surveillance, and I make sure the muscle and the right people for
the job we need are hired.”

The name he’d
mentioned sounded familiar.

“When you know
what you’re doing and have people you can count on, it’s not so
bad.”

“Are you
counting on me? It sounds like you miss your parents.” I took
another swig. The buzz began to work its way into my head. I knew I
should slow down, but this perfect feeling of a simple life and
comfortable conversation was too much to resist.

“I am counting
on you. And I miss my family every day as much as you miss your
father.” He squeezed my hand, reminding me it was still there,
holding mine in support and reassurance. So, he knew my father was
dead. Of course he did. That wasn’t something I could hide from
anyone. Every day I thought about what life would be like with him
around. Would he have taught me how to drive a car? Perhaps warn me
to stay wary of boys and men, explain how everything in their minds
always revolved around sex?

Then he
continued, “I live in Manhattan, but I’d prefer to have a home like
my parents’. It’s just more convenient now to stay close to the
job.”

“I’d pictured
you as more of a country boy.”

“Well, you
read me well. It’s always been my dream to live in the
country.”

“What’s
stopping you?”

“Everything.”
Darkness covered his eyes. An uneasy vibe passed between us, and I
got the feeling Cross’s job got in the way of his life more than he
admitted.

“Don’t get me
wrong, I love what I do, and I think I’ll do it forever like my
father, but when family trouble is mixed in with business, it makes
it that much more difficult.”

“The job you
need me for has something to do with family?”

He shook his
head. “Not tonight, Allie. I just want to enjoy your company.”

This time it
was me squeezing his hand. I had a few more shots, laughed, talked,
and leaned into Tristan more than I intended. I wasn’t sure how I
ended up in a luxurious hotel room, but the pillow was so
comfortable and fluffy and smelled of fresh lavender, I couldn’t
resist resting my head. My last inhale before I closed my eyes was
of Tristan, and I fell asleep smiling.

The sun shone
into my eyes and I shot up, tightening the sheets around my
front.

Shit!

“Relax, Allie,
you’re okay.” Tristan sat on an armchair, reading a paper. A mug of
warm liquid steamed at the table.

I smelled
coffee.

How in the
world did I end up in Tristan Cross’s hotel room? And in his bed? I
shut my eyes and pressed my fingers to my temples, trying to
remember what exactly had happened.

Shit!
My mother. And a lot of smooth tequila.
Shit, shit,
shit!

“I’m so sorry,
I have to get home. My mother...” I flipped the covers off, then
quickly pulled them back up. Apparently, I was naked.

My little show
didn’t go unnoticed. A hungry rumble sounded from where Cross was
sitting.

“Your mother
is fine. She knows where you are.”

“You spoke
with my mother?” I asked, suddenly feeling ill at the thought. What
would my mother think of me? That I’d told a stranger where she
lived? That I’d failed to protect her once again. And, worst of
all, I hadn’t come home for the night and slept in his hotel room.
She must have been worried; or had she? I’d never discussed any
relationships with my mother, especially the sexual ones. The talk
beyond simple dating was off limits between the two of us. I’d
avoided the subject because the first sexual experience I’d been a
witness to was my mother getting raped. A brutal attack I couldn’t
stop.

“She’s a
beautiful lady, Allie. I can see where you get your charm.” He set
the newspaper down on a table.

“You met her?”
And, I sent a stranger to her house. She must have freaked.

“She makes the
most delicious stack of waffles I’ve ever tasted.”

What?
My mother hadn’t made waffles since that dreadful day. How had
Cross managed to persuade her?

Not only had
she let him inside, but she’d also made him breakfast.

“She made you
waffles? What time is it?”

I gazed around
the room, searching for a clock. The fluffy bed filled with over a
dozen pillows would have better suited Cross, or even the Queen,
than me. The antique wood tones set the room back a few decades. A
mirror hung above the fireplace on the wall across from the bed.
Still, there was no clock.

“I have that
effect on women.” He shrugged. “It’s ten in the morning. I didn’t
want to wake you.”

My dress had
been nicely laid out on the chair beside Tristan. Black panties and
bra were folded on top into a neat square. Tristan followed my gaze
and smirked.

“Did we?” I
gasped.

“No,” he shook
his head. “I don’t take advantage of women.”

“You undressed
me?”

“I helped you
take off your dress. You did the rest.”

Gosh, he’d seen
me in my underwear! Or even naked!

I buried my
face in my hands and slid lower under the covers. Would Earth
please open up and swallow me whole? This was so unlike me. It was
the damn tequila again. Yet oddly I didn’t feel the hangover I
usually had, though thirst was slowly creeping into my mouth.
Tristan stood up and passed me a bottle of water.

“Thank you.
You must think I’m a drunk.”

“I don’t,
Allie. Everyone needs to wind down once in a while. You’re human.
And believe me, you’re not a drunk. I’ve seen addicts and
alcoholics enough.”

“I also should
be more responsible.”

“You’re one of
the most responsible women I’ve met.” He placed a file labeled with
my name on my lap. I wanted to get up and get dressed, but wasn’t
sure how, with Tristan staring at me. He had me pinned in the exact
spot he wanted me.

“What is
that?”

“Everything I
need to know about you.”

“How?”

“Really? You
have to ask?”

Of course not!
Cross was an investigator. I should have expected he had a thick
file on my past in that leather briefcase he carried.

“May I?”

He nodded.

I flipped
through the pages and there it was. My entire past. My stripping
days, some photos, where and when I moved my mother, how I paid for
college. Everything except Wright. He wasn’t there. I exhaled in
relief.

Then it dawned
on me. Cross had known everything about me before he stepped into
the auditorium. The job I tried to erase from my resume haunted me.
I wasn’t ashamed of it, but the stripping past didn’t help when you
wanted to move up the law enforcement ladder. He was aware of how
I’d paid my way through college and police academy. Yet, it was me
he wanted to hire.

“You know it
all.” I closed the file. “Why me, then?”

His expression
changed to one of disappointment. Well, I’m sorry if my life’s
circumstances forced me to make decisions most women didn’t have
to!

“It’s time we
put some cards out on the table. We’re taking a trip today.”

“But my
mother...”

“Your mother
is fine. She knows you’re safe with me. She threatened not to make
me waffles again if I hurt you.”

“She did?”

“She loves
you, Allie, and wants to see you happy. And I can’t have you
thinking about other things when I hire you. I need you to know
you’re safe, she’s safe, and only then can you work with me.”

“How do you
know she needs to feel safe?”

“I’ve seen the
locks on the door, Allie. And the shot gun. You’ve done your
research, too. The demographics of her moves are clear. You always
found an apartment for her in the safest neighborhoods you could
afford.”

Gosh, he was
good!

Tristan
strolled toward the bed, making me aware of my naked tingling body
underneath the thin sheets. I wondered whether I’d have been in his
hotel room bed if I hadn’t been drunk last night. Would he have
made a move on me then? Or would he have simply offered a handshake
and a peck on the cheek as a good night token?

“I’m the best
in the business, Allie. Nothing can pass me by. I’m just not sure
you’re up for the hooker position.”

“I can do
it.”

“You’re too
frail. Too innocent.”

“You need to
give me a chance. I can do the job.”

“We’ll see.
Get dressed.” He pointed to my small suitcase by his chair.

I couldn’t
believe my mother had given him my suitcase! What kind of charm had
he used on her?

“Wear
something comfortable, please. Breakfast is ready in the dinette.
We’re leaving in an hour.”

He lowered
himself to kiss me, on my mouth, but he didn’t force a tongue or
linger for long. It was the sweetest good morning kiss I’d ever
had. Even with the tequila morning breath and all. And because of
that kiss I forgot to ask him where we were going. Not that it
mattered, so long as Cross still wanted to be with me and to hire
me. I had to make sure he did. At this point I couldn’t picture not
working for him, with him, and perhaps one day under him. What had
he done to me to become so dependent on his company?

Tristan lifted
my panties off the chaise by the corner. He let them hang
provocatively on his finger, swaying back and forth. The little
scar on his upper lip did something funny and sexy as hell as his
lip twitched, like he wanted to taste what he had in his hand.

“Black
lingerie is my favorite, by the way. I’m looking forward to a day I
can remove it from you piece by piece, with my teeth. Need help
putting them on?” The deep growl that rolled his voice, trembling
my body, made me want to flip that cover off the bed and let him do
to me as he pleased.

And there was
that dimple again. Heat spread from my cheeks down between my legs.
Tristan had no idea how much I was looking forward to him removing
them as well, but I didn’t think allowing him help me with the
undergarments was a good idea. I doubted I’d get them on at all,
with him that close to me.

* * *

We drove over
an hour west of Charleston. The houses began to scatter, their
distance increasing to miles apart. Tristan steered up a dirt road,
weaving up the mountain. The first leaves had begun falling here. A
blend of oranges, reds, and yellows decorated the hillside, and the
valleys below were covered in beautiful autumn blends. I rolled
down the window. The warm wind fluttered my hair, smelling of
passed rain and fresh moss. Near the peak, Tristan pulled over to
the graveled side. We were still in the middle of nowhere. Beyond
the wall of shrubs, a forest covered the valley below. With
binoculars in one hand, he took my other hand into his and led me
toward the hill’s edge.

“Are we
bird-watching?” I asked. The curiosity inside me almost burst out
my seams.

“No, not bird
watching. Get comfortable.” He pointed to a patch of grass in the
clearing that overlooked a valley, lay down on his stomach, and
placed the binoculars to his eyes, adjusting their focus.