Nexus (15 page)

“Hi.” She smiled wide, looking me over with an appraising eye. “You must be Marcus Roth.”

I cleared my throat. “How do you know?”

“My boss said that if a tall, handsome man should get to the front doors and not come in, but just pace outside, I should call her right away. I’m thinking it’s you.”

It was time to breathe, so I tried. “It’s me. Who are you?”

“Suzie, Suzie Jones.”

“Nice to meet you, Suzie Jones.” I smiled, offering her my hand.

She took it, squeezed it, and beamed up at me. “I called Mrs. Kessler. She’s coming.”

I straightened my tie first, then my cuffs. “She said handsome, not gorgeous?”

“She should have said ‘hot’, Mr. Roth.” She smiled big. “Or edible.”

I arched an eyebrow for her. “Thank you,” I said as I saw Helene trotting toward me. I had never seen her move so fast, and from the stunned looks of people leaning out of their offices, frozen as she passed them in the hall, I was not the only one who was surprised.

“I didn’t know she could run.”

“I didn’t know she would,” I sighed, opening my arms.

Helene rushed past the cute little receptionist and flung herself into my arms. It was wildly unprofessional, which meant the display came right from the heart.

“Who knew you liked me this much,” I chuckled as I held her.

She squeezed tighter so I understood.

W
ALKING
into my brownstone after six that evening, I opened the door and was hit by the heavenly smell of garlic. I realized instantly that I was starving. Lunch had been at noon, and even though I had not planned to stay all day, I had ended up doing it anyway.

“Hello,” I called out.

Joe leaned out of the kitchen. “Hey.”

I dropped my keys on the shelf, locked the door behind me, and put my laptop bag on the couch as I passed it on my way to him.

He smiled at me as I walked up to him. “How was your day, baby?”

I slid my hand around the back of his neck, stroking over his nape before I tipped his head back so I could kiss him. “Long. Yours?”

“Hectic, but I wanna hear everything about your first day back.”

I took his hand and led him back into our large, newly renovated kitchen. Joe had put all his energy into the house while I was missing, and the improvements, ordered by him, supervised by Julian, were extensive and stunning. All the new stainless steel appliances, especially the refrigerator big enough that Joe could hide in it, were amazing. “What’d you make?”

“Roast chicken, garlic mashed potatoes, steamed broccoli with fennel, and salad. I hope that’s okay.”

“Jesus, Joe, of course it’s okay. I don’t deserve you.”

“Sure you do,” he assured me, lifting his chin for another kiss that I willingly bestowed.

After I changed, we had dinner and sat at the table and told each other about our days, the friends, the crazy people, and the little things that didn’t matter to anyone else. While I was doing the dishes and he was drying, he told me that he’d gotten an e-mail from Shane earlier that day.

“Oh? What did it say?” I was interested.

“Can I say first that you need to fix the voice-activated software on my laptop.”

“Why’s that?”

“Ryan thought it would be funny to screw with it, so now every time I read e-mail it gets read to me by some Eastern European call girl.”

My iced tea went down the wrong hole.

“It’s not funny, Marcus.”

“No, not at all.”

He growled at me.

“Tell me what Shane said,” I chuckled.

“Oh, well, he told me that he was sorry for everything from being so weak that a witch could possess him—that wouldn’t have happened to one of you guys?”

“No,” I told him. “And it wasn’t possession. She made a doppelganger and inhabited it, but still, if you know yourself, if you’re confident, a clone cannot be made. It’s too hard.”

“Oh.”

“Go on.”

“Well, he just said that he was really sorry and that he wished that things could have been different with us.”

“What else?”

Joe arched one beautiful, thick eyebrow for me. “That if I ever left you, to please let him be the first call I made.”

I leaned sideways and sucked his ear lobe into my mouth, inhaling at the same time. “You’re never leaving me.” My voice rumbled deep in my chest.

“No,” he agreed, holding onto the counter as he shivered.

Six years—it had officially changed while I was gone—and the man still got weak in the knees when I kissed him. I was so lucky.

When I was done with the kitchen, I flipped off the light and just stood there a minute watching him. He was folding laundry that he’d done earlier and was listening to some baseball game that was on TV.

“Marcus,” he called over to me distractedly. “Remember tomorrow night is that charity benefit Ryan’s hosting, so you have to pick up both of our tuxedos from the cleaner’s before three and be home no later than five.”

“Yes, dear.”

He grunted, immersed in what he was listening to.

I went into the bedroom, and after awhile, he poked his head in.

“Whatcha doin’?”

“Crossword.”

“I can turn off the TV. We can play cards or something.”

“Nah.”

He slid into the room. “You want something for dessert?”

“Like?”

“I dunno. We could take a walk for ice cream or pie or—”

“No, I’m good here.”

“You feel okay?”

“Yeah, just sore.”

“We could go get a drink.”

“You drank enough the other day,” I reminded him.

He flipped me off, and I started laughing.

“We could call some friends, go out if you want.”

“You wanna do that?”

“Not particularly, but I will.”

I yawned. “That doesn’t sound real good.”

“So what, then?”

“Baby,” I smiled at him. “You’re not here to entertain me. You know that.”

“I know. I just don’t wanna take you for granted.”

“You’re not. I’m home. I’m safe, so are you. We’re fine.” He looked good in his jeans and a rugby shirt. “We’ll find our old rhythm. Don’t worry.”

“I’m not worried.”

“But listen, I don’t expect you to cook every night all of a sudden.”

“No, I know, but I like cooking for you, and you appreciate it, and talking while we do the dishes is probably one of my favorite things in the whole wide world.”

“You’re very easy to please.”

“No, I’m not. You’re the only one that I want to do this stuff with.”

“Come here.”

“What?”

“I was gonna attack you later when you came to bed, but could you just pretend it’s later and let me have you now?” I grinned slowly, dropping the newspaper and the mechanical pencil I was using to do the crossword on the floor.

“Uh yeah,” he laughed, climbing onto the bed.

I reached out for the collar of his shirt. “I missed you today.”

“Bullshit. You were too busy to miss me.”

“I wasn’t, I swear. I missed you.”

“That’s kind of romantic, huh?”

“Don’t get used to it. Just kiss me.”

He chuckled against my lips before I grabbed him, rolled him over onto his back under me, and kissed him breathless. When I was sure I had him at my mercy, I went to work on his clothes.

The bite was unexpected, hot but surprising, and I lifted up to look down at him.

“Why am I stopping?” I grumbled irritably because I just wanted to take his clothes off and ravish him, and why was he being difficult?

“I just—” He took a shuddering breath, “—love you, is all.”

“Yeah, I love you too,” I said quickly, bending to reclaim his mouth. I got his chin.

“Marcus!” he squealed.

I growled at him.

“I’m serious.” He started laughing. “Stop being an ass.”

I whined loudly, taking his face in my hands. “I love you too, baby, more than anything. You’re my whole life. Now can I please just do you?”

His face was alight with happiness, and his eyes, the beautiful pale blue I was a slave to, were dancing. “Yes, Marcus, I’m all yours.”

It was always nice to be reminded.

The Warder Series by
M
ARY
C
ALMES

http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com

About the Author

M
ARY
C
ALMES
currently lives in Honolulu, Hawaii, with her husband and two children and hopes to eventually move off the rock to a place where her children can experience fall and even winter. She graduated from the University of the Pacific (ironic) in Stockton, California, with a bachelor’s degree in English literature. Due to the fact that it is English lit and not English grammar, do not ask her to point out a clause for you, as it will so not happen. She loves writing, becoming immersed in the process, and falling into the work. She can even tell you what her characters smell like. She works at a copy store but has been unable to incorporate that into a book... yet. She also buys way too many books on Amazon.

Paranormal Romance from
M
ARY
C
ALMES