Sex, Lies and Midnight (3 page)

Maya glanced at the blonde before her gaze followed the path Dave had taken. He
was
hot. Sorta. Sorta-tall, sorta-dark, sorta-handsome. Sure, that sexy bad-boy edge that usually drew her was missing. But that was the point. That made him safe, which was priority number one.

“We’re having fun,” she said, sidestepping the question. “How about you? Are you here with someone?”

They spent the next few minutes exchanging desultory chit chat. Maya’s gaze wandered, noting the twinkling lights framing the balcony, the few occupied tables and the noted lack of excitement she was feeling.

She’d been doing this
normal life
thing for three years now. In part, to prove she could. But mostly because she’d never had normal growing up. Like some kids craved the exotic, she’d craved average.

But she’d come to realize that average, after a while, was pretty damned boring. Hence Dave. And he was a nice guy. She just didn’t feel any real excitement, any wildly hot energy between them.

Maybe it was time to move on?

She was still mulling that idea, and just what it would mean to her life, when Dave returned with the drinks. She listened to him and Carly chat and wondered what it was like to be that carefree. For a girl who’d been calculating the odds since her toddler years, the concept was totally foreign.

“Maya, you don’t mind if I borrow your friend for a dance or two?” Carly asked, slinking to her feet in a move worthy of the most sinuous snake in the jungle.

Maya smirked when she saw the slight bulge of Dave’s eyes as he got the full impact of Carly’s double Ds. She couldn’t blame him. The view was mesmerizing, in a train-wreck kind of way.

“Sure,” she said. Then she added, “But just a couple dances. I expect him back in the same shape you’re borrowing him.”

Dave laughed like a giddy schoolboy, but Carly caught the message. Her vamp smile dimmed a notch, then she nodded before leading Dave away. As they entered the room, though, Maya saw the other woman’s hand slip over Dave’s ass.

She should be jealous. Pissed, even. But she wasn’t. Why not? He was a nice guy. And he fit perfectly into her average life. Her nice, average boyfriend. Someone to ease her loneliness. Maya sighed, wishing the cool night air would clear her head of all the confusing thoughts.

She stood to walk toward the balcony wall and get a better view of the Golden Gate, but accidentally knocked her water bottle off the table as she rose.

It spun across the outdoor carpet toward the shadows. She hurried over to grab it just as it rolled to a stop at a pair of feet clad in high-end cowboy boots.

Maya sighed. A cowboy in California?
Oh, please.

Keeping her eye roll to herself, she stopped a foot away and checked out the rest of the wild west show. Her mental sneer shifted as her gaze climbed up long, long jeans-clad legs, a leather belt around a narrow waist and a chest that begged to be nuzzled. The collar of a dark green shirt was opened, his jacket looked pricey and…she let her gaze finish the climb.

And felt the earth shift just a little.

Oh, baby, he was gorgeous.

A square jaw and slashing cheekbones were the perfect frame for a face that could sell magazines, cars and women’s souls. Long-lashed eyes echoed the green of his shirt, his lips were kissably full and the only thing keeping him from being a pretty boy was a scar, high on his cheekbone.

One side of his mouth quirked in amusement at her inspection as he bent down to grab the bottle.

“Yours?” he asked, his voice declaring his right to wear those thousand-dollar cowboy boots. Cultured, rich and definitely Southern.

“Thank you,” Maya murmured, taking the water. Her brow knit. “Have we met?”

Her face heated and wished she could take back the words.
Oh, man, what a cliché.
She’d have done just as well to offer to strip him naked and dance around his body like a stripper’s pole.

Since she couldn’t erase the words, instead she gave a short laugh and shook her head. “I know, it sounds like a cheesy pickup line. But I swear, I’ve seen you before.”

Gifted with a near-photographic memory, she never forgot numbers and she never forgot a face. The former made her a prized assistant among the investment bankers in her department. The latter kept her past from tripping her up.

The problem was, she couldn’t remember exactly who he was. She’d seen him a few times around Braverment events, so he must work for the company in some form or another. Probably one of their out-of-state branches.

“I’d remember if we had,” he returned with a smile that did wicked things to her libido.

“My mistake,” she excused, irritated to hear how breathless the words sounded. She cleared her throat and plastered on her brightest smile. “Are you with Braverment?”

“No. Old man Braverment is a friend of the family and he suggested I drop in. I’m actually here looking for capital. A few investors interested in a new app platform to integrate social media.” He flashed her a smile so wicked with charisma she figured he raked in investments like crazy.

Amazing. Even boring investment talk sounded sexy in that delicious accent. Pretending her knees weren’t wobbling, she asked, “Are you enjoying the party?”

“I appreciate the view,” he returned. His voice was as sexy as his face. Husky and low, making her think of magnolia blossoms and mint juleps, silk sheets and naked bodies. Maya wished it were a little cooler on the patio, since her body was feeling very, very hot.

He nodded toward the doors leading to the Christmas festivities, and asked, “How about you? Are you having a good time?”

The tiny hairs on the back of Maya’s neck stood up. She didn’t know why. Other than being way too sexy for his own good, he shouldn’t make her feel threatened. Should he? She’d seen him before so he was legit, and he was gorgeous.

It was probably the gorgeous part that was setting off her warning signals. To say nothing of making her body go into sexual hyperdrive.

Once or twice, she’d thought she could have her cake and eat it, too. That she could be average and still give in to the wild, passionate side of her nature. But she’d been burned, badly. So she avoided all guys who tripped her passion meter. It’d only been a few months ago that she’d even felt safe dating a mellow, safe guy like Dave.

But this guy would not only trip the meter, he’d send it spinning out of control. Because he’d demand everything. He’d plumb the depths of passion, he’d discover untapped levels of sensuality that Maya was pretty sure were hiding beneath the surface. He had the potential to drive her straight over the edge to crazy.

But average girls who didn’t like to attract attention didn’t do crazy.

“I am enjoying the party, thanks,” she responded, shifting her tone from friendly to distant. Then she gestured toward the door. “And I should be getting back to the dance floor. They’re playing my favorite song.”

“Merry Christmas,” he called as she walked away.

Maya glanced back. Yes, his eyes were glued to her. She swallowed hard, then offered a quick smile. “Merry merry to you, too,” she said.

Whew. She bypassed the dance floor to find the ladies’ room instead. She needed cold water. Or better yet, an ice bath.

“IT WAS A GREAT EVENING, Dave, thanks so much for going to the party with me,” Maya said.

“We don’t have to end the fun yet,” he said, rubbing his hands up and down her arms in a gentle caress. “I’m still in the party mood.”

To prove his point, he zoomed in with an enthusiastic kiss. Maya sighed, leaning in to enjoy herself. This was nice, she realized. But—she pulled away with a sigh—not exciting.

What was wrong with her?

“I’d invite you in, but my roommate is waiting up,” she excused.

With that, and a quick little finger wave, she slipped through her front door, threw the lock and leaned back against it with a heavy sigh. “I hate dating.”

“It is a necessary evil,” Tiffany declared, looking all comfy in her Snuggie on the couch. Her engagement ring flashed bright in the light of the TV, declaring that while she respected the dating evil, it wasn’t a game she had to play any longer.

Which was just one of the many reasons Maya had chosen her as a roommate. She was sweet and fun and tidy. She was totally involved in her own life, so didn’t have a lot of spare time to poke into Maya’s. And best of all, she was temporary, without that being an apparent requirement.

She was also Maya’s fifth roommate in the three years she’d owned the sweet Victorian here in San Francisco. The few people at Braverment who knew her well enough to be aware of her living arrangements teased her about her bad luck with roommate turnover. Maya always played up her faux despair, secretly thrilled at how well it all worked in her favor. After all, she hated living alone, but knew that a real long-term roommate would mean an element of intimacy she couldn’t handle.

So, like everything else in her life, she kept her shared-living arrangements short and sweet. And more importantly, totally superficial.

“How was your night?” Maya asked as she shrugged out of her black velvet opera coat and hung it in the hall armoire. “TV, ice cream and a stack of bridal magazines? It looks like a good time to me.”

“Throw in a honey-oatmeal facial and call me a wild woman,” Tiffany joked.

Maya grinned, bending down to pry her darling strappy sandals off her dance-swollen feet. “You are one crazy gal.”

“You had a phone call.”

Maya’s brows shot up. How weird. Usually, if someone wanted to reach her they called her cell. The only reason she even had a landline was for internet and to give pesky telemarketers someplace to call.

“A sexy sounding guy, said his name was Caleb and that he’d get a hold of you later.”

Missing a step, Maya stumbled over her bare feet, her precious Jimmy Choos flying into the wall. She reached out to keep herself from following and took a mandatory deep breath to try and gather her thoughts.

By any standard, Maya had had an unconventional upbringing. Motherless by a year old, she’d never been a sweet little girl in the traditional sense. Instead, she’d learned the art of the three-card monte before she’d learned to read. By four, she’d learned to call up crocodile tears on command, the first time to keep her father from being arrested. She had amassed enough through computer hacking to pay her own tuition to Yale before she’d graduated high school.

So it was rare for her to be shocked.

“Caleb called?” she repeated faintly.

“You okay?” Tiffany asked, swinging her feet off the couch, concern clear on her face. “What’s wrong? Is he an ex-boyfriend? A bad guy? Should I call Mark?”

That made Maya smile. Mark was Tiffany’s fiancé—a bespeckled orthodontist who bowled on weekends—and she definitely saw him through the eyes of love. The idea of his sweet self coming up against the likes of six-foot-two, muscle-bound Caleb Black, the baddest of the bad Black boys, was a little funny.

Scary funny, but still enough to make her want to giggle.

“No,” she said, gathering her scattered composure. “No, that’s okay. Caleb isn’t any kind of threat.”

At least, not unless he mistakenly suspected her of suddenly having a yen to deal drugs. Her big brother was a badass DEA agent, usually so far undercover he probably didn’t even remember her existence. So why was he calling her? And on the house phone? The house, like the phone and everything else she had here in California, was under the name of Maya DeLongue. So how had he tracked her down?

And why? Panic shot through her, making her heart race and her ears ring. Worried sick, her mind spun from one horrible scenario to the next. In the half-dozen times she’d heard from her brother since she’d left home seven years previous, he’d always called her cell. Why would he call the house?

Was he hurt? Had something happened to Dad? To their brother, Gabriel?

“Did he say when he’d be calling back?” she asked, trying not to sound like she was going to cry. Her dad was indestructible. Superman. He had to be okay. He just had to.

“No,” Tiffany said, pushing a strand of toast-brown hair off her worry-creased forehead.

“Caller ID?”

“Unknown caller.”