Ultimate Passage: New Beginnings: Box Set ( Books 1-4) (9 page)

W
hat was wrong with her
? Marissa closed the door to her bedroom, leaned against it, knees weak. She could taste her flavor on his mouth. She licked her lips, the desire to be with him refusing to subside.

She didn’t need to be going to breakfast with him. She needed to be—

Needed to be what? It wasn’t like she could do what she normally did. Her life trajectory had suddenly tangented in a whole new direction.
Yeah, a direction that sucks. No job, no nothing.
Her father would be very disappointed in her, that she was losing Two West Two.

As if you haven’t wanted to leave it for the last few years. As if you weren’t tired of the restaurant business.
Okay, that was true. She was tired of it. She’d wanted to quit and sell the place a few years ago. And when she’d told Dad about it, he’d said, “Sell it. Get out of there. Go be happy.”

Her response to her father had been that she felt an obligation to the community to keep it around. That it was the oldest restaurant in the area, and she couldn’t just sell it. What if the new owners didn’t care as much?

Her father had replied, “That’s not your problem. Your customers are busy making themselves happy. You should do the same.”

Yet some screwed-up sense of obligation had kept her there. For years. She wadded and threw the sheet on the bed, disgusted with herself. But there was a part of her, a secret part, that wanted to rejoice. She now could walk away from Two West Two and not feel guilty. She’d done her best, and circumstances outside of her control had put an end to this part of her life, an end to Two West Two
.
An end to obligation.

Responsible, duty-bound Marissa could relax and look into pursuing the things in life she’d wanted, but still she felt like she was being bad.
What the hell is wrong with me?

Her stomach rumbled.
Okay, okay, I get the hint.
She grabbed a pair of jeans and a top and slipped into them. A puff of powder on her face, a touch of lip gloss, a couple of strokes of blush. That should do it.

Shit. Her hair. She shook it out, finger-styled it. Mentally proclaimed
What the hell
and went with it. She switched the lights off and headed back to the kitchen to make sure that sexy hunk of a man called Finn wasn’t burning anything down.

Finn. Why had she done what she’d done with him? Why was she going to breakfast with him? Why was she doing anything with him? Why wasn’t she doing something productive?
Marissa, relax, jeez, for once stop and smell the roses.

The kitchen was immaculate, the towels rinsed and laid out across the backs of the stools to air dry. Finn was leaning against the counter, arms folded across his chest, looking more like a Roman gladiator than a talent scout.

Talent scout. She definitely needed to explore that. If he was truly a headhunter for restaurants and hospitality-oriented corporations, she might have her next lead for a job.

“That was quick.” His eyes took in her appearance, and suddenly Marissa felt like she was back in junior high, not quite measuring up to the pretty, popular girls. Oh, she knew she wasn’t a double-bagger, but she wasn’t like the cheerleaders either.
You didn’t put out like they did, either.
Damned voice never let up, did it? So what if she hadn’t been a skanky slut in high school? So what if the first guy she kissed had said she sucked at it? So what? Surely she’d improved since then? She touched her lips self-consciously, hoping that she—

Quit thinking like that. Quit it now.
“Yes. I didn’t want to leave you waiting.” Now she second-guessed her clothing. Maybe she should have dressed like someone who was looking for a job, someone who could manage a restaurant.
As if you managed this one? Your numbers were going downhill. That’s because of the circumstances.
She had to stop this now. This doubt thing was killing her. “So where’s your car?”

“I took a cab.”

She looked out the window. “Where’s mine?” Wow. She must have been wasted. Thank goodness she hadn’t driven home. But had she driven to Hush?

“It’s in front of Two West Two.”

Of course it was. She should have remembered. That was where she’d left it when she’d stormed out, after that phone call. “Perfect. That’s not a long walk from here. Truth be told, I shouldn’t even drive to work every day, and yet...”

She didn’t have a reason for driving instead of walking. Well, yes, she did. She carried enough stuff back and forth, including her purse, that it was more convenient. Not to mention that she didn’t usually allow enough time in the morning for walking. Plus, she walked all day in the restaurant. And visited a gym. Yeah, she got plenty of exercise.
God, what is this, beat up on myself day? Justify everything I do day? Get off this track, Marissa Sanchez. Like right now.

She squared her shoulders. It was time to go have fun. Time to be a different Marissa.

S
he looked stunning
, even with the effects the alcohol had to have had on her. “I know a breakfast spot down the road.”

He couldn’t risk a team coming for her. And if she was near the area... “No. Can we go... further?”

She cast him a sideways glance from behind the steering wheel. “Like where?”

“I’m not from this area. Isn’t there somewhere scenic you can take me?”

“Scenic? In Houston?” Her brow furrowed, as if that wasn’t likely. “Well, how about we go have breakfast in The Woodlands? There should be something nice up there. And it’s a nice part of town.”

“Do you not know of the eateries and scenic areas in Houston?”

“Yeah, I guess, but you see, I work in a restaurant. And actually I work a lot of hours. So it’s not like I go anywhere or do much.” She shrugged. “But anyway, The Woodlands sounds good.”

“How far is it from here?”

“About forty-five to an hour.”

That should give them some distance from anyone hunting him. Or her. He reached into his pocket, took out the phone and turned it on. It signaled an email. From yesterday evening.

Kal. Worried about Finn. Wondering if his food supply was holding out. Warning him that things could happen if he ran out of Asazi food.

He’d been out for quite a while now, backpack at the restaurant, and had consumed more than a few human meals. And now he was going to have another one. And there’d been no adverse effects. Except for that thing in the hotel room, with the woman on the television, and a short time ago, with Marissa. But he didn’t consider that to be adverse. Not adverse at all. It had been pleasurable.

But he wasn’t going to tell Kal that, or about the food he’d been eating, and not eating.

He did wonder if human food was why his body had reacted the way it had to the television. And to Marissa. Mostly to Marissa now. It felt like the whole time he’d been around her, he’d had a buzzing in his veins, a throbbing in his loins. And he hadn’t been able to get rid of it.

A thought struck him. “What direction is this Woodland place from here?”

She laughed, as if he’d said something funny. “
The
Woodlands. There are some people who get irate if you forget the THE. It’s north from here. And east.”

That wasn’t quite good. The Asazi were set up north, but west. He thought they’d be better off going the opposite direction. “So what’s south of here?”

“Galveston?” Her tone was perplexed.

“And past Galveston?”

Another laugh. He liked the way she laughed, though he remembered that not far beneath it there was an angry, passionate little hellion.

“Water. The Gulf Coast. Nothing, pretty much. Unless you can walk on water.”

“No one can walk on water.” He was confused by her statement.

“Never mind. But yes, just Galveston.”

“Can we go there instead?”

“I’ll make a U-turn. Hey, by the way, you left your backpack in my restaurant you know. Is there anything important in it?”

Kal would think so. “No. Nothing I can’t live without.” This seemed to be truer than he’d been told. If his team went there, they’d know he had been in her restaurant. They would know he wasn’t eating Asazi food. They’d know he was eating human food. And whatever consequences they thought happened, they’d presume had.

They might start to put some things together, though he doubted they could put it all together. Like why he was with her and where they were going and why it was so damned important to him to save her.

Hell’s curses, he couldn’t figure that out himself. One thing he knew: he couldn’t take her back to her home or to the restaurant. But he didn’t know the why of that either.

S
he should get
her head checked. What kind of foolishness was this? Going anywhere with a stranger, in a car? A guy that size would have no problem taking care of her. No problem at all.
Sometimes I’m so stupid.

But there was something about him. Something about his eyes, the set of his jaw. And it wasn’t about the hotness factor, though heavens above, the man was some kind of hot. She took a sideways glance at his bicep, that chest. He’d have no problem containing her, if he meant her harm. But she trusted him. He had this... this thing about him, like he’d been hurt. He reminded her of a wounded wolf.

Two West Two was closed, and she really didn’t have much to do. No social life. No business to worry about, since it wasn’t going to be around much longer, was it? And he was hot.

Hot men get you in trouble.

Yeah, yeah, she didn’t care about that right now. Plus, he was a headhunter. He could get her a job, or an interview at the very least. And if he really meant her any harm, he’d probably have done that last night.

She felt heat rising to her cheeks at the thought of his being here, about last night, how she’d come to be in different clothes. And most of all, at the stuff they’d done this morning. She didn’t even want to go there right now.

The drive to Galveston usually seemed long, but with Finn next to her, it seemed to fly by. He wasn’t overly talkative, so she turned on her playlist to keep from plaguing him with all the questions brewing in her head.

Almost an hour into the drive, after passing countless stretches of reed-covered, brackish water, a bridge or two, a strip club, and way more taco stands on the side of the road than there should be, she couldn’t stand it anymore. She had to talk, to ask, to find out about him.

“”Where are you from?” That seemed like a safe start.

A frown creased his forehead, but not for long. “Another country.”

Keeping one hand on the wheel, she turned his way for as long as she could afford to keep her eyes off the road. Which was pretty long, considering that Houston to Galveston was a fairly straight shot on a boring stretch of highway. “That’s not really an answer. Is it classified? What country?” She let a smile slip to counter the sharpness of her tone, but the feeling that he was hedging irritated her.

“Austria.” His head was turned away, but she could see no emotion on the reflection of his face in the tinted window of her Honda.

“You don’t have an accent.” No accent at all. Not anything from any of the American regions, and nothing foreign-sounding, either.

“I attended English-speaking private schools.”

His sticking to the facts and lack of elaboration was discouraging. Keep asking or quit? Marissa traced the wheel with a fingertip. This wasn’t looking like it would be a very eventful day. At this rate she was hesitant to ask about the headhunter thing.

“What about you? Where’s your family from?”

Oh, now he was asking about her, when he wasn’t willing to tell her jack about himself? Maybe he’d be more forthcoming if she opened up.

“Born and raised here.” They crossed the final bridge into Galveston. “This is it. Galveston.”

“I thought it would be bigger.”

“No. It may have had a chance a hundred years ago, before the big hurricane. Then things changed and it didn’t become the hub it could have.”

She turned into a Starbucks parking lot. “How about coffee and breakfast? We can enjoy it on the beach.”

“I’ll buy.” He got out of the car.

He picked up coffees and an assortment of breakfast items to go, and then they were on their way to the beach.

She drove to the seawall and pulled into a parking place. “Let’s do this.”

“Do what?” He had a puzzled look on his face.

“It’s an expression. Means, um—” Words escaped her. She’d never had to define things like this. “It just means let’s go.”

He opened the door and grabbed the food bags and coffee carrier. “Let’s do this.” His face lit up with a smile.

That’s when it hit her. She hadn’t seen that smile, that genuine grin on him as long as she’d known him.

Which isn’t all that long.

Don’t remind me.

She grabbed a couple of old towels from the back of her car and followed him down the stairs to the water. It was still early; most of the church-going families that would certainly later fill the sandy area weren’t there yet. “It’s going to get crowded. And hot,” she warned him.

“We don’t have to stay long. We can go hang out elsewhere if you like. But I’d like to finish our conversation from earlier.”

Which part?
she wondered. She’d rather finish the one where he answered some questions about himself, and not answer questions herself.

“And I don’t just mean the stuff I asked.”

“Don’t worry, I wasn’t going to let you get away with that.”

Twelve steps and thirty feet of beachfront brown sand later, she was spreading the towels on the sand while he laid out the breakfast items.

She was surprised by the amount of food. “I think we have enough for lunch here, too. Maybe even dinner.”

“I didn’t know what you’d like, so I ordered one of everything.”

A warmth built within her at his thoughtfulness.
Are you sure that’s not hormones and lust at his hotness?
Could be a little bit of that, she had to admit.

He sat on the towel and pulled his shirt over his head, revealing a wide expanse of chest, no hair, tattoo of a winged—was that a woman?—on arms that belonged on a body builder. She fought to keep from staring, and turned her attention to a morning bun that wasn’t one-tenth as appealing as his body.

“About you—” she started.

“I thought we could start with you.” He sank his teeth into a slice of banana bread with the ferocity of a large cat attacking prey, and a visual of his mouth sinking onto her, between her legs, this morning flashed through her mind.

“About a job...”

A weird look crossed his face. “Sure. But don’t you have a job? Don’t you own that restaurant?”

“Not exactly.”

That question opened a floodgate. Before she knew it, she was filling him in on developers, an asshole banker, and a deadline she’d found out about yesterday. Then she revved up even more and started talking about her father. Hours went by, the food was half-eaten and the coffees half-drunk as well as lukewarm, since nothing got cold in the afternoon temperatures on the Gulf Coast, and she was drained—talked out and drained. She hadn’t realized that sharing—blurting—that much out would be so tiring.

Sometime during their talk—which was mostly her monologue, as it turned out—Finn bought an umbrella from a man who was renting them out. Actually bought it, paying for its permanent use outright. He even told the guy he’d throw an extra twenty in if he brought them some bottled water, and, oh, the guy could keep the umbrella if they left the beach while he was still around. The guy shook his head and muttered something about some people having more money than sense, they said they could have just done a day rental and went off on a hunt for bottled water.

“I’m sorry for doing that, babbling so much. All you asked was about the restaurant.”

He smiled, white teeth more pronounced against skin that was a shade more bronze. His eyes gleamed a darker blue than before, picking up the sky’s brightness. Then it hit her, for the first time since she’d met him, which felt like it was ages ago, though it wasn’t: his eyes didn’t have a haunted look. He looked happy.

“I’m glad you shared with me.”

“And I’m still waiting for you to share with me.”

“I know. How about I do that over dinner?”

She hadn’t thought that this would turn into a whole-day sort of thing, but she had to admit she’d enjoyed herself, more than she had in a long time. “What about your umbrella? You bought it, after all.”

“Don’t really need it. I’m sure someone else will enjoy it.” He picked up the uneaten, now-hardened pastries and the coffee cups and dumped them in the trash barrel a few paces away.

She shouldn’t have, but she couldn’t help watching him walk away. To keep from getting caught, she turned just before he started back her way.

“How are you going to explain this, Marissa?” a voice asked.

Damn. Damn.