Maybe it was because her smile lit up his world. So did the way she cared so fiercely for those in her life, even him, which made him one lucky son of a bitch. When he made her laugh, he felt like Superman. And when he made her melt . . . God. He could still see how she’d looked in her office, trembling for his touch.
And when he’d given in to it, his foundation had cracked. He could tell himself that what had happened had been a mutual explosion of pent-up need and frustration and that was it. But that was a lie.
It wasn’t over and it wasn’t done. Ever since that kiss on the mountain, he’d been telling himself that was it. That he wouldn’t give into further temptation, he wouldn’t play with her, never her.
But the thing was, he wasn’t playing at all. He was dead serious.
And suddenly that no longer scared him or had any sort of power over him. He didn’t want it to be over or done. Truthfully, she was the best thing in his life and he was a complete idiot if he let her walk away from him.
Unfortunately, or maybe fortunately, the guys piled into his office at that moment and they were off and running the job for a high-profile criminal attorney involving a missing witness and a cover-up. It spilled over into the weekend and through much of the week, it was Thursday morning before he had a moment to breathe or think of anything outside of the job.
He’d texted Elle several times and had gotten no response. It was early, too early to catch her in her office because he’d disturb her while she was in class. So he went into his office, trying to make a dent in the ever growing paperwork, his mind playing Friday night in Elle’s office on repeat.
Christ, he’d screwed up all year, keeping his distance like he had. But then Elle had upped the ante, offering him emotional support at every turn like . . . like they were something to each other. And he realized she was right. They were something to each other. They were everything.
Stay the hell away from me . . .
He’d long ago promised himself he’d never hurt her. He’d die first. But with Friday night flashing through his mind—the crazy storm, the feel of Elle’s sweet, curvy body against his, the sound of her soft sighs in his ear, how she’d reached for him as she’d come, his name on her lips . . .
He wasn’t going to be able to stay the hell away from her.
He’d given her time this week only because he’d had no choice, but the job was over now and he wanted, needed, to see her. Something had changed for him, in a big way. And he was over watching her from afar. Over worrying about their past and whether she might be with him now because of gratitude or a sense of debt.
He’d take her however he could get her and he wanted her at his side, for keeps.
Aware that it would be a hard sell, he was working on his pitch but he hadn’t gotten anywhere when Spence called him up to the roof. Few people knew about the best spot in the building, from which there was the kind of view of San Francisco and the entire bay that postcards were made of.
Spence had brought breakfast burritos and they sat, legs hanging over the edge of the five-story building, watching the world go by.
“What’s the occasion?” Archer asked.
“The week sucks. Breakfast burritos make it better.”
Archer looked over at him. Because while it was true—breakfast burritos did make everything better—there was more to this story, he could tell. He felt like a jerk because he’d been so focused on himself—and Elle—that he’d neglected his best friend. “You still working on that new drone prototype with Caleb?”
“We accidentally blew it up.”
Archer grimaced. “Sorry, man. How about your date this past weekend, the secret one you made me swear on my life not to tell anyone about—”
“Didn’t work out,” Spence said glumly.
“Why?”
“She’d looked me up.”
Shit. This was unfortunately all too common. Once a woman caught a whiff of Spence’s net worth, she usually pulled out all the stops to hook him. “I told you to let me vet her,” he said. He—or Elle or any of the others—always tried to vet all Spence’s dates because, although the guy was a genius, he had zero ability to weed out the ones looking for their MRS degrees.
“She seemed normal,” Spence said.
“But?”
“But she thought I’d be interested in getting married ASAP. No prenup.”
Archer had to laugh. “On date one, no less. She definitely gets this month’s Gold Digger Award.”
Spence shoved some more fries into his mouth. Spence often said much more with his silences than his words. He wasn’t shy or introverted but he could be quiet, focused on his work, and come off as uninterested.
Elle called him a sexy geek, but Archer knew the guy’s love life hadn’t been all that exciting.
Neither had Archer’s, until Elle. Now he felt both like the luckiest son of a bitch on the planet and the most terrified because she had all the power. And that was a true first for him. “You ever been in love?” he asked.
Spence blinked. “I’m sorry, did you just ask me a relationship question? Because you’re allergic to relationships, remember?”
Archer shifted uncomfortably, already sorry he’d brought it up, but it was too late now. “Well, have you?”
“Are we really going to talk about . . . love? The two most emotionally stunted guys I know?”
“Humor me,” Archer grated out.
“Okay then . . .” Spence shrugged. “Yeah. Or at least I thought I was. And you know this already.”
“But you felt like you’d protect her, no matter what?”
“Of course. Why?” Spence slid a look his way. “Do you, uh, love Elle? Wait. Shit. Don’t answer that. I don’t want to know.” He ran his hands over his face. “This way if Elle ever asks me if we talked about this, I can deny it.” He dropped his hands and glared at Archer. “But the next time you’re having an emotional meltdown, call a professional like Willa or Pru.”
“It’s not a meltdown,” Archer said, but he was talking to himself because Spence was walking to the stairwell door. “At least not a big one.”
He’d just gotten back to his office when Mollie buzzed to tell him that someone was there to see him. He looked at his schedule. “Who?” he asked, not seeing any appointments or meetings until later.
“Morgan Wheaton.”
He stilled. It’d been a long time since he’d heard or thought of Elle’s sister. “Send her in.”
Morgan walked into his office with the same easy, natural confidence her younger sister, Elle, usually displayed but there was a subtle difference.
Elle’s grace came naturally.
Morgan only imitated it.
“Well, look who traded up,” she said, eyeballing his office. “Nice digs.” She smiled but it didn’t quite meet her eyes. “How’ve you been, Officer Hunt?”
“We both know I’m not a cop anymore.”
“No shit.” She walked to his window and looked out. It was only February but she wore a flimsy sundress with a thin denim jacket opened to reveal her assets. Her bare legs went on for days, and she wore the kind of sandals that strapped up her calves to her knees, all carefully orchestrated for maximum effect, which wasn’t that difficult to achieve with the Wheaton-family genes.
She looked a lot like Elle but with something important missing.