The Fixer (Games People Play #1)

Emery made it all the way to Wren’s kitchen before asking the question that had been buzzing in her head during the few hours of work she managed to put in today and the car ride back to his house. She dropped her purse on the oversized kitchen counter and turned around to face him. “What was the senator talking about to you in her office right before we left?”

Wren dropped his keys and wallet next to where her hand was braced beside her hip. Next came the tie. He loosened it and opened the top button on his shirt. Looked like he was stripping down after a long workday even though it was barely six. She guessed for him that almost qualified as a half day.

He frowned. “I honestly have no idea.”

From his confused expression she didn’t think he was hedging. Which meant the senator had said something personal. Something about dealing with people, and possibly feelings. Areas where Wren thought he came up short.

At first Emery agreed, but now she wasn’t so sure. A man who dropped his work to help a woman he didn’t know and guarded her, albeit a little too closely, but still because he genuinely worried about her, couldn’t be as cold and detached as he claimed to be. He insisted the Levi Upton side of him died years ago. But that reserve of patience and decency came from somewhere.

The way he presented his life, as a man who fixed things and stayed clear of people, only told part of the story. Then there was his friendship with Garrett, his relationships with both the senator and Detective Cryer. Most of the people who met him seemed to not only respect him but to want to stay in contact with him. She didn’t think that was just about keeping Wren close because he might be of use one day. That’s not how it was for her. Not by a long shot.

Their lives intersected. They knew some of the same people, were fighting for the same things. His soft spot for women in trouble might stem from his mother’s death, but Emery suspected it was really an indication that he was a good man. A brooding, moody, controlling one, but still good.

The only thing that scared her about him was how attached she’d become. How right it felt to walk into his house and dream about being in his bed. She didn’t normally find the commanding type attractive, but on him she had from the start. She could not fall for him . . . but that urge was getting harder to resist.

She watched him now as he moved around his kitchen. Got them both a bottle of water and checked the stove. That last part didn’t make much sense. So much about him was complex and out of reach. So much didn’t fit with the rest.

“Poor Wren.” When he looked up her heart did this crazy loop. “People are so confusing.”

He snorted. “I’m not arguing with that assessment.”

Before he walked over to her, she saw the light on in the oven. Then she inhaled. Chicken and some spice. While she enjoyed eating it, cooking was well above her skill level. Still, rosemary? Something very familiar. “Why do I smell food?”

He nodded to the area behind her. “It’s in the oven. It’s on warm, so it can stay in awhile.”

It was interesting he thought that explained anything. She was still pretty confused. “Your house magically prepares food while you’re at work. If so, rich people are way luckier than I imagined.”

He smiled. “Mrs. Hayes.”

Apparently they were just saying random names now. Either that or she missed a very big piece of information about who else lived in the house. “Excuse me?”

“I have a woman who comes in and takes care of everything.”

He had a woman . . . “Including you.”

“If you’re asking if she cooks for me then yes.” He did not blink. “Her job requirements are limited to household things.”

She wasn’t sure what to ask next. She’d known he did well and had money. She didn’t know he had paying-people-to-tie-his-shoes money. “Does she live here?”

“No.”

“But she works for you?”

“A lot of people work for me.” His voice took on an edge.

She wasn’t exactly sure which question made his defenses rise, but one of them sure did. “It was a simple question.”

“It felt like a judgment.”

She had to admit that was fair. Living in the DC area she walked around with these stereotypes in her head about men in power. Men with lots of money. Men who lived in this ritzy neighborhood. He actually smashed all of her old theories to dust.

Despite that, she was still a little weirded out by the idea of a woman coming into the house and picking up after her once she was gone. The whole notion kind of made Emery feel like a secret or a trophy or something. She couldn’t really mentally nail down why it made her twitchy, but it did.

“Is she here now?” she asked, hoping the answer was no because it meant she was hiding in a closet or something.

“I texted and asked her to make dinner then take the next few days off.”

That validated all of her fears. “Because I’m here. Are you afraid I’ll scare her?”

He put a hand on either side of her on the counter’s edge, basically trapping her between his arms. “I’m hoping we’ll have sex tonight and maybe again tomorrow, and I figured you didn’t want an audience.”

Helenkay Dimon's books