COME WHEN CALLED (Billionaire & Biker Menage Romance) Page 13

  To divert attention she briskly strode to the closet and threw open the double doors. At her first glimpse of the room—and it truly was a room—she gasped out loud and her hand flew to her mouth. Cream-colored, built-in wooden shelving and drawers covered nearly every inch of wall-space. Chrome and crystal drawer pulls and hanging bars gleamed everywhere in the light from a twinkling chandelier. A tri-fold mirror promised she’d never leave the room without her ass looking perfect.

  It wasn’t a closet. It was a dressing room in a high-end boutique.

  Realizing her hand was still covering her mouth, she dropped it to her side and peeked at him. He was watching her intently, a proud smile on his face. “It’s okay? I did it right?”

  Evie nodded, raising her eyebrows. “Oh yes. You did it right.”

  His dimples flashed as brightly as the sparkling drawer pulls. “Of course I did.” He winked at her and he was his arrogant, playful self again.

  She ran her hand along a shelf with longing, picturing the shoes she wished she could fill it with. Stepping up to the three-way mirror, she saw Ford move up behind her and peer over her shoulder at her reflection. “I’m glad you’re here,” he said simply.

  “Me too.” And Evie felt nothing but pure honesty in both their statements. Satisfaction swelled in her chest. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt this good. How could she feel so connected to this man and yet held so far away from him at the same time?

  After studying her for a moment, he added, “You’re so beautiful.” He reached up and swept her hair back off her shoulder, exposing her collarbone. “I truly enjoy your company.”

  Her heart leapt at his unexpected words and touch, and she felt an addictive wave of joy. It felt too close to the stirrings of love. Like pure happiness surging through her veins. It probably wasn’t unlike the feeling John got from cocaine, and for one insane moment, Evie understood why a person might do almost anything to keep feeling that good, that happy.

  Jellybeans.

  Ford’s voice cut through her trance. “Now Evie, there’s something we need to discuss. Don’t lie to me. Your things are not in your car, are they?”

  She froze. How did he see through her like that? “No.”

  “I’m assuming you have things. Where are they?”

  “Still at my apartment,” she mumbled.

  “I see.” His tone was disapproving. “So there is some doubt over the length of your stay here? You’re not ready to make the commitment to move in yet?”

  “No! That’s not it.” She met his eyes in the mirror’s reflection, imploring him to hear the truth in her words.

  “Good,” he said simply, not asking any further questions. He took her hand and turned her around, pulling a black credit card from his pocket and holding it up. “This is yours. Buy whatever you want. Think of it as a fringe benefit.” He pressed the card into her palm.

  Just as she took a breath to make a demurral he added, holding his finger up as if he were warning a child, “But Evie, I expect you to buy things I would want to see you in.”

  He was standing so close that the vanilla-leather of his cologne swirled through her senses. She blinked, unsure how to respond to his presumptuous instructions, but he let go of her hand and left the closet before she could decide.

  Following him out, her mind churned over whether she should refuse the credit card, or refuse to buy things based on pleasing him, or just refuse it all. But, really, she liked the idea. She pictured lingerie shopping and her heart leapt. She hadn’t had extra spending money in so long. Besides, it was his money. Wouldn’t it just be rude to spend it without thinking of him?

  He strode toward her bag. “Is this all you have?”

  “Um, yeah.”

  He looked from the bag to her with disdain. “You need to go shopping. Today.”

  “No!” She heard the panicked edge in her voice and made an effort to dial it back. “No. I don’t really want to go out.” She was afraid to leave the gated and guarded estate. At least not until she had John’s money in hand.

  He regarded her with a perplexed look, his lips pursing as he thought. Her stomach sank. He was going to make her explain everything and then he’d know the extent of the trouble she’d gotten into. Could he use it to hurt her too? Would he make her leave?

  “Knock knock!” A loud rapping on the door and an unfamiliar, deep voice ripped through the tension in the room.

  Ford and Evie both jumped and turned to the door to see a man push it open and enter the room. No, “enter the room” didn’t capture it. The man swooped in, exploded, split an atom and created more energy than the room could handle.

  Evie stepped backward instinctively, stumbling as her heel caught the edge of the rug. She awkwardly righted herself without taking her eyes off the guy.

  He was well over six feet tall and had the bulk of someone who spent a lot of time in the gym, lifting free-weights—tons of them. Or maybe he’d lifted those weights in prison? Whoever he was, he looked out of place. He and Ford couldn’t be more different.

  Ford had refined, handsome features. This man was gruff, rugged. His tight, worn jeans looked well-used…and were being well-filled, she hadn’t meant to notice. A white tee-shirt, also tight, stretched across his barrel of a chest. And his big, black motorcycle boots were stomping on her new, pristine, ivory rug.

  She opened her mouth to ask him if he would mind backing his big, dirty feet off her carpet when she caught on to his abrupt change in body language. His now hostile posture screamed “fight or flight”—she recognized it from her kung fu training—and her adrenaline surged.

  His icy demeanor was directed at her and the anger on his face looked awkward on him—as if it rarely made an appearance. His wide smile had collapsed into a mash-lipped frown. His shaggy brown hair was casually mussed over big, dark eyes that looked like they might have been warm if he hadn’t at that moment been glaring holes through her as if she was there to rob him.

  She closed her mouth on her scolding for him to get off the rug, thrown by his response to her.

  Ford looked from the man to Evie and back, hesitating. He put a hand on the man’s large bicep, wrapping his long fingers around the back of the man’s arm. “Charley?”

  The man’s attention snapped to Ford. “This is your new assistant?”

  “Yes.” Ford’s eyes bore into the newcomer’s as if he thought he could achieve telepathic communication out of sheer will. “This is Evie.”

  Ford gestured toward the large man with his free hand. “And Evie, this is Charley.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHARLEY TOOK A step away from Ford, forcing him to release his arm. He tore his eyes from Ford and glared at Evie. “Pleased to meet you, ma’am,” Charley mumbled stiffly. He had a slight southern drawl, and he was anything but pleased to meet her.

  “Hi Charley. Ford’s mentioned you. I didn’t know we’d be introduced so quickly.” She tried to make her voice sound bright, but she was afraid to move her eyes from him, unsure what was behind his thorny reception.

  Charley stuck his hands in his back pockets and looked at his boots for a long, silent moment. He swiveled his head to Ford. “So Evie is smart.”

  “Very smart.” Ford crossed his arms, watching Charley intently.

  “And she’s got a good sense about business, you said.”

  “Excellent.”

  Charley’s jaw flexed as he stared at Ford for a few tense moments more before turning back to Evie. “And she is also very pretty.” It was an accusation, not a compliment.

  Evie’s brows knit. Her mind raced through implausible scenarios and discomforting thoughts about the two men. The two friends.

  “She’s beautiful.” Ford’s voice was patient as he studied Charley.

  Charley looked back at Ford, and, apparently not seeing in Ford whatever it was he was looking for, grunted and retreated to one of the large windows, his big shoulders hunched.

  Ford ignored Charley’s beha
vior. “I didn’t hear you drive up.”

  Staring out the window, Charlie kept his back to them. “I brought the truck. I thought you might need me to haul away boxes or something.”

  Ford chuckled. “That won’t be necessary. She didn’t bring anything.”

  Charley whirled back to them, eyebrows raised. “She didn’t bring anything?”

  Ford shook his head.

  “Why?”

  Ford pursed his lips and frowned. “Yes, Evie. Why didn’t you bring anything?”

  Chest constricting, her eyes darted back and forth between the two men. She wasn’t going to tell Ford why she’d been forced to abandon her stuff, especially not in front of this overgrown anger-management dropout. Planting her hands on her hips, she deflected the question. “Instead, how about you two tell me what the fuck is going on here.”

  Crossing his arms and rocking back on his heels, Charley actually smiled and peeked at Ford, who appeared unfazed.

  “Not very professional though, is she?” Charley asked, a good natured smirk teasing his lips. The positive energy he’d burst into the room with came trickling back as his posture loosened.

  Ford stared at Evie, his face serious but his eyes crinkling at the corners. “No. She’s not. We’re going to need to do something about that.”

  Evie huffed and crossed her arms. It was a standoff. She wasn’t going to answer their question and they weren’t going to answer hers.

  Ford leaned toward Charley, stage-whispering, “She throws knives too.”

  Charley raised his eyebrows. “Knives?”

  “And she knows kung fu. So you might want to ratchet the hostility back a bit.”

  “Yeah.” Evie hadn’t liked Charley’s aggressive reception one bit. It had scared her, and fear always brought out the worst in Evie. “What’s up with that, anyway? Were you hoping to get the closet with the chandelier?”

  Charley’s eyes flashed hatred, but it blinked out as his face closed off. Shifting his body away from Ford’s, Charley’s shoulders rounded a bit. Evie noticed the subtle signs. She’d hit a button.

  What the hell?

  Averting her eyes, she willed herself not to feel for him, but it was too late. Evie, like anyone who grows up with a volatile parent, learned early on how to read the subtlest body language. She’d seen the way Charley had deflated at her remark, and she’d regretted it instantly.

  She chewed the inside of her cheek for a distraction. How did hurting this mountain of a man make her feel as if she’d just kicked a small puppy? Opening her mouth, she tried to find an apology but failed. Despite his tough exterior, Evie had obviously poked him in a vulnerable place. And she really hated being “that person”. The kind that hits below the belt.

  “Okay, children.” Ford’s voice carried an edge. “I think that’s quite enough, don’t you?” He pressed a hand to Charley’s shoulder, squeezing. “Evie, Charley came to help you move your things and unpack.”

  “Oh. That was nice of you, Charley,” Evie said woodenly. Charley nodded and straightened his frame, rolling his shoulders back into a cocky stance and refusing to look at either of them.

  “Now instead of helping you with your belongings, Charley’s going to take you clothes shopping. I want you two to spend the day together.”

  “What?” Charley and Evie yelped in unison, snapping their attention to Ford.

  “Charley.” Ford’s voice adopted that velvet persuasion that was as irresistible as a purring tomcat. “You offered to help and this is the help I need right now. I have meetings today.” Ford looked at his watch. Charley opened his mouth to protest but Evie beat him to it.

  “Ford, I don’t need Charley to chauffeur me around. If you have a computer I can use, I’ll just order some things off the internet. Charley can leave.”

  “And I don’t know anything about shopping for women’s clothes anyway!” Charley protested.

  A smile tugged at the corners of Ford’s lips. “You know what a woman looks good in and you know what I like.” Ford stepped toward Evie and wrapped his hand into the indentation of her waist, smoothing his palm slowly down the bow of her hip, following the trail of his hand with his eyes. Evie flicked her gaze to Charley and his brown eyes locked to hers for only the space of a breath, but in those seconds she saw his recognition of why she stood there, not moving, not protesting Ford’s too intimate touch. She saw it in the softening of Charley’s mouth, glimpsed the understanding through his thick lashes as he averted his eyes.

  And suddenly she was desperate not to break the connection with Charley’s eyes, even if he didn’t want to be there any more than she wanted him there. It was like someone holding her hand when she needed a few extra guts. She could tell he knew Ford’s power—knew what she was desperate to understand. So when Charley dragged his eyes from hers to look at his boots, a tug of loss surfaced inside her.

  Ford tightened his hand on her hip and turned her slightly. “Charley, look. I want you to look at her.” Charley raised his eyes slowly, focusing on Ford’s hand, low on her hip.

  Lightheaded, she couldn’t seem to get enough air. Her heart was hammering in her chest. Ford was blatantly displaying her to his friend. His friend who didn’t like her. She should have stepped away, but his fingers felt so…

  She lowered her eyes, acquiescing to the show Ford was putting on for Charley. But where she was certain she should have felt shame for not pushing Ford away, instead her flesh tingled as she relished the simple pressure of Ford’s fingers into her hip, his attention riveted to her body. She trained her eyes on his fingers, trying to pretend Charley wasn’t five feet away, his grubby, black boots on her pale, new rug.

  “Look at her curves.” Ford’s voice rumbled with sex and Evie thought Charley shouldn’t be in the room. This was too private.

  “Charley, you would know exactly what to do with her.” Ford turned his intense eyes to the other man, who stood stock-still, watching them. “You would know just what I would want. Isn’t that right?”

  Evie and Charley caught eyes and looked away quickly. They both knew Ford wasn’t talking about clothes shopping. Was he offering her to Charley?

  No. No way. That was crazy—who would do such a thing? Evie thought about Ford’s line—the one he wasn’t anywhere near crossing.

  Thrill—unmistakable sexual hunger—crawled over Evie’s skin. It was a feeling she’d only experienced around Ford. Lust, sharpened to a point by discomfort. Goddamn, it was addictive. Feeling flushed, she shifted from one foot to the other. Where was Ford going with this?

  Ford moved away from Evie and stepped halfway in between the two fidgeting figures. Crossing his arms, he surveyed their mutual demeanors before taking an exaggerated breath.

  “My Charley and my Evie,” he sighed. They both looked sharply at Ford, seeming surprised he’d said it about the other. “We are part of each other’s lives now and the sooner we make this work, the better. I hate wasting time.” Neither of them responded.

  He turned his focus to Evie. “I have a laptop prepared for you. It’s in the top, middle drawer of the dresser. If you insist upon not going out, you can order things from the internet and have them shipped overnight. And I will pick up some things for you while I’m out.”

  “Oh. Okay. Thanks.” Thank god she’d gotten out of spending the day with Charley.

  “Great,” Charley said, too loudly. “Then I’ll get outta here. Nice meeting you, Evie.” He nodded his head to her. “Ford, I’ll walk out with you.”

  But Ford dipped his head and smiled. “No Charley,” he said quietly. “I haven’t changed my mind. I want you to spend the day with Evie.”

  Evie closed her eyes. This wasn’t happening.

  “I’ll be gone for most of the day today, I’m afraid. My chef always keeps meals prepared in the fridge in the kitchen if you get hungry. You two get to know each other and when I come home tonight we’ll all have dinner together.”

  Charley didn’t protest any further. He shoved his
hands in his back pockets and stared toward the windows, his face set.

  “Evie, house rules. I don’t like visitors, so if there’s ever anyone you need to see, I’m afraid I have to ask you to meet them out somewhere, away from the house. Will that be a problem?”

  “No.” When Evie had moved to the city to start her new life as a paralegal, she’d made the mistake of getting wrapped up so quickly with John that she hadn’t made her own friends, not that she ever had any anyway. After she and John had broken up, she’d stayed to herself. With a little sadness she realized there wasn’t even anyone she’d need to tell that she’d moved. No one but John would be looking for her. She wrapped her arms around herself.

  “Charley’s a visitor,” she pointed out petulantly, redirecting her discomfort.

  “Charley is not a visitor. He’s part of my life.”

  Charley turned reluctant eyes to Ford, his tense muscles—so many of them—loosening slightly.

  Ford moved to where she stood, taking her elbows in his hands. “Thank you for coming here. I think the arrangement will be good for us. Just what we need.” But after this strange introduction, she wasn’t sure if the “us” included Charley or not.

  He kissed her cheek and lingered for one tense millisecond that caused a tempest inside her. She’d never wanted to kiss anyone as badly as she wanted to kiss him at that moment. Kiss him as if she was poisoned and he was the antidote. She wanted him to assure her that everything about them had not just changed completely the moment Charley had burst through that door.

  But there was no “them”. She knew that. He turned to leave.

  “Wait!” she called as his hand touched the doorknob. “Is there a lock on the door?”

  Brow furrowed, he turned back to her. “I’m sorry, what?”

  “A lock.” She pointed at the door. “Can I lock the door?”

  “Yes.” He depressed the button of the standard doorknob click-lock and then unlocked it to demonstrate.

  “No, I need a real lock. With a key.”

  A cloud passed over his face. “Are you afraid to be in the house with me?”