Risky Business

Holding up my hands in a classic ‘no harm, no foul’ move, I step back. Slowly, I reach into my pocket for my phone. One press and it starts ringing.

“What’s wrong?” Jayme answers.

“Hello to you too. Why do you assume something’s wrong?” I say, narrowing my eyes at the way the guard’s lips are twitching. Is he laughing at me?

“Carson, it’s nearly eleven thirty at night, so either this is a booty call—which it had better not be—or something’s wrong.” She sounds fearful that I might’ve forgotten my promise to be good already, and I contemplate telling her some crazy story like I saved a rabid racoon from a forest fire, but it bit my nose, causing a bulbous red clown look, and it’ll be on the morning news complete with an interview with Carson ‘Bozo’ Steen.

Or maybe go with something believable like I got arrested for a bar fight, but that’s considerably more boring. But honesty worked with Ellie, so I take my chances again, this time with Jayme.

“Neither. But I am downstairs, and your bouncer won’t let me in since I’m not on The List. So come downstairs, okay? Wear jeans and a jacket.” The doorman flicks his eyes from me to the motorcycle behind me and grinds his teeth. Unconsciously, I take a step back to give me a fighting chance if he throws down.

Or to get a head start. I might be quicker than him.

She’s quiet for so long I look at my phone to see if she’s hung up, but the call timer is still counting up. Is she thinking about doing it or trying to figure out how to get out of it? Or worse, how to talk me out of riding again?

“Give me ten minutes,” she says breathlessly.

One look at Deadly Doorman has me suggesting, “Make it five or you might have to call in a missing person’s case. Remember, the doorman did it.”

Her laugh is bright and light. “Myron? He’s a softie, wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

I look at the Myron she’s talking about, who’s scowling and blocking the doorway as though he really wishes I’d make a move for it so he can tackle me. I can see the ‘come on, try it’ plea in his eyes. And this guy’s name is Myron? That sounds like a computer tech guy, not a deadly machine of a man.

“If you say so. Just remember, Yronmay idday tiay.” I wait a moment, double-checking my Pig Latin in my mind. “Shit, I think I said that wrong, but you know what I meant.”

She hangs up still laughing and promising to hurry. Myron breaks his silence as I put the phone back into my pocket. “You didn’t say it wrong,” he declares flatly.

Awkward! And vaguely threatening.

Luckily, Jayme seems to hustle, and only a few moments later, she appears, walking toward the door. Without looking back, Myron opens the door right on cue.

Does he have eyes in the back of his head or something?

Somehow, that seems possible. But the idea disappears when Jayme steps through the door. She’s stunning in her professional pencil skirts and blouses, but dressed down, Jayme is all badass babe. Her light-wash jeans have rips that show small slivers of thigh and knee and expertly highlight her curves. Her booties are black with a small, stacked heel that gives her legs the illusion of extra length. And her simple black T-shirt is cropped and loose-fitting, making me imagine ways to get a peek at the soft skin of her belly. Or better yet, get my hands there.

And in just another twist of fate, she’s wearing a classic leather flight jacket. On Tom Cruise it looks pretty sweet. On Jayme Rice? Absolutely sexy. I greet her with a smile, running an appreciative hand down her leather sleeve. “You look gorgeous.”

She says thank you, but the nervous smile says she’s uncertain about my sudden appearance at her apartment tonight. I want to allay those fears immediately. “You tracked me down last night, so I’m returning the favor. Full disclosure, I got your address from the visitor log.”

Myron grunts. “Ma’am?”

She holds a hand up to Myron, and though he’s not happy about it, he honors her wishes. To me, she asks, “Why?”

I step closer, wishing it were only the two of us to hear this confession. “Because even though we spent all day together, within minutes of your leaving, all I wanted was to see you again. And tomorrow seemed so far away. So I thought we could go for a ride.”

One of her arched brows lifts. “A ride? That’s it?” I repeat the crossed heart motion and charming smile that got Ellie on my side, hoping they work on Jayme too. She points her finger into my chest as she tells me, “You are bad, Carson. We talked about that, remember?”