Falling In (The Surrender Trilogy 1)

“I—I can come back at a better time,” she stuttered stupidly.

“Nonsense. I was just sitting down to have lunch. Have you eaten?”

Scout’s eyes blinked as her brain worked. His silk sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. The top button of his shirt was undone and his tie hung loosely at his neck. Parker was the only man she ever really looked at. Parker’s skin was still youthful, while this man’s skin was tanned and roughened slightly with the dark shadow of coarse hair under the surface.

Her dry throat swallowed back a lump that had formed somewhere over her voice box. He heaved a sigh and suddenly reached for her cart and pulled it over the threshold.

“Oh, sir, no. I can do that.”

Scout followed him and her cart into the apartment like a kitten chasing a string. He needed to stop touching her things. He parked the cart at the end of the hall and turned. She staggered to a stop.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“Your question?” she repeated stupidly.

“Have you had lunch?”

“I just finished my break. If you don’t want me to come back later, I can be finished here in a few minutes. I didn’t mean to interrupt your lunch.”

Scout reached to the bottom of the cart for her bag of supplies, but he grabbed her arm. His large, tanned hand circled her wrist like a manacle and he pulled her toward the seating area.

“Wh-what are you doing?” she stammered. Her feet quickly hurried after his much-longer strides.

He released her arm and turned. “Sit.”

Instinctively she dropped her weight to the edge of the settee. He lifted two pewter covers and the scent of warm, rotisserie-style meat filled the room. Her stomach cramped at the reminder of her hunger and her mouth watered.

Some sort of small chicken sat on each plate. There were long green beans with slivered almonds in a buttery sauce, and a fancy-shaped pile of mashed potatoes that looked more like toasted ice cream the way it swirled into a peak. It suddenly occurred to her that there was two of everything.

“You were expecting someone.”

“Yes.”

He sat beside her and she was intensely aware of the way his warm thigh touched the naked flesh on her knee peeking from below her uniform.

“These are Cornish game hens. Have you ever had them before? They’re a bit tougher than chicken, but equally as savory when prepared properly.”

Her eyes went wide as he spread a linen napkin over her lap. She shot to her feet, catching the napkin before it fell to the ground.

“Sir, I can’t eat your food.”

“Of course you can. I ordered it for you.”

“You—you ordered this for me?” Why would he do that?

“Well, not all of it. Half is for me.” He smirked, only the corner of his mouth participating in the expression.

She shook her head. “I’ll lose my job. I’m sorry. I’ll come back later.” She quickly turned and walked toward the hall.

“Evelyn.”

At the sound of her legal name she froze. Slowly, she faced him. “How did you know my name?” she whispered.

“It was on your paperwork.”

“What paperwork?”

“Your application.”

“You read my application?”

He raised one dark brow. “You rummaged through my desk.”

“I—” This was insane. “Sir, I’ve already apologized about that. I promise you, it wasn’t what it looked like.”

“And what did it look like, Evelyn?”

No one used her real name aside from her mother, and even she rarely called her that. She hated that name. It didn’t fit her.

“Like I was snooping,” she admitted shamefully.

“Were you?”

“No!”

“Good. Now that that’s all cleared up we can eat.”

He replaced his napkin on his lap and sliced into the small bird on his plate. Succulent juices spurted from the crispy skin as his polished silver knife created neat little slices like fallen dominos. Her stomach made an obnoxious whining sound and she blushed.

“Come sit, Evelyn.”

Her feet carried her across the carpet and her eyes glazed with hunger as his nimble fingers worked. His silverware was thick and shiny, nothing like the dull stuff they gave them at the shelter. He speared a small bit of the tender white meat and popped it in his mouth.

“Mmm. You should really try some while it’s still warm.”

“Sir—”

“Lucian.”

“What?”

“My name is Lucian.”

Scout shook her head. He took another bite and groaned.

“Lucian, I thank you for the offer, but I’m an employee and I have a job to do.”

“I’m quite aware of your purpose, being that I pay your salary. I find your work ethic quite admirable, Evelyn, but you’re spoiling my thoughtful gesture.”

As his words set in she stared at him. She couldn’t move. Did he just say he paid her salary?

“What did you say your name was?” she asked in a hoarse whisper.

He sighed and placed his fork on the edge of his plate. His fingers swiped quickly over the linen napkin and he leaned back. His eyes studied her for a long moment and she fought the urge to cover herself from his penetrating gaze.