Torie hurried into the car, whipping out of the driveway with the same speed with which she’d pulled into it. Heaven only knew what was going on with Dev. He was an enigma. On one hand, his specialty was green construction, save-the-planet type stuff. On the other, he had been a bodyguard, and in his wilder days, a mercenary. At least that was her guess. He wouldn’t talk about it, and neither would anyone else in the family.
Her phone rang again. Paul.
“Hey, I’m on the way,” she told him. “Is everything okay there? What was the emergency?”
“Someone hacked into the company computers. We’ve lost a huge amount of data. We’re trying to reconstruct what happened. The partners are meeting about how to respond.”
“Aren’t you a partner now? Shouldn’t you be in the meeting?”
There was a moment of silence, then Paul laughed. “Yeah, I guess I should. I’m not used to that yet.”
“It happened quickly, I guess. And with me screwing up your life at the moment, I’m sure it’s hard to get excited about it.”
“You’re not screwing up my life, Torie.”
“I’m not sure about that. I seem to screw up everything I touch,” she murmured.
“No. Don’t take responsibility for something someone else is doing to you. You’re not to blame in this, Torie. Anymore than you were to blame in college.”
That very phrase had started their knock-down, drag-out fight at the end of their one tempestuous, hot, sexy, and disastrous college date.
“I don’t want to talk about that,” she interrupted. “It’s old news.”
“Maybe,” Paul said, but let it drop. “Anyway, what’s happening now is the work of someone who’s really crazy, Torie. Two people are dead, you could have been hurt or killed in the fire. It’s a miracle you weren’t.”
“I know.”
His voice dropped into a more intimate range. “I would never have recovered if anything happened to you.”
Stunned, Torie missed the turn that would take her to Paul’s office. “Uh…” She finally got a word out beyond her surprise. “Thank you.” Focusing on him, she realized that if she lost him, if something happened to him…
“Torie? Are you still there?”
“Yes, yes. Sorry, I missed my turn.” What could she say to that? How could she say she felt the same? Did she? What had she done?
“I know we shouldn’t get involved, you know that, right?” He didn’t sound like that made him happy.
“No, no, we shouldn’t.”
“You’re my client. I’m not supposed to—” Paul started.
“I’m in such trouble, and I don’t—” Torie spoke at the same time.
They both laughed. Paul cut off her line of thinking. “Trouble is what I’m good at, Torie. It’s my job. We’ll figure this out, get you back on track. I want to help.”
“My life just sucks.”
Paul laughed, but his voice had turned professional. “Yeah, it does. Oh, excuse me,” he spoke to someone in the office. “Okay. Torie? Seems like I am expected to be in that meeting. Just park in the slot, and come on up. Martha’s here, and she’ll get you situated. You can use my office for whatever you need.”
“Okay, thanks.”
“And Torie?”
“Yeah?”
“Want to go out to dinner tonight?” Paul said in a rush, his voice muffled, as if he’d cupped his hand over the phone. “To celebrate the partnership?”
“Uh,” Torie began.
“Just think about it. Okay?” He quickly said good-bye and hung up.
Torie wasn’t sure what had just happened. She circled the two blocks necessary to get her back to the garage entrance, mentally apologizing to Marco, the bodyguard, for making him do the same. She had yet one more civil conversation—almost lover like—with Paul Jameson. Had he just asked her on a, well, a real date?
She was living in his house, but she was a guest. It was temporary. She wasn’t…
A memory of Paul’s amazing hands, the way his body had felt above hers, caressing her, flashed into her mind.
Stress made you do funny things.
She pulled into the garage and parked. Leaning her head onto the headrest, she closed her eyes. What the hell had she done? What had they both done? They’d unleashed something between them in the early morning. Something that had slumbered for a long, long time.
That something, however, was hemmed in by pain.
Torie felt her body quiver, remembering how deeply she’d felt him, how fully. It had been a mistake. But she’d needed to feel alive, feel like something, anything, was good in the world.
And it had been good. It had been earth-shattering and fabulous. She’d always enjoyed and appreciated sex, but wondered why people would kill for it. Or die for it. Sex with Paul had the kind of dangerous quality that gave
