By the Book (7 page)

“Your book, of course.” The smile became a grin, and she sat back, body language shifting in an instant to nonchalant, carefree, playful. The grin she bestowed on me like a badge of honor marked the switch back to whatever had come before this interlude.

I could barely remember. I thought we’d been a civilized couple entertaining a guest. Then she’d cast a spell and just as easily broken it.

“My…book?” Daniel dipped his head during the pause, emphasizing that it wasn’t born of uncertainty about what to say next. No, he was questioning us—mainly Georgia—about her motives.
Are you sure that’s what you wanted to discuss?

“Yep. We’ve both read it. Haven’t we, Reece?”

Startled by this summoning, I jerked upright, laying one hand on the table to ground myself in reality. “Yes. Yes, we have.” I drummed my fingers on the table. They fascinated me as if they belonged to someone else. Disembodied.

“You sound a bit uncertain there,” Daniel teased, looking at me with hardly any movement elsewhere in his body. Just a tilt of his head, gaze focused on me.

“Are you going to test me on it?”

“No, no. I believe you.”

“He read it first,” Georgia put in. “Whizzed through it. Kept trying to tell me about it, but I forbade him because that would have spoiled it for when I read it.”

I felt my cheeks burn, tried not to catch Daniel’s eye again, but inevitably did so, and above the stubble peppering his jaw, a faint blush colored his cheeks. Maybe the wine, maybe bashfulness about his work. “I have a fan?” He raised his glass, toasting me with the last few drops of wine before he drained them. “Makes it all worthwhile.” A dimple showed on that same blushing face, a wink punctuating his sideways glance with momentary flirtation.

Georgia had ramped it up a few notches. Daniel had risen to the challenge admirably. It was only I who held back, not wanting to seem out of my depth.

I shouldn’t have been surprised Daniel was going along with this. Whatever undercurrents there were in the room—and there were definitely some—he wasn’t fazed in the slightest.

I
knew what Georgia and I had “discussed” in the sense of skirting the issue, dancing around it, hinting, articulating with nothing more than a glance, a smirk, an unspoken suggestion.
We
had mastered wordless communication as a couple, and something told me Daniel wouldn’t take too long to interpret those wordless words too.

“Well, I liked it. A
lot
,” Georgia added, lowering both her lashes and her voice, laying a gentle hand on Daniel’s forearm, fingertips grazing the inside of his wrist.

I shuddered as if it was me she’d touched. Seduction by proxy.

“Especially the conversation in chapter seventeen. The way Wes spoke to Father Thomas, I knew the priest was hiding something.”

“Ah, the ecclesiastical equivalent of the doctor-patient privilege.” Daniel nodded. “I was a bit concerned about making a man of the cloth a baddie, in case readers thought I was picking on all priests.” He shrugged. “Not all. Just this one.”

“And even then he wasn’t all bad. I prefer ambiguous characterization. I’m sick of reading books where people wear black hats and white hats.”

Daniel burst out laughing. “You’ve heard that saying too? Yes. No one’s entirely good or evil. We all have faults.”

“Not everyone’s covering up a decades-old murder though,” I pointed out.

“True, true.”

“Unless there’s something about yourself you’re not telling us?” I teased, falling into the easy conversation—or if not falling, then jumping and hoping for the best.

“Absolutely not.” He touched a hand to his heart in mock offense. “I’m an angel.”

Georgia snorted with laughter. “I’ll believe that when I see it. How a… How old are you?”

“Twenty-nine.”

“How a twenty-nine-year-old man could write a fifty-six-year-old murderer so well unless he’d sold his soul, I don’t know.”

“Ah, you got me. Didn’t get much for it though. A farthing, a groat, and some milk bottle tops. The writing talent? Oh that’s all mine.”

“Cocky shit,” I murmured, picking up the wine bottle. “You’re still nervous about letting people read your work, and you know it. More wine?”

“You got me again. Well, as long as you liked it and you’re not buttering me up, I can afford to be cocky. And yeah, fill ‘er up. I’m not driving. I can afford to get as drunk as a lord this evening.”

“Thank God for taxis,” I said, filling his glass to the brim.

“Unless I pass out on your couch,” he said with a wink before taking a sip. “Cheers.” Turning to look at Georgia, he added, “And you must promise not to take advantage of me.”

Georgia leaned both elbows on the table, fingers interwoven as a place to rest her head. “You know what they say about promises and piecrusts.” She lifted her eyebrows, and I returned her stare with a frown of vague confusion, waiting for the penny to drop.

Daniel set his glass down, a satisfied smile curving his lips. Either he appreciated my choice of red or some other thought amused him. His gaze flicked up, caught mine. “Made to be broken,” he said quietly.

* * *

“So.” I stopped, one hand on the front door handle, and looked over my shoulder at Daniel. That smirk had barely left his lips all evening, and the wine hadn’t done anything to dilute his inherent flirtatiousness. An entire vineyard of chardonnay, merlot, and paint stripper couldn’t drown that out, I suspected.

“So,” he echoed.

A crash from the kitchen interrupted us, and Daniel rolled his eyes, allowing himself a quiet laugh at the profanity that reached our ears. Georgia in the kitchen was a sight to behold and best beheld from a distance sometimes. How one woman could make so much noise washing the dishes I didn’t know, but suspected part of it was her not-so-silent signal.
I’m still in the kitchen. Out of earshot if you speak quietly enough. Get to it, Reece.

Our body language had communicated encouragement on
her
part all evening and a request for confirmation that she was sure on mine.
Do it
, her every move had said.
Are you sure
? I’d asked in return.

Daniel cocked his head. “Reece?”

I caught his eye and tried not to shiver. “Nothing, nothing.”

“Are you all right?” He took a step closer.

I let go of the door handle. “Your taxi will be here soon.”

“Not immediately. And it would be rude of me to jump in a cab home without saying good-bye”—he licked his lips and I swallowed, hard—“properly, don’t you think?”

Clearing my throat, I looked down, my gaze skirting his leather jacket, its snug fit around his waist. The way it sat just so on his hips. I looked up with a nervous smile twisting my lips. It probably looked more like a grimace.

He’d said good night to
Georgia
properly, kissing her on the cheek. A hairbreadth away from her mouth, and I’d seen. Georgia had almost turned. Just enough to have caught his breath on the corner of her mouth before giving him
that
look.

And Daniel had looked at me, as if checking my reaction.
Is this all right?

More than all right
, I’d wanted to say.
Please. Go ahead.

That nervous twist became a smile of something like anticipation. But it couldn’t possibly have been, because I wasn’t thinking of Daniel kissing me good night. Nor wondering what it would feel like, or how far either of us would turn to the other. “Let’s shake hands like gentlemen.”

He gave a sharp burst of laughter, too quiet to be mocking. The sound was conspiratorial.
Listen to us. Bonding. Dancing around the border of whatever hasn’t happened yet
. “I don’t know who told you I was a gentleman, Reece.” Another step closer. One of us could touch the other without much effort. “But they were lying.”

Don’t stare at his lips, Hutton. Don’t stare at his lips.

His voice dropped still further. “But it’s one of my more endearing qualities, don’t you think?”

Jesus, don’t touch me. Please touch me.

The corner of Daniel’s mouth pulled back in amusement. He knew what I was thinking. His smirk, his dimple told me so. “Are you uncomfortable because I kissed Georgia, and did so in front of you?”

I rolled my shoulders. Considered backing away, but I’d only come into contact with the front door and there would be no escape from Daniel Cross. As if I wanted it. But at least the door would hold me up. “You know I’m not,” I blurted out.

“But you’re her boyfriend.” He inclined his head slightly, insinuating himself into my line of sight. “One might think I’d overstepped the mark.”

“I don’t think she minded.”

“And you?”

“I—” Breath caught in my throat when Daniel licked his lips, and he laughed. He’d made me falter, he’d noticed, and the scoreboard tilted in his favor. “I’ve seen her do a lot more than that with other…people.”

“Women?” Daniel waggled his eyebrows. “Men?” And his expression drained of all humor. “I don’t think I’m entirely wrong in this observation, but there’s been what you could call an
undercurrent
this evening, hasn’t there?”

“Oh?” I gulped back air that did nothing to ease the ache in my chest, the tightness, the near suffocation. “Has there?”

“I’m a writer. I’ve trained myself to notice these things.” Daniel lifted his hand, and I flinched. He lowered it again, frowning. “Let me put something to you.”

Cool relief washed through me. I would not be the one to risk embarrassment by raising the subject. Daniel Cross, the mind reader, would take the first step. He knew what I was thinking. Had to.

“Let me suggest…” He leaned in close to whisper in my ear, and the part of me that wanted him still closer fought to suppress a shudder. Any movement on my part would either drive him away or force contact, and I wasn’t sure which frightened me more. “Let me tell you what I think is going on here.”

“Okay.” I could have put my hand on his waist without stretching my arm. He was there, only inches away. Within reach.

“I think Georgia wants me.” Daniel’s breath whispered across my cheek, and I nearly turned. Wanted to. “I also think you’re okay with that. I know you’re an adventurous couple.”

“We like to mix things up.”

“Would that include turnabout for your birthday present?”

“It”—I turned my head by the slightest of angles—“might.”

“Hmm.” Daniel quirked an eyebrow and looked me in the eye. God alone knew how I managed to meet his gaze. “Interesting.” He paused. “Given that I’m a slut.”

“Daniel.” I said nothing further until he’d lifted his head, keeping his gaze on me. Denim brushed against denim and leather protested as he moved. “You insult yourself.”

“I speak the truth,” he murmured.

I wondered if that was his seduction voice. Knew he didn’t need one. Daniel Cross himself was enough. And maybe, maybe if I tried hard enough, I could convince myself I was so fucking hard because Georgia was feet away and not because Daniel was right. Here.

His breath warmed the skin of my neck, and for a moment I considered all possible reactions to his kiss.

A kiss that never came.

Instead he spoke. “I want to fuck your girlfriend,” he whispered, and such a blatant, ungentlemanly, sluttish wish made me harder still. “And I want you to watch me do it.”

Oh God, Daniel, don’t say any more. Don’t. I’ll come right here and now if you—

“Reece?” He stood so close he’d be able to feel my cock straining against my jeans if he moved just so.

I slowly, slowly, slowly exhaled.

“You didn’t say no.”

My lips twisted into a half smile. “Who could say no to you, Daniel Cross?”

“Ah.” A brief nod of acknowledgment and agreement. “Now I think we’re on exactly the same page, Reece Hutton.”

Chapter Five

How many times I read Daniel’s text message on D-day I couldn’t count, but I clung to those three words until they became a mantra, a prayer, a supplication:
See you tonight.

When the intercom buzzed, Georgia and I already stood in my hall, leaning against opposite walls with our arms crossed, staring at each other. My place, because it was as near to “neutral territory” as we could manage. We jumped, and I started for the handset, saying, “Maybe I should…?”

“Yeah. You get it.”

“Hello?”
Why so formal, Reece? You know it’s him.

“
Why good evening, Mr. Hutton. It’s your friendly neighborhood pervert here, come to join you for an hour or five of eye-watering filth, if you please
.”

Whether it was humor or nerves that made me do it, I laughed as I pressed the Enter button and hung up.
Way to break the ice, Cross.

“What did he say?” Georgia laid her hand on my shoulder, slid the other round my waist. “Was that him?”

“Yep.”

Her slowly released breath chilled the back of my neck, and I shivered.

“It’s really happening,” she said.

“Looks like it.”

“Are you sure about this?”

I turned my head, though couldn’t quite look her in the eye. “You’d do the same for me.” I smiled. “I know you would.”

“And it’s not even my birthday.”

“Call it an early Christmas.”

“You’d better get the door.”

I unlocked it, waited for Daniel to reach the top of the stairwell, clasping Georgia’s hand behind my back for reassurance that she was still there. Neither of us trembled as far as I could tell, but as soon as Daniel rounded the flight of stairs and appeared on the landing, my heart jumped, my hand in Georgia’s flinched, and I let her go.

“Hey,” I said. Wondered what the procedure was for this sort of thing. Not that Georgia and I were complete innocents, but previously we’d brought in friends. People we’d known for a while.

Not folks we’d known a relatively short period of time.

But, I figured with a mental shrug, that in itself was a bit of a risk. Sure, you needed to feel at ease with the person to get naked in front of them, but say it went horribly wrong? You’ve ruined a friendship for the sake of a one-night stand.

At least here, now, with Daniel, there was no long-standing friendship to sabotage.