Dirty Little Secrets (Dirty Little Secrets #1) (4 page)

Laughing, Caleb says, “So, drunk trapeze work is something you’re interested in?”
 

“Not drunk, necessarily. Tipsy,” I clarify. “Tipsy trapeze work.”
 

Caleb slides his hand down my arm, until his hand clasps mine, leaving goosebumps in its wake. “We’re not doing anything circus related. It’s very tame.”
 

“Describe ‘tame’,” I reply, arching my brow.
 

“Going to my apartment. Just you and me. It might not stay tame, but it’ll start out that way.” There is a mischievous kind of promise in his voice that sends a shiver of anticipation along my spine.
 

“Do you have wine?” Wine is an absolute must.
 

“Plenty,” he replies, pulling me closer. “You can take your pick; anything you want.”
 

“You’re not going to tell me that you have a wine cellar, are you?” I say, teasing.
 

“Not here in the city.” He gives me a wry grin. “But I do have one.”
 

I roll my eyes at him good-naturedly. I don’t have much experience dealing with the mega-rich, or even the rich, for that matter, but I get the feeling that the best way to deal with anything that shows off their enormous wealth is to just laugh it off. I’m sure Caleb has people fawning all over him for his wealth every day, and I don’t want to be that person. I don’t care about it, anyway. He could live in a box as long as he keeps kissing me like he just did.
 

“Are you bringing that with you?” he asks, gesturing toward my huge bag that I’ve got slung over my shoulder. I know he’s curious about why I’m carrying it around.
 

What can I tell him? That inside the bag is everything I managed to grab from my apartment before I went on the run, because some criminal for hire is after me for bilking an underhanded, awful, scummy man? I don’t think a confession like that would make the kissing all that more frequent, and I like the distraction that being around Caleb gives me. I can’t seem to come up with a way out of this mess, so I might as well take whatever pleasure I can wherever I can.
 

I only have enough money to stay in New York for another month or so, and then I’m going to have to…I don’t know. Go home and face the consequences for what I’ve done? Ask for mercy? I don’t want to think about that right now.

So, I settle for the truth. “Yeah, I’m switching hotels. I haven’t had a chance to check into the new one yet, so I thought I’d just bring this with me. Unless you’d rather I didn’t?” I know how it looks; like I’m poised and ready to move in with him. I haven’t checked into my new hotel yet; I didn’t want to waste the money on a place if I don’t wind up staying there tonight.
 

“No, no,” he says quickly. “It just looks heavy, and a little too big for you to carry. Let me?”
 

Caleb holds out his hand to take it, and I debate about whether or not to let him carry the bag. I’m not sure where the hesitance is coming from. I know in my bones he’s not working for Privya, and it’s not like he’s going to run off with it. I’m getting ready to leave this bar to go with him to his apartment, where no one will be around. If I can’t trust him to carry my bag, how in the hell am I going home with him?

I let the bag’s strap slide down my shoulder, and then hand it to Caleb. He grips it tightly, and slings it behind his back in a move that I find ridiculously sexy. My heart is pounding in my chest. It’s just a bag, but it’s my
everything
right now, and for the first time this trip, it’s out of my possession.
 

I take a deep breath. It’s going to be okay.
 

“C’mon,” Caleb says, twining his fingers through mine. Immediately, I relax into his touch. He leads me through the crowd, and out onto the street. I feel anxious and exposed, and it seems like Caleb notices, because he gently squeezes my hand, before he looks back and smiles. “My car is right over here.”
 

Caleb paints an almost GQ-level picture from where he stands, his hands planted on the sparkling clean gray granite countertop that covers the island in the middle of his kitchen. The place is pristine, and beautiful. It has dark cherry cupboards, and spotless stainless steel appliances. Without asking, I know this is one of the rooms he recently had remodeled.
 

“Do you like it?” he asks.
 

I give him a puzzled look, which makes him smile.
 

“The wine, Mia,” he replies, letting out a huff of a laugh. “Do you like the wine?”
 

Oh. The wine. I had gotten so distracted appreciating the view that I completely forgot there is a glass of superb wine sitting in front of me.
 

“It’s delicious,” I tell him, before taking another sip of my red, which came from a bottle that is older than I am. “You said you had the best, and you most definitely have the best.”
 

Glass in hand, I walk around the kitchen, marveling at the thought that was put into the design. Back home in Chicago, my tiny apartment has a galley style kitchen, and it’s so cramped that when I open the oven door, it buts into a cabinet. This place doesn’t have that issue. I could do cartwheels in here if I wanted to.

“Is this place always this neat?” I ask. “Or is it super pristine because you just had it renovated?”
 

“Are you asking if I’m a slob?” He doesn’t seem offended, even though he probably should be.
 

“No,” I say, shaking my head. “Okay, yes. Maybe a little.”
 

“I have a cleaning lady, if that’s what you were wondering,” he replies with a smile.
 

“I’m not judging, by the way. I was just trying to figure out how impressed with you I should be.”
 

“You should be impressed, but not by my cleaning skills.” He winks at me, and I think I feel my knees starting to give out.
 

“What skills should I be impressed by, then?” I ask, coyly looking at him over the rim of my wine glass.

“You’ll find out later.”
 

Yep, knees are definitely weak. I need to get some distance from him, because I want to find out all about those skills. Right now.
 

“Is it okay if I look around?” I ask. I only got a good look at the foyer before Caleb brought me into the kitchen so I could pick out a bottle of wine, and I’m curious about what the rest of the place looks like. I don’t want to be rude and go off and explore without asking.
 

“Absolutely. Let me know what you think.”
 

I walk out of the kitchen, and…wow. This is a
nice
apartment. It has that new construction smell, too, like sawdust and paint.
 

It’s a loft with exposed ductwork on the raised ceiling, and the wall on the far lefthand side is nothing but brick. The apartment somehow manages to be both industrial looking, and warm. Inviting. There is neutral-toned furniture in the living room, surrounding a big-screen television. On the mantel, there are pictures in frames of all shapes and sizes. Many of them feature Caleb with two of the same guys. He must be incredibly close to these people, considering how many pictures they’re in together, and how many years the pictures seem to span. There are photos of what looks like Caleb as a child, with a man and a woman that I assume are his parents, although they aren’t in any recent pictures.
 

I understand what that means, and it makes my heart ache. Either he’s estranged from his mother and father, or they’re dead.
 

I want to ask Caleb the stories behind these pictures, find out when and where they were taken. I’ve only just met him though, and I can’t expect him to be open and honest about his past and his present, when there’s no way I can be open and honest about mine. If he wants me to know who these people are to him, he’ll tell me.
 

When I make my way over to the dining room, I run my finger along the tops of the high-backed chairs. They’re upholstered and comfortable-looking, in sharp contrast to the large, imposing table. There is an interesting light fixture hanging from the ceiling—which is lower than the one throughout the rest of the loft—it looks like a chandelier, but is made out of what looks like delicately cut steel pieces. There aren’t any personal touches in here, not like in the living room, just a few modern accents hanging on the walls.
 

“So?” Caleb asks, startling me out of my thoughts.
 

“It’s nice,” I tell him. “To be honest, it’s not what I was expecting when you invited me over here.”
 

“No? What were you expecting?”

I look around, and shrug. “I’m not really sure how to say this, but I was expecting something more…I don’t know, plain? Smaller? This,” I say, waving my hand toward the floor-to-ceiling view overlooking Central Park. “This is real estate porn.”
 

“Porn, huh?” Caleb’s got this lascivious grin on his handsome face that makes my cheeks flush.
 

“Yeah,” I reply, trying to make it sound like I didn’t just bring up
porn
, even if it is of the real estate variety. “The good kind. The classy kind.”
 

Caleb lets out a bark of a laugh, as he walks into the kitchen and picks up his wine glass from the island. I’ve still got mine in my hand. “Feel like taking a look at the view?”
 

The thought of walking out on the balcony makes me uneasy. I’ve never been such a fan of heights, and we’re up high.
Really, obscenely
high.
 

“Don’t worry,” Caleb says, sliding the stems of our glasses between his fingers, before reaching out for my hand. “I won’t let you fall.”
 

Falling seems like it would be so easy around him, but I feel safe here with him.
 

Our fingers twine together, and he leads me out onto the patio.
 

* * * * *

After being in New York for a few days, cooped up in a hotel room, I’ve nearly forgotten what fresh air feels like. Caleb and I are so far away from street level that the air seems different up here. Cleaner, cooler. I take long, deep breaths, filling my lungs with it.
 

We’re both leaning against the railing, taking in the quiet calmness of the expansive park below. Our elbows are touching, and heat from just that small point spreads all throughout my body. I take a subtle step to my right, trying to get closer to Caleb, hoping I’m not too obvious about it. My fear of heights isn’t really bothering me right now, probably because the patio is huge, and there are thick, cement railings all around us. And, cheesy as it sounds, I feel safe standing out here with Caleb next to me.
 

“Is it okay if I ask what you do for a living?”
 

This is a question I can answer without any hesitation. “I’m a software designer.”
 

“Wow,” he replies, clearly impressed. “How did you get into that?”
 

I shrug. “It’s always been something that I’ve been interested in. I think it’s awesome that we have the ability to write code that can make a computer do pretty much anything you need it to do. Within reason, of course. And sometimes outside of it. When I was a kid, my dad and I lived next door to this older gentleman—Mister DiGrazia—and he used to let me play with all of his spare Commodore machines. It was love at first sight.”
 

Caleb laughs, and in the ambient light shining outside from his apartment, I can see him smiling at me.
 

“I can turn my laptop on, and check my email. That’s…yeah, that’s pretty much the extent of it.”
 

“I like learning how things work. The ultimate way to do that is to make it yourself, so that’s what I do.”
 

“Do you have your own company?” he asks, before taking a sip of his wine.

“No,” I reply, oddly flattered that he thinks that I would. “It’s more like I’m a contractor, and I’m my own boss.”
 

Caleb gives me a fond smile that’s so bright I wan to bask in it.
 

“What do you do?”
 

He takes a deep breath, and lets it out slowly. “I’ve got my hands in a lot of jars,” he says, grinning. “It would’ve driven my father crazy. For the most part, I suppose you could say I’m a venture capitalist.” He cringes when he says the words, like he’s waiting for some kind of judgment from me. Far be it from me to judge anyone for anything right now, so I just nod my head, encouraging him to go on.
 

“What other jars are your hands in?”
 

“Business consulting. Mainly for two guys that I’ve known since I was a kid, Ben and Oliver, but I do take on other work from time to time.”
 

Looking out over the park, I close my eyes as a cool spring breeze blows through my hair. “Which one of them owns the hotel?”
 

“That would be Oliver,” he says. “He owns a few boutique hotel chains in New York.”
 

“The city or the state?” I tease.

“Both. He’s looking to expand, but it’s taking some time. He drags his feet about pretty much everything. I’m going to have to send him a thank you note, by the way. For offering me that room while this renovation was being completed.”
 

His eyes are shining in the moonlight, and he looks so irresistible when he says the right things. It would be ridiculous if I actually swooned, so I manage to control myself. I do lean in and give him a soft, quick, chaste kiss. Mainly because I have to put my lips on his right now, but I’m not ready to take things further. Yet.

“And Ben? What does he do?”
 

“He owns a software company.” Caleb’s eyes widen so quickly that I can practically see an animated light bulb pop up in a thought bubble over his head.

“No,” I say, because I already know what he’s thinking.