Murphy's Law

She tried so hard to appear disinterested in him, but when they kissed, her body language told him otherwise. And thinking that…

Quinton narrowed his eyes. “If I kissed you right now, what would you do?”

Expression arrested, she asked, “Scream again?”

“You aren't certain?” He stepped closer. She didn't back away, but she did plant her feet as if preparing for a confrontation. He didn't want to rush her or scare her off.

Without touching her, he suggested, “Maybe we should find out.”

She stared at his mouth. Her lips parted on a shaky breath, then slowly curved in a sexy female smile that reeked of confidence. “Yeah,” she whispered. Her gaze drifted to his. “I have a few minutes, so why not?”

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Trailing close behind in the rusted, rattling junk heap of a car, he watched her, plotting, planning…growing tense and hard and excited.

Between two jobs and school she scattered her routine, but he'd figure it out. Everyone fit a pattern eventually. People were sheep. Predictable. Easily overcome. Especially with his unique brand of tools.

She was the one to blame, the one who'd fucked up all his plans. She was the one directly responsible for ruining his life.

Before she caught on to him, before anyone could stop him, he'd have her. Then he'd have his much-deserved retribution.

She turned into the parking garage at the building where she worked the night shift. Slow and watchful, he drove on past the entrance. And he saw things he hadn't expected. He smiled with the discovery. Another way to twist the knife, to get his revenge.

The little bitch deserved no less for putting her nose where it didn't belong.

 

With building impatience and anticipation, Quinton Murphy leaned against the cinderblock wall and checked his watch for the tenth time. How pathetic for a grown man to go to such lengths to talk with a woman.

A woman who had refused him—
after
kissing him senseless.

He didn't leave. He
wouldn't
leave. Not until she showed up and he had a chance to set things right with her.

Loosening his tie and pulling at the collar of his dress shirt, he cursed the unseasonable warmth of the October night and the stifling stillness of the parking garage. He checked his watch yet again, and then, finally, her yellow Civic pulled through the entrance.

Headlights flashed around the gray, yawning space, now mostly empty except for his Porsche Carrera and the vehicles of the night shift workers. Her brakes sounded a little squeaky, and she parked with a jerk of the gears that shook the aged automobile.

Always in a hurry—that described Ashley Miles. At least from what little he'd seen of her. He had to wonder if she ever relaxed or took a day off to laze around.

As soon as her engine died and her headlights went dark, the driver's door swung open and she stepped out. Quinton soaked in the sight of her, letting his gaze meander along the length of her long legs, her trim midriff, and the understated curves of her small breasts before settling on her face.

Once again, he mulled over her startling effect on him—and wondered at it. At thirty-three he was hardly a monk. He'd had infatuations, relationships of convenience, and once he'd even been in love.

But something about Ashley, some indefinable nuance in her nature got to him in a most unusual way.

Pieces of her were perfect: her dark eyes, her long silky hair, and her mouth…God, he loved her mouth.

She smiled easily, had a sharp tongue, and said no far too often.

But she kissed with an enthusiasm and hunger that made her impossible to dismiss, almost as if she'd never kissed before and the sensation of it overwhelmed her. He wanted more. He wanted everything. Until he had her, he wouldn't be able to get her out of his thoughts.

Put all together, Ashley made a mostly average appearance. But when she spoke, all that sassy attitude came crashing out, and it made her seem appealing yet unattainable, brash yet vulnerable.

She said things he didn't expect, behaved in ways unfamiliar to him. She smiled, and he wanted to strip her naked.

Her car door slammed hard and she looked around the garage behind her, talking to herself in low mumbled words that reeked of irritation and disgust.

Unaware of his presence, she said, “For God's sake, Ashley, get a pair, why don't ya.”

Never taking his gaze off her, Quinton pushed away from the wall. Patience, he told himself. He'd have her, and soon.

“A pair of what, Ashley?”

She screeched. The high-pitched yell of panic bounced around the cavernous garage in deafening force, causing Quinton to wince. “For God's sake, it's me.”

Eyes wide, she whipped around, zeroed in on him, and went from startled to furious in a heartbeat. The change was something to see.

And she looked as desirable pissed as she did impatient.

After stomping across the concrete floor, she thrust her chin up close to his face. Since this was the second time he'd startled her in the garage, he felt a little guilty. Holding up his hands in concession, he said, “My apologies.”

She didn't soften a bit. “You're making a habit of this, Murphy, and I don't like it.”

Quinton gave in to a half smile, gently touched her hair, and lied through his teeth. “Not on purpose. I just finished some late business. Since I knew you were due in soon, I decided to wait to say hi before heading home.” The last time he'd seen her, he'd been with a client. A sexy, blond, female client, and though he knew Ashley wouldn't admit it, she'd misinterpreted the situation.

Now he needed to make her understand his interest for her and her alone.

For a single suspended moment she stared at him, mostly at his mouth, her expression soft and giving…then with a frustrated growl she strode away from him.

Damned contrary woman. She wouldn't make this easy for him. But she did make it interesting.

Quinton propped his hands on his hips and watched her long-legged retreat, undecided on whether or not he should say anything more.

But after only three steps she halted. Her straight, stiffened back still to him, she snapped by way of explanation, “I usually don't scare so easy.”

An olive branch? He gladly accepted it. “I gathered as much.” He hadn't known Ashley long, but already he accepted that she wasn't a timid woman, definitely not a woman who jumped at shadows. In fact, he'd have described her as ballsy beyond belief. “So what's going on? Why are you so jumpy?”

“It's nothing.”

She shut him out and he didn't like it. “Okay.” He'd let that pass for now. Harking back to her earlier comment, he asked, “What do you need a pair of?”

Her shoulders relaxed and she turned to flash him a cheeky grin. “Balls.”

“Well, good God, I hope not.”

She shook her head. “I could use them in the figurative sense.”

He chose to see her chattiness as an invitation and fell into step beside her. “Want to tell me why?”

Her shoulders lifted. “I've had the weird feeling that someone's watching me.” She glanced up at him. “It's probably you giving me the willies.”

“Me?”

She poked him in the chest. “Every time I turn a dark corner, you seem to be there.”

Half under his breath, he muttered, “Not exactly the reaction I'd hoped for.” The first time he'd met her, she'd been running for the elevator and he was stepping out. She'd ended up in his arms, and from that point on, he'd been a goner.

He stepped ahead of her to open the door to the building.

In her usual long-legged march, Ashley went in past him. He had a feeling she'd keep walking until she left him far behind.

On a sigh, he said, “Ashley, wait.”

She paused and one slim brown eyebrow lifted. “For what?”

She looked…well, adorable. Her disheveled brown hair draped her shoulders, partially concealing the ridiculous long-sleeved T-shirt she wore. Ashley had the oddest fashion sense he'd ever witnessed, but somehow it suited her spirit.

Tonight she wore a purple and pea green striped T-shirt that would have made most women look bloated. On Ashley it made a statement of individuality. For certain, he'd never seen anything like it on anyone else.

Droopy broken-in jeans hung low on her slim hips, leaving a thin strip of pale, smooth belly to tantalize him. Her slip-on sneakers clashed in a glaring shade of pink with silver trim.

What was it about her?

She tried so hard to appear disinterested in him, but when they kissed, her body language told him otherwise. And thinking that…

Quinton narrowed his eyes. “If I kissed you right now, what would you do?”

Expression arrested, she asked, “Scream again?”

“You aren't certain?” He stepped closer. She didn't back away, but she did plant her feet as if preparing for a confrontation. He didn't want to rush her or scare her off.

Without touching her, he suggested, “Maybe we should find out.”

She stared at his mouth. Her lips parted on a shaky breath, then slowly curved in a sexy female smile that reeked of confidence. “Yeah,” she whispered. Her gaze drifted to his. “I have a few minutes, so why not?”

Damn it, one little invitation from her and his heart pounded as if he'd been jogging up three flights of stairs. Not waiting for her to change her mind, Quinton tunneled his fingers into the cool weight of her hair, tipped up her chin, and sealed his mouth over hers.

Being so close to her rioted his senses.

He loved the feel of her hair against his palms, the warm scent of her skin, the way her heartbeat matched his. With only the touch of his tongue, her lips opened under his, so soft and sweet.

Just as he remembered, she intoxicated him.

They were in the building's basement, not exactly a place conducive to seduction.

She had to start work.

He needed to head home.

He knew all that—but at that moment, he didn't care.

Her hands on his shoulders, she snuggled into him, pelvis to pelvis, her breath coming fast and hard, her mouth moving with his.

Her breasts were small, but he could feel her stiffened nipples rasping against his chest and it made him nuts because he knew she was braless, that only a thin T-shirt kept her from him. Lost to the here and now, he ran his hand down her back all the way to her rounded bottom, spread his fingers wide over the softened, worn denim of her jeans, and pressed her tight against his erection.

With him every step of the way, she made a purring sound of excitement and dug her fingers hard into his shoulders. Her response pushed him over the edge and he started considering the possibility of taking her in the darkened hallway, against the wall, her long legs wrapped around his waist…

She freed her mouth. Breathing hard, her forehead to his chest, she half laughed, half moaned.

His own breathing was ragged. He felt primed, more than ready to strip off her jeans and sink into her. But he had enough sense not to press her. Instead, he rubbed his hands over her back, soothing her, enjoying the feel of her in his arms. “God almighty, woman.”

“Yeah.” Her fingers fisted in his dress shirt. She swallowed twice, let out a long breath. “And now you see why you have to leave me alone.”

He stiffened from his hairline to his toes. “You must be joking.” She
had
to be. He couldn't remember the last time a mere kiss had affected him so strongly. And she wasn't immune either. He could feel her trembling.

“Sorry, no joke.” Her forehead pressed hard into his sternum and her voice lowered in near desperation. “You have to stop waiting for me—”

He forgot his lie about work and said, “I've only waited twice, damn it.”

“—and you definitely have to stop kissing me.”

Quinton caught her shoulders and held her back far enough to see her face. A pulse thrummed wildly in her throat. Her swollen and damp lips were open to accommodate her uneven breaths. Heat flushed her cheeks and lust shone in her big dark eyes.

She felt everything he felt.

Determined to understand her, he demanded quietly, “Tell me why.”

Her long hair trailed over his wrists as she shook her head. “We both know you were waiting for me tonight because, for whatever reason, you've decided you want to take a turn in the sack with me.”

“Take a…” The way she put things forever boggled his mind. He gently shook her shoulders. “I want to make love to you. We'd both enjoy it.” Hell, he'd love it. “But I also like you.” He was close to being obsessed with her.

“You barely know me.” With shaking fingers she tucked her hair behind her ears, straightened her T-shirt, and moved back to put space between them.

His hands fell to his sides. “True enough. I don't know you as I want to.” He managed a strained smile. “But I'm trying to correct that.”

“Why bother? Our schedules conflict. We don't work the same hours.”

“I'll manage.” Given how badly he wanted her, he didn't sleep much anyway.

“We don't even work for the same company.”

“But we do work in the same building.” They'd met only by chance when he'd had to stop by his office late and she'd been leaving work early. Among other things, he was CEO of a consulting firm. Ashley cleaned the office building where he leased space. “Though it's a good thing we don't officially work together, given most company policies would forbid coworker dating.”

Still refusing him, she shook her head. “We're not dating. It'd be a waste of time.”