The Last Straw
Thank you for purchasing this publication of The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
The Last Straw
by
Nia Simone
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
The Last Straw
COPYRIGHT © 2013 by Nia Simone
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
Contact Information: [email protected]
Cover Art by
Angela Anderson
The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
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Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708
Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com
Publishing History
First Champagne Rose Edition, 2013
Digital ISBN 978-1-61217-971-1
Published in the United States of America
Praise for
THE LAST STRAW
“A tender and emotional story that features one of the funniest scenes I’ve ever read — I laughed for five minutes straight!”
~Isabella Lionel
“
THE LAST STRAW
is fabulous fun, thanks to the smart, witty banter between Ally and Jared. Their delicious chemistry kept me glued to the page!”
~Alexa Kingsley
Dedication
For Len,
for your unwavering support and belief.
Oh no, not
him
. He stared at her from the photo stapled into the file, mocking her with his dark, hooded gaze and mysterious half smile.
Ally was expecting another routine background check. Not Mark Daily, the man responsible for her leaving New York City. But the name typed in large font below the picture read Darren Ray. Well, if this wasn’t Mark Daily, she wasn’t sitting in her office in the middle of Silicon Valley, California.
She rummaged in her desk drawer until she found the Security Risk stamp and, with a satisfying smack, stamped the folder.
She swiveled her chair and opened her window. A breeze carried the salt-water scent of the bay. Her office was an added bonus to her arrangements with NST. A fast-growing company, NST kept her so busy she’d been able to negotiate the space as part of the deal. Working in a building with security and other employees was economical and offered a sense of community, key for a transplant like her. And they had a gym, another good way to meet people. She’d made a friend there, a woman named Ralene.
Her gaze traveled back to the challenging gaze of Mark Daily, AKA Darren Ray. Something between her heart and belly kicked over. She was never in love with him. But she was still attracted to the heel. Her face flushed with heat as explicit sexual images from the nights they’d spent together flashed. The scent of another body of water, the harbor off lower Manhattan. Her apartment in Greenwich Village, the windows open to the Autumn breeze. An ice cube teasing her flesh, her naked body exploding in hot chill bumps.
Her hands smoothed the wool gabardine of her pencil skirt. She’d let her body rule her brain.
But she was a
woman
. With
one
brain, not
two
, like men. Well, bad judgment had happened to her, too.
Her finger grazed the curve of his insolent mouth. She could make him pay. Bring him in and make him twist. She had the power now.
Start with a background check.
Even though doing one after he’d left had turned up zilch. She’d bent professional ethics digging into his past, but what good was it being a PI if she couldn’t research an AWOL lover?
The afternoon slipped by until a knock at the door interrupted her reading of the absorbing and tidy, but utterly fictitious, life story of Darren Ray. With her heart pounding in her temples, she blanked her computer screen.
Show time.
He sauntered through the door, a white button-down shirt tucked into belted khakis. When his dark gaze found her, he stopped. Stared. Her throat dried and a rustling motion stirred in her abdomen.
“Hi. I’m Darren Ray.”
Keep your cool,
she commanded herself, standing and reaching across the desk. His hand was rough. His stroke on her body flashed.
Not helping.
She yanked her hand back and waved at the chair. “Please, have a seat.” He waited for her to sit before settling in the visitor’s chair. “So, Darren, according to this, you’re being considered for a programmer position in the IT department. Tell me about your background.”
A professional mask settled over his features. “As you can see on my résumé, I have several years of consulting experience.”
“Tell me something about your experience as a mechanic.” Working on his prized old Mustang had been a favorite hobby.
The corner of his mouth twitched. “What do you mean? That’s not in my résumé.”
“You don’t have the hands of a programmer. More of a mechanic.”
Oh, his hands.
“Okay, you got me.” He was going to confess. This should be good. “When I’m not programming computers I’m working on my car.”
“And what were you doing in New York City?” A whiff of his spicy aftershave reached her.
“I see you’re very good at reading between the lines of my résumé.”
Before she could respond, he reached across her desk for a piece of paper, plucked a pen from its stand and scrawled something. When she took the note their fingers brushed. Time stopped. Her gaze met his, found his dark eyes hooded, secretive.
She snatched her hand away and read the note.
Meet me for dinner at Pico’s at 7. I’ll explain everything. Can’t talk here.
His Adam’s apple shifted. He thought her office was bugged? Is that what scared him? Maybe he was afraid she’d say no to dinner. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach. He was afraid she’d say no? So the tables were turned.
“Thanks for coming in,” she said. “I’ll get back to you.”
His gaze darted to the note in her hand and he arched a brow.
“Come back tomorrow,” she said.
The corners of his mouth drooped. Payback. But then she lifted the note and nodded. Like a fool.
Darren smiled, revealing his crooked right eyetooth. “Good. I’ll see you then.” He rose and sauntered to the door, turning and shooting her one more grin before leaving.
What have I done?
Just doing her job.
Yeah, right. You’re falling right back into his trap. Weak, you’re so weak.
****
Jared opened the top three buttons and lifted his shirt to let the breeze cool the sweat on his chest. Then he climbed into his rented Lexus and called Stewart Chapman, an old friend as well as the president of NST. “I just had the worst interview of my life,” he said.
“What do you mean? Ally Tobin is a sweetheart.”
“Uh, you remember the op I had in New York last year?” Jared started the car and cranked the AC. It came out hot. He pressed the button to lower the window. At least you could smell water here. And it wasn’t muggy. Once you escaped the stifling scrutiny of a jilted ex-lover, that is.
“Vaguely,” Stew said, “as much as you could tell me about it. Which was diddly squat.”
“Yeah, well, remember the girl I had to walk away from?”
“Oh, shit.”
“Right.”
Stew’s whistle filled the car. “What are the chances?”
Jared sighed and stared at the red traffic light. “One in a million.”
“Did she blow your cover?”
“Nah… just busted my balls.” His comment met with a snort of laughter. “Easy for you to say. Now I need to try and explain all this.”
“She’s sure not the person stealing our intellectual property,” Stew said, “so you can read her in.”
The light finally changed. He eased the car onto the freeway on-ramp. The car wasn’t his type, but it was smooth and comfortable. Required almost no attention to drive. “Thanks, Stewart. Spoken like a true law-enforcement guy.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know. Your job’s a lot cooler than mine.”
“Yours pays more,” Jared said, ending another round in their long-standing debate.
“You’ve never cared about that,” Stew said, surprising Jared with this new twist. He sounded serious. “Ally’s a babe. You should go for it. I mean, she won’t be single long. You should see her working out in the gym. All freckle-faced innocence in her business suit, but you get her into spandex, with that strawberry-blond hair in a ponytail bouncin’ as she jogs on the treadmill…All I can say is, whip me, spank me, make me write bad checks.”
Jared jammed on the accelerator and shot onto the freeway. “Hey, watch it, buster.” He had half a mind to take the next exit and loop back so he could teach Chapman a lesson.
Stew chuckled. “My bad. Hey, what’s next?”
Setting the speed control at the limit, Jared cranked the air-conditioning to the max. Icy air cooled his skin. “I invited her to dinner.”
“I meant what’s next with the case?”
“Oh, yeah. Right. Does Ally have a boyfriend?”
“I think you should turn this case over to someone else.”
“I’ll get whoever is stealing your stuff. Just answer the question.”
“No.”
“How do you know? Have you asked her out?” Jared gripped the wheel hard and passed a car on the right.
“Nah. I’m seeing someone.”
“Then how do you know?”
“She comes in early, works late and on the weekends.”
“You’re paying close attention for someone who’s not interested.”
“I didn’t say I wasn’t interested. She’s very interesting. I just said I’m not seeing her. She’s declined everyone else too.”
His gut clenched. “Everyone else?”
“Came alone to the summer barbeque and from what I can tell, besides work, all she does is go to the gym. Now, back to you. Like they say, Jared, you got a lot of ‘splainin to do. How you angling to do that?”
“Read her in, I guess.” Should he? He’d never intended to get involved in the first place while working undercover, especially not with an intelligent and accomplished woman like Ally Tobin. She deserved a lot more than some guy who had to leave because of work. In New York, he’d only meant to go out a couple times, but a few dates were a few too many. He found himself returning her affectionate gestures. He thought they were casually dating. And she was just extra sweet and affectionate. But they slept together. His feelings weren’t so casual then. If they were, he could have just told her he had to move for his job. Instead he’d said nothing, figuring she’d forget him. Only he never forgot her.
He attributed his lack of interest in dating anyone else over the past year to getting serious about no entanglements. But seeing Ally again hit him in the chest with the force of a battering ram. All the memories he’d indulged in over the past year slammed back the second his hand had closed over her smooth, delicate fingers. He’d had to sit down so she couldn’t see his lap over the desk. But like Stew said, he had a lot of ‘splainin to do. And if he couldn’t, he’d never get to touch her like he wanted to. If he failed, like Stew said, another guy would grab her.
He caught himself grinding his teeth and clenching the steering wheel in a death grip. What an idiot he’d been.
“You okay, buddy?” Stew said.
“Yeah,” he lied.
****
“Go,” Ralene said, for the umpteenth time.
This was a bad idea. Sitting in her car outside the restaurant, Ally’s instincts told her to turn around and go home. She’d talk to Chapman tomorrow. Standing up “Darren” was a good idea. The best one she’d had so far.
“Ally Tobin, you have nothing to lose,” Ralene said. “When’s the last time you went on a date? You can’t go through life alone. Well, you
can
, but it’s not for
you
. You’re not the type. Besides, you like the guy.”
The windows on the front of the restaurant reflected the outside rather than showing who was on the inside. Was Mark in there, watching her?
