Toeing the Line (The Complete Serial) (3 page)

Riley sank back in her chair. She’d been staying in her sister’s condo for months, but it still didn’t feel like home. It didn’t help that most of the furniture was Kenzie’s, and a lot of it was more for show than comfort. She squirmed on the wooden seat. Maybe it was time to get some better cushions for the Ethan Allen dining set.

She was trying to get some sketching done. It usually helped her relax, but now she couldn’t focus. Every few seconds, she glanced at her phone. Zane had texted her a few times since their awkward reunion two nights ago. Generic
how are you,
and
job interview, wish me luck
stuff. Her replies had been just as brief, polite, and without substance. She wasn’t sure what to say. He’d only been back a few days, and they’d destroyed a lifetime of friendship. Or he was right about her being melodramatic.

She took a deep breath, to steady her shaking hand, She sent him a series of messages.

I’m sorry.

About everything bad I said the other night.

Overreacting, all of it.

She set the phone back on the table and stared at it, willing it to give her good news. Still, she was startled when it vibrated against the polished oak a few seconds later, sending a loud hum through the condo.

Don’t be sorry. I was a jackass. Forgive me
?

A whisper of relief trickled through her.
Always :-)

I’m coming over
.

She grinned. She wasn’t sure how these few words felt more meaningful than every other note they’d passed in the last few days, but she wouldn’t argue. She’d tease him a little, though. She replied,
You’re assuming a lot.

Maybe. Give me fifteen minutes
.

Already feeling infinitely better, she turned her attention back to her sketching. With the looming cloud of frustration gone, she sank into the lines and figures as they met and blended and became recognizable shapes.

When a knock rattled through the apartment, she jumped. She laughed at the empty room and pushed her sketchbook aside. She was on her feet in an instant, to yank open the front door.

Zane stood on the other side, raking his fingers over his short black hair. He gave her a hopeful smile. “So I can bask in your presence again?”

Once upon a time, Zane’s combination of self-effacing jokes and pretending to put her on a pedestal made her uneasy. She learned it was just words, though. His way keeping things light.

“I suppose.” She intertwined her fingers with his and tugged him toward the kitchen table. A warm tingle spread through her at the contact, and she let the touch linger longer than needed.

He dropped her hand the moment she loosened her grip. She bit back a frown. He’d never been as physical as her, but he’d also never pulled away from her before.

No big deal. They needed to find their comfort zone again“Are you free for a few hours? You can stay and help me plot and just hang out.”

“Sounds fantastic.”

“Good, you can cheer me up.” She flopped into her chair, relieved when he took the seat next to her instead of across the table. She winked.

“Are you okay? What happened?”

Apparently, she needed to tease harder. True, a random person would stare at her blankly for most of her half-formed statements. Things were different with Zane. Or at least, before he left, he would have gotten her. “I'm not seeing eye to eye with my best friend.”

“We’ll get there.” A faint hesitation cut through his words.

Instead of overanalyzing the situation, she pushed her sketchpad toward him. “What do you think?”

He turned the pages. “I’d forgotten how amazing you are at this. I mean, I’ve always known you were good, but your talent still floors me.”

Heat flooded her cheeks, and she ducked her head, even though he wasn’t watching her. “It’s only a rough outline.”

“That makes it more amazing. Is this… This isn’t me, is it?”

She followed his finger. “Technically, yes. I’m using photos of you to create him.”

“You’re sure?”

Had she done something wrong? Had the compliments been lip-service? “Why?”

“He’s blond.”

She rolled her eyes and tugged the sketchbook away. “It’s not supposed to literally be you. You’re just a point of reference.”

He tilted his head, still studying the image, though it wasn’t in front of him anymore. “You made him all wiry. Like skinny but muscular. How is that even possible?”

It was an exaggeration, based on the art style, but the form was one thing she knew she had right. She watched Zane, not successfully hiding her amusement.

He finally met her gaze. He finally looked up. “What?”

She made a show of raking her gaze over his defined chest and sturdy arms. His martial-arts training kept him in shape before he left, but his time in the Air Force had honed his form more. Too bad asking for nude shots—strictly for reference purposes, of course—wouldn’t be appropriate. “You tell me. How do you pull it off?”

“Is this the one you’re going to sell? Or is this for your portfolio, to get that teaching job? Both?”

Her amusement wavered, uncertainty sinking back in. Times like this, she wished she’d never mentioned she wanted to do something professional with her art. It was a nice fantasy, but he’d grabbed the idea and clung to it, reminding her whenever he could that she needed to do it. It was the big reason he’d agreed to model for her. She suspected his reminders would become more frequent now he was back.

“I still have so much research to do.”

He stared back, skepticism painting his expression. “Have you started?”

“I’ve poked around a little. I have a list of names to look into.” She didn’t want to have this conversation.

“We should go out.” His too-cheerful announcement came from nowhere.

It was a great idea. So why was she hesitating to agree? “So we can stumble on more awkward topics we need to avoid?” He probably didn’t realize how uncomfortable she was talking about her art, but it felt like one subject after another caused them to falter.

“So we can get past them.”

“I guess I can’t expect everything to be exactly the same.”

“Does that mean
yes
?”

“Of course.” She pushed back from the table. “Give me ten minutes, to wash this charcoal off and change into something less graphite covered.”

“I’ll be here.”

Disappointment trickled through her, and she squashed it. Hoping he’d offer to help was the last thing she needed to do. Still, she couldn’t shake the memory of his hand resting at the small of her back. The hammer of his heart against her palm. Maybe…

No. Bad. She wasn’t going to consider what might have happened if he kissed her. If they’d stumbled back to his truck together. If he’d lifted her onto the tailgate and pushed between her legs. Or rather, she wouldn’t consider it too much.

She tried to be quick about getting ready, hating to make anyone wait. Once the pencil residue was gone, she grabbed a fitted long-sleeved tee from her closet. She was pulling on her jeans when her cell phone rang in the other room. “Will you get that?” she called through the closed door.

“Yup.”

She finished dressing, ran a brush through her hair, and yanked open her bedroom door. She came up short, breath caught in her throat when she almost ran into Zane.

He was less than six inches away. She needed to put some distance between them, but she couldn’t get her feet to move.

He was close enough she felt his heat and smelled the crisp musk she always associated with him. She couldn’t pull her gaze from his. What had they been doing before? She reached out and ran her fingers over the short black hair on top of his head. “I miss this being long.”

He leaned into the touch, resting his hand on her hip. “It’ll grow back.”

A digitally muffled voice cut between them. “Hello?”

He held up her phone. “It’s Kenzie.”

Right.
Reality. She took the phone from him, and put enough space between them to clear her thoughts. Sort of. “Thanks,” she said again. “Hey, Sis.”

Zane leaned against the far wall in the hallway, something unreadable in his. Heat spread through her at his attention.

“Am I interrupting something? I assume you two are spending every waking moment together.” Kenzie’s question was lighthearted.

Riley scowled at the receiver. “He’s been here for less than half an hour. We’ve spent a total of maybe half a day together since he got back.”

Zane’s mouth twitched with the threat of smile. She spun away, to hide that the single gesture had eased her sour expression.

“As long as he hasn’t moved in.” Kenzie laughed.

Riley sighed, making sure it was loud enough to echo through the receiver. Maybe now wasn’t the best time to mention she’d given him a spare key. “You’re not as funny as you think you are. What’s up?”

“Grump. Have dinner with us next weekend. Both of you.”

Riley wanted to keep up her stern demeanor, but she liked spending time with Kenzie and Scott. “All right. I’ll be there, and I’ll ask him.”

“Fantastic. I’ll let you two get back to whatever, and I’ll e-mail you details.”

They exchanged goodbyes, and Riley tucked the phone into her jeans’ pocket. “Where to?” she asked Zane.

“Where do you think? I mean, if it’s still there.”

There was one place they always went. It was half-bar, half-arcade, and one of their favorite spots in the valley. “It definitely is.”

“Epic.” He didn’t pull away when she intertwined her fingers with his and tugged him outside and toward the parking lot.

“I’m glad you knew what I was talking about. I had this flash of panic thinking everything I knew had changed, and the entire world had flipped upside-down.” His tone was playful as he gestured wildly.

“Say I was a pod person. Would you really miss much about me?”

Only after they were both inside the truck—which smelled of coffee and Zane—did he say, “I’m not answering that.”

“You brought it up.”

He navigated traffic smoothly. “I know. I shouldn’t have. Whenever I say stuff like that, it gets me in trouble. No one actually wants to know what you think of them, unless it’s really good. They only think they do.”

That made it sound like his opinion of her wasn’t good. Now she had to know. Maybe he wasn’t teasing after all? “I’m not them. If you don’t tell me, I’ll… um…” She’d what?

He glanced at her, one eyebrow raised, and then turned his attention back to the road. “Yes?”

Crap. She had no idea how to threaten him and still keep it light-hearted. “I’ll pout?”

The truck stopped for a red light, and he shifted in his seat. He traced a finger over her protruding lower lip. “I don’t know if that’s a threat or a promise.”

The contact sent a pleasant chill through her, and she parted her lips with a tiny gasp.

His gaze lingered on her face before he looked away. “That look though—that’s worth spilling a lot of secrets for.”

Geez. What would it take for him to do that again? Traces of his touch lingered, and his husky comment danced in her skull. Taunting her. Fire raced through her cheeks, and she pressed her forehead against the cool glass. The heat from the vents rushed over her skin, adding to her warm embarrassment. It was just a physical reaction. No reason to melt over it. So why did she want him to pull over and run that finger, or all of them, over more of her?

“I would miss everything about you.” His soft comment startled her. “The way you reserve yourself and your judgment until you get to know someone. That not a lot of people know the real you and that you like to have a lot of fun.”

His compliments didn’t help redirect her thoughts. Instead, they enhanced the desire tingling on her lips. She turned back to him, studying his clenched jaw. The words rolled through her head, simple but surprisingly observant. “Not everyone thinks those are quality traits.”

The corners of his mouth twitched. “Not everyone’s opinion is worth listening to. Besides, since I’m one of the few you let in, I’m biased.”

Giddiness rippled through her. A tiny voice in the back of her mind whispered she shouldn’t read too much into this. She knew better than to fall hard and fast, and if she made that mistake with Zane, she’d lose one of the two most important people in her life. Only Kenzie mattered to her as much as he did.

This wasn’t falling. She wasn’t stupid. This was the same playfulness they’d always had; she simply appreciated it more now.

And if she concentrated on that assurance, she almost believed it. This was friendship, nothing more.

Zane nudged the plate and last slice of pizza in Riley’s direction, and she held up her hand and pushed it away. Cheers for the series of games running on TVs around the room echoed in the background, dancing with the clank of mugs on tables and coins sliding into slots.

“Not going to happen,” she said.

He’d missed this—the less-than-healthy food, the mania of the crowds, all of it.

His, “Your loss,” was muffled, as he took a large bite and then knocked back the last of his root beer in a single swallow.

She finished scribbling on the paper napkin and stuffed the pen back into the mini purse attached to her wrist. She slid the sketch across the table. “Something like that.”

He studied the blue lines that made up the Chinese dragon. She’d only drawn it to give him an idea of something she was trying to explain, but he loved the artwork. God damn, she was incredible. “You never cease to amaze me.”

“Thanks.” Pink tinged her cheeks.

This wasn’t a bad sight either. “Can I keep it?”

“Um…” She shrugged. “I guess. I was going to throw it out.”

That seemed like such a waste. He folded the napkin before placing it in his wallet. “What next?”

The scents of oregano and beer filled the air with a comforting aroma. The stack of tokens that came with the meal sat on the table between them. They’d agreed food first, games second.

She swung her feet below the high seat and occasionally hooking them on the rungs before tugging loose again. “Pool?”

He’d known that was coming. Even if the case sitting next to her oversized purse didn’t have her custom cue in it, he could have guessed she’d pick pool. “Air hockey first,” he said. It was as unfair as her suggestion, but since he’d relent eventually, his masculinity wouldn’t suffer as much if he at least won at one thing before the night was over.

She screwed up her face, but laughter danced in her eyes. “All right.”

He pocketed the tokens and led her toward the tables near the far end of the bar. The racket of pucks zooming back and forth clattered off walls and his eardrums. That wouldn’t stop him from trying to carry on a conversation. The compressor under the table rumbled to life, and he grabbed his mallet before it vibrated out of reach. The smooth plastic was cool against his palm.

“So, six years in the Air Force, talk of going career, and suddenly you’ve been discharged. What happened?” She raised her voice when the puck started flying between them.

He faltered, and the puck slid into his goal. Of course she was going to ask. If it was an off-the-cuff question, he could give her a generic response and be off the hook. “Things change.”

“That’s definitive.” She followed the movement of the plastic disc as it slid everywhere. “What kind of things?” The projectile bounced off her fingers, and she jerked her hand away. The puck rocketed around and found its way to her goal before she could recover.

“I got an offer from the CIA.” Even though it was one of the last things he wanted to do. Memories and guilt assaulted him. He summoned a wall from deep inside and blocked off the emotions associated with that part of his past. Mostly. If he kept his response casual, maybe she’d move to another subject.

“Wait. What?”
Riley watched, as the next six shots slid past her. Her attention wasn’t on the game anymore. The table stopped rumbling with the finality of Zane’s winning goal. She joined him on his side before he could ask for another round. “I thought you were looking for work,” she said.

He should have known changing the subject wouldn’t be that simple. He shrugged. “I turned them down.” Discomfort churned inside, joined by regret and the phrase
not soon enough.
Even if part of him still considered going back. Calling Sabrina and telling her he was in after all. He jammed the doubts back down. They wandered the room until they stopped in front of a racing game with two plastic cars side by side.

She picked the red one. “Because they weren’t going to challenge you enough?”

Beyond paying the bills, he’d never been concerned about the size of his paycheck. From the time Zane was old enough to understand, Granddad had drilled home that someone only needed enough money for comfort. There was no need to be greedy, but the thought of doing any work that didn’t make him think made Zane’s skin crawl. Which, conveniently enough, meant Riley had given him his way out.

“Something like that.” He dropped a couple tokens into the machine. The digital racetrack roared to life on screen, and the countdown to the start of the race began. He gripped the wheel in front of him and steered, leaning with each turn. The plastic car moved with him, though it didn’t impact his driving on screen.

“I get it. You could’ve just said
topic off limits
.” Riley squealed as her car skidded around a tight turn, and he passed her. She corrected her direction on screen and caught up, managing to pace his silver roadster. “Anyway. How’d the interview go yesterday?”

While his job hunt wasn’t as unpleasant a topic as his military service, it was pretty high on his list of things he’d rather not dwell on. His car slowed and then stopped, and she left it in the dust, crossing the finish line third. The screen flashed, prompting them to insert another coin to continue.

He dropped his hands from the wheel. “Pool next?” He couldn’t put off the game forever, and it should get the lighter mood back.

“I’ll go easy on you.” She pulled a small tube from the purse dangling from her wrist and applied gloss.

He forced back the pulse that raced through him at the shine on her full lips and the hint of cherry in the air. “I’ll be fine.” His protest was weak as they walked toward the billiard tables. He’d never been able to figure out pool. Drunk off her ass and blindfolded, Riley could still whip him. She’d competed when she was in college. “I’m going to pretend I know what I’m doing and that you’re just more pro than me,” he said.

“Unless something’s changed, you really can’t.” Her tone was playful, and her smile had returned. She grabbed a couple of different cues, tested their weight, and then handed him one, before pulling hers from its case and piecing it together.

He fumbled to hold the stick right, but her cringe told him the impossible positions he kinked his fingers into weren’t the right ones. She set her cue aside and covered his hand with hers. A pleasant warmth rushed through him at the contact. She positioned his grip in a more natural way. Her touch lingered, palm soft and inviting against the back of his hand.

“It was for ethical reasons.” The admission slipped out before he could stop it. “Me turning down the CIA job.”

“Oh.” She dropped her hand and stepped away. “I think you’ve got it. Want to try taking a shot?”

“Not really. You show me how.”

He shouldn’t have said that. It was going to be tough enough to get things back to normal between them. Now a secret that really only needed to haunt him was trying to force its way out. She knew he’d been on the front line overseas, but for the most part, they never talked about the details. He tended to change the subject, and she never pushed.

She racked up the balls and set the cue ball a few feet back. The way she moved was flawless, as she slid into the correct posture and lined up her angle. She knocked off her shot, and colored balls scattered across the table to bounce off rubber bumpers. Three of them slid into pockets.

At least he knew she’d kick his ass. It almost took the edge off. Zane snorted. “That was the equivalent of showing me a scribble
next to a Rembrandt, then telling me to just add shading, to make one into the other.” He dropped his stick on the table. “We should go back to the air hockey.”

“You’re overthinking it.” She maneuvered next to him and put the cue back in his hand. “Relax, and just take your shot.” She grabbed the white ball from where it had landed, inches from a pocket, and set it back in the center of the table.

She stood close enough he felt her heat and smelled the sharp tang of cherry. He tried to ignore his body’s response, as he bent at the waist. “It’s war, right? Things happen.” Great. She was within pin-her-to-the-wall-and-kiss-her-until-they-couldn’t-breathe proximity, and he was talking about his demons. Rather than dwell on the past, he pushed the stick toward its target. The cue head bounced off the felt and jumped over the ball instead of hitting it.

“Try again.”

He sighed and repositioned himself. “Maybe I shouldn’t have been so picky about the job. I don’t have any actual qualifications to do what I do. Not like real-world experience.” The words tasted foul. What the fuck was his problem?

“Because what you did doesn’t count as experience? I mean I know you can’t give me specifics, but to keep you interested for so long, it had to be intense.”

He’d tried to make the same point to the interviewer. Sort of. “That’s the problem. It’s not really the kind of thing I’m
able to go into detail about. You know, they say,
tell me about a time you solved a really big problem that saved an employer money.
I’m not exactly allowed to share those kinds of details, so when I say,
I did some stuff with computers, and it was really high-end, I promise,
the claim is a bit hard to swallow.”

He held up the cue in frustration. “Are you going to show me how to do this right, or not?”

“Fine.” She let out a mock sigh. Moving next to him again, she positioned his left hand properly. She settled her right arm against his and rested her chest against his back. She pressed her cheek against his bicep, helping him line up the cue. “I’d go on about angle and trajectory and all that, but for me it’s instinct.” She pulled back his arm and helped him take the shot.

The balls scattered again, and three more slid into pockets. He had no idea what he’d just done. All he knew was how incredible she felt pressed against him. He dropped the cue but didn’t pull away.

“You’ve gotten better,” she said

“I tried to get a little practice in.” His hand settled under hers.

He should move. Put some distance between them. Her heat seeped into all his senses, pushing past frustration and demons and awkwardness, and driving straight to his dick.
Fuck.
Riley had always been touchy-feely, but this pushed buttons he never realized he had.

In a single motion, he twisted from her touch, spun, and grabbed her wrists before she could pull away. She locked her gaze on his—eyes wide and shocking blue. When she licked her bottom lip, any words he had evaporated, lost in his desire to dip in and taste her.

“What’s wrong?” Though her question was soft, it stood out among all the background noise. Distinct and tempting.

The few faint snatches of reason left in his head pointed out he didn’t want to go down this road with Riley. She deserved better than a hard-on-fueled fuck-fest in the back of his truck. She deserved better than him.

He dragged the reminder to the front of his thoughts and forced his voice to remain firm. “I know we said the other day that what happened while I was gone is done and over—the past is in the past, sex ruins friendships, all that—so this is fair warning. You’re entirely too tempting to ignore, when you do things like press your body against me.”

That should have been that. He expected her to pull away, maybe refuse to look him in the eye, and then they’d find a new comfortable middle ground.

Instead, she shifted her weight, rubbing her frame against him. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck
.

There was no way she didn’t feel how hard he was, his cock digging into her hip. Impulse surged through him. The need to bend her over the pool table, regardless of how crowded the place was, pin her hands above her head, and drive inside her. “It is, if you meant what you said the other night.”

She didn’t struggle against his grip, even when it tightened enough for his fingers to dig into her skin. A flush spread over her face, and her pupils dilated. “Do you really think the cyber stuff was a mistake?”

He swallowed. How the hell was he supposed to answer that? “I never said that.”

“You implied it.”

He forced the gears in his brain to unstick—to push past her soft scent, her gentle curves, her skin against his. “Neither one of us wants to get attached,” he said.

“I never said anything about getting attached.” The corner of her mouth pulled up in a mischievous smile, and she broke one hand away from him. She trailed down the chain around his neck, grasped his dog tags, and tugged lightly.

“You don’t want to go down this road.”

“I do. Tell me you’re not interested, and I’ll never mention it again. No hurt feelings.” Her lips hovered centimeters from his, obliterating reason.

Pinning her down. Running his hands over her body. Experiencing in person the moans that drove him wild over the phone. If she were involved in a no-strings non-relationship with him, maybe she’d think harder about falling for the next doorknob that came along.

Logic argued that didn’t make sense.

He gagged logic and shoved it in a mental closet. “What about sex ruining friendship?”

She hesitated, but her confidence flooded back quickly. “I promise it’s just sex, and so do you. I trust you, so if you say it, I’ll believe you.”