Urban Renewal (Urban Elite Book 1) (13 page)

Max

I take one last look in the mirror as I attempt to will the butterflies in my stomach away. This is nothing but an interview, but the prospect of dining in a private country club slammed home the realization of how high on the food chain this guy is. I’m glad we agreed on someplace different. Merlot’s is still fine dining but I feel more comfortable going there than some highfalutin’ country club.

I want the interview to go well and, like my professor says, whatever it takes to get the job done. Even if it means dressing up and going out with a guy who isn’t my type.

I head to Jack’s office first, just to see what kind of reaction I get to my outfit. I’m dressed in a simple black dress -- fitted, but not too fitted -- with black stockings and black heels. I chose to wear the strand of pearls my mother gave me before her death. They’re a security blanket, a way of taking along the woman who gave me the confidence to be who I am with no apologies.

When other people didn’t understand me wanting to get into investigative journalism, she encouraged me to follow my heart. My mother was my biggest fan so I like the idea of taking her along on my first big interview. I barrel curled my long brown hair with a large curling iron I rarely use. I’ve got on light make-up but I did go for some kickass red lipstick. The real test will be seeing what my boss thinks. Boss or not, at the end of the day, he’s still a man.

I sneak in and he doesn’t look up from his stack of paperwork until I’m directly in front of his desk. He raises his head, freezes, and slowly removes his reading glasses as he studies the transformation.

“Max…You look like a million bucks, kid. Absolutely stunning. Now I’m going to do the overprotective dad thing. Do you have your new cell phone with the panic button on it?”

“Yep, right here.” I hold it up, offering him proof to put his mind at ease. He raises a skeptical brow when he asks his next question. “Is he coming to pick you up?”

“God, no. I called him back later and told him I’d meet him there.”

“Because you didn’t want it to be a date.” He immediately pinpoints my reasoning.

“You got it. After all, this is an interview so I’d like to maintain an advantage and control my movements. I’ll be the first to admit he’s hot, but he’s really not my type.”

“Okay, well, being that I’ve already done my homework on the distinguished doc—“ he holds up a file he’s made up on the guy—“then you can run along and have fun.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me. I can’t believe you investigated an orthopedist. All those years of being a cop have jaded you, Jack.”

“Do I look like I’m kidding?” The twinkle in his eyes is gone, replace by a grim expression that makes it very clear that he’s serious about this. By now, Jack probably knows where the guy has his high dollar suits tailored.

I shake my head and leave Jack’s office and head out to the parking lot. This is one time I probably don’t mind him being so overprotective. A serial killer knowing my identity without me knowing his, is enough to make a girl nervous.

I pause outside the building just long enough to take a quick look under the car and in the back seat, making sure I don’t have any unexpected company waiting for me. Then I press the remote access button on my key fob and slide into my Kia. I immediately lock the door and take a deep breath. For the first time, I feel fear as a result of my chosen profession – and it’s starting to piss me off.

His Dominion

I brush her long, dark hair and talk softly to her while she sits on the edge of the bed.

“I’m going out tonight. I do that from time to time, you know. Can’t stay here with you all the time, my dear. I need to make the occasional appearance here and there, be a man about town. Wouldn’t want people to talk, would we? There’s no reason for you to be jealous though. You know you’re my favorite. You’re safe here, I’ve made sure of it. And that’s a good thing as it seems there’s a serial killer running loose.”

I feel the shiver course through her. I wrap my arm around her, pressing my hand against her stomach to pull her against me so I can rest my chin on her shoulder. With my other hand, I stroke her soft cheek before I clasp the slim column of her neck, just above her collar, enjoying the way her breath hitches when I squeeze the tender flesh. “Yes, it’s a good thing you’re here with me, right where you belong.” I breathe a sigh of contentment when she gasps and coughs as I loosen the grip of my fingers from around her lovely throat. “That’s really all I want—to protect you, my love.”

I stand up, looking down at her for a moment before smiling indulgently. “Here, look, I brought you something.” Her eyes light up when I pull a small paperback book from my inner jacket pocket. “You said you wished you had something to read, so… I listen to your every word, you know. Now be a good girl and sit on your cot so I can fasten your chain.”

She lifts her neck willingly enough, giving me access to the locked collar that adorns her neck—my collar. “You see? When you behave, good things happen. No more manacles cutting into your wrists and ankles. Just this collar…because you’re mine. Although, I must admit, I do like the marks they left. I’m afraid I’ll miss them when they’re gone,” I murmur wistfully as I rub my thumb across the raised, red flesh of her wrist.

Because she has shown promise in her compliance, I’ve allowed her to progress from wearing the manacles that bit mercilessly into her flesh. Instead, the heavy chain attached to her collar allows her some freedom of movement.

“One day soon, darling, I won’t need to keep you chained like this at all. Although I may still keep you collared – but perhaps with something more decorative. Then you’ll understand what I’ve known all along, that you are and will always be mine. And then? Then the chains will be here,” I lightly touch her temple, “in your mind.” I place my large palm over her heart, “and here. But, until then, I’m afraid the chain is your constant companion. You know,” I say with a frown, “I could almost be a little jealous.”

She’s looking at me intently, soaking up every word. Really, what else is she to do? I’m all she’s got. It’s only a matter of time until she’ll willingly be mine. I’ve invested a great deal of time to make her see the truth, that she belongs to me now, that she’s property. My property.

I cover her with the pretty new comforter I gave to her yesterday. My approach as her host is very simple, really: when she pleases me, she’s rewarded. When she displeases me, the little luxuries she’s earned like the book and the comforter? They’re taken away. My house, my rules. Simple.

She’s already curled up in the fetal position with her book, running her fingers lovingly over the pages. I bend down and kiss her cheek. “Don’t make me regret doing away with the manacles. And make sure you drink plenty of water, it’s important that you stay hydrated, darling.”

I started drugging her water with a mild sedative when she was first abducted; now I make it available to her when I’m away for any length of time. I consider it insurance.

I hold up my cell phone to remind her she’s under surveillance. “You would do well to not underestimate me. I’ll be very displeased if you do. Don’t mistake my kindness for weakness; the results of doing so will be…harsh.”

I wait until she nods tentatively. With a serene smile, I turn and jog up the steps to the large wooden door that resembles that of a castle. I’m never gone long, just long enough for her to miss me…and wonder if I’m ever coming back.

Max

I finger my mother’s pearls as I walk toward the restaurant entrance where Liam is waiting for me outside. I think it’s pretty cool he waited outside so I don’t have to go in to a
maître d' or hostess
and do the whole I’m here with
blah, blah, blah.
Not to mention the fidgety waiting around and feeling awkward as passersby whisper to each other about whether you’ve been stood up. To me it just sets the stage for being nervous over dinner and I really want to approach this interview mentally clear, without any emotions involved.

“You look fantastic,” he says with a warm smile.

“Yeah, quite the transformation from the tomboy look, huh?”

“Absolutely, but I can appreciate the need for comfort in your line of work. You’re quite lovely either way.”

The hostess leads us to our table and Liam promptly orders a bottle of Dom Perignon. I attempt to discourage him since this really isn’t a date, but he won’t hear of it. I find his confidence and taste for the finer things not only impressive but intriguing. That’s me -- always fascinated by what makes people tick.

“Do you mind if I jot down notes as we talk?” I’m already pulling out a notepad and pen from my purse so there’s really no graceful way for him to say no. Normally I’d tape the conversation on my phone but, after all, this is something of a social dinner and I’d have to edit the voice taping later on anyway. Taking notes will be more effective for what I have in mind.

“By all means. I would expect no less,” he says with a warm, cordial smile. His gaze is penetrating and I find it difficult to look away. I frown as I try to remember my first question. Before I can write a single word, my pen slides from my sweaty palm onto the floor. I mutter an apology and bend to pick it up but Liam beats me to it. He straightens and returns to his seat, holding the pen for me to take from his outstretched hand. Our fingers brush and a frisson of awareness heats my cheeks.

There’s something slightly disconcerting in his gaze that I can’t figure out. Hell, maybe I’m jittery tonight because I haven’t been around a man in what feels like forever. I don’t mean a father figure like Jack, either. One thing I do know is that there’s an edge to this guy that no amount of chivalry or Dom is going to conceal. The hint of mystery only makes me curious about his secrets. And Liam surely has some secrets -- we all do. How dark his secrets are remains to be seen.

I brace myself, taking a drink of the champagne before getting down to business. “You said ‘
my line of work
’ a moment ago. What exactly did you mean?”

“Do you ever go to crime scenes?”

“Yes, I go with my boss, Jack. He’s a retired detective.”

“I can’t imagine going from writing to being thrown into crime scenes, where I assume dead bodies abound. It must be quite a shock.”

“Well, our current case will be on the news by 11:00 pm tonight so I think I’m safe discussing this with you. The last two crime scenes involved severed limbs. Just the limbs, no body to be found. To be perfectly honest with you,” I say with a wince, chagrined in spite of myself, “when Professor Ostrom told me that you’re an orthopedic surgeon, it was the perfect opportunity for me to pick your brain.”

“By all means, I’m at your service.” The crooked smile on his face coupled with the humor in his striking blue eyes have me feeling horribly torn: he’s either incredibly arrogant or he knows more about me than he’s letting on. I push the nagging feeling away and continue.

“Like I said, this is all going to come out anyway so I’m not giving you any confidential information. I wouldn’t want you thinking I can’t keep a confidence. I know there are times when professionals are dismissive of me because I’m young but I assure you I’m very professional.”

He leans in, eyeing me solemnly before he speaks. “I’m not the type of person to judge anyone on how they look. I believe your work speaks for itself. I’ve seen your blog and I was impressed, it’s quite professional. Don’t let anyone steal your confidence, Max. The career you’ve chosen is competitive and you need to believe in yourself.”

I’m distracted by the slight wobbling of the table as he taps his foot on the floor in a lightning fast rhythm. I guess surgeons have to find an outlet for nervous energy too.

“I’m confident, no worries there. I just care about building a solid reputation and wouldn’t want you or any other professional thinking I’d blab confidential information.”

He shocks me by lifting his glass for a toast. I follow suit and smile as our glasses clink and he says in a hushed voice, “To confidentiality…and to the hope that one might need it this evening."

“Oh. Um, absolutely, to confidentiality.” I finish off the champagne and shake my head to clear it. I should really get back to the interview.

“Sorry, Max,” he chuckles easily, leaning back in his chair. “I’m afraid I got carried away for a moment. You can’t blame a guy for hoping. No worries.”

Our server returns and presents our shrimp cocktail appetizer with a flourish.

“Ladies first,” Liam murmurs, and there’s that cocky smile again. This guy is so good looking that it could be distracting. I dip a shrimp in cocktail sauce and can’t help but moan as the perfectly prepared flesh seems to melt in my mouth. I take a drink of the Perrier that was brought to our table with the bottle of Dom. I don’t want to overdo it on the champagne. I need to stay focused on the business at hand. I take a deep breath and forge ahead.

“Okay, here goes. The killer is leaving severed body parts all over town. The thing is, the limbs are cut with such precision. The medical examiner says that he seems to know what he’s doing, like he might have some medical training.”

“My goodness, I certainly hope you didn’t invite me out to eat because I’m a suspect.” He has the good graces to look as if he’s restraining a laugh. I roll my eyes good-naturedly. Good looking and a sense of humor too. Just wow.

“Hey, now, don’t laugh at me. I need your expertise here,” I reply with a teasing frown.

He smiles at me indulgently. “It’s just that I find you quite entertaining. Now, don’t take that the wrong way. You see, my days are spent dealing with broken bones and arthritic joints. You, sweet Max, are a much-needed breath of fresh air. Please…allow me to be amused, it’s a luxury I seldom get to enjoy. Take it as the compliment it is.”

Why am I so gratified by his approval? I’m not one of those women who needs a man’s approval to validate herself, am I? No, this isn’t like me at all – normally, I wouldn’t give a shit one way or the other. His voice pulls me from my troubled thoughts.

“Have you thought more specifically about this person’s possible medical background? Perhaps it’s someone who studied medicine but didn’t make the grade, so to speak?” He waits until elegant platters of surf and turf are placed in front of us before he continues. “Not everyone who goes to medical school makes it, you know. There’s more to it than simply passing college courses. In addition to the very specific skill set one must bring to bear to identify symptoms and create treatment plans and perform surgery, there are psychological tests as well. The psychological screenings are quite rigorous to ensure that a doctor can handle the pressure. You know, nerves of steel and all that,” he concludes with lopsided grin.

“So someone could be gifted with, say, a scalpel…or a saw…but not graduate because of mental health concerns?”

“Exactly. Exceptionally talented, even. It happens. Not often, but it happens. Truly devastating to the person involved, I would think.”

“Mm, this food is amazing.” I take another sip of my Perrier before I continue. When I look up he’s eyeing me as if he’s taking my measure.

“What, no more champagne because you’re driving? I’m impressed.”

I dab at my mouth with the linen napkin. “Very perceptive of you, doctor. You know, I’ve never considered the psychological aspect of your profession. You’ve made a very strong point.”

“Glad I could help. I make a point of being observant. And it’s no hardship paying attention to you, Max.” There’s that cocky demeanor again. This guy may not be my type but I’m sure he’s quite a hit with the ladies.

“Thanks, that’s a sweet thing for you to say,” I mumble into my napkin as my cheeks start to heat up.
Time to get this conversation back on track
. “But, you know, I really prefer to not be the center of attention. I’m glad I decided to interview you. You’ve given me a lot to think about. Would you mind if I call you if I think of anything else?”

“I’d be flattered if you did, and disappointed if you didn’t. In fact, I would love to hear from you again, regardless of how your investigation goes. Now, unfortunately, I do have another surgery coming up, so as much as I hate to be a kill-joy, I’m afraid I need to call it a night. I do like to be at my best and rested.”

“I understand. My brain is practically swimming with ideas anyway so it’s probably for the best. I need to get my thoughts organized on my laptop and see where this case takes me next.”

We stand and he helps me with my wrap. I shiver in spite of myself when his fingers brush against my skin. His hand is warm on my shoulder for a moment before it slides down to rest at my lower back as he guides me out of the restaurant.

I really didn’t know what to expect, but it’s been an enjoyable night. In fact, I’m blown away with the whole evening. The meal, the tip he left, where he took me, the insights he gave me to think about – from what I can see, the man is the whole package. Just wow. Sometimes he almost seemed too smooth, but then again, I’m not really used to smooth in the first place, so a little smooth probably goes a long way with me.
Careful, girl…

As we stand next to my car, my thoughts are chaotic. There is definitely some chemistry here that’s pleasant enough, although he does make me feel a little off kilter somehow and I haven’t decided if it’s in a good way. As it is, I have no idea what kind of ‘goodnight’ moment is called for here. We talked business, yes, but with a fair amount of flirting going on. So do we shake hands or is this more of a ‘kiss goodnight’ situation?

“Well,” he chuckles, leaning casually against the side of my car, “I think this may be the first time I’ve walked a lady to her Kia and not to her door.” He has his arms crossed over his chest and one leg is bent slightly at the knee with the ankle crossed over the other. He could easily be next month’s GQ magazine cover.

Standing there smiling down at me, Dr. Liam Chambers is the epitome of casual charm -- and, yes, I will confess to feeling more than a little charmed by him tonight. The heat in his gaze makes it clear that he wants to take this goodbye in a far less professional, much more personal direction, and I don’t have a problem with that.

As I wait for his next move, his eyes become heavy-lidded and there is a subtle shift in his expression, from lazy seduction to something that seems almost distant. Maybe he’s nervous like I am. Or maybe I’ve just confused the hell out of him with all my mixed signals, standing in front of him with all the enthusiasm of someone facing a firing squad. You’d think I’d never been kissed before. It’s just one more example of the occasionally strange energy between us and I’m not sure what to make of it -- so much so that I find myself taking a step back when he moves toward me.

In the next instant, though, his charisma is back full force as he gathers me into his arms and presses his lips to mine. It’s a good kiss as first kisses go. He knows what he’s doing and so do I, and we don’t make a mess of it by any means. But I can tell right away that our chemistry doesn’t have the
zing
I’m looking for, the wow factor that sexual chemistry ought to have. But it’s a very nice kiss, and sometimes that’s a good enough place to start.