Exposing the Bad Boy (5 page)

Pike slid by me, heading down the steps. I actually flinched at his nearness, before I followed after him. His silence radiated his sour mood.

I messed his jump up,
I realized with fresh guilt.
If I hadn't been here, he could have just gone to the top and done it. The guard wouldn't have caught him.

That made me understand something. Something that pushed cold prickles into my blood.

Pike really did decide to save me.

I mean, he didn't have to. I'd have been left there, alone, if he'd jumped and avoided detection. He was experienced enough to hide and escape, unlike me. How would I have explained myself to the guard?

Touching my lips, recalling how his own had felt grinding against mine, I fought down a rush of excitement.
Don't think about it. Just don't.

Studying Pike's tattooed shoulders from behind, noting the tension, I worried that forgetting his warmth and his tantalizing flesh would be... difficult. Shaking away my weird musings, I sped up when we broke out into the cool night air.

The guard was gone, I didn't know where, didn't care. What I was focusing on was the little time I had before Pike got into his car and floored it out of my life again.

“Hey,” I said, wishing he'd slow down. He didn't. “Thanks for helping back there. And sorry for, well, messing this jump up for you.”

Sticking his key into his car door, he bent inside. The trunk popped loudly, startling me. As he shoved his backpack into the rear, Pike turned those icy eyes to me. “You shouldn't have followed me like this. I don't have many places to jump from, and now I can't come back to this location again. Get it?”

Tucking my hands into my jacket, I nodded. “Sure, I really do. Base jumping is illegal.” He grimaced, slamming the trunk shut, so I hurried to talk. “Which is why you should sign with Maximal. Wouldn't it be nice to make these kind of jumps
without
having to dodge the cops every time?”

There, a flicker of interest crossed his fine features. “How do you mean?”

The telltale cord of determination grew in me. Fuck, I'd missed that—the feeling of landing a contract, seeing it right there on the horizon.

Keeping my voice even, I said, “Maximal is a powerful company. If you signed with us, we'd be able to arrange your jumps for you. We'd pay the building owners for the rights.” My smile was wide, teeth shining. I could
see
his interest.

Time to make the final blow.

Reaching out, I took Pike's hand. I'd meant it to be a soothing gesture, a way to break down our walls and make him comfortable. I'd learned about it in a book, once; How to Make Connections with People.

I wasn't expecting him to flinch. I was
certainly
not expecting the burst of static in my heart, for my body to remember how we'd been tangled together just minutes ago upstairs. Like I'd been electrocuted, I yanked my hand back—held it at my side stupidly. Pike blinked, making me wonder if he'd felt something similar.

Lifting his chin, he breathed through his nose. “I'm still not signing.”

Fuck, this was spiraling away from me. “But Pike, listen to me. Don't you
want
to be free of worrying about jail time? Wouldn't that be wonderful? Jumping when you want, from where you want?”

Shaking his head, he opened the driver's side door. “You make some big promises.”

“I only make promises I can keep.”

He froze, halfway to sitting in the seat. In the low lights, the shadows turned his cheekbones into black edges, sharp surfaces. A man who could cut me to ribbons with a look.

With a single touch.

I was relieved when he spoke first. “You really think you can take me anywhere I want to go?”

From my pocket, I yanked out a card. He'd trashed the last one. Not waiting for him to take it, I tucked it under the edge of his interior mirror. He glanced at it, then me. “Pike, when I say Maximal can give you whatever you want, I really mean it. Why don't you call me and we'll set up something, get to know each other better?”

Pike's lips spread in a tight smile. “Oh? I think I got to know you pretty well tonight, Miss Cutter.”

Pink as a flamingo, I pulled back—too fast. Wincing, I rubbed my head where I'd hit it on the roof of the car. Pike's smile was huge, now. It actually reached his eyes.

“Call me when you want to talk business,” I said, regaining what I could of my normal demeanor. “We can take it slow, if you want.”

Again, he gave me a meaningful look. Fuck.

Shutting the door, he rolled the window down as the engine roared to life. “Alright, Miss Cutter. Maybe I will.”

With delight glowing bright, I said, “It's Ellie. Just call me Ellie.”

There was no mistaking his grin. “Goodnight, Miss Cutter.”

In a scream of tires, he was gone, leaving me there in that empty parking lot to try and salvage what was left of my stony exterior.

Pike

––––––––

C
innamon. Cream. A hint of caramel from the latte she'd indulged in.

Ellie Cutter.

With the early morning sun streaming through my window, I woke with the memory of her taste on my tongue.

That damn kiss... why was it haunting me?

If I had to dream about her, couldn't it be about how angry I was? About how she'd fucked up the one thing I lived for?

I'd been sure that old bank building was poorly protected. The single security guard was a cinch to slip past. Then she'd shown up, ruining it all.

I wanted to loath her.

The active part of my body had woken with another idea.

Rolling over in my bed, I groaned at the sight and feel of my throbbing erection.
And all because of one kiss? A meaningless, spontaneous kiss meant to just keep us out of trouble.

Logic wasn't working on my mind. Not with the sluggish warmth coaxing me to remember how good she had smelled. The silken nature of her thick hair, and god, the way she'd breathed out in surprise when I'd bent in to tangle our tongues.

Seeing the woman who had been so calm and collected in my shop, melting instead under my touch, was a thrill to my ego.

The primal tangle in my core promised me decadent things, and all I had to do was reach down and jerk myself off to get there. With Ellie burning in my head, I sighed in frustration. Was I really doing this?

It wasn't like I didn't have access to willing women. Sarah could tease me all she wanted, the reality was that plenty of girls made moves on me when I was out and about.

The last time I'd gone out drinking—a night I couldn't find a safe spot to jump—a red-head at a bar had slid her hand right into the crook of my elbow. She'd whispered in my ear, told me to meet her in the restroom in five minutes.

No, I had trouble meeting eager partners.

Shivering, I stretched out on the mattress and focused on that memory. Not Ellie—not the woman who was trying to force my hand—but the red-head whose name I didn't even know.

Faceless was better.

Easier to accept.

Yet, as I stroked my fingers over the front of my boxers, the images that danced before me morphed. The smell of cinnamon was everywhere, and as I scowled, I tasted her again.

God dammit. This woman.

Fluffing my hair, I threw my covers aside and climbed out of bed. The floor was refreshingly cool under my bare feet. From behind the bathroom sink, I snatched the bottle of bourbon.

It was glaringly early outside. On the roof of my building, there was nothing but concrete to be found. The view from here stretched across the lower half of Echo Park. At this hour, the skate rink was bare. In place of hipsters lounging around, there were joggers, dog walkers.

Settling on the ledge, I dangled one foot over the side. The bourbon was a perfect compliment to the already scorching sun.

I needed to think. The fresh air and burn of alcohol washed away the fragments of my unfortunate dream; that woman with her hard eyes and soft curves.

Chugging a mouthful, I wiped my lips. What would
really
clear my mind was a good jump. Adrenaline cleansed everything, leaving just what you needed to survive the fall.

The fall.

It looped back to Ellie, in the end.
She promised me something impossible.
It wasn't as if Maximal could be so rich they'd actually let me—
me—
truly leap from the places I'd dreamed about.
That WE had dreamed about,
I thought sadly.

Or was I wrong?

It doesn't matter. I can't sign with them. It'd stand against everything he...
Grimacing, I sloshed more bourbon down my throat. Great. Now I was brooding about my father.

Leaning back, I shaded my eyes from the sun. If I looked hard enough, I could peer right past the blue sky and into the ether itself. That place of perfection. A world where hawks soared and plummeted at their own command.

I envied birds of prey.

Falling back, I made a pillow out of my arms. Spots flirted behind my eyelids. Purple and gold, I let them dance, tried to single them out. They reminded me of two men, falling forward with smiles plastered firmly.

Would he really hate me for signing with Maximal?

The thought scalded. My father had been adamantly against selling himself. He'd been approached before, and each time, he'd explained he jumped for the thrill, the satisfaction.

Never the fame or the money.

He said sponsorship would just chain him up.

I rolled onto my side, shoved the bottle away.
But that was him. This is my life. He's gone, he has no say.
It wasn't as if I was doing well for myself. If I sat back and looked over where I was, wouldn't my father
want
me to go for this?

Money could buy me gear, and Maximal could take me where I wanted to go. How could that be so bad? How could a company 'chain' me down, like he'd feared?

Staring down the path in front of me, I wondered how much I put his beliefs before my own happiness. He was gone; he couldn't live for me.

It was only my choices that mattered.

And so... what did I really want?

Sitting up, I snatched the bourbon and hurried back inside.

I had a phone call to make.

Ellie

––––––––

I
checked my makeup in my compact-mirror for the third time. I'd tried to keep it simple, but for some reason—one I didn't want to dwell on—I'd put more effort in than I normally would with anyone.

I mean, jeez, I'd even rented a limo on the company's dime!

Sitting in the back of it as we rolled down the cracked hills of Echo Park, I shifted on the seat. One leg over the other, then back again; I was edgy. I'd hoped so hard that Pike would contact me, but to do so the very next morning?

Maybe I made an impression last night.

Thinking about his slightly stubbled jaw as he pressed into me for that short kiss... it had my chest tightening. In the mirror, I saw my thin white dress was revealing my hardening nipples.

I crossed my arms and willed them away.
Okay, maybe I should have brought a jacket. Dammit.
This was out of hand. Pike Moss had left an impression on me.

On the grain of my very flesh.

Wiping my forehead, then my bare neck, I busied myself with checking my hair. I'd tied it up in a high bun, and I was grateful now. The heat growing in me was easier without my heavy hair weighing me down.

“We're here,” the driver said, peeking at me in the mirror. Nodding, I willed myself to calm down. I needed to find the shark in me. My business driven, cool and collected side that allowed me to mix with celebrity-esque people without batting an eye.

Pike Moss wasn't even famous. Not yet, not until
I
made that happen.

I could handle a guy like him.

Opening the door, I climbed out and looked over the apartment. It was three floors, but it didn't seem to have many tenants. The quietness of it was almost... stale.

On my tall heels—I was determined to get as close to eye level with my adversary as I could—I clicked up the stairs to his door. My knuckles were up, ready to tap and announce my arrival.

The door opened before I could knock. There he was; all ruffled hair, torn jeans and a fitted shirt that exposed his fine figure—even through the cloth. I could have counted every muscle-fiber. If I ran my hand down his torso, it would have made music.

I forgot what I was doing here.

Pike's appreciation was clear, too, in his slow stare. Leaning on the door-jam, he said, “Well. I didn't know it was going to be
that
kind of a meeting.”

I shifted aside, letting him see the limo. His surprise had me smiling.
Good. Be impressed.
“I thought we'd go somewhere special for our little chat.”

“'Little chat,'” he mused. Tugging at his shirt, exposing the delicious dip of his stomach to me—the V-shaped muscles guiding me right to the top of his belt—he chuckled. “Alright. You'll have to let me change. Come inside, I'll be quick.”

Waving at the driver, I motioned that we would be a few minutes. I shut the door behind me, the weight making the hinges click heavily. The backpack Pike had been wearing last night was dangling there on a hook.

Must be his parachute,
I thought in wonder.
He had it inside that building. Guess he keeps all of his gear close to him, one tight bundle.

Something about that seemed conspicuously wrong, but I wasn't sure what. It tugged at me, a piece of a puzzle that wasn't ready to be solved.

Gazing around the tiny studio, I kept my expression neutral. The place was a tad dirty, entirely lived in. I spotted a small bed in one corner, a sink and fridge in the other.

I didn't know what I expected, but the bottles of alcohol stacked by the trash gave me an impression of Pike I wasn't ready for. I pictured him coming home alone, sitting in this squat den and drinking away.

The only decorations were a few photos on one wall. Bending closer, I studied the people curiously.
That's Pike, and... is that his dad?