Outer Core (10 page)

Her head jerks back in surprise. “What?” She seems weighed down by her own thoughts.

“You look like you're about to tell me you've committed a felony.” Tasha gives me what appears to be an attempt at a scornful smile that I'm not buying. “Things with Rafa better?” I change the subject for her sake.

“I think so,” she says, still not completely with me. “Um, what am I saying? It's actually going pretty well.”

“I'm glad for you,” I say, letting her be. Whatever it is, she'll tell us when the fizzy part of our trio arrives. Instead, I focus on the description of item twenty on the menu: Maklouba. Meat, rice, spices, fried vegetables.
Hell to the yum.

“When will you know for sure about the . . . ?” Tasha sets her menu onto the table. I tip my head sideways in question. “About the, um, alleged bastard baby,” she elaborates.

I frown. “Bastard baby, really?”

She giggles and shrugs. “For lack of any other suitable word.”

I crack a frustrated smile. “Next few days. But,” I expel a jaded breath, “can we stay clear of that topic? I'm really trying not to think about it.”

“Sure.” She squeezes my hand. “Oh, there's Mr. Hollywood.”

I look over my shoulder in search of Ian. He smiles back, handsome and stylish in distressed denim overalls, long-sleeved white undershirt, and brown work boots.

Tasha smirks at him, checking out his attire. “Howdy, young Huckleberry.”

In lieu of a greeting, Ian drops to his knees before me. His features earnest as he looks up at me. His stare captivates mine while his hand comes up to clasp my knee. My eyes grow wider and fall to his hand on me. “I swear,” he breathes audibly, making me bring my eyes back to his. “There's no one else, sweet baby. My heart, my whole heart, every last piece of it, is completely yours. I've never felt this way before. You're all I can think about day and night.” He closes his eyes for a dramatic beat while both Tasha and I gape at him in query.

“The hell?” Tasha peeps.

Ian raises his finger, signaling, Can it, Barbie. He opens his eyes to mine and with a strained, almost tortured voice, says, “I love you.” To our much-astounded stares, he inches up enough to level our eyes, snakes his hand around my neck and pulls me to his lips. And as if the last few minutes never happened, he releases me and plunges himself onto the empty chair next to us. We follow his every questionable move closely. He snatches a piece of pita bread from the little basket on the table and plops it into his mouth. His lips pull up as he chews on the bread. “I'm damn good, aren't I? You totally bought it.”

“You got me. I was about to call Daniel and tell him I found me a real man,” I say flatly.

“One of the scenes from
Urban Heartbreak
. Fucking cheesy, ah?”

“Could have skipped the lip lock there, movie star,” I say. Ian grins in response.

“I actually love it,” Tasha says dreamingly. “Can't wait to watch it.”

Ian grins at Tasha, blows her a kiss, and grabs one of the menus. “So what's good in this joint?”

We've all polished nearly half of our dishes and had a tasting orgy, trying each other's food, when Tasha takes a sip of her lemonade and says, “I got an offer for a relocation.”

My head jolts up. I blurt, “You're leaving Stark Software?”

She shakes her head. Ian drops the last piece of pita bread and hummus into his mouth and cleans his lips with a napkin, his full attention on Tasha. Tasha's stare runs from Ian to me and back. “Actually, Daniel offered to let me manage the Thai office setup.” Her eyes stay on mine. “And I'm going to accept his offer. That's my important meeting,” she adds, biting on her bottom lip.

Ian and I trade confused stares. “You'll be moving to Asia?” I ask, too muddled to form a more intelligent question.
What in the hell?

Her wicked grin turns up on her lips. “That's right, sweetie, Thailand is indeed in Asia. You really know your geography. I'm proud.” She pats my hand.

I don't even have it in me to come up with a proper retaliation.

“For how long?” Ian asks, the most solemn I've heard him in, well, a very long time.

“Not sure yet. I'll supervise the setup, which I believe should take a good few months, and then we'll see. There's an option to stay there and co-run it with a local site manager after he or she is hired. But I'll have to go through the hiring process just like any other candidate.”

“He didn't tell me anything about it,” I say under my breath.

“Hales, there's wasn't anything to tell before my decision,” Tasha says.

“Why didn't
you
tell us?” Ian asks, seeming no less perturbed than I am.

At least, she has the decency to look somewhat repentant. “Guys, see, um, you need to understand, I wanted to make the decision by myself. I didn't want anyone influencing it. It's a huge thing for me, and for once, I wanted to rely on my judgment alone.”

“Did we ever force you to do anything you didn't want to do, Tash?” Ian asks mildly disappointed.

Her eyes downcast, she forks the remainder of her dish but never actually brings it up to her mouth. “Rafa said you guys would be upset.”

“Just hold the fuck up,” Ian snaps. In unison, we both shift our stares his way. “Rafael knew about it and Hales and I didn't? That's such a dick move.”

“He's coming along with me,” she breathes in response.

My eyes grow in tandem to Ian's headshake. I take a deep breath. “Why don't we all just calm down for a moment? Now Tasha, spill it all out,
everything
.”
Before we make you douse your torch and leave Friends Island.

Half an hour later with our lunchtime breaks dwindled down to mere minutes, both Ian and I are somewhat placated. As much as one can be with such news. In good old Natasha Taylor fashion, Tasha has done a skillful job at clarifying her motives while stroking and cajoling her soul mates' wounded egos into loving her again.

“That's so fucked up! Hales, you are going to start popping out little Starky humans, and Tash is going to reign a group of little almond-shaped humans,” Ian says, riled up, dropping a couple of notes on the table. “What's happening to us?”

I rub his bicep fondly. “We're growing up, I guess.”

“You might want to give it a try, too.” Tasha grins at him.

“Never.” Ian pouts.

“Hey guys, how about a sleepover tomorrow? Daniel is traveling again; keep me company y'all.”

“PJ party, I'm in,” Tasha says, draping her purse over her shoulder.

“Growing up, my impeccable ass,” Ian snorts. “I'm bringing da liquids.” He winks, kisses our cheeks, and strides away with a hard to miss swagger that claims a few turned heads in his wake.

“Hey, baby.” I turn from the sketchpad on my lap to give Daniel a semi-hostile look.

“What's up?” He takes a couple of steps my way, where I'm working on a drawing, nestled on the living room sofa.

I raise my hand his way, gesturing for him to stop. “Thank you for sending my friend to another country and failing to mention it.” I narrow my glare. “Unless you have one helluva excuse or an incredibly rare diamond on you, I would warmly recommend you stay back.”

Daniel's eyes light up in amusement which immediately dissipates my feigned anger. He makes a whole production of patting his pockets with one hand. He shakes his head, his mouth slightly twisted. “Sorry, no diamond.” A hint of a smile plays at the corner of his lips as he brings forward a pizza box. “Tony's pizza instead?”

“Even better.” I set my sketchpad aside on its face, trying to hide my own smile.

“Ever heard of the saying ‘Beware of Greeks Bearing Gifts'?” He shrugs off his blazer and drops it on the sofa next to me.

“Oh, you trying to penetrate my gate is nothing I should be too cautious about, on the contrary . . .” I beam at him, only to be gifted with a wicked, sweetly wicked, smile.

I watch Daniel as he kicks off his shoes and lowers to sit on the coffee table in front of me. I keep my eyes on him, more than enjoying his looks in a casual black tee and jeans. His hair is a bit longer than usual; a couple of lighter clusters of gold fall and cover his eyebrow as he turns to me with a slice of heavenly smelling pepperoni pizza. Melted cheese strings swing from either side. I take the offering and bring it to my mouth, closing my eyes, savoring the perfect taste. Daniel watches me, taking a bite of his own slice.

I lick the salty, delectable grease off my lips. “I thought we told each other everything.” I raise my eyes, challenging his.

Daniel takes another bite of his slice and swallows it down. “This doesn't concern
us
. It's about an offer I gave one of my employees.” I roll my eyes, a gesture he bluntly disregards. “It's a good opportunity for her. You should be happy for her. She made a wise decision.”

“Of course, I'm glad for her. I'll miss her, that's all. A lot.”

“There are planes.”

Simple
. Daniel Stark simple.

“But isn't Thailand dangerous?” I ask; Daniel's hostage experience there just a few months ago is still a fresh and taunting memory.

“It was a period of political instability. The situation has calmed down now. Bangkok is quite safe. Obviously, we'll make sure the employees take the appropriate precautions. We're in close contact with the embassy, and we're strictly following the government's travel advisories for the city.” He places his hand on my knee. “Hales, rest assured I'm never going to put any of my employees in danger. Now, can we stop discussing Natasha's career and maybe talk about yours?”

Where did this come from?
“What about mine?”

Daniel tips his chin toward the side table. “What were you working on?”

I lick pizza off my fingers under Daniel's more than engrossed stare. Giving my middle finger some good old-fashioned suction for good measure. Daniel's irises darken at my little show. I smirk and reach for the sketchpad, flipping back some pages to hide what I was really working on. He takes the sketchpad and studies the drawing. A modern interpretation of Snow White in which Miss White is a badass president of an outlaw motorcycle club with the dwarfs as her entourage.

“It's great.”

“And you're biased.”

Daniel twists his mouth, drops the sketchpad onto his lap, and turns to gaze at me. Hazel eyes wordlessly scolding. “Hales, it's fucking brilliant. And it's about time you did something about it instead of wasting your time on a job you don't really need.”

I fold my arms across my chest in defense. “I like my job.”

“More than illustrating?” Scarred eyebrow arches at me.

I shake my head.

“Wouldn't you like to do this for a living instead?”

I bob my head.

“Then you should pitch your work with some agents.”

“I'll think about it.”

“We both know you won't. You'll just keep hiding your work in a drawer. You're good, Hales. Start believing in yourself.” He watches me closely. “Tell you what, anything you want if you start looking for an agent.”

“Anything?” I ask, holding his gaze firmly.

He folds his own arms across his wide chest. “Anything.”

I rise to my feet, set the sketchpad aside, and bend to sit on his lap. With tender kisses and gentle strokes of bristled cheeks, I soothe him for the blow. “Talk to someone about what you went through in Thailand and I'll pitch to every possible agent on the planet.”

He watches me with hard eyes for some strained beats. His jaw ticking. “Deal.”

I let out a relieved breath, looking at him in wonder.
Really
?

A little wrinkle sets above his nose. “Why do you look so surprised?”

I lick my lip, trying to find the right words. “It's that important to you, that you'd be willing to actually . . .” I don't get to finish my sentence.

He shakes his head, his lips in a grim smile. “I'm actually surprised that by now you still can't comprehend just how important you are to me.
You
always come first. Just as I'm doing what I want to do, and enjoy it, I want the same for you. It's very simple, Hales. I want you happy.” Mischief infiltrates his serious expression. “Happy and naked.” He squeezes my butt.

Brushing my teeth, I shift my eyes to look at Daniel through the vanity mirror. He pulls his shirt up over his head and throws it into the hamper. He rinses his toothbrush. Reaching for the toothpaste, his eyes meet mine in the mirror. I return his smile with a mouth full of suds and toothbrush. Aimlessly, my mind wanders to the night Daniel told me he wanted me for the first time, at the Stark Software fundraiser. It feels like a lifetime ago. The smile on my face is not something I'm controlling anymore.

Daniel halts his brushing. “Hey, what are you smiling like that for?”

My smile expands. Holding my stare over the mirror, his own crooked smile broadens as he moves to stand behind me. One of his hands goes back to brushing while the other settles on my hip. I tilt forward to rinse my mouth, deliberately brushing my butt against his groin. As I straighten up, his hand on my hip pulls me back, closer to his chest.

“I was just remembering that morning when you came all the way to YOU just ‘cause you had to kiss me.”

His lips stretch into a grin around the toothbrush. He lowers down from behind me to reach the sink. He rinses his mouth, and I take the chance to press a kiss on his muscled shoulder. Returning to stand behind me, he sends his hand to my waist and turns me to face him. His hands move to my hip and lift me to perch on the vanity. He pushes my legs apart, settling between them.

He leans in to kiss my lips lightly. “Nothing has changed. I still feel exactly the same.” He kisses me again, this time with greater intensity.