Savior (An Impossible Novel) (8 page)

He was really killing my buzz.  Didn’t he
understand I didn’t want to be vulnerable to my emotions?  This was how I took control of them.

No, this is how you suppress
them,
a nasty little truthful voice corrected me.  But I ignored it.

“You weren’t doing anything wrong,” I insisted.  “I wanted it.  I want
you
.”

I reached out and fisted my hand in his shirt, using it as an anchor to pull my body towards his once again.  He pressed his palm against my chest, stopping me short.  My nipples hardened as I became aware of how close he was to touching my breasts.  He seemed to realize the same thing, and he jerked his hand away as though my flesh burned him.

I made an exasperated sound and released him.  “Fine,” I snapped, throwing up my hands.  “I get it.  You’re too much of a goody-two-shoes to break a few rules.  I don’t know what happened to the Clayton I met last night, but he was much more fun than
Agent Vaughn
.”  I imbued the title with as much venom as I could muster.

His brows drew together angrily.  “I’ve made mistakes before, Rose.  I don’t want to make them with you.”

“
Mistakes?
  Is that what that kiss was?  Is that what last night was?  A
mistake?!
”  I was suddenly livid.  And more than a little hurt.

He instantly caught my hands in his, his expression contrite.  “That’s not what I meant at all,” he said gently.  “It’s just…  I’ve misread situations before.  I don’t want you to do something you might regret because I made a move at an inappropriate time.”

He really was too good to be true.  It might have been admirable if it wasn’t so goddamn irritating.  His sense of honor was getting in the way of my good time.

“Believe me, you haven’t misread anything here,” I assured him.  “Besides,
I fucked you before I knew my brother and I were in danger.  So you can drop the ‘it wouldn’t be professional’ bullshit.”

Clayton frowned.  “You’ve had a rough day.  I don’t want you to regret something that we might do right now.  Besides, I don’t just want to
fuck
you, Rose.”

I snorted.  “You wanted to last night.”

His frown deepened and his eyes flashed.  “I told you I don’t do one-night-stands.  I never would have invited you back to my place if I hadn’t wanted to see you again.  I certainly didn’t want to meet you again under the current circumstances, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t glad our paths crossed.”  He glared at me.  “You weren’t going to call me, were you?”

My first instinct was to scoot away from him.  He looked pissed off and a little dangerous.
 
And damn was it a good look on him.

“And why did you lie to me about your name?”  He demanded when I didn’t answer right away.

I tried to extricate my hands from his, suddenly uncomfortable with the turn this conversation was taking.  Only a moment ago I was sure he was going to help me fuck all of my cares away, but now he was prying into painful subjects.  Who was he to question my life choices?  My anger flared hot and bright.

“What is this, an interrogation?”  I snapped.  “You might be some big-shot FBI agent, but the last time I checked there were no laws against being a slut.”

Clayton’s expression was livid, his eyes blazing.  He stood stiffly, all of his muscles taut with his anger.  “You’re not a slut, Rose.  But if that’s how I make you feel, then I’ll leave you alone.  I’m sorry I forced my way onto your case.  I shouldn’t have imposed myself on you in that way.  We’ll still be keeping an eye on you, but there’s no need for me to be in your personal space in order to keep you safe.  You have my number.  Call me if you or your brother need anything.”

I was too stunned to move to stop him as he strode out of my apartment.  How had I just fucked things up so epically?  One minute I was close to getting the release I needed, and the next I was sitting alone on my bed, feeling like shit about myself.

“You’re not a slut, Rose.”

That just proved
he didn’t know me at all.  Or maybe he envisioned me as a different person than I was.  Maybe his pure-as-the-driven-snow ego couldn’t allow him to see the truth of what I was, as though acknowledging my disrepute might tarnish him in some way.

It didn’t matter an
yway.  I was just relieved he was gone.  I had told myself it would be unwise to try to see Clayton again after our night of passion, and it turned out I had been right.

Chapter 5

I had to fight down the urge to spew the disgusting drink right back out of my mouth.  “Ugh, that tastes like dirty woodchips or something!”  My hand darted across the table to grab Penny’s cosmopolitan, which I gulped down eagerly.  The sugary sweetness of it helped to wash away the nasty flavor.

“Hey!”  My friend cried.  “That’s mine!  And I told you not to order that crap.  It’s what old men with no taste-buds left drink.”  Her glower was censorious as I set down the now-empty martini glass.  “I believe you owe me a cocktail.”

“Shit.  Sorry.  I’ll trade you?”  I asked hopefully, pushing the glass of neat whisky in her direction.

Penny just tossed her long brown hair over her shoulder and raised one eyebrow, shooting me her best
you have got to be fucking kidding me
look with those glacial blue eyes.  Damn, she looked cool when she did that.  I had always wished I could.  Unfortunately, I looked like I was having some kind of fit if I tried to raise one eyebrow.

With a resigned sigh, I went to the bar and ordered two more cosmos, trying not to wince as I handed over my credit card.  I really couldn’t afford them, especially after the
Glenfiddich I had ordered proved to be un-drinkable.

How the hell does Clayton drink that crap? 
I wondered.

A better question is: Why the hell did you order it?

It had been three days since Clayton had stormed out of my apartment, and I hadn’t heard from him since.  But that didn’t stop my mind from constantly thinking about him.  I hated how upset I had made him.  Putting together a few pieces, it had become clear to me that he was dealing with some past fuck-up of his own regarding fraternization in the workplace.  He was just trying to be careful not to make the same mistakes again.

Of course he was.  Doing so might cost him his job.

Or maybe he really is just a decent guy.

I rolled my eyes at myself.  It didn’t matter if he was a knight in s
hining armor or a self-centered jerk.  I wasn’t going to see him again.  I had made sure of that with my childish actions.  It was for the best, really.

Plastering on a cheery, carefree smile, I headed back to my table.

“So, who’s the asshole?”  Penny asked perceptively.

My smile wavered slightly.  I had invited her out to throw back some drinks and dance, not hash out my problems.  But maybe a good bitching session would help me get my mind off of Clayton.

“Cheryl.  Who else?”  It took no extra effort to spit out her name like something distasteful.  Penny knew all about the bitch; she used to work at Ivory too.  She had gone to the same school as Cheryl had, so of course she had no trouble getting the job.  It also didn’t hurt that she came from a wealthy background, so somehow that made her a person of worth in Cheryl’s eyes.  But, much to my surprise, Penny was actually a sweet, down-to-earth person.  And she knew how to keep up with me at a party.  We had only worked together for six months before she found a job somewhere else.  The way Cheryl treated me drove her crazy, and as much as I appreciated her show of solidarity, I asked her to keep her nose out of it.  She was my only friend at work, and I didn’t want to lose her.  But then one day Cheryl had apparently said something so out of line that Penny couldn’t stop herself from going off on her.  She still wouldn’t tell me what it was Cheryl had said, and a part of me was grateful for that.  I didn’t think I really wanted to know.  In any case, her tirade had resulted in her being asked to leave Ivory.  But Penny was smart and talented and she had the piece of paper that said she had the right education, so she quickly found employment elsewhere.  I missed having a friend at work, but we still got together regularly for a good, long drinking session.

That imperious brow rose again.  “The guy, Rose,” Penny insisted.  “Who’s the guy?”

Shit. 
I didn’t realize she was
that
perceptive.

“What makes you think there’s a guy?”

“Well, for one thing – don’t take this the wrong way – you’re not looking your best today.”

I couldn’t help laughing at that.  I could always count on Penny to bluntly cut to the chase.  “How could I possibly take that the wrong way?”

She waved away my sarcastic comment.  “You’re still drop-dead-gorgeous.  And I know not all of us are fortunate enough to not have to own foundation, but you really should invest in some if you’re going to have dark circles like that.  I’ve known you to pull an all-nighter and still show up at work the next day looking fresh as a daisy.  So how much sleep have you lost over this guy?”

I touched my face self-consciously.  “Damn, does it show that badly?”

“No one who didn’t know you would even notice,” she assured me.  “But then you ordered that drink and I knew something was up.  That has ‘man-drink’ written all over it.  What really worries me is I’ve never seen anyone under the age of sixty order it in a bar.  Please don’t tell me you’ve fallen for some geriatric.”

I rolled my eyes at her.  “He’s probably not even thirty.”

“Ha!”  She snapped her fingers and smiled triumphantly.  “So it
is
a guy.”

“Fine,” I threw up my hands in defeat.  “It’s a guy.”

She considered me carefully for a moment, tapping a perfectly-manicured fingernail against her full red lips.  “Why, Rose Baker, I don’t think I’ve ever known you to get your panties in a bunch over a man.  You usually eat them alive, not the other way around.”

“I do not!”  I protested.

My friend shot me a level look.  “I’ve seen you hunt down your quarry like a hungry lioness.  And you always get your kill.”

“I am not a lioness!”  God, she made me sound like some sort of predator.  I wanted to be the prey.  But Penny didn’t know about my kinks, so I kept that piece of information to myself.

“Okay, maybe a Siren, then,” she conceded.  “You tend to lure them in rather than tackling them to the ground.  But the fact is you always get the one you want, and you always get him on your terms.  Now the question is: Who has finally turned the tables on you?”

“Yeah, I definitely prefer the Siren thing,” I deflected.

“You didn’t answer my question,” she pointed out.  “Who is he, and what did he do to you?”

I pursed my lips, not up for sharing.  She just cocked that damn eyebrow again.  I sighed, giving in to its power.

“His name is Clayton.  And he didn’t do anything, exactly.  It’s… complicated.”

I couldn’t tell her about what was going on with Greg and the FBI even if I had wanted to.  And I definitely didn’t want to talk about Greg.  I had barely seen him since he had gotten violent with me, and when I had he had been totally
strung out.  The one time he had been lucid I had to bully him into eating something.  I tried to ask him how he was holding up, but he had just snapped at me until I gave up.

Some of my frustration and hurt must have shown in my expression, because Penny nodded sagely.  “It looks like it is pretty complicated.  What’s wrong with him?  Is he
mean to you?  I know you go for the rough, bad-boy type.  They’re hot, but they will always hurt you in the end.”

Didn’t I know
it.  Marco had taught me that lesson a long time ago.  He was brawny and tattooed and mean as hell.  But he was sweet to me, and I had loved him for it.  The fact that he was this terrifying guy who would deny his violent urges just for me made me feel special.  I thought our relationship had changed him.  But you can’t change someone who doesn’t want to change.  And guys like that rarely want to.  He turned that side of himself on me once, and I was done.  It had shattered my heart, but I wasn’t going to stay with a guy who thought hitting me in anger was a forgivable offense.

“No,” I quickly came to Clayton’s defense.  “He’s not like that.  He’s a really nice guy.”

“‘
Nice?
’  Say no more.  I totally get it.  He’s great, but he’s a total wet blanket in the sack, right?  That is a predicament.”

Images of my hot night with Clayton flashed across my mind, and I blushed.  “No,” I said firmly.  “That is most definitely not the problem.”

Penny looked at me quizzically.  “So let me get this straight,” she said, holding up three fingers.  “He’s not geriatric.”  She ticked down one finger.  “He’s nice.”  A second finger went down.  “And the sex was amazing.”  Now she was just holding up her fist, and she looked as though she was considering using it to knock some sense into me.  “What’s the problem?”

I really wanted to explain about the fucked up situation we were in with Greg in order to defend myself, but I wasn’t allowed to do that.  And if I was really honest with myself, Greg wasn’t the problem here.  Hadn’t I been holding Clayton at a distance ever since I had first met him?