“I did. She seems like a sweet girl, a little nervous, though.” I chewed on my viper bites to hide a smile. After last night, “sweet” wasn’t quite the way I would describe her, but I was censoring for present company.

“Oh? She can be shy, and we all know you can be intimidating.”

“There is that.” I scanned the shop, hoping she would magically appear. “Did she say anything about me?”

“Just that you were interesting.”

That didn’t sound good. “Interesting how?”

“As in not boring? I don’t know. I didn’t ask for specifics,” she said, arranging her stack of books. It wasn’t very helpful.

“Are you working? I thought you might have some time . . .” she trailed off.

“I’ve got an hour before my first client.”

Cassie had been hounding me to look at some items she’d set aside, but I was always between clients when I stopped by. There must have been something pretty awesome involved, because she clapped her hands enthusiastically.

“Great! Tenley,” she called over her shoulder, “would you be a dear and show Hayden the things in the basement?”

Tenley cautiously emerged from between the stacks at the back of the store, well within earshot. She reminded me of a frightened animal, aware a predator was near but unable to escape. Her eyes moved to mine and then away just as quickly, only to return again, a volley of glances.

I smiled, aiming for approachable, hoping to recover from our last encounter. This time I would rein it in and attempt not to leer at her like a creepy douche. Pink flooded her cheeks, and her eyes shifted toward the floor. Her hands were clasped in front of her, the right one patched with gauze.

The scene from last night came flooding back with vivid clarity. Underneath that docile exterior was a spark of fire I had witnessed firsthand. While she’d hit that guy pretty hard last night, one punch shouldn’t have caused such a serious injury.

“I believe you two have met,” Cassie said, giving me a curious look.

I pulled my head out of my ass and tried to do something beyond smile like an idiot. “Hi.” It seemed like a good start.

“Hi.” Tenley spun on her heel and maneuvered her way through the stacks. She didn’t look back to check if I was following.

Mindful of how uncomfortable I made her, I trailed a safe distance behind, watching her hips sway. Cassie knew I could find whatever she’d set aside for me on my own. I’d been in the basement plenty of times, so I assumed this was her way of forcing Tenley to talk to me, which wasn’t working out well. So far, she had managed to squeak out one word.

As she grasped the doorknob, I reached out to trace the edge of the gauze wrapped around her hand. I was so close to her, too close, invading her space again. It was like a compulsion, as if I couldn’t not touch her. She shivered when my fingers grazed the bandage and then soft, warm skin. I should have backed off, but I didn’t. She smelled like vanilla, and not the crappy, artificial stuff. More precisely, she smelled like cupcakes. I had almost all of the senses covered, now if I could just taste her. . . . And thoughts such as those were the reason she was so disconcerted by me. I doubted I sported a poker face, and she could definitely read the perversion in my expression.

“I saw you hit that guy at the bar.” I decided acknowledging the elephant in the room was a reasonable plan.

“He wouldn’t leave me alone.”

“I know. I saw that, too. You were badass. It was hot.” I wished I could take the last part back. Even though it was true. “What happened to your hand?”

“What?” She hid it behind her back.

“You didn’t do that kind of damage by punching that loser. What happened?”

“I fell.” If she had claws, they’d be out right now. So much for the skittish kitten.

I smiled, which seemed to make her angrier. “I’m not buying it, but if that’s the story you want to go with, it’s cool.”

Tenley wrenched the door open and stomped down the stairs with me following close behind. I stifled a laugh. I couldn’t figure out why I felt the need to provoke her. She held the railing, leaning into it as she descended, like she was favoring one leg over the other. On the last step she lost her footing. She collided with my chest, and I wrapped an arm around her waist to prevent her from hitting the ground.

A surge of energy coursed through me at the full body contact, and I bit back a groan as her ass came flush against a suddenly very appreciative erection. I hurried to right her, as the last thing I needed was to make her more nervous or give her a reason to throat punch me.

“Are you okay?” I asked, feeling unhinged. My hands were still on her hips. I needed to let go, but my body wouldn’t obey.

“I’m fine.” She moved away and adjusted her shirt.

Even in the dim light of the basement I could see her embarrassment. Tenley pointed to a pile of boxes stacked in the corner of the room. “When you’re done, bring up what you want.”

She went to sidestep around me, but I mirrored the movement, blocking the stairs. I raised my hands in contrition, aware that once again I had messed things up. “Don’t leave yet. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Her eyes ricocheted around the room, careful to avoid resting on me. “Cassie needs me.”

“You’ve used the excuse before. I’m starting to feel like this is personal.”

She made another move toward the stairs, gingerly holding the railing with her bandaged hand as she tried to squeeze past. Some dark emotion flashed across her face. It was there for only a second before it was gone, and in that moment I watched a storm brewing inside her, threatening pain. Whatever her deal was, I wanted insight.

She met my gaze with a conflicted one of her own. She wanted to stay, maybe just as much as I wanted her to. I covered her hand with mine, careful to avoid the injury, and innocently rubbed my thumb along the underside of her wrist for the sake of contact. Like the last time, her pulse was erratic.

“Please?”

Her fragile defiance, her fear, her longing all resonated with the hollow place inside me. I wanted to know why.

“Okay. I’ll stay.”

4

TENLEY


Hayden’s answering smile dissolved any final reservations, like I’d done him some great service by agreeing to look through a bunch of relics with him. Spending time alone with him was probably a bad idea on my part, but I couldn’t resist the temptation. And I didn’t want to. Over the past several weeks I’d tried to avoid him, but it had become too difficult. After so many months of self-imposed exile, I craved a connection with someone. His hard exterior made him safe–he seemed just as guarded as me. He tugged on my wrist and I relented, taking him to the pile of boxes with his name scrawled on them in the corner of the basement.

“I don’t know how much you’ll want to keep, but this is the stuff that was set aside.”

“You organized all of this?” He took two chairs from a dining set and offered me one. For someone so menacing, he had manners, aside from having no concept of personal space. I dropped onto the velvet cushioned seat as he did the same.

The week after I moved into the apartment upstairs from Serendipity I asked Cassie if she knew of anyone in need of some part-time help. The issue wasn’t money but too much free time. I’d relocated to Chicago in mid-August, more than a month before the fall semester began. While I was content to research my thesis and pre-read for my coming courses, it didn’t keep me as occupied as I wanted. I could only do so much until I met with my professor and that wouldn’t happen for another week or two. Cassie showed me the basement and gave me a job, solving her problem and mine.

“You should have seen this place before I started,” I told him as he opened the closest box. “I almost couldn’t get down the stairs, there was so much stuff.”

“I’ve been down here before; it’s like an anxiety attack of clutter. It looks a lot better now, though.” He rolled his shoulders, dusting off a Victorian-era candelabra. He made a face and looked for a place to wipe his hand. “You got a cloth or something around here?”

“Why? Afraid of a little dirt?” I joked.

“I don’t have a problem getting dirty,” he said with a sly grin. “I just can’t afford to go back to work looking like I rolled around on a basement floor.”

His velvet tone made it difficult not to read innuendo into the comment. Before the mental picture developed further, I stood up and crossed to the other side of the room. The dusting cloths were in the cabinet with the cleaning supplies. Tossing a couple to Hayden, I kept one for myself and sat back down beside him.

He was organized and methodical as he inspected each treasure, wiping them down with gentle hands. The care he took as he handled delicate pieces, even the things he didn’t want, gave me insight into the kind of artist he was. I imagined he worked on his clients with the same vigilant precision.

“You want to tell me what really happened to your hand?”

I peeked up at him, thankful my hair created a barrier through which to view him and still shield my face. I didn’t know why the question surprised me. It shouldn’t have. “Nope.”

He chuckled and remained quiet for some time, sifting through the boxes. He handed me the things he didn’t want, and I put them into an empty box. Each time he did, I surreptitiously inspected the artwork on his arms.

“Lisa tells me you have an idea for some ink.” Hayden stopped sorting to focus on me.

I nodded. I had already entertained showing him the design, thanks to Lisa. Since being near him made me feel like I was having heart palpitations, I couldn’t help but be wary. There was intimacy in committing art to skin. I already found Hayden unnervingly enticing for a variety of reasons, not the least of which had to do with his severe brand of beauty. Being around him more wouldn’t lessen that, and the piece I had in mind was no small thing.