Her eyes widened.
“Don’t worry, I haven’t told him who I’m dating.”
She swallowed what was in her mouth and said, “I’m more worried about the punching and choke holds.”
I chuckled. “No real harm—it’s just roughhousing. You can’t have that many boys in one house without some brawling. It was never over anything important, just seemed like a joke turned into a swing, which then turned into grappling.”
“I somehow can’t imagine you getting in a fight. You’re so …”
“Stiff? Aloof? Formal?”
“I was going to say refined. That, and I can’t picture you fighting in a suit.”
“Would it help if I told you I usually took my coat off?”
“A little,” she said on a laugh. “I think I would have taken the occasional busted lip over being alone all the time. My house is big and cold and empty, and my only happiness as a child was school and my father. Isn’t that sad? My best friend growing up was my dad.”
“I don’t think that’s sad at all,” I said quietly. “He must love you very much to go through what he’s gone through.”
“He does. He’s sacrificed his happiness in love for me. I wish he’d get a girlfriend, but I don’t think he wants to drag anyone into the mess.”
“Think he’ll ever leave her?”
She sighed. “He says he will. In a year, I’ll be out from under her, and he promised me he’d leave too. Until then, he insists on being a buffer between me and my mother. Speaking of,” she started, setting down her fork, “my mother has a plan I thought you should know about.”
The pork turned to dust in my mouth. I swallowed it in a lump and took a drink.
“I was in the room for a conversation with her lawyer as they outlined their strategy, which currently consists of them doing what they can to bankrupt you in legal fees.”
I took another pull from my wine without speaking.
“The plan is two part—delay and interfere with depositions so you have to pay to redo them and run you around for excessive information for discovery. They’re going to call for depositions of every single person you’ve talked to or worked with in the last decade. They’ll ask for paperwork and records they don’t need just to bury you in costs.”
I sat back in my seat, eyes on my wineglass, hand on the stem. “I can’t say I’m surprised.”
“Is there anything you can do to stop her?”
“I’ll have to talk to Ben, but I think so, yes. We can file a motion to have the judge intervene.”
Her bottom lip slipped between her teeth. “That might not be easy. The judge’s wife is one of her friends, if you can call it that. They’re on a few charity boards together, which is how they’ve been able to get this case taken as far as it’s come.”
I swore under my breath. Because if the judge wouldn’t do his job, Evelyn Bower would most definitely bankrupt us in fees alone.
We’d be stopped before we even started.
“I’m sorry,” she said sorrowfully.
“Don’t be sorry—you aren’t her keeper. I’m sorry you’re in this situation in the first place.”
“I’m just glad there’s something I can do to help. Possibly help. Maybe help?”
At that, I smiled. “You definitely help.”
“Good,” she said, relieved as she picked up her fork to finish her dinner.
And for the first time since we’d been in each other’s company, we fell silent.
Music played over the speakers wired throughout the house—no matter what I did, I couldn’t deprogram from the noise of my childhood. In fact, quiet drove me a little crazy, and in that moment, I was thankful for the habit of keeping music going.
Something crackled between us in the sweet silence, questions and thoughts, wonderings and anticipation. What were we doing, and why couldn’t we help ourselves? How would tonight end, and where would we go from here? What would we do together, and how would we spend our time? Could I really keep her safe, or would I just be another complication in her already complex life?
“Is this crazy?” she asked, reading my mind. “Are we crazy?”
“Without question. Do you care?”
“Not even a little. I know I should. I just … don’t.”
“I won’t lie to you and say I’m not worried about what will happen to you because of me. I can’t pretend I’m not selfish and self-serving for wanting you. I won’t take away your choice, but I don’t want to willingly put you in danger either. And refusing you seems to be beyond my ability. Past that, I’ve never wanted to lose my mind more.”
I earned a small laugh. “You trust me, don’t you?”
“Why wouldn’t I?” I asked.
She shrugged one shoulder. “You don’t seem to be the type to trust easily.”
“No, I’m not.”
“And even though we might feel as if we know each other, we don’t. You don’t know me, Marcus.”
“I know you well enough to know you’re different.”
“Why? I’m just plain old me. Why would you trust me without a reason?”
I cocked my head as if inspecting her, a tilted smile on my face. “By my count, you’ve defied your mother, decided you’re willing to walk away from your life and inheritance, and you are currently spying on your mother for the sake of my family. You stood up to her in front of all of us, defended what you felt was right. Your actions have spoken nothing but trust. Why do you trust me?”
“I don’t know. Because we’re allies, that’s part of it. Because I can’t stand by and watch her decimate your family over some tired, pointless grudge she’s held on to rather than moved on from. But mostly because when I’m with you, the world seems full of possibility when I’ve lived without hope for so long. I trust you because I want to trust you, and you’ve done nothing but prove you’re worthy.”
I watched her for a protracted moment, one spent searching for words. “I have never met anyone like you, not in my whole life. And that you’re sitting here, that you’re with me, is the most terrifying and satisfying thing that’s ever happened to me.”
She rose from her seat, her eyes locked on mine as she approached. Reaching for her, I pushed my chair back to make room, and in a single, fluid motion, we connected in a slide of her arms, the slip of her body into my lap, the sweetness of her lips against mine. We were a mingling of breaths, a seam of lips, a tangling of tongues, the bounds of the world shrinking to just us, just this. My hands roamed as the kiss deepened. The silken strands of her hair in my fingertips. The soft curve of her jaw. The dip of her waist. The shape of her thigh beneath my palm. Her skin, hot and smooth, my curious hand seeking the end of her thigh like a cartographer seeks the shore.
When the curve of her ass rested firmly in my palm, I squeezed and was rewarded with a moan into my mouth. There was little I could do with her sidesaddle in my lap, but when I skimmed the hem of her panties, she shifted to grant me access.
The heat of her mouth arrested my senses, leaving my hands to act on their own, and they took that opportunity before I could consider. My thumb slipped into the cleft of her ass, the silken fabric barring me from more than a delicate exploration. I traced that line down until I found her heat with my thumb, nestled in the valley of her body, found the peak of her and stroked. The arch of her back rocked her in the crook of my hand, my thumb holding steady and fingers splayed on her ass.