Page 15 of Relinquish

I shake my head. “There’s no need to check out the car. The mechanic said once it quit, I’d need a new one.”

“The least I can do is give you a ride home.”

Ride. I’d like to ride something. I shiver. Stop being crass.

But how am I not supposed to think of sex if I’m stuck in a vehicle with him? My nipples tighten, and my breath hitches. Don’t think about sex. Don’t think about sex. Don’t. Think. About. Sex. Three times, and it might stick. “That’s too much to ask. Can you drop me off at the bus stop?”

Cade raises his arm, and his watch glows. “It’s almost nine o’clock. I think the buses stop at eight o’clock.”

I stifle a groan. “I can call a cab.”

“You’re not taking a cab.” Exasperation radiates off him. He marches to the passenger side and yanks open the door. “Get in. It can’t be far to your place.”

He’s holding the door open for me. Lord, don’t let me swoon. Who holds the door open for people anymore?

The man is a complete enigma. First, he was a prick. Now, he’s a gentleman and offering me a ride home. What gives? Surely, he has better things to do. Just because he said he wasn’t busy doesn’t mean he’s telling the truth. Crap. A flash of jealousy zips through me at the mere thought of him with another woman. “Are you sure you don’t mind?”

“Not at all.”

I slide into the seat, and he slams the door shut, returning me to darkness. The scent of the new vehicle permeates the cab as I sink into the leather. He probably has a girlfriend or lives with someone. My stomach cramps. So, stop daydreaming about him.

He slips inside and shuts us inside together. “Where to?”

“It isn’t too far. When you get to the stoplight, turn to the right. Go about five blocks, and then merge to the left. It’s about eight blocks from there.”

Shit. My neighbors. I cringe. If he can look past the sofa on their front porch, their beastly dog will cause him to run for the hills. The mutt won’t stop barking. My place isn’t much better. It needs a new porch, and siding, and the shingles are curled and peeling. Well, the whole thing could be gutted and rebuilt, but it’s only a stopping point.

If I decide to remain with Truman Security long-term, I’ll purchase a home–one with lots of character and room. I might not be on the hunt for a husband right now, but in the future, I want a man who respects me, gives me mind-blowing orgasms, and, most importantly, puts up with my meddling family. Is that too much to ask for?

Yeah. It is. I’ve never had an orgasm, but that one is likely the easiest one to check off. Respect? Probably a little more difficult. But dealing with my family, that’s going to be a hard sell.

A country ballad spills from the speakers. He pokes the screen until a rock song fills the cab. We ride several blocks in silence as I watch the darkened houses out of the passenger side window while trying to ignore that this is the closest we’ve been since the elevator.

Each second strings me tighter until I feel like a bowstring that’s going to snap. I want to climb into his lap and kiss him again. Until we’re both breathless.

I rack my brain, trying to think of something to get my mind off his physical presence. “Are you from around here?”

“I grew up here in Kansas City.”

“Is your family still around?”

“No.” Cade’s tone is curt, and he doesn’t elaborate.

I’m the queen of pointless conversations. Surely, we can fill eight blocks with random words. “Did they move away?”

Cade’s hands clench on the steering wheel. “I don’t discuss my family.”

The sexual tension is gone, but it’s been replaced with a different kind of energy. Annoyance. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”

“I saw you talking with Rachel Truman the other night. How do you know her?”

I almost feel the whiplash from the change in topic, but I’m not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. “Rachel and I went to school together before she moved here to Kansas City. We managed to stay in touch over the years. A few months ago, she was in New York for a convention and called me. We met up for a couple of days, and I showed her around. When I needed a place to stay and a job, I remembered Rachel saying her uncle had started a new company.”

See, I can make random conversations. Just a few more blocks. “When Truman and I first spoke, I was applying for a clerical position. However, the more we discussed some of my experiences and background, the more we both saw the possibility of going in a different direction.” I raise my hand and point. “Turn there.”

His gaze slides to me, and he clicks on the blinker. “You weren’t thinking about working in the security field when you applied?”

“Not really. I had some experience with computers and other investigative work but hadn’t considered using it as a career.” I point down the street. “That’s my place in the middle.”

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