Page 12 of The Best of Us

My hands slipped to the underside of the table, and I pushed my fingertips against it, trying to ground myself. Find my way back to the room and the meeting taking place, away from thoughts of the goddess in teddy-bear blue scrubs.

After a few failed attempts to focus, I let my mind wander back to her.

My life was messy and complicated. The last thing Juliette needed was someone like me going anywhere near her.

I had too many meetings during the day, ensuring my family’s company thrived so that thousands of jobs would be protected. Then, at night, I hunted criminals.

Alessandro called it our volunteer work. I called it my path to redemption (if that was even possible). But after all the shit we’d been forced to do back in the day for Uncle Sam, serving as mercenaries for the U.S., I needed an outlet along with some hope I could be saved if I righted a few wrongs.

All I can offer her is drinks and sex. And danger.I’d convinced myself of that, which was why I hadn’t already run a background check on her. I could’ve quickly learned everything about her with a few keystrokes. Dating history. Food allergies. Childhood address. Mother’s maiden name. Horoscope.

Let go. Move on. Forget her. She has a son.

The montage of commands held no weight. I had a counter to every statement ready to go.

Hold on. Go forward. Focus on her. The boy could use a good role model.

I drew my hands back to my lap, searching for that grip I couldn’t seem to get. I hadn’t had such a raw, intense reaction to a woman like this since?—

“Constantine?” I looked over to see Blair in the doorway, cutting off the chaos in my mind, for which I was grateful.

Blair had tried to hide her black eye with concealer, and it was hard to look at her without remembering that Daniel had tried to mug her and, in the process offailingto do so, had hit her in the face. I didn’t care if he’d claimed during Hudson’s interrogation that it’d been an accidental elbow and not intentional.

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” she began, and I gestured her in. She rounded the table and whispered, “You said if Juliette Carmichael ever reached out, to let you know right away.”

I let the name puncture a hole in both my heart and brain. “And?”

“She’s downstairs with security.”

My heart was about to implode, turning into confetti. Relief. Excitement. Maybe even anxiety ripped through me.

“Sir?” I hated it when she called me that. And considering she was almost twenty years younger than me and could be my daughter, it made me feel even more over the hill.

“Tell security to send her up. Bring her to my office. I’ll meet her there now.” I pushed away from the table, ignored my father's annoyed look, and announced, “Excuse me, but you’ll have to continue without me.” I left the conference room before anyone could protest.

I hurried down the hall to my corner office, dropped into my chair behind my desk, and stared out the window, viewing the Manhattan skyline.

I impatiently waited, curious if she’d be in her scrubs again. Maybe a cotton-candy pink this time?

What is wrong with me?

Time was moving too slowly. I undid the top two buttons of my black dress shirt, my tie already gone as of this morning, then held the chair arms, trying to look casual while leaning back.

At the knock, I called out, “Come in.”

The door opened, and she wasn’t in scrubs. Instead, she was clothed in my kryptonite.

Heels, fitted jeans, and a white button-down blouse partially tucked in. Her blonde hair, with hints of auburn strands, lay wavy over her shoulders. Her lips were painted a soft pink and slightly parted as if she’d opened her mouth to say something and forgotten how to speak. Brows, a little darker than her hair, slanted over her beautiful green eyes as she took in the sight of me.

Tongue-tied. Motherfucking same.

I held the chair arms tighter as I realized she was carrying a small package. It was blue, and not just any blue—Tiffany’sblue.

I already knew about her son’s purchase with my American Express. I’d canceled all but one card after my wallet had been stolen. Initially, I’d kept the Amex active to teach the kid a lesson about stealing. After I had met his mother, that plan went to hell since I could only focus on Juliette. I’d hoped she’d discover what he’d done and show up as she was doing now.

You’re a mom.That reminder made the things I wanted to do to her ten times worse.

I’d start by setting her on my desk and tasting her pink, pouty lips before moving down to the ones between her legs.

---