Page 11 of Dirty Little Secrets
Like me.
My gaze skims the covers of biographies. At least some of these people started out as ordinary. They simplybecameextraordinary. Whether through circumstance or sheer willpower, the people on these shelvesdidsomething. They had a goal. They had a vision. They had a reason to wake up in the morning. Maybe these are also fantasies. Works of fiction. Everyone can’t be special. Someone has to be the baseline. The norm. We make others shine. That’s our job. Our goal. Our purpose, I suppose.Jesus Christ, you’re depressing. Time to double the meds, babe.Realityisdepressing. Can’t be upset with facts.
“Do you need a recommendation, mami?”
His smoky voice cuts through my thoughts, and I’m momentarily taken back to Lux.Oh shit. My stomach drops. It can’t be.Is that who I think it is? Hot damn. Should’ve stayed and chatted, huh?Controlling my breathing, I pretend I don’t hear him as I continue reading the titles. Go away. Take a hint and go the fuck away.Fuck that. Stay for as long as you want.
“This one was excellent.” The warmth from his body radiates onto my skin as he hovers behind me, far too close to keep pretending he’s not here. I swallow, fighting the urge to inhale the scent of his oaky cologne that I dreamt of all night long.Yeah, we did.He chuckles under his breath as I refuse to acknowledge him. “Are we suddenly shy?”
There’s only one way out of this.
“Sorry…” I whisper, hoping Tom has his nose deep in a book on the other side of the store. I twist my neck a smidge, casting him a rehearsed side-eye. I blink. “Do I know you?”
Damon’s chest rises as he stares at me, studies me, tries to decipher me. “Is that how we’re doing this?” He licks his lips, leaning against the shelf. “You know exactly who I am, Miss Jones.”The man did his research. That’s hot.Dread washes over me. He knows who I am?! No. He can’t. He can’t know. A sly grin curls his lips. “Don’t look so scared, Miss Jones.” He leans down. “I seldom bite.”
“I…” Closing my eyes, I level my budding anxiety. “I think you’ve got the wrong person.”
“Really?” Damon cocks his head to the side, giving me a once-over. “Because I don’t.” He runs a finger down my peacoat, gaze flitting down to my mid-length skirt. He quirks a brow. “I mean, Ididhave to do a double-take because this whole…ensemblethrew me off but,” he smiles knowingly, “it’s you.”
I shake my head, refusing to let my two worlds collide. “You’re mistaken,sir.”
“Sir? Already?” He smirks. “You’re ahead of schedule.”
Oh, he’s a dirty little fuck, isn’t he?
“Excuse me?” I ask, crossing my arms.
He chuckles, looking over his shoulder toward the back of the store. “I take it that’s your boyfriend back there?” He turns his attention back to me. “You worried he’ll find out what you do on Fridays?”
He’s not going to back down, is he? He probablyspent all night looking for me. That would explain the dark circles under his eyes, and the fact he’s wearing the same shirt.We’re memorable. What can I say?Clearly. This was always a possibility. I knew it could happen. I knew that one day, a desperate man with far too much money and resources would try to cross the line. Would try to mold two realities together. They’re separate for a reason. And I intend to keep them that way.
“What do you want from me?” I ask, tone firm and cold.
“Ouch.” Damon grabs his chest. “What makes you think I want something?”
I roll my eyes. “Cut the shit, Mr. Cavanaugh. What do you want?”
He smiles. “See? Itisyou.”
Oh, he’s feisty. I like him.
“I’m going to leave now, and you better not follow me.” I attempt to pass him, but he holds out his arm. I glare up at him. “This is harassment.”
“Then sue me.” It’s a dare. A challenge. He’s testing boundaries. I don’t like this. Not at all.I do. He glows with amusement. “I personally wouldn’t mind spending hours in court with you.”
Give him a taste, Emery.
“Is that what you want,misterCavanaugh?” I ask, dropping my voice into a flirty octave as I bite my lip.That’s my girl. “To spend somequalitytime with me?”
His gaze hardens. “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?” I pout, feathering my fingers up his chiseled chest. “Isn’t this what you want, sir?” I raisemyself on my tiptoes and whisper into his ear. “You want to fuck me, right, mister?”
“Enough.” Damon snakes his hand around my arm and pushes me back with constrained force. “I don’t like games, Miss Jones.”
“Then stop playing them,” I hiss, morphing back as I tug myself out of his grip.Boo! Why’d you stop?!“While I think it’s flattering that I made such a strong impression on you. So strong, in fact, that you’ve followed me to a bookstore in adifferent state. I think we both know that I will not give you what you want.”
And why not? Play with him. I know you want to…
