AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He cups my face. “And really damn good with me.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“I think you might be good with me, too.”
“Think?”
“That’s all you’re getting right now.”
“Guarded. Understood. Challenge, once again, accepted.” He takes my hand, and we start walking across the room. Mr. Arrogant Asshole is holding my hand. And I have the realization that no one was holding my hand a few days ago. In fact, had they tried, I would have shoved that nonsense aside. Only, it’s not nonsense with Reese, and really, it’s incredible how life changes in a blink of an eye. One minute, you have an agent. The next, you don’t. One minute, you call a man you just met Mr. Arrogant Asshole, and the next, he’s something so much more.
Everything changes, and that thought is what has me trying to pull my hand away from Reese’s. But I can’t. He’s holding on too tight.
Chapter eighteen
Reese
It’s nearly eight when I walk my team to the door, and finally I have Cat to myself, in my house, and soon, in my bed. I return to the den to find her still on the floor beside the coffee table, pecking away at her computer. “You have to be tired, Cat,” I say, crossing to join her.
She glances up at me. “Not yet. I get wired when I work.”
“And when you drink most of a pot of coffee?”
“The pizza made me do it. It was heavy.”
I lie down on my side on the rug next to her, fully intending to have her next to me in the near, anytime now, future. “What are you working so feverishly on?”
“I’m actually writing my column that is due tomorrow night.”
“You could work on it tomorrow. Do it over morning coffee.”
“I know, but—”
“You have a plan and you have to make it happen.”
She twists around to face me, her green eyes lighting. “Since you mention it, I do. My opening statement starts with: Who killed Jennifer and her unborn child? I never name names, but I present investigative angles. I can’t reach the jury. That’s up to you, but I can affect public perception. Get them thinking about options. Get them involved beyond convicting an innocent man. Now, here is why I think this helps you. Or I hope it does. I’m thinking that the real killer gets news of my column and is on edge. That means nervous on the stand. What do you think?”
“It’s brilliant. You’re brilliant. I’m lucky to have your help.” I lower my voice. “I want to feel you next to me, Cat. Come here.”
“I—Don’t look at me like that, or say my name like that either, until I finish my work.” She tries to turn back to her computer, but I don’t let her.
I snag her arm and pull her down next to me, aligning our bodies, my hand sliding under her sweater to rest on soft, warm skin. “I need to work,” she says. “I think this will be good for you.”
“You’re good for me,” I say. “Must be why I keep feeling like I need you.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Yes. I do. Maybe one day you’ll believe me.”
“You just met me.”
“You keep saying that, too. Soon it won’t be true.” I nuzzle her neck. “You always smell like fresh flowers in a city of smog and crime.” I brush hair from her face. “I haven’t smelled anything but that smog in a long time, Cat. And I didn’t realize until I met you how much I needed something else.”
Her hand settles on my shoulder. “You do know that I’m the one who called you an asshole, right?”
“Called? Or Call?”
