Accidentally on Purpose, page 11
Over it, she stood. She needed a ’tude adjustment before she tossed her computer out the second-story window. Leaving her office, she took the elevator up, staring at her reflection in the metal doors, feeling . . . lonely.
Which was ridiculous. Her life was fine, good even. She didn’t need Archer, or any man actually. But she wanted one, even if only for a night. She wanted to be held, touched. Desired.
She had to use a special keycard to get the elevator to stop on the fifth floor, which everyone thought was paid storage, authorized personnel only.
It wasn’t paid storage.
It was a penthouse apartment, huge and rambling, with gorgeous, heart-stopping, three-hundred-and-sixty-degree views of the city.
Spence’s.
He wasn’t home so she let herself in and walked to the tall windows to look out at the city below, determined to get her life back on track. The security and safety track. Happiness would be nice as well but beggars couldn’t be choosers.
She was still standing there when Spence, accompanied by his friend and former business partner Caleb, walked in. They were in running gear and all sweaty, talking about some computer program for one of their drones.
Spence looked up with a smile on his face that faded at whatever he found on hers. She had a great poker face when she wanted but at the moment she was feeling too raw to access it.
Not wanting to reveal the crazy in front of Caleb, she headed into Spence’s kitchen. His fridge was usually well stocked because he was always hungry and everyone knew it. Women loved to make food for him. Trudy was the worst culprit of them all. She constantly cooked for him so he didn’t have to lift a finger for himself.
Elle opened his fridge and found a container of perfect little mouth-size quiches. Setting it on the counter, she dug in.
“Help yourself,” Spence said dryly.
She didn’t answer; she just kept eating.
“You know, I might’ve been up here with a woman,” Spence said. “In a compromising situation.”
“Really?” Caleb asked. “Who?”
Spence shot him a dirty look. “Not the point.”
Caleb sent Elle a friendly smile. She actually liked the guy. She didn’t know what it was about him, but she didn’t seem to scare him off like she did most people. He was good-looking in a rugged cowboy sort of way, smart as hell, and always took the time to talk to her. He’d asked her out several times now but she’d always been busy.
Maybe it was time to change that.
“What?” he asked when he realized she was staring at him.
Spence winced. “Caleb, man, what have I told you? Never approach it when it’s angry. You have to wait until the steam stops coming out of her ears. And even then, you need a full-scale strategy. Never, ever, ever ask it a direct question.”
Elle rolled her eyes and kept eating.
Caleb didn’t look intimidated, which she realized she liked. A lot. She knew he had something like four or five older sisters. She supposed that had given him a certain immunity from the Fear of Women. “I’m not angry,” she said. At least not at that moment.
Caleb held her gaze. “You’re something,” he said perceptively. “I mean you look beautiful as always, but . . . off.” His warm chocolate brown eyes were sincere—he wasn’t playing with her. “You okay?”
She stopped chewing and actually felt her heart skip a beat, but hell no, she was not going to reveal that she felt alone. And lonely . . . She’d done enough revealing of herself lately, thank you very much. Been there, bought the T-shirt, and got sunburned anyway. “I’m okay. Really,” she said into his obvious doubt. “In fact . . . ask me again that thing you sometimes ask me.”
Caleb looked at Spence and then back to Elle, his gaze confused.
Men. “Ask me again,” she said meaningfully.
He blinked. “You mean . . .”
“Yes.”
He swallowed hard. “You want to go out with me?”
“Yes.”
He grinned. “Sweet. Now?”
“Well, you’re kind of sweaty right now so—”
“I can be showered and ready in five seconds,” he said without missing a beat, already heading to the door. “We could go out to breakfast.”
There was something to be said for a show of enthusiasm, but she had work. “How about dinner?” she suggested. “Tonight.”
“Oh,” he said and laughed a little. “Right. That’s better.”
Spence opened his mouth, caught Elle’s glare, and wisely shut it again.
Elle took another quiche, smiled at Caleb, and went to work, feeling much better about things.
Half an hour later she got a text.
Spence: I hope you know what you’re doing.
Elle: I do know what I’m doing. I’m working for you.
Spence: Are you always such a smartass?
Elle: No, sometimes I’m sleeping.
Archer and some of his guys went to the pub for lunch. He’d been told by his doctor to stay home but the hell with that. He needed the distraction of work. For years he’d so carefully squelched his desire for Elle. Or at least pretended to squelch it, but suddenly, or not so suddenly at all, he was losing the battle, miserably. He’d actually thought he could keep his hands off her, never mind her mouth, but he’d failed at that too.
When Caleb showed up at their table, Archer nodded and gestured to their platter of hot wings and fries. “There’s plenty.”
“Thanks but I’m not staying.” Caleb was as smart as Spence, meaning that he was smarter than anyone in the entire place, but unlike Spence who could be equally comfortable walking a dog or designing a drone or addressing an entire board of directors, Caleb didn’t seem comfortable at all. “I just wanted to tell you that I’m taking Elle out tonight.”
The chatter at the table came to a complete and abrupt stop.
Caleb never took his gaze off Archer. “Just wanted you to know.”
“Why?” Archer asked.
Something crossed Caleb’s face at that. “I guess because if our situations were reversed, I’d want to know. Anyway, have a good lunch.”
And then he was gone.
“If Caleb gets to go out with her, I can too, right?” Joe asked.
“No,” Archer said.
“But—”
Trev grabbed a chicken wing and stuffed it in Joe’s mouth. “You’re welcome,” he muttered under his breath, and if there was more conversation, Archer didn’t hear it over the heavy thudding of his heartbeat in his ears.
On the one hand, he was proud of Elle for actively seeking out the life she wanted and certainly deserved. On the other hand, watching her go get it sliced right through him in a way that made breathing nearly impossible and hurt more than being stabbed.
Caleb came for Elle after work. They walked the Embarcadero, something she hadn’t done in a long time. It was fun. And okay, maybe some of that sense of adventure and excitement came from the fact that she knew Caleb was active on several different dating sites—which meant that she wouldn’t be able to break his heart.
“Have to admit,” he said as they walked along the water toward Fisherman’s Wharf, winding in and out amongst a good-sized crowd, “I was surprised when you agreed to come out with me tonight.”
“And I was surprised you had room in your busy social schedule.”
He laughed, not insulted. “You can’t believe everything you hear.”
She cocked her head. “So what percentage of what I hear would you say I should believe?”
He flashed an easy grin. “Fifty. Sixty tops.”
When they got to Pier 39, they stood in the west marina under a setting sun and watched the sea lions doze on the docks. “Sure has been nice having you around ever since Archer got Spence to hire you as building manager last year,” Caleb said.
Elle took her eyes off the water and stared at him. “What?”
Caleb smiled. “Yeah, we all like having you around. You soften the boss up—not that he’d ever admit it.”
It was difficult to speak evenly with the blood rushing through her ears. “I got my job through a headhunter,” she said with what she felt was remarkable restraint. “Not Archer.”
“Uh . . .” Caleb finally clued in and read her expression. Whatever he saw in her face clearly tipped him off to the fact that he’d screwed up in a very large way because he swallowed hard and backed up a step. “How about some food, yeah? We could get—”
“Caleb, what did Archer have to do with me getting the job?”
“I don’t know.”
“Caleb.”
“Christ, Elle,” he said, shoving his fingers through his hair, looking pained. “Can we please forget that I said anything? I overheard Spence and Archer talking about it once a long time ago and I was just looking to make conversation with the hot chick instead of staring at you like a dumbass.”
She did her best to let it go but failed utterly. Because here was the thing. Spence owned the Pacific Pier Building. Spence and Archer were very close friends. It didn’t take her nearly complete accounting degree to do the math here. Somehow Archer had known she needed work and he’d had Spence hire her—for the job she’d so carefully sought out, the one she’d assumed she’d gotten on her own.
Caleb was tense now and she did feel bad about that because it wasn’t his fault. Archer was a dead man walking. She laid a hand on his arm and his muscles jerked.
He laughed in soft apology. “You know,” he said, “I thought I wanted you to touch me. I thought that a whole helluva lot. But right now I’m just scared.” He turned to face her. “I shouldn’t have said that about your job. It was thoughtless.”
“You said it because you thought I knew,” she said, capable of placing blame where it was due, and that wasn’t on him. “Not your fault, Caleb.”
Not looking like he felt any better about it, he nodded. And then his phone went off with a text.
“Shit,” he said, reading it. “This wasn’t supposed to happen but I’ve got some work stuff going on with Spence and he needs me.”
“It’s okay,” Elle said, sensing a rat. A very cute, sexy geeky rat in glasses named Spence.
“I’m sorry,” Caleb said with genuine regret. “Let me drive you home.”
She glanced over his shoulder and felt her back teeth grind together. “No, it’s okay. I’m going to stay. Don’t worry about me, Caleb. I have a feeling something’s going to come up for me too.”
Like committing murder . . .
Caleb pulled her in for a quick hug and a kiss on her cheek. “Rain check,” he said.
She smiled and watched him walk away before turning to Archer, standing on the other side of the pier.
He pushed off the beam he’d been lazily leaning against and walked toward her.
“Two for two,” she said. “You know, if you’re not careful, I’m going to think you’re into me.”
“I am into you,” he said.
“Because I’m suddenly unavailable to you and dating others?”
“I told you,” he said. “Mike’s a player. I did you a favor.”
“And Caleb?”
“A good guy,” he allowed. “But you’re off-limits to him.”
She crossed her arms. “And why is that? And it better not be because seeing others date me suddenly made you want to do the same.”
His gaze never left her. “I don’t want to do the same as Mike or Caleb.”
“No?” she asked.
He gave a slow head shake. “No. Because dating isn’t all I want to do to you.”
Not amused, she crossed her arms and glared at him. “Correct me if I’m wrong but you’ve had an entire year to act like a jealous idiot, Archer.”
“Well, I’m dyslexic, so . . .”
She was so mad that she actually couldn’t access most of her vocabulary. “You’re insane” was the best she could do.
“In a good way, right?”
“Oh my God.” Tossing up her hands, she turned to go anywhere but here.
“You wanted a date tonight,” he said to her back. “Go out with me.”
She faced him again. “Tell me one good reason why I would do that.”
“Because we’ve never gone out on a date and that’s on me. I should have taken you out.”
“You don’t date,” she reminded him. “You charm—when you’re in the mood. You play.” And ooze sex appeal . . . “But you don’t date, at least not like normal men.”
“I do tonight,” he said. “Dinner, Elle. Or whatever you want.”
She didn’t believe him, but she had questions, and she wanted answers. Here was an opportunity to grill him, and she did love a good opportunity. “Fine,” she said. “A hot dog.”
“What?”
She pointed to the hot dog stand.
“That’s what you want for dinner on our first date,” he said. “A hot dog from a street vendor.”
“Yep. Problem?”
“Not at all,” he said. “But you’re letting me off easy and you don’t do easy. What’s the catch?”
“No catch.” Liar, liar, pants on fire. She walked to the hot dog stand. She ordered two for herself and then piled them high with ketchup, mustard, and pickles. And then, just to be mean, she added onions.
Archer watched her in silence, although she was pretty sure he shuddered at her plate. He also ordered two hot dogs, mustard only.
“Boring,” she said.
He looked surprised. Probably a woman had never called him boring before in his life.
They found a bench facing the water where Archer proceeded to watch as she demolished her hot dogs. She might have bothered with a smidgeon of embarrassment but, one, it turned out being mad made her hungry, and two, his eyes were lit with genuine amusement.
“What?” she asked testily.
“I’m just impressed. I like a woman who can enjoy her food.”
“Hmm,” she said, waiting until he took a big bite. “So. You got me my job?”
He choked on the hot dog. It was greatly satisfying. She slapped him on the back a few times, probably harder than necessary. “You can use sign language if you need to but I want an answer.”
“You got yourself the job,” he managed. “On your own merits. I just recommended you for it. That’s all.”
So it was true. He’d interfered. The implications boggled her brain. “Wow,” she finally said. “Just wow.”
“You can’t be mad,” he said. “It was all you.”
“You know,” she said with a quiet she absolutely did not feel. The calm before the storm that was brewing inside her. A category five storm at that . . . “I’m not even sure where to start.”
“Maybe you want to sleep on it,” he suggested.
She opened her mouth and then closed it, sincerely having trouble finding the right words for the first time in her life. “I need . . . I don’t know.” She stood up, shaking her head when he tried to follow.
“You need a minute,” he said. “I get that.”
“Oh, I’m going to need more than a minute.” She drew a deep breath. “You know what, Archer? My needs are simple. All I’ve ever wanted was to be independent and strong. I thought I was doing both of those things but you just pulled the rug out from underneath me.”
He grimaced. “Elle, listen to me. You are independent and strong. Christ, you’re the most independent, strong woman I know. You’re incredible. I hope you know that. I didn’t tell you because there was no reason to. You got the job because of you. Not me.”
Fed up with him, she shook her head. “Don’t follow me.” And then she walked away, getting into the first cab she came to.
Chapter 11
#ThatsWhatSheSaid
By some miracle, Archer managed to get into his truck and follow Elle’s cab back to the Pacific Pier Building. When she got out, so did he, and while she was looking in her purse for her wallet, he paid her driver.
She chewed on her back teeth over that but didn’t argue. Mostly, he knew, because she was being polite in front of the cab driver. “Thanks,” she said begrudgingly. “But to be clear, I’m fine. You don’t need to watch out for me. You’ve done your time, a whole year apparently. I already owe you more than I can repay so please stop. I’m moving on and so should you.”
He watched her walk off but she didn’t enter the pub as he’d expected. Instead she slowed at the fountain and stared pensively into the water, arms wrapped around herself as if cold. He waited, not wanting to intrude but also not wanting to walk away in case she needed him—a thought that was laughable because she’d made herself clear. She didn’t need anyone, and most certainly not him.
She thought she still owed him. His worst nightmare, because as long as she truly believed that, he couldn’t even fantasize about having her as his someday. Because every time they were together, he’d worry it was in repayment.
Which reminded him of something he was ashamed to realize he’d forgotten until right this very moment.
Tonight was his dad’s retirement party and he hadn’t even RSVP’d. He hadn’t called. He hadn’t anything. With guilt and self-loathing rolling over him in waves, he pulled out his phone and accessed his contacts. He scrolled to his dad and stared at the number.
Call or text? No, texting would be the chicken-shit route. He shoved the phone back into his pocket. Then he swore and tugged it out again, called, and . . . got his dad’s voice mail. “Dad,” he said at the beep. “Hey. Look, I know it’s last minute and I should’ve called you long before now and at least RSVP’d to your party tonight.” He ran a hand over his face. “I’m sorry but I’d like to still come by, if that’s okay with you. You can text if you’d rather just . . . Let me know.” Shit. He disconnected and stood there for a long beat, not sure what to do with himself. Finally he swore some more and then looked up at the odd prickling at the base of his neck.
Elle was no longer by the fountain. She’d moved closer and stood right there, watching him.
“Hey,” she said quietly, her expression softer than he was used to seeing when she looked at him. She felt sorry for him.
And if that didn’t suck big-time. “Don’t,” he said.
