“That’s where you’ve misjudged me. The threats were far from empty. I meant every word.” Her coal-black eyes blazed as though they’d been struck with a match and lit.
“The difference is, if I would have needed to demolish that guy, he would have been carted out of there by ambulance. What could you even do?”
“You don’t ever want to find out,” she said in a cool whisper as she brought a hand down on his shoulder, nails digging into his skin.
“I don’t know what bothers me more. The fact that you can turn your crazy act on so quickly or that it’s not an act at all.” The nails in his shoulder were not painful, but the bulge in his pants was growing more uncomfortable by the second. This twisted argument was turning him on.
“Drop me off here,” Jessica called through the partition of the car. “I’m getting out now.”
“Here we go again, waving the crazy flag,” Mathew said, assuming Jessica was bluffing. They were still miles from her apartment, and it was dark.
But as she opened the car door the overhead light flicked on, and the driver slammed on the brakes.
“Seriously?” Mathew asked, exasperated. “You’re going to walk home?”
“I’m a grown-ass woman,” she retorted with a wild smile. “My daddy taught me a long time ago how to get myself home if I’m ever out with an insufferable jerk.”
The door slammed in his face, and through the tinted glass he watched her walk away.
“What should I do?” the driver asked, sounding panicked.
“Just stay close by her until we know she’s gotten another ride or something.”
The driver nodded his head in agreement, and Mathew was certain he heard him chuckle.
A few minutes later a cab pulled up and Jessica got in. “She’s a firecracker.” The driver laughed, flashing his gap-toothed grin and crinkled eyes in the rearview mirror.
“She’s a nightmare,” Mathew corrected. “I feel bad for whatever man ends up with her.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” the driver replied lightheartedly through his knowing-old-man snigger. “A woman like that is one in a million. I tend to feel worse for the men who end up letting her go.”
Chapter 1
There was a right way to do everything. Calculated choices enhanced the odds of success, and it was Mathew Kalling’s job to know those odds. His business partner, James West, was a risk-taking gambler who made Mathew’s skill of clearheaded decision-making even more important. He spent most of his time yanking the reins and forcing deliberate analysis of every situation, even when it caused epic battles between James and him. Mathew could hold his own; he feared nothing in this world. Fear was a waste of time, irrational and weak. If you gave everything enough thought and preparation, you could navigate anything.
He’d learned years ago there were many types of strength, and he liked to wield them all. There was no advantage to being a one-trick pony. When a guy at the bar puffed his chest and tried to mark his territory, Mathew had no problem announcing the guy’s night was over while stuffing him into a cab and maybe accidently smashing his head on the door frame in the process. He and James had that skill in common.
But what James West never seemed to understand was the power in restraint. Waiting for the perfect moment to act showed a command that irrational brute force never could. It was a difference in culture that was the source of most of their arguments over their years of friendship. And now it seemed to be the same argument he was having with Jessica. Why couldn’t everyone just smarten up and see he was right?
“I’ve got it all under control. Back off,” Mathew asserted into his phone as he swiveled his chair around to look out the window. He didn’t much care for Texas. There wasn’t enough color here. Everything felt washed out and sunburned. He had to admit the weather was better than Boston where he’d grown up, but the benefits ended there. The drawl in the voices, the puffed out chests, and the big egos were exhausting. Sure, Boston had its share of arrogant bastards, but everything really was bigger in Texas, even the attitudes.
“What the hell was I thinking? This isn’t the right time for me to be away,” James said in a husky whisper, and Mathew could tell he was trying to make sure his new bride, Libby, wasn’t overhearing him.
“You just ran off and eloped. Take your honeymoon. Your new wife deserves that. Don’t be a dick. I’ve got this.” Mathew stared out at the park adjacent to the West Oil building and watched the small dots of people moving playfully through their afternoon. This new reality hadn’t sunk in yet. His friend had been the last person in the world he expected would fall in love, run off, and get married. James was the consummate bachelor who Mathew could count on to hit the bars and swap turns being wingman. And suddenly he wasn’t.
“Don’t fuck everything up while I’m gone,” James said with a heavy breath.
“Because I’m the one who usually fucks things up?” Mathew bit back sarcastically. “If anything, your vacation will be my vacation because I won’t have to clean up your mess. It might actually be a quiet week or two.”
“Libby wanted me to ask you if you’re keeping an eye on Jessica.” The quick change in his tone made Mathew assume Libby was back in the room now, and he had to change the subject.
“I haven’t seen her since last week after the charity event in Boston where you went all romantic comedy on me. We flew home together. That was that.” That was most certainly not that. But there was no point recounting the events to James. He wouldn’t care. Not to mention the only thing more on Mathew’s mind than the argument was the outline of her figure, which had been branded, seared relentlessly, into his brain. Every time his mind fell quiet, her sultry voice filtered in like water through gravel. It was becoming as disruptive as having a marching band playing relentlessly in his office.
Flashes of the back of Jessica’s dress opening in a deep V and exposing her silky skin intruded on his train of thought. The night of the charity event he’d casually put a hand to the small of her back, each time savoring the skin-to-skin touch. But with every sexy memory came one of her threatening to maim a man on a plane. He had to believe some crazy was just not worth the trouble.
“So matter of fact about it,” James laughed. “I know what you look like when you’re hung up on someone. I just didn’t expect you to get hung up on a woman like Jessica.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Mathew asked, feeling a misplaced desire to defend Jessica’s honor.
“She’s kind of nuts,” James blurted, again in a half whisper. “Libby has told me some stories about her. She’s anti-relationship. Won’t settle down. Refuses to date anyone seriously. She’s the opposite of every girl you’ve ever dated. They’re looking for a ring by the third date, and I’m half expecting you to give them one. You’re always with these perfect, Ivy League educated, sorority snobby girls who expect a picket fence and a family in two years, then you go and break their hearts. Maybe a girl like Jessica is exactly what you need.”
“Since when do we talk about this shit? Marriage has softened you, and it’s only been seventy-two hours. By the time you get back you’ll be throwing rose petals down at my feet and asking me to join you for a pedicure. How about we keep things the way they’ve always been, and you don’t give me advice about women? Up until a few weeks ago you were shittier in that department than I was.”