Linc (4 page)

Chapter Three

Chaya stared at her cup of tea, watching the rings her spoon created as she aimlessly stirred the liquid. Something was wrong with her. All her thoughts and dreams had honed in on Linc Dixon.

‘Is that so bad?’

She didn’t even jump at the masculine voice in her head. It just appeared on occasion and was commonplace now, after a week. For a while, she’d pegged herself as losing it but had since dubbed the voice ‘annoying, arrogant Linc’, for it sounded like him; calm, collected and coolly superior.

Not that Linc was rude. Not by any means. As far as she knew everyone liked him. She sighed, unable to explain her take on that man. All she knew was that it had been ill-advised to do what she had with him. There would no repeats. After all, she wasn’t a witless young chit fresh out of school whose head got turned by the first handsome man who smiled in her direction. No, she was a single mom who had no business screwing her son’s coach in his office.

No matter how good it had been.

‘It can be even better.’
That low-timbred voice again.

With a shake of her head, she rose, dumped her tea and headed back to work, her break over. Before long, she had settled back into the swing of things, dealing with the bank’s customers.

“Good afternoon, Ms Stevenson.”

Chaya couldn’t respond immediately, for her mouth had suddenly gone drier than the arid planes of a desert. She blinked and tried to clear the sight and sound of Linc from her mind and focus on the customer she was serving. But no matter how she tried, he never vanished. Linc Dixon stood before her. Tall, dark, and handsome. Sexy. And dangerous. The list went on and on.

The arrogant tilt to his lips that made her question whether he couldn’t somehow read her train of thoughts. Those firm lips tipped higher at the corners and she fought to smile instead of blush.

“Hello, Mr Dixon,” she said, reaching for the paper he’d laid down on the dark countertop. “How can I help you today?”

His eyes flashed with heat. “I would like this in my account, then I need a cashier’s check.”

Although his tone didn’t change, she felt flushed and wanting from his welcome, like he’d reached across the counter and touched her. He’d not even moved. She got to work on his deposit and when she’d finished Linc was still watching her intently.

“The cashier’s check, Mr Dixon, was for how much and to whom?”

Silently, he slid a paper towards her, still ensnaring her gaze. With difficulty, she focused on the sheet. She recognised the name and the amount made her pause.

“Uniforms.”

Her head rose with a quick snap. “What?”

He leaned against the countertop, his pose deceptively relaxed and incredibly sexy.

Jeez, Chaya,
she admonished herself.
Can you not think of sex when he’s around?

She knew the answer. No. For even the mere thought of Linc took her down that road.

“Uniforms for the Rangers. They need new ones.”

“That is incredibly thoughtful of you, Mr Dixon.”

A negligent shrug. “Not really. Have dinner with me.”

There it was, spoken in a tone that told rather than questioned.

“I’m not in the habit of dating my son’s coaches,” she replied primly, putting his cashier’s check in an envelope and sliding it to him.

If her refusal bothered him it didn’t show. His cool, dark eyes touched her with familiarity, lingering upon her breasts before travelling back up to her face.

“And the office? I doubt that was habit either.” He looked at his watch. “So I’ll pick you up at seven.” Linc took his papers and headed off.

She cast a subtle glance around to see if anyone else had heard him speak about their secret rendezvous in his office but no one was paying her any mind. It seemed all eyes were on Linc’s retreating back. His stride had a masculine elegance to it, along with a swagger. It fitted him.

“Doesn’t even know where I live,” she muttered. “Or, heck, what if I’d had plans with someone else tonight?”

‘Of course I know where you live. And you don’t have plans. Seven, Chaya.’

Had she not been at work she would have screamed with frustration. This Linc-like voice in her head, what she’d now dubbed ‘Linc Voice’, was getting to be too much for her strained nerves.

The rest of the day passed without further incident and she was on her way home by half past five. Opening the front door, she was met by the sight of her son, who was reciting his multiplication tables as he walked, hockey stick in hand as usual. Then she saw Sara, who was on the couch, also studying.

“Hi, Mrs Stevenson,” she said, getting to her feet.

“Evening, Sara.” Chaya hugged her son, who kissed her and continued on his way.

“You got flowers. I put them on the kitchen counter.”

Flowers?

She removed her low-heeled pumps and walked on stocking feet into the kitchen. A large, blue-green vase sat there, full of yellow ball-like blooms. They didn’t look familiar at all. She leaned in to smell them as she searched for a card but hesitated when their scent reached her nose. The smell was one she knew, and knew well, for she wore it every day. Acacia.

She knew who had sent them without needing to read a card. Which would explain why there was no card in amongst the cluster. He knew she would know. Linc. With a slight smile, she moved the vase to the table and put it down as the centrepiece.

Turning, she found Sara watching her. “Oh, I’m sorry, Sara. You’re waiting on me and probably want to get home.”

Sara gave her an easy smile. “No problem. My parents are gone for the eve so it’s just me anyway.”

“Would you care to join us for dinner? Spaghetti, garlic bread, and salad, so nothing fancy, but you’re more than welcome to eat with us.”

“I’d love to, thank you.”

“Wonderful. Let me get changed and I’ll begin.” Chaya headed back to her room and dressed in more comfortable attire.

Soon the house smelt like spaghetti and the three of them had sat down for their meal. Chaya ate mostly in silence while watching her son and Sara interact. Danny was half enamoured with her. The doorbell pealed while they ate dessert and she wiped her mouth before rising from the table.

“I’ll get it.”

At the door, she found herself face to face with the one and only Linc Dixon. He was wearing black. Everywhere. Pants, shirt, boots, and coat.

Damn!

He ran his gaze over her, igniting her blood with a single look.

“Chaya.” That one word screamed of endless pleasures. This was a man that dreams were made of. She should know—he frequented hers often enough.

“Mr Dixon, what a surprise.”

He arched a brow. “I fail to see how. I told you I would be here at seven.”

The arrogance was back and, unlike most times she’d been faced with arrogant men, she wanted to smile. It was almost as if he had no use for small talk. He was a man who wasted no words. Said what he meant and meant what he said.

“So you did, but since you never actually
asked
if I was okay with it and I said I didn’t date my son’s coaches, I ignored it.”

He was nonplussed. “Invite me in.”

Chaya crossed her arms. “Did it ever occur to you to ask instead of order?”

Linc stared at her as if truly amazed she would even suggest such a thing. She rolled her eyes and stepped back. He didn’t move, just scrutinised her.

“Well, I’m not standing here all night with the door open. In case you’ve not noticed, it’s cold out there.”

He stood before her in a blink. The door had somehow closed behind him. Baffled, she merely lost herself in his black eyes. She wanted his touch on her body, but the scrape of a kitchen chair stopped her from reaching for him.

“We’re in the middle of dessert but you’re more than welcome to stay.”

“Then we go out.”

“Mr Dixon, I’m a single mother. I can’t just run out because you say so. And even if I could—”

“You don’t date your son’s coaches.”

“Right,” she said with a nod, pleased they seemed to be making progress on that front at least. “May I take your coat?”

He removed it and handed it to her. The buttery-soft leather slid easily through her fingers and she had to stop herself from stroking it as she hung it on the hook. She closed her eyes tightly and searched for the strength to do this.

Linc hadn’t moved when she turned around, and she ran her gaze over him. There was just no way men should look this good. The longer she regarded him, the hotter under the collar she became. And other places.

Spinning on a socked foot, she led the way into the kitchen. Both Sara and Danny looked up.

“Coach Dixon,” Danny said happily. “What are you doing here?”

“Mr Dixon, this is Sara, our neighbour,” Chaya said, ignoring her son’s question.

“A pleasure,” he said to Sara with a slight bow. Sara’s face flushed as she ducked her head. “Good evening, Danny. I came to take your mom out.”

She froze with her hand on the plate she had grabbed for him. Facing him, she glared at him through narrowed eyes. For all the good it did her—he wasn’t even looking at her. Reining in her temper, she dished him up a slice of pie and placed it before him with a fork.

As she stepped away, she stared at the back of his neck and noticed a marking, like a tattoo. Three items, which honestly looked like hieroglyphs to her, sat there in dark ink. She had a strange urge to touch them.

Danny was still watching his coach, chewing his food. “She can’t go out. It’s a school night.”

Bless her boy.

Linc ate a bite of the pie and repositioned those dangerous eyes on her. “I won’t keep her out late.”

Fork down, Danny regarded the man he had come to speak so highly of. “I can’t be alone.”

Linc faced Danny again. “Sara can stay. I’ll pay her.”

Chaya wanted to crawl into a hole and die. They were discussing her like she wasn’t even in the room.

He turned to the blonde at the table. “Will an extra hundred bucks be enough, Sara, to stay with Danny for a few hours? I’ll have her back before midnight.”

“Don’t you think I should have a say in this?” Chaya asked, only to be ignored.

“And you’ll be a gentleman?” Danny asked in a way only a young boy can when protecting his mom.

“I’ll be everything she wants me to be,” he said smoothly. “Sara?”

“I can stay a few hours if that is what Mrs Stevenson wants.”

“She does,” Linc stated rising from the chair. “Let’s go, Chaya.”

She flicked her gaze between the trio in her kitchen. It was like he had them under a spell—they didn’t listen to her protests at all. Then he was there again, before her. His broad shoulders blocked the others from her view.

“I don’t like to be manhandled,” she hissed.

“I’ve not done any such thing.” He reached out with one hand and trailed a finger over her sternum and the tops of her breasts. “Come with me.”

That was when she knew she was well and truly screwed, for it would be just the two of them, alone. His intentions were clear and she had no willpower to refuse him.

* * * *

Linc watched Chaya out of the corner of his eye. She sat there in the passenger seat, pressed as tightly as she could be to the door. Her body was rigid with uncertainty and anger—he knew, for he could read her mind. And the string of words she linked together when she thought of him was impressive to say the least. He had no qualms about how he’d managed the situation.

He didn’t understand why she was so pissed off. After all, he had told her he was picking her up at this time. Her silhouette continually drew his attention from driving and the silence kept getting thicker.

“What kind of music do you want to hear?”

She pursed her lips and didn’t respond.

“This will be a long night, Chaya, if you insist on not speaking to me.”

The fire in her eyes would have seared a lesser man. Her scowl told him to take her home then. And he was even more enchanted.

“How about I pick, then,” he stated, as if they were having a wonderful conversation.

Soon the car was filled with light jazz, music he knew she enjoyed. Still nothing. She didn’t speak for the entire ride. She hardly moved. If not for her breathing, he would have thought her a statue.

When he pulled into the harbour parking lot, though, she sat up and a look of wonderment crossed her face. He parked and walked around to assist her out. One hand on the small of her back, he guided her in the direction he wanted them to go. The cold air was crisp and smelt of the sea.

All the lights made the place look almost magical. They walked up the gangplank. A podium was set up on the ship and they stopped while he handed two tickets over to the bundled-up woman there.

“What are we doing here?” she asked as he encouraged her to progress onwards.

“Oh, so she does speak.”

She stopped so suddenly he almost ran into the back of her. “Of course I speak. You know that.” Chaya faced him, her head tipped up so she could stare him in the eyes. “What are we doing here?”

“A dinner cruise.” He shrugged. “Although you’ve already eaten, so perhaps it would be better to call it a short cruise.”

“Perhaps,” she said.

They entered the dining room and he led her to a booth nestled back in a corner. She removed her coat and placed it on the black vinyl seat, then slid in. He ogled appreciatively as her long black skirt and pearl blush cowl neck tunic sweater were exposed. He could see the tips of her black, pointed-toe boots.

He slid in across from her and quickly ordered when the server appeared. Coffee between them, he stared at her, waiting for her to look at him as opposed to out of the window and across the bay. She watched the water until they had left the dock. Then and only then did she look at him.

“What’s going on?” she asked. He opened his mouth and she cut him off. “Don’t give me that ‘we’re on a cruise’ answer, either. I want to know what makes you think you have the right to come into my life and order me around like this.”

“Do you remember what I said to you in my office when I had your back against the wall and you were coming on my cock?”