One Touch More (10 page)

“How long have you lived in Boise?” Damien kept his eyes facing front, but Tabitha felt his undivided attention on her nonetheless.

“My entire life,” she responded with chagrin. “I know, not very exciting.”

He gave her a sidelong glance and a corner of his mouth hitched in a lopsided grin. Holy crap, she wanted to kiss the dimple in his cheek, dip her tongue into it... “I move around a lot. There's nothing wrong with having deep roots. I'd kill to settle down for a change.”

There was a depth of emotion to his words that caused Tabitha's chest to tighten. Regret, longing, and sadness spoken with an openness and honesty that tugged at her heartstrings and squeezed the air from her lungs. “It's not always so great to be firmly rooted in place.” They paused at the crosswalk and started across Main when the little man flashed from red to a walking white. “There are days that I really wish I could just pack up and leave. Start over where no one knows me. It would be awesome to have a clean slate for a change.”

“What's keeping you here?”

Tabitha had a feeling that she was being managed. Damien knew how to steer the conversation in the way he wanted, and asked leading questions so that it seemed as though Tabitha was volunteering the information he was coaxing out of her. Still, the realization did nothing to stem the flow of words. There was something refreshing about spilling her guts to him. He was the clean slate she couldn't get anywhere else.

“School. My brother. Work.” She could make a list of reasons a mile long, but those were the big ones. “Seth is a . . .” What? Royal screwup? “. . . handful. He's had a rough few years and he needs me.”

“Younger?”

“By two years.” Though sometimes it felt like twenty. “He's finally got his life on track and I don't want to do anything to screw it up for him. Besides, it's a total pain in the ass to find a school that will transfer credits, and I'm so close to finishing that it just doesn't make any sense to pack up and leave at this point.”

“What are you studying?”

“I'm working toward my RN.” Tabitha paused and steered them down Eighth Street. “I want to be a trauma nurse and work in the ER.”

“How much longer do you have?”

She gave him a wry smile. “Are you interrogating me, Damien?”

“Yes.” His tone wasn't the least bit playful and it sparked every nerve in her body with electric energy.

“I finished up my labs and lectures for this semester last week, and next semester I'll be doing clinicals at St. Luke's.” Tabitha paused at the entrance to Fork and held out her arm in invitation. “We're here.”

Damien pulled open the heavy glass door and waited for Tabitha to walk in ahead of him. Joey had never once held a door open for her. Hell, Joey had never taken her out to eat. She could hardly call what this was between her and Damien a relationship, but already it surpassed anything she'd ever had with her asshole of an ex. Damien was indeed a mystery. A criminal and a gentleman? Did such a thing even exist?

Chapter Ten

“Two for lunch today?”

Damien smiled at the hostess, and at his nod she retrieved two menus from the tall podium she stood behind, handing them off to a young girl decked out in a long black skirt and crisp white dress shirt. “Right this way.” Her tone was pleasant and customer service perfect as she led them past the rustic-style bar, wine rack constructed from rebar and old barn wood, and into the restaurant proper, through a maze of tables.

As their waitress rambled on—something about the weather and the possibility of a snowstorm—he couldn't be bothered to listen as he took a moment to appreciate the sway of Tabitha's hips as she walked, and the luscious curve of her ass that he itched to reach out and take in his hands. He towered over her by at least a foot, and his bulk almost tripled her petite frame. Without a doubt, she'd weigh almost nothing, and he imagined himself lifting her in his arms to settle her on his cock while he took her up against the wall.
Whoa. Put on the fucking brakes, man
. If he didn't curb the erotic trail of his thoughts, he'd be sporting wood before the waitress managed to seat them.

She led them to a booth on the street side of the building, and placed a menu on either side of the table as she waited for them to sit down. Tabitha's attention was centered on the server as she recited Fork's specials, but Damien didn't give a single shit about the soup of the day. He lost focus of everything but Tabitha. God, she was fucking beautiful.

She cast a curious glance at Damien, her full, petal-pink lips quirked in a half grin. “I think we're going to need a few minutes,” she said.

“No problem,” the waitress responded. “I'll check back in a few.”

“What?” From the way Tabitha was looking at him, Damien had a feeling that he'd missed something in the women's exchange.

“I think I must have lost you sometime after the lunch specials. She asked if we wanted to start off with any drinks or appetizers, but it looked like you weren't tracking.”

Not even close. Who needed food or water when she was sitting across from him? Sunlight filtered in through the large picture windows, setting her hair on fire with a golden light. Her eyes seemed even bluer, crystal clear like the waters of the Indian Ocean. “Nope. I was too busy looking at you.”

She blushed at his comment and Damien's chest swelled. That he could affect her with just a few words stroked his ego and it made him want to test the waters, see what more heated sentiments would do to her. “Why? Do I have something on my face?”

The way she deflected the compliment made him think that she was uncomfortable with any form of praise. He could press on, tell her she was beautiful, that he couldn't quit thinking about her mouth, or her gorgeous pussy, but that wasn't exactly proper lunch conversation. Which just proved that Damien was about as housebroken as a timber wolf. Jesus, he was so out of touch, he had no business sitting down to eat a civilized meal with her. “How long have you been working at the hotel?” Conversation served a triple purpose: he could investigate her on the sly while learning more about her, and maybe if he kept the topics light he'd quit thinking about how he wanted to sink his teeth into the soft flesh of her ass . . .

“A little over four years.” A busboy stopped at their table and filled two sawed-off wine bottles that had been repurposed as glasses, with water. Tabitha waited for him to move on to the next table, and continued. “I started working there the summer before my freshman year of college. They worked with my schedule and I could do homework at the front desk when it got slow.”

“After you graduate, you'll be quitting?”

Tabitha averted her gaze, triggering Damien's protective instinct yet again. Fear flickered across her features for the briefest moment before she answered. “That's the plan. BSU has a great program, and since I'm finishing up my clinicals at St. Luke's, it's likely they'll hire me right out of school.”

He noted the quaver in her voice, the lie inherent in her tone. She might want to quit the hotel, but Damien sensed that if Joey had anything to say about it, she'd be staying put. Why? “Not enough blood and guts working the front desk, huh?” If he pressed too hard, she'd shut down. Damien needed her to trust him, and that was something he couldn't force.

“You've obviously never had to manage a swimming pool full of ten-year-old boys in town for a soccer tournament,” she joked. “I actually liked working at the hotel. I get along with my boss and everyone who works there. The money is decent considering how hard it is to find a good job around here. It could be worse.”

“Liked?” He didn't miss the slip. She'd enjoyed her job at one time, but not anymore.

“Huh?”

Her perplexed expression coaxed a reluctant smile. “You said you
liked
working at the hotel. As in, you don't like it anymore.”

A hint of crimson tinted her cheeks. Not embarrassment. Rather, guilt that she'd been caught in an admission she hadn't meant to make. “It's not that.” Tabitha averted her gaze and traced the lip of her water glass with the pad of her index finger. “I just—”

“Have you guys had a chance to look over the menu?”

Damien's lip curled at the interruption, though it's not like his annoyance was justified. “I'll take the Urban Burger and a Square Mile Cider.”

“Great. You're going to be happy with the burger. It's fantastic.” The waitress turned her attention to Tabitha. “And for you?”

“I'll have the same.” She gave Damien a sheepish grin as she handed her menu over to the waitress.

“I'll get these burgers started for you.”

When the waitress was clear of earshot, Damien turned his full attention back on Tabitha. “If you weren't ready to order, you should have said something. I could have waited.”

It didn't take much to embarrass her, it seemed. The expression that crossed her features suggested that the people in her life didn't make her feel as though her opinion mattered. An offense that prompted fantasies of breaking the skulls of anyone who'd managed to belittle her.

“It's fine. I've wanted to try the burgers here for a while. A lot of the guests who stay at the hotel eat here, and they rave about the food.”

“Why haven't you eaten here before? It's just a couple of blocks down the road. I'd be mowing down everything on the menu if I were you.”

“It's sort of out of my price range. This is more of a special occasion place, you know?”

Was there nothing in Tabitha Martin's life that she'd ever felt was worth celebration? “I'm glad your first time here was with me, then.”

Her answering smile squeezed his heart. “I'm glad, too.”

As they waited for their lunch, Damien tried to keep the conversation light without being too heavy-handed in his questions. It violated his don't-show-your-curiosity protocol, but Tabitha was a tough nut to crack. She didn't have the ego most of the criminals he dealt with sported, which kept her from bragging or divulging too much. And she seemed reluctant to offer up anything about herself unless he specifically asked.

“So, let's say you breeze through clinicals and walk away with a spiffy degree. What then? Will you bounce and take the job at the hospital?”

This was the question Damien was burning to know the answer to. Was she staying at the hotel to help Cavello? Or was she working under duress like he assumed—too afraid to cut him loose and walk away.

“I want to leave. But sometimes what a person wants and what they get are two completely different things.”

Damien leaned forward in his seat, ready to pressure her for an in-depth answer, when their food arrived. He swore the damned waitress was plotting against him. Her interruptions couldn't be more perfectly timed to fuck up his day.

She set two large, square wooden planks on the table, each decked out with a fat, juicy burger and all the fixings. Beside the planks she doled out two conical metal baskets overflowing with Parmesan fries. Damien's mouth watered as he realized that he hadn't eaten in almost twenty-four hours. Hell, he could easily inhale two burgers and three times the amount of fries. Maybe if he turned his attention to his lunch, it would give Tabitha a moment or two of introspection. Reluctant witnesses often opened up after they had a few minutes to process what an investigator asked them.

At the very least, he could enjoy the view while he ate. Goddamn, there wasn't a more beautiful woman in existence.

 

 

Tabitha dug into her burger with gusto she didn't feel a damned bit embarrassed about. She hadn't eaten in almost twelve hours and she needed something in her stomach so it would quit churning with the nervous acid that kicked up every time she laid eyes on Damien's tattooed and muscled body. It should've been illegal for a man to look so perfectly made for sin.

Her conscience tickled at the back of her brain, a germ of thought that infected what was sizing up to be a nice afternoon. Damien Evans might be gorgeous. He definitely had the body of an MMA superstar and charm in excess. But he was still a criminal, a hard, unflinching, unconscionable drug dealer who probably had a history of violence that would make Joey's petty squabbles seem like a child's temper tantrum in comparison.

Was it strange that, given all of that, she felt safer with Damien than with any other man in her entire life?

“Can I ask you a question?” So far, they'd talked only about her. Tabitha appreciated that Damien was curious and a good listener, but it was time to turn the tables.

He washed down the gargantuan bite of his burger with a long pull from the bottle of hard cider. “Shoot.”

“That first week you stayed at the hotel, were you working for Joey then? Did you come to Boise to work for him?”

“That's two questions,” he said without humor.

Tabitha's stomach twisted. She might feel safe with him, but that didn't mean he wasn't a dangerous man. “True. But I'd like you to answer.”

He studied her for a moment, his eyes narrowed. “No,” he finally replied. “I wasn't working for him the first week and I didn't come here to work for him.”

“So . . . you just stumbled into it?”

Tabitha wondered if he'd noticed the note of hope that leaked into her voice. Was it too much to wish that he—like her—had ended up an unwitting accomplice to Joey's less than legal activities? Would that somehow absolve her of the guilt she felt for lusting after him?

“I met him in a bar. Liquid. I needed money, he needed a guy. That's all.”

Tabitha wasn't unaccustomed to the need for extra cash. She lived every day of her life needing only a little more than what she had to make ends meet. Surely selling drugs was easy money for some. Her parents had found the money easy enough to make. It was obvious by the way he carried himself that Damien could handle most any situation that came his way. Maybe for someone as fearless and strong as he was, the consequences of his illegal acts meant very little at the end of the day.

“There are safer ways to make money, you know.” Her voice dropped with her gaze and she fiddled with a fry, twirling it between her fingers before she popped it into her mouth.

“There are,” he agreed. Tabitha dragged her gaze up to his and her breath caught at the intensity of his golden-brown eyes. “But I'll endure the danger factor—and that idiot Joey Cavello—if it means I get to see more of you.”

“You want to see more of me?” God, she sounded like a fool, all shaky voice and fluttering nerves.

His gaze heated, warming Tabitha from the inside out. “I do. And wearing a hell of a lot less than you have on right now.”

Tabitha was pretty sure that the entire restaurant could hear the sound of her brain sizzling as it short-circuited. Maybe the cider had gone to her head and she was drunker than she thought, imagining the words spoken in a husky rasp that made her skin tingle. One hard cider on an empty stomach was surely enough to give her a buzz. And enough of a buzz to make her feel brazen at that.

“Shouldn't that be my line? You've definitely seen more of me than I have of you.”

A wicked smile curved his lips and it was all Tabitha could do not to jump across the table and tackle him. “I'll show you whatever you want to see. All you have to do is ask.”

Sin. Incarnate.

Tabitha couldn't remember a time in her entire life that she'd shared a bit of dirty talk over a cheeseburger. She tingled with excitement from head to toe, even though the cautious part of her lust-addled brain reminded her to tread lightly. “Let's say a girl wanted to do just that. Where would she find you on any given weeknight to pose such questions?”

After a week at the hotel, Damien had checked out, and aside from his weekend there working for Joey, Tabitha had no idea where he was staying. He'd asked her plenty of leading questions over the course of their lunch. It was time for him to answer a few of hers.

“Does it matter where, as long as it's private? Maybe you could ask me a few questions over at your place.”

“No.” Damien might be the sexiest man she'd ever laid eyes on, but Tabitha had worked hard to make sure that Joey didn't know where she lived. No matter what depraved acts she wanted to commit on Damien's body, there was no way she'd risk her or Seth's tenuous sense of safety by inviting one of Joey's associates to her apartment.

Her stern response was answered by a dubious brow. “No?”

Tabitha had a feeling that very few people told Damien Evans no. There was a first time for everything, she supposed. “Sorry, but—” How far should she trust him? “—at the end of the day, you still work for Joey. And there are some things, my address being one, that he doesn't need to know.”