CHAPTER SIX
Tuesday, November 14
When I pull up in front of Nia’s place, I put my BMW in park and stare. I’ve never been here, and I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t anything like this.
I live in a sleek glass high-rise that’s industrial, efficient, and green. Everything is solar and built with responsible convenience in mind. Nia’s home isn’t typical urban living and isn’t focused on proximity to java while reducing her carbon footprint. Her cottage is full of character and oozes charm.
When I step out of my sedan, I follow a brick walkway that leads to a simple black gate. Beyond, freshly painted gray siding frames a white door rich in detail. Two dark wrought iron sconces flank it and illuminate the little mosaic porch. Tall topiaries stand on either side like sentries, rimmed by evergreens and an occasional splash of tiny white flowers. I’m surprised by how lush and summery her yard looks, despite the fact Thanksgiving is less than two weeks away.
Nothing about this place looks practical. It’s probably a hundred years old—especially the windows. It likely doesn’t even have air conditioning. She parks on the street. Her neighbors are almost on top of her. And I wonder if there’s an ounce of insulation in this structure.
On the other hand, it’s just like her—different, unexpected, wonderful.
The thought makes me smile as I knock, mixed bouquet of flowers in hand.
When Nia swings the door open, I can’t help but stare. She’s dressed in a white sweater that flashes a hint of cleavage, figure-hugging jeans, and black lace-up boots that climb halfway up her sleek thighs.
“Hi.” Since I’m having trouble finding my breath, it’s the most intelligent greeting I can manage.
She grins. “Hi, yourself. Are the flowers for me?”
“Yes.” I manage to stop salivating long enough to hold out the bouquet to her.
“That’s sweet.” She holds them under her nose and sniffs. “But I know you, Evan. This wasn’t your idea. Did a website tell you to bring flowers on a first date?”
I laugh; she knows me too well. “No. I called Harlow, Keeley, and Britta for advice. My sister suggested I keep you horizontal and naked until you agree to whatever I want. According to her, Noah used sex to persuade her to marry him. Keeley was more subtle. She gave me a collection of appropriate songs to play in the car for mood music.”
“Are you planning to?” she asks over her shoulder as she retreats to her kitchen to stick the flowers in water.
The view of her backside is every bit as lust-inducing as the view from the front. I don’t remember ever being fixated on a female’s ass, but I swear Nia’s might be the single sexiest part of a woman I’ve ever noticed.
“Or not?” she asks into my silence as she sets the vase of blooms on her kitchen table.
I clear my throat and find my brain. “You know I thoroughly prepare for meetings, so I figured it couldn’t hurt.”
She smiles. “I do know. Which means Britta suggested the flowers?”
I nod. “She didn’t say what kind. I guessed. Do you like them?”
Asking makes me sound uncertain. I am, but I hate the reminder that, other than Rebecca, I have zero experience dating…while Nia has so much.
“I love them,” she assures, her dark eyes lingering and warm. “Let me grab my purse, and we can go.”
She disappears for a moment, then returns, bag looped on her shoulder. After she shuts off a couple of lights, she shoves the key in the lock and flips a gaze to me over her shoulder. “So what are we doing tonight?”
“Dinner first.” I escort her to the car, hoping like hell she likes what I have planned. “I assume you’re hungry.”
“Starved. While you and Bas and that group of contractors went to lunch, I stayed behind to type up the meeting notes.”
I frown. “You never ate?”
“No time. I had an orange when I got home.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I question as I open the passenger door for her.
“What were you going to do? You had to deal with four grown men willing to get on their knees and beg for your business.”
I jog around and slide in beside her. “You’re not wrong. They didn’t even stifle their groans when I said Stratus wouldn’t be making a decision until the first of the year.”
Nia smirks. “I’m surprised no one offered you a blow job to hurry your decision.”
“They looked desperate, and I’m pretty sure it crossed their minds. But, um…” I shake my head. “Not my type.”
“You mean you’re not attracted to beards, plaid shirts, and a more-than-passing knowledge of Java programming?”
“Not even a little.”
Her laughter fills the car, and I realize that, if I’ve heard the sound before, I don’t remember it. I haven’t amused her much over the years. Worked her a lot? Yes. Frustrated her a lot? Probably so.
But tonight we’re not at work. And the fact we’re on a date seems surreal. Though she’s been my assistant for years, that circuit-frying encounter in her dressing room scrambled my brain so much that my thoughts about her no longer compute the way they used to.
This morning, she greeted the arriving contractors with a smile. Instead of absently thanking her while preparing to get down to business, I had to ruthlessly restrain my fantasy of stripping off her dress. As she showed them to the conference room and brought us all coffee, I forced myself to act as if I have no idea how it feels to have every inch of my cock buried inside her. And when one of my visitors eyed Nia like a prime slab of beef, I had to bite back a possessive growl.
Fast forward ten hours. Now, she’s not merely my assistant, but also my girlfriend. I can shed the professional straightjacket and treat her like a woman. Except…I’m unsure how to proceed.
As we pull away from the curb, I focus on the plan I’ve been concocting since Sunday and connect my phone to my sound system. Rush hour is tapering off. Keeley’s recommended tunes calm me and fill the silence.
The first I’ve never heard. Blink 182 is a band I’m familiar with, but not this song, which is appropriately titled “First Date.” It’s got a punk rock vibe and it’s kind of catchy and fun.
Nia bounces in her seat, seeming to like it, too. “Keeley nailed this one. From everything you’ve said, she sounds cool.”
“She is, though she’s somewhat hippie and quirky. Maxon is usually very serious, so they’re interesting together. From what I gather, he was a complete bastard before they met. Now, they seem really happy.”
Before she can comment, the next song begins. It’s another unfamiliar tune, not that I’m surprised. I usually prefer silence, and I’ve never cared what everyone else is listening to. According to Keeley’s cheat sheet, this one is “fallingforyou” by The 1975. It’s a mellow song with an unexpected beat and a slightly sexy vibe. It’s one I’d listen to again, especially when Nia turns to me with a glance that makes me wish we’d stayed at her place.
When the male vocalist sings that he touches her leg, I do the same. On contact, my body jolts. My heart lurches. I squeeze her thigh when he croons that he doesn’t want to be just her friend. I relate to that.
Then he admits he’s falling for her. Is that what’s happening to me?
I let out a steadying breath. It can’t be. It’s too soon, and I won’t fall in love again. I’ll commit to a relationship of mutual trust and respect, especially since the benefits with Nia are incredible. But that’s it.
“I like it,” she says at the end. “Who is the band?”
I hand Nia the page Keeley emailed. “Here’s a full list.”
She scans it. “Eclectic. I don’t know half these songs.”
“At least I’m not alone in that.” I shoot her a wry grin as another tune starts. “But I’ve heard this one.”
“‘You and Me’ by Lifehouse? Yeah.”
It’s an earnest song about a guy who’s realizing he feels more for a woman than he once thought. He sounds confused but mesmerized by her.
Join the club, pal.
The simple melodic strains of the guitar end the song as we arrive at our destination. I park the car near the front door and hop out to retrieve Nia. She steps from my gray sedan, then looks around. “The Living Computer Museum? This is where you’re bringing me?”
“You said to pick something I enjoy. I actually come here a lot.” Especially since Becca’s death. She always hated this place, but I appreciate the peace and the orderly surroundings.
Nia gives me a slow nod as she takes everything in. “All righty.”
I smile as I lead her forward. “It’s a lot more interesting than it sounds. I promise. Give it a chance.”
She glances at the sign beside the door, then stops mid-step. “They’re closed.”
“To the public, yes. Not for me.”
When I knock twice on the glass, a ginger with a bushy beard wearing a black button-down shirt stitched with the museum’s logo lets us in, then locks the door behind us. “Welcome, Mr. Cook.”
“Thanks, Aiden.” I read his nametag. “Where do we start?”
“Everything you requested has been arranged. Come this way…”
I gesture Nia in front of me to be a gentleman…and because I can’t resist the view of her ass. Soon, we reach a door tucked into a back corner of the museum, and the guide ushers us upstairs, into a private room with lights dimmed. Candles flicker on a table set with crisp linens for two against the window overlooking the museum relics of machines from bygone eras.
Nia takes in the room. “This is amazing. Wow…”
After I pull out her chair, she slides in. As I do the same, a waiter brings us wine—I remember she likes reds—along with our salads.
Across from her, I can’t stop staring. How did I see her for three years without seeing how beautiful she was? “You’re surprised?”
“Shocked. You did all this just for our date?”
“I did it for you.”
“Without help?”
“Well, not exactly,” I admit wryly. “When I called here to ask about a private, after-hours tour, they connected me with the catering manager, who was full of suggestions. So we’ll have dinner, then the guide will show us around. I’m hoping you’ll see why this place fascinates me.”
Machines make sense. No emotions. No gray areas. No unpredictability. Just binary code. Just black and white. When I’m here, I forget my problems and lose myself in the technology that has transformed the world.
“I’d like that. Thanks for going to so much trouble to make this special.” She rims her wineglass with one finger, then looks my way. “It’s interesting, dating you suddenly.”
“I was thinking the same thing earlier.”
“There are things I know about you and lots I don’t. I think we should treat this like any first date. Talk and learn about each other. I’ll ask you some questions. You feel free to ask some, too. You know?”
Not really, but I’ll play along. “All right.”
Nia finishes her bite of lettuce. “So, how did you meet Becca?”
I wasn’t sure what I expected her to ask first, but that wasn’t it. “In high school. We found out we were both foster kids. I was in a good home by then, but her situation was terrible. We started talking because I was a little older and she wanted advice about how to handle her foster parents. I quickly realized she needed way more than someone to offer an ear every now and then. I was sixteen, so there wasn’t much I could do to intervene, but I stayed on her guardians’ radar. Things were always tenuous. She was afraid.”
“They were abusive?”
“He was. When stuff happened, the wife was suddenly blind, deaf, and mute. I did the best I could to look out for her, but Child Protective Services never seemed to have a spare caseworker to investigate Becca’s claims. We got married the day she turned eighteen. She went straight from being their ward to being my wife. From then on, I took care of her, and she took care of me.” I wolf down a bite of salad and regard Nia across the table. “What about your first boyfriend?”
“Serious one? Not my middle school crush, right?” At my nod, she swallows another bite. “I was a cheerleader, and Jayden played running back. His senior year, he put up more points than any other high school football player in the state. We dated for almost two years and broke up just before graduation because we were both going to college hundreds of miles apart. And because I found out the football wasn’t the only thing he was scoring with.”
“He cheated?” I dive into my salad, unable to imagine why anyone would so intentionally and flagrantly break his bond with Nia. Besides being beautiful, she’s interesting, genuine, and smart. To risk losing her for fleeting pleasure seems illogical.
“Apparently a lot. I think I knew on some level. I wasn’t in love with him or anything, so I probably didn’t care as much as I should have. Anyway, when I realized we were going in different directions and that being without him was actually a relief, I broke it off.”
“I’m glad. I don’t understand people unable to keep their commitments. You deserved better.”
“Thanks.” She cocks her head. “After him, I dated off and on in college—all kinds of guys—black, white, ambitious, lazy, snarky, sweet, smart, and some less bright…who had other attributes to make up for their lack of brains.” She laughs at herself. “But I started going out less frequently when I hired on at Stratus. I was too busy to put up with guys who were either self-absorbed, wanted to party, seem married to their careers, or only looking for a hookup. The dating pool out there is terrible.”
“Based on the women I met yesterday, I’m glad I’m here with you, rather than swimming in it.” Before I can say more, a waiter wheels out a cart with two domed dishes and a basket of steaming bread, then takes our salad plates away. “I didn’t expect you to find candidates for me while I was in LA. I certainly wasn’t expecting to interview anyone yesterday.”
“I figured that if you want to be married before you move, we couldn’t afford to waste time.”
It’s not an illogical conclusion. “You didn’t know I’d changed my mind.”
We pause as the waiter sets our dishes in front of us and lifts the lid to reveal filet mignon, asparagus, and a steaming baked potato. The heavenly smells waft as the waiter walks away. I’m surprised when Nia doesn’t dig in.
“Your food look okay?”
“Yeah, I’m just…not sure why you decided you want to marry me. You listed your logical reasons, but what about feelings, Evan? Are you going to care about me? Will you be okay with whatever feelings I might have for you? I know you don’t want ‘entanglements,’ but how do you expect to live with someone for the rest of your life and not be connected more than mentally and sexually?”
Once again, Nia asks great questions. I consider as I fork in a bite of steak. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t care. I won’t love again, but I promise I’ll always do my best to make you happy.”
She’s quiet for a long moment. “So you loved Becca?”
“Of course I did.”
After all, if I hadn’t, I could never have been married to her happily. But…Becca didn’t inspire the kind of passion in me that Nia does. I didn’t ever think I would lose my mind if I had to go another day without being inside Becca. She didn’t linger in my thoughts—until she was gone.
“Did you ever tell her you loved her?”
“Sure.” I don’t remember a specific instance, but I must have. “Not often, but neither of us required verbal reassurance. Maybe we weren’t a typical couple, but we were secure in our marriage and knew we were together until death parted us.”
I just never expected that would be so soon. Or that she’d take our child with her.
Nia presses her lips together as if she doesn’t like something about my answer. “What about your foster parents? Tell me what they were like.”
Where is she going with this? “I had a lot of them over the years, some pretty rough. But I always had computers and the Internet to help me escape. I got by. Then Diana came along when I was twelve, and I finally had a good place to finish out my time in foster care.”
“Did she ever tell you she loved you?”
Why does Nia seem so hung up on love?
“Not in so many words. Diana is a free spirit. She raised me for money, and I never let myself forget that. But she taught me a lot about respecting the Earth, about healthy eating, and about art. She taught me how to laugh. She never had to speak words for me to know I mattered.”
Nia nods as she swallows a bite. “Do you remember much about your mom, since she died when you were so little?”
“Not really. I have a vague recollection of her ruffling my hair as I sat on her lap beside the Christmas tree. That was a few months before she passed. The only other thing I remember is the way she always put her arms around me, kissed my cheeks, and called me her little man. I wonder sometimes how different my life would have turned out if she’d lived.”
“Maybe not as much as you think. You’re brilliant, ambitious, and hardworking. Nothing was going to change the fact you were destined for success.” She nibbles her lip as if she’s debating the wisdom of whatever is rolling through her head. “Tell me about finally meeting your biological father. You didn’t say much after you returned from Harlow’s wedding in June.”
“Not much to say.” Barclay Reed was there with his wife, Linda. Looking into the face of the man who contributed half of my DNA and realizing he’s not only a stranger but an asshole rocked me. “We talked for three minutes. He seemed far more interested in selling me on ‘investment opportunities’ than learning about his grown son as a human being.”
By the time I walked away from him, I felt nothing but contempt.
“Did he even try to explain why he never took you in?”
“No. He didn’t have to. Harlow and I were born three days apart. I’m sure the last thing he wanted was for his wife to know he’d knocked up his secretary at roughly the same time he’d impregnated her. And I doubt she wanted to raise his bastard.”
Nia grimaces. “But you were a kid when your mom died, and he cut you loose to save his own ass.”
He did. “Well, I think Karma got the last word since, according to Maxon and Griff, he might well be going to prison.”
She knows this part of the story, so she’s not surprised, just snide. “It sounds like you didn’t miss much by not growing up with him.”
“According to my half siblings, I should consider myself lucky. I don’t know about that. But at least they seem fantastic, so something good came from the whole mess.” I sip my wine. “That’s enough about me. What about you and your father? You’ve never said much about him.”
“I don’t know much. While I was growing up, he met his financial responsibilities. He even put me through college. But we’ve never met.” None of that is news to me, but when she pauses, I have a feeling she’s about to tell me something big. “I don’t even know his name.”
“Yeah. When I was a kid, my mom always said she’d tell me when I was old enough to understand. But when I got older, she admitted she couldn’t answer my questions because the two of them had reached a settlement, which included her signing an NDA.”
“And this nondisclosure indicated she couldn’t tell his own daughter his identity?”
“Apparently so.”
“Why the hell would he not want you to ever know about him?”
“So I couldn’t come after him and his money as an adult, I guess. Oh, don’t look so shocked. He was married, rich, white, and well respected. And he knocked up his young black maid. My mom admitted she fell for his charm and smooth tongue, even though she knew better. Predictably, when she told him she was pregnant, he broke it off. It didn’t matter that she loved him. He never talked to her again, except through lawyers.”
I’m furious on behalf of Nia and her mother. “His behavior was irresponsible and unforgivable.”
“Cowardly and short-sighted, too.” She shrugs. “When I was a kid, I used to play with other children and be envious of their really involved daddies. My mom always claimed his absence in my life was a blessing in disguise. Maybe it was, but it never felt that way. I’ve always wanted that typical TV-perfect family, you know? Hell, any family at all. I still do.”
“I guess we both wanted family growing up because neither of us had an ideal childhood.”
“Probably. So…if we both want family, does that mean you still want kids? After everything that’s happened, do you see yourself having children with your second wife? Maybe with me?”
It’s a question I should be prepared for. I’ve been asked if I still want children, and I thought I knew the answer. I want family…but I don’t feel anywhere near ready to risk conceiving a tiny human with my DNA, only to possibly lose him or her again. Becca’s absence in my life has been difficult. But as November came and I was confronted with the due date of the infant I’d never get to hold, I’ve been wracked by pain and guilt. Why did I survive while my wife and child died?
“Not this soon after losing Becca and the baby. Maybe in a few years.” But even the thought of it terrifies me. “Maybe never.”
Nia softens. “You’ve been through a lot, Evan. I know. I’ve watched you struggle, and I hurt for you.”
“Thank you for picking up a lot of slack in the office when I couldn’t.”
“It was my job and my pleasure. But if you seriously want to marry me, I have to be honest. I’m eventually going to want kids, at least two. If you’re not sure you’ll ever be ready for that, this won’t work. I also want a man who can tell me he loves me and mean it. Not today. Not even next week. But someday. I’m not sure that’s you. Your childhood was rough, and no one gave you the affection you deserved. Becca didn’t need to hear how you felt, but I do. If that’s a problem, I should call your other four candidates back tomorrow and let you interview them.”
Everything inside me seizes up. Having another wife pregnant and vulnerable terrifies me. I’m equally afraid of telling another woman I love her.
But Nia walking away scares me most of all.
It’s a feeling, so I know it isn’t logical. But that doesn’t make what’s churning in my gut any less real.
“Don’t. I want you with me and I want you to be happy. We’ll negotiate, work something out. But I need more time to come to terms with everything.”
She nods. “You’ll have the next six weeks while we’re dating to figure it out.”
I’ve had six and a half months so far and I’ve untangled nothing. Does she think the next six weeks will somehow magically make everything clear?
Then again, I’ve only given her six weeks to figure out if she wants to spend the rest of her life with me.
Nia reaches for bread and breaks into my thoughts. “I guess it’s weird to be talking about the possibility of love and babies on our first date. On the other hand, you’ve already asked me to marry you and we’ve had sex. We’re doing everything ass-backwards.”
I have to laugh. “That we are.”
The rest of the meal passes in companionable conversation—and a lot of Nia moaning about the chef’s amazing ability to elevate cheesecake to orgasm on a fork. I’m not usually a fan of desserts and sweets, but I agree with her assessment.
When we’re done, I help her from her seat and we head downstairs. As we open the door and find ourselves on the museum floor, Nia takes it all in. It’s odd to see the place devoid of people. The main space almost looks like an office building from an old TV show. Gray metal grids hold up flecked ceiling tiles. Track lighting illuminates the putty-colored walls, along with various exhibits and the walkways between them.
“You two ready?” Aiden asks as he approaches.
I defer to Nia, and she nods. “Yeah. Let’s do it.”
He walks us through photos of some of the earliest computers.
“Colossus was the first electric programmable computer. It went into service in December 1943,” Aiden says, then looks at Nia. “Any guesses what it was used for?”
“Given what was going on then, did it have something to do with the war effort?”
“Exactly.” I smile at her. Even if computers aren’t her thing, I like that’s she curious enough to listen and play along. “It was created to help British code breakers read encrypted messages they intercepted from the Germans.”
“Wow. I had no idea. And what about this?” She points to the next exhibit, a photograph of one of my personal favorites.
“ENIAC.”
“Any what?”
Aiden laughs. “It was one of the earliest digital computers. It took up eighteen hundred square feet. Which is bigger than my whole apartment.”
“The picture is mind-blowing. Multiple people standing there, being dwarfed by all the walls, wires, connectors of this machine.” She looks amazed.
I can’t help but smile. “They were. ENIAC used eighteen thousand vacuum tubes and weighed almost fifty tons. It was very state-of-the-art for 1946.”
“I had no idea computers started so early.”
“Absolutely. And look how far they’ve come.” I pull my phone from my pocket. “Even simple things you do with this little device would have taken up a whole room seventy-five years ago.”
“For sure,” Aiden agrees. “Next, we have the first stored-program computer, another British creation called EDSAC. In 1949, it performed the first graphical computer game. Despite the fact it, too, took up a whole room, it was nicknamed Baby.”
That makes Nia laugh.
Over the next couple of hours, Aiden walks her though the first computer with RAM from the 1950s, the first desktop computer from the 1960s, along with teletype units, dumb terminals, and giant Unix machines, which could be used by more than one person at a time. As we continue moving through the advancements in the decades that followed, she gets a huge giggle out of the first laptop computer, the IBM5100.
“This would crush me,” she protests. “It’s huge!”
“By today’s standards, it’s ridiculous. But this was 1975,” I argue. “So fifty-five pounds with a five-inch display was the latest. And by 1981, a laptop’s weight had been cut to less than half, so progress was happening pretty fast. Sometimes, I think it would have been cool to be alive during the groundbreaking phases of computer development. And yet the limitations in technology would have been so frustrating.”
“You wouldn’t have known any better.”
“I would have seen the possibilities.”
Nia nods. “You always have to look at those…”
I’m hoping she means more than the computers. That maybe she means us, too.
When we work our way through the rest of the museum and I thank Aiden for his excellent tour, I can’t resist putting my hand on the small of Nia’s back as I lead her to my car. “You didn’t hate that place?”
“No. I actually enjoyed it. I had no idea computers were so old and varied and had gone through so many types and versions. I tried to take it all in, but I’m on information overload. I’m sure I missed some details.”
“I visit once a quarter or so and I almost always find some nugget of information I previously overlooked.” I help her into the car.
As we head out of the parking lot, I look her way. I know it’s late. I know we both have to work tomorrow.
But I don’t want to let her go.
The streets are deserted, so we reach her house in the short time it takes for Keeley’s next song to fill the space. Sixpence None the Richer pleads in lilting, feminine tones to “Kiss Me.” I only know this song because Diana loved it and played it whenever she was feeling optimistic about some new girlfriend or another she hoped might fall in love with her. The lyrics are chanting through my brain as Nia sings along just under her breath.
Yes, I want to kiss her beneath the milky twilight. Hell, I’m aching to kiss her anywhere. I’d love to kiss her now.
The night we had sex is emblazoned in my memory…but it’s a blur. Everything happened so fast it was almost an out-of-body experience. My inexplicable anger at seeing her naked for a room full of strangers with Kyle’s hands all over her, followed by the raging lust that overtook everything, especially my inhibitions and common sense. When it was over, I was breathing hard, stunned, reeling with guilt, yet flush with a bone-deep satisfaction I’d never felt. But the details—the way she smelled, tasted, kissed—aren’t clear. And I need them to be.
When I take Nia’s hand and stare at her through most of a stoplight, she glances my way, assessing me from beneath her long, dark lashes. The sheer rosy tint of her lip gloss snags my gaze as her lips curl up in a knowing smile. She remembers that night, too. My heart thuds. Beneath my zipper, my cock does handstands. God, the chemistry between us keeps brewing, bubbling under my skin, boiling me with anticipation. This need is something new, unsettling, and addicting.
I exit my Bimmer and help her out. I keep her hand clasped in mine and hope my palm isn’t sweating as I lead her to her door.
Under the bubbled glass of her porch light, I give in to my need to touch her, curling my hands around her shoulders. “I want you.”
She meets my stare. “I want you, too.”
“Thank god.” If I had to leave tonight without feeling her under me, I don’t know if my sanity would survive.
I tug her close and lean in. Her grip on my arms tightens as she closes her eyes and offers up her mouth. I don’t hesitate.
As I crush her lips under mine, I glide into heaven. She’s warm and velvety and lush, like I remember. But so different. The night I barged into her dressing room and into her body, she looked like a siren luring me with her red lips and a barely there robe. She felt like a woman, like temptation and sin. Tonight, Nia is more natural, almost vulnerable. I want to surround her, comfort her. Pleasure her. But it’s more. I want to make her forget every man who came before me.
I don’t even know if that’s possible, but I damn sure want to try.
Yet when I deepen the kiss to soften her, she does something to me instead. She arouses me, of course. But she also…comforts me. I don’t know why, but one kiss from her, and my anxiety seems to melt away.
I feel nothing but her. I lose my head to her. I drown in her.
When I grip her tighter, Nia moans, wraps her arms around my neck, and sways closer, pressing her body to mine. I part her lips. Her tongue dances against mine. She flicks, then retreats in a teasing sweep. Desire slides through my veins like a narcotic. I’m reeling. Blood rushes. Thoughts about anything besides getting her naked, panting, and under me stop.
I don’t understand what Nia does to me. It makes no sense, but I don’t care. I can’t stop myself from nudging her against the side of her porch, notching my cock against her softness, and groaning long and low into her mouth.
When I rock between her legs, Nia tears her lips from mine with a gasp, clawing into my shoulders and tossing her head back. Moonlight and arousal make her glow as she stares at me, blinking and breathing and seemingly stunned.
“If we keep this up out here, your neighbors are going to get an eyeful,” I joke. “I don’t think you want that.”
Slowly, she nods. “You’re right.”
Thank god she agrees. All she has to do is open the door and let me in so I can put us both out of our misery.
Instead, she plants her palm in my chest and gives me a gentle push. “I think we should say good night.”
I freeze. Am I understanding her correctly? “End the date now?”
“Yes.” She withdraws her keys from her purse. “I had a really good time with you. I appreciated the museum and the conversation. Both told me a lot about you that I needed to know.”
That’s great but… “You said you wanted me?”
“I do, but I don’t think we should have sex tonight. After all, it’s our first date.”
“But we’ve already had sex.” I know she hasn’t forgotten.
“Yes, but now we’re dating. Since we’re also talking about marriage, what’s happening between us isn’t a hookup.” I must look as confused as I feel, because she pauses, seeming to gather her words. “After what happened in the dressing room, you said you needed time to think, so I gave you space.”
She did, and I appreciated it. “And now you need some?”
“I have to ask myself if I can marry someone who may never give me children and may never love me.”
Instantly, I want to protest…but what can I rail against? She’s not saying anything that isn’t true. And doesn’t she deserve everything she wants in life? Especially to be loved?
“Evan…” she goes on. “Don’t be disappointed. The sex would probably be really good, and god knows I would love your touch…but it would muddy everything.”
She’s probably right. Rationally, I know that, yet I find myself grappling. My libido wants to change her mind. The rest of me realizes I have to back down. If I don’t, Nia may think I’m more interested in sex than in her.
Dragging in a ragged breath, I step back. “I understand. Everything is happening fast, and I’m asking a lot of you. Of course you have to think about it. Just consider that, no matter what, we could be our own family, and I will always endeavor to make you feel like the most important, beautiful woman in the world, especially in bed.”
She tears up. “I think you mean that. Now I have to ask myself if that’s enough.”
Wednesday, November 15
I’m still troubled by my conversation with Nia last night when I walk into Stratus’s lobby to see her arguing with Douglas Lund and some other puffed-up suit. I presume it’s one of his staffers, whom I’ve never met. They don’t have an appointment, so why the hell are they here?
Then Nia distracts me. She’s wearing a red dress that gathers at her small waist, flares over the tempting curve of her hips, and ends at mid-thigh. Her stilettos and professionally dismissive smile round out the look.
“Mr. Cook’s calendar is very full. You’ll need an appointment to see him. He’s on vacation for two weeks beginning next Monday. So his next available opening is”—she glances at her phone—“December fifth at two thirty. Would you like me to put you down then?”
“Look, Ms…” The silver-haired Wall Street bigwig glares impatiently.
“Ms. Wright. I’m Mr. Cook’s executive assistant. He doesn’t have time to see you today.”
“He hasn’t made time to see me since he flew out to New York months ago. I’ve sent my people here to reason with him, and he never has time for them, either. I call, and he dodges.”
Nia crosses her arms over her chest. “He’s a busy man with many priorities. Would you like his next available appointment?”
“I need to see him today. I have something he’ll want to see, I guarantee it. I suggest you find him. If he misses this opportunity, he won’t be happy. And I’d hate to see you out of a job.”
Is that asshole threatening her?
“I’d hate to lose my job, too, Mr. Lund, which is why I won’t be disturbing him for your unscheduled appearance. You’ll have to make an appointment. If December fifth doesn’t work—”
“It doesn’t,” Lund growls and begins to lean into her personal space.
“Do we have a problem here?” I speak up from the door on the far side of the room.
She raises her chin. “Everything is fine. I’m just explaining to Mr. Lund that you’re unable to see him today.”
“I have a final, very lucrative offer for you, Cook. I came to present it in person and pitch to you all the reasons you should take Colossus Investment Corporation seriously.”
His pompous shit annoys me. But it’s business and it’s money. I didn’t get where I am by being pigheaded, closed-minded, and illogical. If he’s come all this way and is barging into my lobby insistently, I bet he’s finally going to give me an offer I can take.
I glance at Nia. She’s come to the same conclusion. But I see that stubborn set of her chin. She doesn’t care about the offer; she doesn’t want me to sell.
As much as I hate putting any more breeze in this windbag’s sails, I nod at Lund. “You have ten minutes. Follow me. Nia, can you call my eight a.m. and tell him I’m running late?”
She presses her lips together in displeasure but nods. “I’ll take care of it.”
As I march toward my office, I presume Lund and his lackey are following.
An unfamiliar voice stops me. “Nia, is it?”
When I turn, Lund’s sidekick eyes her openly and speculatively.
She draws up and lifts her chin. “Yes. Can I help you with something?”
“I…I, um, was wondering if you could point me to the restroom.”
This dude is in his mid-thirties, tall, and seemingly suave with his blond hair and movie-star blue eyes. And he can’t hold his bladder for ten minutes?
“On the far end of the lobby, past the water feature, and to your left.” She points to the little alcove.
“Thanks.” He says the word, but he still doesn’t move or take his eyes off of her.
I don’t like it. And I don’t like him.
“You’re welcome.”
“I’m Stephen Lund.” He holds out his hand.
What the hell? This must be Douglas’s son and golden boy, and he’s decided to flirt with Nia? He’d better not be looking for an opening to ask her out. If he is, I’ll shut the son of a bitch down and throw him out.
Maybe Stephen is the kind of guy who’s capable of telling Nia he loves her.
I push the thought aside.
Slowly, she fits her hand into his. “Nia Wright. Do you need coffee?”
“I’m fine. Thank you.”
She looks as baffled by their odd interaction as I am.
I turn to regard Douglas Lund, expecting impatience. Instead, he’s watching the pair of them carefully. He must be an excellent poker player because I have absolutely no idea what he’s thinking.
Whatever’s going on makes my gut clench. I smell danger. Logically, I can’t imagine how Lund Junior could hurt Nia in my lobby, but my instinct warns me to get him far from her.
“Nia, would you find Sebastian and tell him to join us?”
“Of course. Do you need me there to take notes?”
Normally, I would say yes. “No. We’ll be fine. This won’t take long.”
The relief on her face is only obvious to me because I know her expressions well. “I’ll make sure your eight o’clock is waiting when you’re ready.”
Then Nia is gone. Protectively, I watch her go. I want both Lunds to know she’s off-limits.
“She seems efficient. You work well together,” Douglas observes. “How long has she reported to you?”
“Three years. Do you want to talk about my assistant or present me an offer?”
“Present an offer, of course.” Stephen walks up, suddenly all smiles, as if he wasn’t just barking up Nia’s skirt. If he senses my anger, he doesn’t let it show. “My dad has been looking for a good assistant since his last one got married and moved away a few months ago. If you’re at all amenable to us luring Nia away—”
“I’m not.”
Stephen laughs. “Sorry, Dad. It was worth a try.”
Douglas gives me a bland smile, and the two exchange a look. I don’t believe them for a minute. Given how intently both stared at her, I don’t think they were interested in her efficiency.
Silently, I fume as I lead the Lunds to my office. We’ve barely made our way inside when Sebastian enters and shuts the door. After some greetings and handshakes, Douglas doesn’t let even a moment pass before he pulls a tablet from his briefcase.
“You have six minutes left.” I don’t care if I come off like a rude son of a bitch. They weren’t invited. Their manners suck, and their behavior is even more suspect.
Lund clears his throat, and I see him shoving down his temper. “I’ve gone back to our investors. We’ve crunched more numbers, and we’re able to present you an offer that includes all the protections you wanted for your employees, plus another ten million in cash.”
This is exactly the deal I’ve been waiting for. Triumph spikes. I maintain my cool facade. I can’t let my thrill show. But inside? I’ve won and I know it. The offer is above market value. The amount of cash they’re throwing at me is almost obscene. As a bonus, my employees will be taken care of, too. As presented, I have no reason not to take it.
Sitting back in my chair, I study the two men. “What’s the catch?”
“No catch,” Douglas assures. “But there are a couple of changes from previous offers. We’ve restructured this deal so we can offer you more cash. For that reason, we’re rescinding the clause that brings you on as COO for two years. You’re expensive.”
Since I never wanted to stay on as chief operating officer of my own company after I sold it, I’m not bothered. I’ve already been tossing around ideas for other parts of the tech sector to tackle. On the other hand, I’m talking to a group of investors, not computer engineers. If I don’t run Stratus, who will?
I frown. “All the other terms are the same?”
“Minor differences. You can’t work for a direct competitor for five years.”
That stipulation doesn’t bother me. Even if I sold out, I wouldn’t work for someone in my own industry. I’d rather have a challenge that’s totally new. “Fine.”
“In exchange for the employee protections you requested, you’ll have a two-year moratorium on hiring any of Stratus’s employees, should you organize another start-up. Additionally, in exchange for these protections, we’re going to ask all existing employees to sign employment contracts for that two-year period.”
I pause. It’s understandable they wouldn’t want me to steal away the innovators and important contributors if they’re going to assume the reins of the company. Ditto with employees wanting to leave. But their phrasing bugs me.
“I’d agree to that, provided the language specifies we’re only talking about essential personnel.”
“Define essential,” Douglas insists.
“I’m taking Nia with me.” As I say the words, I glare at Stephen. I can’t be any clearer than that.
He’s already shaking his head. “I’m afraid that clause applies to everyone. If Ms. Wright wants to resign and find another position with a different employer before the deal takes effect, of course we’ll wish her well. But we hope to have the opportunity to encourage every employee familiar with the business to stay.”
I understand Junior’s logic, but the offer I was certain I would accept two minutes ago is now something my gut tells me to reject.
Turn down over a billion dollars for a woman you don’t love who might never marry you?
Before I can formulate a reply, Bas jumps in. “Are the timeframes for acquisition and transition the same as previously proposed?”
“Absolutely. The payout structure is the same as well,” Douglas assures. “I suggest you think long and hard about this offer, Mr. Cook. No one else will give you this sort of money.”
They’re probably right. And given how quickly technology changes, who knows how long before my data storage system, though revolutionary now, will become obsolete. That’s something they must be aware of.
Until this moment, I never questioned why they wanted to buy Stratus. They aren’t the first, but they are definitely the most cash-rich and persistent. I also want to know why their interest suddenly extends to Nia.
Whatever the reason, I want answers.
“Out of curiosity, what do you plan to do with Stratus? Leverage its capabilities to persuade another tech start-up to begin some other line of business with you? Sell the technology to a bigger player?”
“Neither. We’d like to grow it, maybe eventually merge it with some other technology we’re developing in-house.” Douglas shrugs. “See where that might go.”
I don’t believe his nonchalance for a moment. He’s got a grand plan. Why else would he keep throwing cash at me like I’m a whore and he hasn’t gotten laid in a decade?
I send Bas a glance. I see he’s confounded, too.
“Email me the offer documents. I’ll consider them and get back to you with an answer.”
“We need signed agreements by December twenty-ninth or the offer expires.”
Whatever they want, they want it bad. I need to do some investigating and figure out what.
“Duly noted.” I glance at my watch and stand. “Now we’re done, gentlemen. I’ve given you an extra four minutes and kept my first appointment waiting.”
Both Lunds take the hint and rise to their feet. The elder looks annoyed as he picks up his briefcase.
That makes me smile. He assumed I would jump at his offer. No doubt, he did some research and heard I’m known for being calm and rational, that I always act in my financial best interest. So right now, he’s confused as hell and irritated because he’s wondering where he miscalculated.
Honestly, I’m doing the same. I should take it, persuade Nia to come with me—marry me—and walk into the proverbial sunset with her.
But what if she says no?
Then I lose her, both professionally and personally. And the Lunds know it.
Why are they trying to separate me from Nia?
It bugs the shit out of me that I have no clue. But I intend to find out. Douglas Lund has been a pushy asshole throughout this whole process. I plan to think this through thoroughly and make him wait until the very last minute. If he sweats about it… Oh, well.
I’m not usually vindictive, but they’ve rubbed me the wrong way, especially today. My impatience to show them out grows when Nia knocks and cracks the door, then sends me a questioning glance. Stephen’s stare is all over her again. I grit my teeth.
I want him gone. In fact, I want both men out of my sight. Now.
As I nod at Nia, I approach and block the younger Lund’s view of her with my body, then turn to face him and his father. “I’ll let you know when I have an answer.”