#talldarkandinterested
WHEN I WALK into Thistle, I see Ben sitting at a corner table, his arm around the back of the chair next to him as he gazes out the window. With his suit jacket hanging behind him, I can see that his white dress shirt is bright and crisp, and it’s accented by a dark red tie. His hair is once again begging me to run my hands through it.
My heels click on the tile floor as I approach the table, and he looks up, smiles, and stands.
“Good morning,” he says as I slide into my chair.
“Good morning.”
Once I’m seated, he sits back down, still grinning at me. After a second of silence, he says, “You look great.”
“Thank you.”
The waitress comes over immediately to get our orders, and I take a quick look at the menu before ordering coffee and wheat toast. Ben orders an omelet with extra bacon and toast, giving me a sheepish look when the waitress departs.
“I did a long run this morning,” he says. “I don’t normally eat that much.”
“So you’re a morning person?”
He shrugs. “I’ve realized I kind of have to be. I end up working late most nights, and I don’t get workouts in if I don’t do them first thing.”
“Do you like your work?” I give the waitress a nod and a smile as she sets down our mugs of coffee.
“I love it.”
“How long have you guys been in business?”
“Since we finished grad school. We were twenty-six then, so . . . six years?”
I’m connecting some dots, and I feel a swirling sensation in my belly. I realized when I read last night’s message that RoughRider seems to be a man who has seen me in real life. Ben exercises, loves his work, and is thirty-two years old. All those things sound very familiar to me. Could he possibly be RoughRider?
“Remind me how old you are?” he says.
“Twenty-eight.”
He gives me an appreciative look. “You’ve accomplished a lot for someone who’s not even thirty yet.”
“Thanks.”
“There’s nothing I find sexier than a woman with drive.”
I give him a mischievous smile. “Not even a lacy, little thong?”
Ben’s brows arch, and the corners of his lips turn up in a smile. “Are you free for a date this weekend?”
I pretend to consider. “I might be free Saturday night.”
“What can I do to persuade you for sure?”
“Hmm . . . if I am free, what do you have in mind?”
For the first time in I can’t remember how long, I’m flirting. And it feels good. Ben is hot and smart, and even though we’re right across from each other at the table, I want to be closer to him. The thought that he’s trying to woo me on the side adds even more sex appeal.
But why? What would make him do that? I know I need to keep my suspicion under wraps and see how things play out. But at this moment, not only am I hoping Ben is my mystery man, I’m also hoping he really is a rough rider.
“Dinner at Nobu and dessert at my place.” Ben holds my gaze as he tells me about his plans for us.
He’s not beating around the bush. I like that. If I accept this date with him, he’s hoping it will end with the two of us sweaty, exhausted, and tangled in his bedsheets.
“Okay.” I smile at him, hoping for the very same thing.
I’m still feeling warm and excited when I walk into my office forty-five minutes later. That is, until I see a uniformed Chicago Police Department officer and two other men in suits standing by Jane’s desk.
“There she is,” Jane says, smiling nervously.
Fuck. My first thought is that somehow, things were worse with the employee I fired than I realized. Did she somehow trigger a police investigation with her creative money mismanagement? I can’t afford any bad press right now, with new investors freshly onboard.
“Ms. Mills,” one of the men in a suit says, extending his hand. “I’m Detective Aidan Pierce. Do you have time for a few questions?”
I’ve done nothing wrong, but I still feel my blood pressure rising by the second. What if something happened to one of my parents? Or to Coop?
“Of course, come on in.” I lead the way into my office, and Jane scurries over to close the door.
“Feel free to grab a seat.” I gesture at the chairs in front of my desk and the loveseat along the wall.
“Thanks, but we won’t be long,” Detective Pierce says.
He looks about my age, with serious brown eyes and the trim physique of a runner.
“Is everything okay?” I ask, unable to stand the suspense any longer.
“Absolutely. We don’t mean to alarm you. I would have called to schedule an appointment, but we were in the neighborhood.”
“No problem at all.” I lean against the corner of my desk, waiting for him to tell me why they’re here.
“We’d like to access some of your company records. Communications between Isaac Carter and Isabella Moore.”
I nod with realization, and my shoulders drop with relief. “The woman who was stalking him?”
“Right. We need to collect the evidence from here, if possible. If we can access all communications between the two of them, that would be ideal.”
“Absolutely. Anything we can do to help. I appreciate you guys taking this seriously.”
“Miss Moore was arrested, but she posted bond, so make sure Mr. Carter has security.”
“We have. I have someone with him when he leaves his home, and I have surveillance on him at night.”
The detective nods and looks at the door. “Can we take a look at those records right now?”
“Sure. I’ll have Jane take you over and tell everyone to share anything you need.”
I walk over to open the door, stopping with my hand on the handle. “Uh . . . I feel like I should let you guys know that some of the work we do here is . . . sexually explicit. It’s all between consenting adults, but . . . you know, there’s dirty talk and such.”
The other detective tries to hide his grin, and Detective Pierce meets my eyes with a reassuring look. “I’m a Marine, ma’am. Nothing I haven’t seen and heard before. And I’ll cover these guys’ ears and eyes if needed.”
We all share a nervous chuckle, and I take them out to Jane’s office and explain to her what’s going on. She looks relieved as she gets up to offer them coffee and be their ambassador. Did she think I was getting arrested or something? The thought amuses me.
As soon as I sit down at my desk, my first urge is to write an email to RoughRider. I decide to give in to it.
From: [email protected]
Re: good morning
Dear RoughRider,
How’s prison life? I figure that’s probably your big secret. Can’t tell me who you are because you’re currently living in a cell.
I really shouldn’t be as open as I’m being with someone who could be, well . . . anyone, but I’m one of those people who doesn’t hold back. It’s not like I’ve given you my ATM PIN or anything, right? You do know about the color of my lingerie and my affinity for soggy Oreos, though. Please don’t tell your cellmate.
Your message last night was really nice. I’m curious, though, is that you talking to me or you showing me how a real alpha talks?
Hope your day is going well. Try not to get shanked before you write me back.
S
Within five minutes, my inbox dings with a response.
From: [email protected]
Re: good morning
Good morning to you too. That’s quite a theory you have, but fortunately, I’m not in prison. I’ve never even gotten a speeding ticket. See the halo glowing above my head right now?
I’m glad you liked my message. As to your question—it was both. Me talking to you and showing you how a real alpha talks are one and the same.
Since I hypothetically held you and we talked until we fell asleep last night, this morning you would have woken up to me kissing your neck and letting my hands slowly roam every inch of you. You’d feel your effect on me pressed definitively against your thigh. I’m a patient man, and I’d wait to go further until you were breathing hard and begging for more.
I’d tell you about the rest in great detail, but I’ve got to get to work. You probably don’t want to hear about it anyway.
RoughRider