“What made you want to be a private investigator, Mr. Crofton?” Adara’s nerves hummed with excitement. How could one hold a normal conversation within such an intimate setting? In her mind, she reviewed possible motives behind his actions. In counterpoint, the setting provided the perfect timing to gather much-needed information. It was time to get specific.
Soft classical music saturated the cozy restaurant and continued its old-world charm. Flickering flames from the stout candles in vases surrounded by bundles of fresh herbs furthered the romantic and aromatic atmosphere. Amorphous shadows capered on the tablecloths, their celebration and delight sure to ensnare unwary patrons in their magic while a cork ceiling topped dark maroon walls adorned with abstract prints from the old masters. Overall, it should have soothed. She pushed the food around on her plate, hoping he didn’t notice.
“Julien, remember? Call me Julien.”
“But I’m your personal assistant. I don’t want to blur any lines.”
“Then we should eradicate them and simplify life.”
The look he settled on her bespoke of nonexistent lines. “Aren’t we doing that now, Mr. Crofton?” Prim and proper codes of conduct now resembled a roadmap from Hell. Her emotional equilibrium spiraled on a gyroscope.
“Call me Julien, at least when we’re in public.”
The insinuation she’d address him differently in private raised a red flag. She wondered what kind of private he had in mind. His tone indicated taking her out would become a common occurrence. Her inner demons kept circling back to what he could want. He’s a man, what do you think he wants? Her subconscious could go off grid. “You don’t find that a little uncomfortable?”
His tone ruled her in a manner similar to her uncle and cousin, yet she found him soothing instead of frightening without comprehending why.
“Not at all, we’re both single, just sharing a meal, nothing wrong with that.” A quizzical tilt of his brow and pursed lips preceded his response. “Anyway, to answer your question—when I got back from Iraq, my brothers had started the private investigative firm and asked if I wanted to help. They have several ventures going. It felt like a natural progression.”
“Oh? What else do they do? I’d think the PI business would keep them busy all the time.”
“Well, it did for a few years, until they expanded the services and hired more investigators. Now they like to keep their nights free. We run a club just outside city limits.” You can find them there three to four evenings a week.
“Club? Night club?”
“Not exactly. Maybe I’ll take you one evening, if you’d like to go.” He tilted his head from side to side, amusement tugging at the corners of his mouth.
“Tonight?” Now that she was free of her family, she felt brave enough to fly, if only a short distance. The thought of spending more time with Julien sent a flash of heat throughout her chest.
“Um, not sure you’re ready for that yet.”
“But I’ll be twenty-one…”
He just grinned. “Not for a few days. We’ll get there. One day at a time.”
His grin held the gossamer thread of a promise unfulfilled. Realization struck—he planned on seeing her again. The gleam in his eye made it difficult to swallow. Did he see the pulse pounding in the base of her neck? As a private investigator, he didn’t miss a thing. Her gaze skittered away from his direct regard.
Never had she felt so content, safe. It was pure satisfaction to relish the freedom of being—independent and able to make her own decisions. To listen to his deep, base tones reverberate through her chest filled her with an inner glow never known. His sixth sense seemed to advise him of everything that warped through her mind.
Since working for his firm, Adara found life in the office organized, the predictability of it inserting a serene pause in the middle of stormy days since at no other time could she take a deep breath. Her boss, always a gentleman, had never exhibited ulterior motives. The dichotomies life randomly threw out never ceased to amaze her when she considered the malevolence stalking her waking moments.
“So what do you do for fun? I’ve never seen you go out with the staff or stay for office parties.”
“Um, well, I have a lot of responsibility at home. Dinner on the table, housework, etc.”
“So when do you find time for a boyfriend? Or doesn’t that fit your schedule?”
“Actually, it hasn’t yet, though now that I’m turning twenty-one I’m hoping to make some big changes in my life.” You think I’d want a boyfriend? Not too many years ago, she had wanted that type of relationship—before orphan status changed her life.
“Oh? What kind of changes? Anything I can do to help?”
“Well,” She twisted the napkin in her lap, “like—what kind of help?” Her longstanding list of questions popped into mind.
“What kind do you need, Adara?” The quiet intensity coupled with the sincerity in his expression brought enlightenment to a new level.
This man sensed her darkest terrors.
* * * *
The urge to reach out and touch her hand forced Julien to clench his fist under the table. He didn’t dare. She’d come too far. One misstep would hurl her back into the emotional capsule where she sought solace. The look on her face said it all. She couldn’t hold his gaze longer than a heartbeat before it slid to the side, taking with it the hope for a deeper connection.
Isolation from friends constituted one of the criteria used in analyzing her situation. She refused to talk about relatives except in the vaguest of terms, except for her deceased parents. Little pieces of the puzzle connected to make a picture.
Earlier, she had nearly jumped out of her seat when he made a sudden noise in the office. The dark circles under her eyes indicated her sleep habits. Combining those signs with his other observations provided the necessary ingredients for his many sleepless nights.
“Um, actually I’d thought about talking to you, yet wasn’t sure how to bring it up.”
He watched her fidget in the chair. The napkin kept her fingers busy. Thank God it’s linen and not paper. The way she responded to an order or flushed when he went into Dom mode—damn, he wanted her in his bed. Yet he’d not take her as long as fear was her guide. He couldn’t help but wonder what she’d be like when the baggage fell away. Under her layers of timidity and insecurity, a natural born submissive lay in wait, ready to thrive. He intended to help in any way possible, even if she walked away in the end. He would not fail.
“Why don’t we take this conversation elsewhere, hon? If you’ll let me, I can help you.” Signaling the waiter, he retrieved his wallet.
As much as he wanted to take her home, that would be a mistake at this point. She stood on the edge of an emotional abyss yet couldn’t see that he offered a bridge to safety.
Current circumstances presented an opportunity to strike a path to her inner fears, then dissect and conquer them, a chance for her to gain confidence. He’d have to proceed with caution. Her hand still trembled and she hadn’t eaten more than a few bites of dinner. Still, progress consisted of small steps. The thought of hand-feeding the bundle of nerves brought a sigh of satisfaction.
The smile she attempted as he held the front door open, accompanied a slight squaring of her shoulders. Unlike previous experience, she didn’t scrunch her body to avoid contact, even came within a hairsbreadth of brushing against him. Badass Adara is emerging.
Hair on the nape of his neck stood as he escorted her through the deserted parking lot. A stiff breeze chased shadows in capricious pleasure, its fickle resolve to form phantom stalkers under the crepe myrtle an ominous forecast. Three lantern-style globes with prismatic glass sat atop the round fluted aluminum poles nearby, the light tasked to protect all within its domain. Striding behind the parked cars, Julien remained alert. Something felt—wrong. It had been years since his sixth sense prodded him in such a way.
A cursory glimpse of his car revealed a flap of paper partly restrained by his windshield wiper. Unusual to have flyers distributed at this upscale restaurant. Neighboring cars had no such adornments. Closer inspection revealed not a flyer but a folded letter.
Adara’s graceful settling on the seat after he opened her door furnished a countercheck to the foreboding atmosphere. His restless gaze again searched the surroundings for anything out of place that would trigger his instinct for reflexive action. No one he knew would contact him in such a manner.
Taking hold of the wiper arm assembly, he lifted the blade. By handling the paper on the upper third and inside the margins, he hoped to avoid smudging any fingerprints, if they existed. Intuition turned his back to Adara as the air current opened the letter.
Some bastard enjoyed a vivid if not warped imagination. Description of how the pervert would abuse and humiliate Adara after killing Julien in front of her portrayed a fertile imagination. Though somewhat relaxed since his stint in the military, he hadn’t been aware of anyone following him. Time to step up security—and speak with his brothers if she refused to discuss her situation. He would take no chances with her safety.
With an easy nonchalance, he strode around the hood to open his door. With a tight smile, he placed the folded note under the seat. The thought of his brother’s comment about extra calcium from teeth grinding came to mind. If the note was a sample of how her family terrorized her, they were in for a very rude awakening, black ops style.