Cold Dark Heart by Julie Kriss

Seventeen

Damon

“It isn’t working,”Andie said.

“Yes, it is,” I said. “You have to click the menu on the side. Right there.”

Andie leaned in, staring at the screen. We were sitting together in her office, where I had pulled up a chair to sit next to her behind the desk. I was teaching her how to log in to the new security system to track the entry codes to the front and back doors and pull up footage from the cameras if she wanted it. We were doing this on the new computer I’d made her splurge for, one that had an updated operating system that was harder to hack and worked much better than the old one that had been bought God knew when. And yes, the new computer had a password on it.

There was a learning curve, and Andie needed me to walk her through it. So now I was sitting as close to her as I’d ever been, close enough to see the clip she’d twisted into her dark curly hair to tie it off her neck. Close enough to smell whatever she’d put on her skin, something that smelled sweet and vaguely sexy. Close enough that if I dropped my gaze, I might see a few inches down her shirt into her cleavage. I did not drop my gaze.

Instead, I leaned past her and pointed to two different menu buttons. “This one gives you the live video feed. This one gives you the recorded feed that you can search through if you need it.”

I thought I heard her take a breath as I got close. I paused, feeling the silent electricity between us spark. I always got this feeling when I was with Andie, like my skin was suddenly oversensitive. It was an amazing feeling, and it was torture at the same time. Because I couldn’t do anything about it.

Make no mistake: I wanted to have sex with Andie English. I’d wanted it from the first day, and I wanted it now more than ever. I wanted to watch her skin flush. I wanted to feel the heated skin of her inner thighs. I wanted to taste her. I wanted to feel her nails on my back and her breath on my skin as I made her come.

I wanted Andie like I’d never wanted any other woman. But Andie was different, and the situation, to put it mildly, was fucking complicated. I was her employee, originally hired by her hated ex-husband. Her personal life was a mess, and she was still bruised from being cheated on, dumped, and divorced. She was trying to be a single mother. The last thing she needed was a guy like me, a drifter with no purpose in life and a metric ton of problems, trying to get into her pants.

If I put my mind to it, I might be able to seduce her. I might have shit personal skills—and it might have been literally years since I’d actually dated someone—but even I knew that if I really tried, if I paid Andie compliments and asked her out on dates, it was possible I could persuade her to go to bed with me.

But then what? We work together, feeling awkward, until my time at the Wild was up and I left town again?

I’d end up being that mistake she’d made when she was newly divorced and vulnerable. The rebound lay. The mistake she regretted and would never make again. Just like I was the mistake for most of the women I’d dated.

I didn’t want to be her mistake. It didn’t matter that I had started to get vibes from Andie, signals that maybe she didn’t hate me as much as she had the first day I showed up. Signals that she was starting to think about me the way I thought about her. Being a mistake wasn’t good enough for me anymore, especially when it came to Andie.

I wasn’t entirely sure what I wanted from Andie. But whatever it was, I was pretty sure it was too soon for her to give it to me.

My time was almost up. We’d agreed that I’d work for her for four weeks, and that was over in a few days. I didn’t want to leave, but I also knew that although Andie was getting things under control, the Wild wasn’t making a ton of money. I should probably earn something at some point. And if I kept working for Andie for free, it would really look like I wanted to sleep with her.

I wasn’t going to think about that right now. I had her sitting next to me right here, right now. I’d focus on that instead.

She clicked on the button for the current security feed, and a window opened, showing the view from the camera mounted above the front door. A car passed by in the frame, and two people walked by on the sidewalk, chatting.

“Oh, wow!” Andie said, as if she’d opened a Christmas present. “This is so cool!”

“Click the arrow at the bottom,” I told her.

She did, and the picture changed to a live feed from the camera mounted above the bar. We’d positioned this one carefully, so the frame included the cash and part of the bar itself. Andie was adamant that she didn’t want her employees to be on camera at all times. But if anyone took from the till, we’d be able to see it. And we also had a good shot of the customers in case anyone got into an argument and we needed to check the record.

We didn’t have a camera in the storeroom, but I walked Andie through the options to check the records from the sensors, recording when the door was opened and what code was used. There was a different code for management and employees.

“This is amazing,” Andie said as she looked through it. “Everything you’ve done is amazing.”

Why did that make me feel good? It was just a simple thing, getting a few cameras and a feed installed. I tried to remember what normal people said in situations like this, instead of cold silence. “You’re welcome,” I managed. “If you want to look at the list I gave you, we can move on to the next thing. This office needs more security.”

Andie paused and I heard her breath hitch again. When she spoke, her voice was soft. “We’re running out of time.”

So she was going to bring it up. I couldn’t talk about leaving while I was this close to her, so I reluctantly pushed my chair back, out of her space, giving her room to turn and face me.

“Yeah,” I said. “I guess we are.”

Andie turned. She was wearing a tank top beneath a thin gray hoodie, and I had no idea why it was so sexy, but it was. I could see the dip of skin above the neckline of the tank top, which was only partway zipped. I could see the perfect, elegant line of her neck, and the tiny silver earrings in her ears. She was blushing. Fuck me, she was blushing.

“We should discuss what’s going to happen,” she said. “With us.”

She meant our business relationship, but it sounded like more. For just a split second, I let it be more. I let my gaze move over her flawless throat again, and the words came out of my mouth, unthinking. “I’m not leaving.”

Her eyebrows went up in surprise.

“I mean, not if you don’t want me to,” I amended. “I don’t want to leave.”

“Oh.” She looked flustered. She trained her gaze anywhere but at me. “Well, I—Um, yes. I think—” She looked at the time on her phone. “Damn it, Miles will be home any minute.”

It was four o’clock, the time I usually sent her home. “Go ahead,” I said. “Things are quiet here. It’ll be fine.”

She let out a breath. “Damon.”

“Andie.”

Our eyes met, and she blushed again, shaking her head at the absurdity of her own reaction. “Would you like to come over for dinner?” she asked in a rush. “To discuss things. With both Miles and me, of course.”

No way was she asking me on an actual date. We couldn’t get into much trouble with her thirteen-year-old son sitting there, as much as both of us might want to. “Sure, I’ll come.”

“You will?” She seemed pleased, as if she’d expected me to refuse. “How about six o’clock? I’ll go home now and start something.”

“Don’t go to any trouble. I don’t eat much. How about I bring takeout and you don’t have to do anything at all?”

“No way. I’m cooking. I’m a good cook, and Miles doesn’t appreciate it. Besides, when was the last time anyone cooked for you?”

I frowned. “I can’t remember the last time. Maybe never.”

“Then I’m doing it.” Andie pushed her chair back, gathering her purse. “Is spaghetti and meatballs okay?”

“It’s fine.”

“Okay, then.” She smiled. “See you at six.”

* * *

She texted me her address,and I tried hard to believe it. She was going to cook for me. Andie English was going to cook for me, at her house, and we were going to talk. Sure, Miles would be there, but that was fine with me. It made everything on the up and up, instead of me trying to get my boss into bed. We were going to eat spaghetti and meatballs and talk business.

It sounded normal. It sounded…good.

I should have known it wasn’t going to happen.

I got into my car at a quarter to six. I had the key in my hand, ready to put it in the ignition, when my phone rang. It was Andie.

My stomach sank. No way was she calling me for something good. Not now.

I picked up. “Hey, Andie.”

“Damon.” There was a pause, and I felt the heat of rejection wash over me, the kind of pain I’d never thought I’d feel again. The last time I’d felt rejection like this, I’d been in my twenties and Kat Sloane, the woman who was in love with my brother, had told me she’d never be interested in me. And she never was.

“It’s okay,” I managed to say.

“It isn’t okay.” Her voice cracked, and for the first time it crossed my mind that maybe she didn’t call just to stomp all over my hopes. “I didn’t—I didn’t know who else to call.”

There was definitely something wrong. I sat up straighter in my seat. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know,” Andie said. “Miles hasn’t come home. And he isn’t answering his phone.”