I couldn’t believe I was sitting across from my new boss eating pizza.
I couldn’t believe I’d called him an ass.
And I really couldn’t believe he’d laughed. Or that he found me adorable.
I had no idea why I got so upset. Except it meant he saw—he noticed. I tried not to get noticed anymore.
And his reaction…his words, the way he touched my hair and called me Tally. He was honestly taken aback by my anger.
When he stepped closer, into my space, I should have been screaming for him to back off—except I wanted him closer. I wanted to feel his warmth, smell his rich, aromatic scent. Crisp fall air and spice. It was clean, heady, and suited him.
The moment I met him, he overwhelmed me. When I had heard one of the other women who was interviewed earlier in the day complain the building was like Fort Knox to get into and say she refused to work somewhere with so many security restrictions, I had begged the agent to give me the information. She had shaken her head.
“They prefer, ah, a more mature woman, dear. It’s a bit of a dull job. It’s not for you.”
“Please, I want to try.”
She pursed her lips. “Interviews are over in forty-five minutes. He only ever interviews for one day.”
“I can make it.”
I had hopped the subway to the closest station and run the rest of the way, barely making it.
Mr. Grayson hadn’t been what I expected. Far younger, handsomer, and tall. His shoulders were broad, his arms thick, the muscles rippling as he moved. His dark brown hair was long, wavy, and messy, as if he spent a lot of time running his hands through it. His beard was short and neat, setting off his full lips and framing his chiseled jawline. And his eyes. Warm hazel—bright brown and green, with gold flecks so large they were like bursts of fire around his pupils—and set under heavy, straight eyebrows that emphasized their uniqueness. They were mesmerizing. He moved with the confidence of a man who was used to being in control. He had seemed as determined as the agency that this job wasn’t for me, but the thought of being in that building, safe and protected four days a week, was too much to resist. I had somehow gotten the job, determined to be the best secretary he’d ever had.
Convinced I could ignore the attraction I felt toward him.
“Tally? What’s wrong?”
Julian’s low, concerned voice brought me out of my musings. His focused gaze met mine, and I shook my head to clear it.
“Nothing. I was just thinking this is the best pizza I have ever eaten.”
“You’ve been thinking about it for five minutes. I wondered if the pepperoni wasn’t uniformly distributed on the pizza and you were reconfiguring it in your head.” He lifted one eyebrow, the quizzical look on his face comical. “Or am I being an ass again?”
I had to laugh. “No. Very funny. That doesn’t bother me. The space around me does.”
“I get that. Damien is like that.”
“The IT guy I met the other day?”
His lips quirked. “Yep. The IT guy.”
“I guess you’d have to be, with all that entails.”
He nodded, chewing and swallowing. He ate slowly, enjoying his food. He was relaxed, sitting at his desk, his tie loose and his sleeves rolled up. His forearms rippled as he lifted the pizza to his mouth, and I noticed the light dusting of dark hair on them. I was certain I saw a hint of ink peeking out on occasion, which made me curious.
“So, are you part of the team?” I asked.
His head snapped up. “What?”
I frowned, wondering what I’d said that made him respond that way. “One of the people who works the security jobs.”
“Oh.” He visibly relaxed. “No. Not anymore anyway. Now, I just oversee. Bring in new business.”
“But you did?”
He bit into his pizza, chewing and looking thoughtful. “I was more actively involved than I am now.”
“Oh?” I asked, wondering if he would share at all.
“I was shot. It curtailed my effectiveness somewhat.”
I dropped my pizza and stared at him in horror. “You were shot?”
He nodded with a frown. “No need to look so upset, Tally. I’m alive and well. I changed direction in my life, though.”
“I’m sorry. It’s just that I hate violence.”
He lifted his eyebrows. “I see.”
“Where?” I asked before I could stop myself.
“Shoulder and both knees. It was in my old line of work, not with Elite Security.”
“When you were a cop,” I murmured, remembering I had read that in his bio.
He looked away but nodded, and I realized he didn’t want to discuss it.
There was quiet for a moment, then he spoke.
“So, an art major. What do you see yourself doing with that?”
I snorted. “Not much, apparently.”
He chuckled. “No, really, what did you have in mind?”
I set down my pizza, wiping my fingers. “I have always loved art. Painting, sculptures, drawings. Anything visual. Even the art of music or poetry. I love the beauty of brushstrokes on a canvas. How clay can be molded. Marble chiseled. It speaks to my soul.”
“Do you do any of that?” he asked quietly.
“I paint and draw.”
“Are you any good?”
“Not good enough to make a living, but good enough to do it,” I responded. “I specialized in art history. I wanted to get hired at a museum or a gallery. Learn. Become a curator. Discover new artists. Show the world the old masters. But it takes time and connections. Right now, I would be happy to be a volunteer and get my foot in the door. And I have to do my master’s, which is more schooling.”
“And you bartend? Do you enjoy it?”
“Not really. But it pays well, the hours are steady, and I’m behind the bar. I tried waitressing—not my thing. It’s only two nights a week, but it brings in a good income.”
“Rough crowd there?”
“On occasion. But we’re pretty small, so it’s mostly regulars. Sometimes if an event is in town, we’re close enough to the main drag to get the overflow and it can get out of hand, but we have security at the door.”
He studied me, then leaned forward. “If you’re ever worried or fearful, you call me. All right, Tally? It doesn’t matter what time it is. Promise me.”
“Call you?” I repeated. “For what?”
“I’ll come and get you. Take you anywhere you need to be. Make sure you’re safe.”
His statement left me stunned. He was serious.
Make sure you’re safe. He had no idea what that meant to me.
Unbidden, tears sprang to my eyes, and I had to get out of there before he saw how emotional his words made me.
“Thanks, Julian. I’ll remember that.” I stood. “And thanks for the pizza. I appreciate it.”
“Where are you going?” he asked.
“Back to work,” I said brightly. “I’ve slacked off enough, and I want to finish a couple more additions to the schedule before I go.”
“Tally—”
I cut him off.
“Make sure to tidy your desk before you leave, or I’ll think about it all weekend,” I teased, not wanting him to push the subject.
He took the hint the way I had done earlier.
“Okay. I’ll line it all up before I go.”
I felt his stare all the way back to my desk, even with his door closed.
I sat down heavily. I hadn’t expected to feel this allure to my boss. To hear those words from his lips and want to throw my arms around his neck and let him hold me. To tell him how safe I felt just being in the same office as he was. I hadn’t planned on the desire that hummed through my veins every time he was close. I couldn’t let him get close.
I couldn’t put him in danger. I already cared too much.
JULIAN
I looked forward to Monday morning far too much. Even though Tally wasn’t supposed to start until ten, I knew she would be at her desk before nine. Often, I was in my secret office, watching as she came in, settling at her desk, making coffee, checking voice mail, and getting ready for the day. I enjoyed the chance to study her, watching the way her brow furrowed as she scribbled messages or reread something on her laptop. Today, she wore her hair down, the curls cascading over her shoulders, the color bright under the lights. It sometimes appeared to annoy her, but I loved the curls and often had to refrain from touching them if she was close.
It occurred to me that the weekends seemed endless now. The office dimmed a little when she left, and I found myself thinking of her a lot. I knew I needed to stop. Stop thinking, stop watching, stop finding excuses to go to her desk or call her into my office so I could be close to her. To hear her voice, be rewarded with one of her rare smiles.
The more I studied her, the more I realized that there was always something lurking behind her eyes—something profoundly sad, something that called to me. Yet I had no idea what it was or why she affected me the way she did. There was also a lingering feeling of fear she tried to cover. I sensed it in her the first day she came into the office, and it often manifested itself without her realizing. She shrank a little when a new face appeared, a sudden noise made her jump, she seemed to linger when it was time to leave. Even though no one would come into the office without her knowing, she locked the door when I left, only disengaging it when she expected me back. Something, someone, had placed that fear inside her.
I wanted to erase that residual sadness and eradicate her fear. But it wasn’t my place.
I watched her for a few more moments, then turned my head and rubbed my eyes. I was becoming a stalker, observing and watching her constantly. I needed to stop my behavior. I stood, grimacing a little. The mission I had been part of on the weekend had been taxing. I had taken a few well-aimed punches to the ribs before I was able to subdue the man I had been chasing. Once we had extracted the information we needed, my bullet paid him back for the pain. I took great delight in destroying the child porn ring he had been part of. None of the group saw dawn, and their filth was wiped out. We found several promising leads to other groups, and Damien had been busy with the intel. By tonight, many of them would be up in flames. By tomorrow, all of them gone.
I glanced back at the screen, pausing. Tally stared out the window, a wistful look on her face, and I wondered what she was thinking. What did she long for out there that caused her such sadness?
I switched off the monitor. Once again, I reminded myself it wasn’t my business.
I wasn’t in the position to be anything other than a boss to her. She was young, still looking for her life, and already fearful. The only thing I could offer her was a tenuous, complicated relationship, more fear, and the repercussions of being involved with me. It was too dangerous. Her words, “I hate violence,” said it all.
The arguing voice in my head told me that no one could protect her better than I could. That with me in her life, her fear could be eased. The sadness drained from her eyes.
I had to ignore that voice.
It was nothing but a hopeful lie.
For the next two weeks, I managed to be exactly what I had set out to be—Taliyah’s boss. I was courteous, respectful, and distant. The way I had been with every one of the women who had come before her. I forced myself not to go to her desk. I got my own coffee. I used the intercom and kept my door shut. Distance was what I needed to get over this little fascination with her. That was all, I convinced myself. If she noticed anything different, she never said a word. She did her job efficiently, and when she wasn’t busy for me, she worked on some online course she was taking. I resisted mirroring her screen to see what it was about. I found it more difficult than I expected. Somehow, simply being close to her seemed to bring me a calm I had never experienced. Gaining a rare smile from her made my chest warm. I found I hated Wednesdays—the one day she wasn’t in the office. Even with my limited contact with her, the place seemed emptier and incomplete without her around. I wondered how long I could keep up feigning indifference.
There was a knock at my door Thursday morning, and I called out for her to enter. She stepped in, looking hesitant.
“Yes, Taliyah?”
“Ah, my boss at 7&7 just called and asked if I could cover tonight and the afternoon shift tomorrow. One of the other bartenders just quit.”
“I see.”
“I can come in for the morning tomorrow and make up the other hours next week. I’m caught up on the schedule, and payroll isn’t until Monday.”
“Sure, that’s fine. So, you’re leaving early?” I asked, tamping down my disappointment.
“Just an hour or so. I need to go home and get my uniform.”
“Right. That’s fine,” I assured her. “I have an outside meeting in the morning, so I will see you Monday.” I glanced at my watch. “In fact, I have one shortly, so I’ll say goodbye now, and I’ll head out soon. Be sure to lock the place up when you leave.”
She paused as if she was about to say something, then changed her mind.
“Have a good weekend, Julian.”
I smiled benignly. “You as well.”
She left, shutting the door behind her. I gathered my things and, keeping up the charade, used the door to the hall, shutting it loudly so she would hear it, and heading to the other doorway, slipping inside the Hidden Justice room. Damien was already waiting, full of information. Grateful for the distraction, I pushed aside all other thoughts and got down to business.
Late Friday night, I stepped from my car, my head filled with the images I had seen. The sights and smells of those raids never got easier. They wore on a man, and tonight, I was feeling it all the way down into my bones. Marcus and Matteo had been right when they stepped away, citing the fact that this was a never-ending job. For every horror show we shut down, another sprang up. I had never been out in the field the way they were. My old injuries precluded me from being effective that way, but the last while, I had joined in more raids, and it was draining me. The darkness swirled around in my brain, and I didn’t seem to be able to turn it off. I felt a disconnect, a sadness I couldn’t manage to shake.
I paused on the way to the elevator. Upstairs, my apartment was empty. Dark. The refrigerator no doubt containing whatever leftovers I had shoved in it last week, probably no longer palatable. It wasn’t food I wanted so much as some human contact. Something that would connect me back to this world. I turned and headed up the ramp and onto the street. Before I even realized where I was going, I was in front of 7&7. I peered inside the bar, noting it was busy but not crazy. I pulled open the door and headed straight to the bar, taking a seat on the end.
I scanned the area with a frown. Taliyah wasn’t anywhere to be seen. Just as I was about to ask another bartender, she came through the swinging door, plates in her hands. I watched as she slid them in front of a couple of patrons, then poured fresh beers for them. She was polite and smiling, although I was certain it was more of an act than real. She wiped the counter while talking to the customers, and I studied her.
Her hair was piled on her head, the curls still escaping in corkscrews over her shoulders. The “uniform” she wore consisted of a tight, logo-emblazed green T-shirt and a pair of black shorts. She wore an apron cinched at the waist, and she had a towel thrown over her shoulder. When she bent to pick up something, I had an unobstructed view of her curvy ass and the backs of her luscious legs. The thought of anyone else seeing them didn’t sit well with me, and I made a noise in the back of my throat. The man next to me glanced my way, picked up his beer, and moved.
Taliyah looked across the bar, her eyes growing round when she met my stare. She picked up a menu and headed toward me, a bemused smile on her face.
“Julian,” she greeted me.
“Taliyah.”
“What are you doing here? It’s late.”
“I needed a drink.”
“And you happened to stumble into the bar I worked at?” she teased.
“Of all the gin joints…” I trailed off with a teasing grin. Then I shrugged.
“I live around the block. It was convenient.”
Three blocks, but whatever. Close enough.
“What can I get you?”
“Double scotch. Neat.”
She nodded, sliding a glass in front of me and pouring in the amber liquid.
I lifted it, tilting the glass in her direction.
“To forgetting.”
I downed it in one long swallow.
I tapped the bar, already feeling the warmth of the liquor curling around my chest.
“Hit me again.”
She frowned and filled my glass. I picked it up and sipped this time, but the glass was empty by the time she filled a few drink orders and came back to check on me. The alcohol had softened the painful edges of my mind, and I smirked at her.
“Hi. More please.”
“You need to eat something.”
“You’re not my mother, Tally.”
“Oh, now I’m Tally again?”
I crooked my finger, and she leaned over the bar, meeting me partway.
“You’re always Tally in my head when I think of you.”
“And you do that a lot, do you?”
I tapped my forehead. “In here.”
“Have you eaten today?”
“Momma Tally. I’ll make you a deal. Bring me something to eat and another double scotch.”
“I should cut you off is what I should do.”
I waved my hand. “Later. You can cut me off and pour me into a cab.”
“I’m getting you food.”
“And scotch,” I called out, watching her walk away, the shorts clinging to her like a second skin.
I hated that other men could see what I was looking at, but I had to admit, I was enjoying the view.
So I kept watching.