Chapter Fourteen

Just one night more stretched into two. Then three. Then four. Before she knew it, three months had passed following the same pattern.

Caitlyn sat out on her back deck, a cup of tea in her hands. Each time Damien turned up on her doorstep, they agreed this was the last night. Once more was all they needed to go their separate ways.

Each morning she kissed him before going to work, wondering if this time would really be their last.

And each evening he turned up on her doorstep.

Sometimes it’d be early, and they’d go out to eat or watch Netflix on the couch. Other days he’d turn up late into the evening, looking worn and tired.

A soft smile curved her lips as she remembered one night where she’d traipsed downstairs to let him in and he’d grabbed her hand, leading her to the bedroom. She’d been about to tell him she was too tired to play when he simply climbed into bed, wrapped his arms around her waist, and fell asleep the second his head hit the pillow.

She’d stayed up, watching him as he slept, and marveled at how right it felt to have him in her bed. Even when it wasn’t about sex.

Sipping her tea, she glanced at her watch. He’d texted that he had an early morning tomorrow and wouldn’t be able to make it over. The idea of not spending the evening with him put a damper on her enjoyment of the garden.

I miss him.

During the day, she thought about him, checking her phone half a dozen times to see if she’d missed a text.

If he were anyone else…

She’d say they were dating. But Damien didn’t do relationships. Which left her wondering what, exactly, they were doing.

Is it just sex?

He always came here, after all. Not that he left so much as a toothbrush behind in the mornings. Was she his booty call? Or his girlfriend?

What do I want to be?

She wasn’t sure. Her life would be far less complicated without him.

And more boring.

True enough.

But if she wanted to be more than a convenience, she needed to start being less convenient.

He showed up at my door without any warning or invitation, and I didn’t turn him away.

Would he do the same?

A smile started to grow. If he closed the door in her face, she’d at least know where she stood.

But what if he doesn’t?

She grabbed her cell off the patio table next to her and pulled up a number she never thought she’d use.

It took four rings before he picked up.

“Spencer,” she said in greeting. “I need a favor.”

…

Caitlyn stared at the dark wood door. This had seemed like a much better idea when she’d gotten the address from Spencer.

Turnabout is fair play. Besides, don’t you want to know where you stand?

She damned well did.

Rolling back her shoulders, she knocked on the door.

Nerves gnawed at her as she waited for it to open.

Damien jerked the door open and froze when he realized who it was. She read the surprise in his gaze before a slow smile crept over his lips.

“Well, well,” he said. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

She rolled her eyes as he stressed the last word.

“Would you believe I just happened to be in the neighborhood?”

He crossed his arms, leaning against the doorjamb. “No.”

She shrugged. “Figured. Spencer says hi.”

His smile widened. “Turnabout, I take it.”

“Well, since you couldn’t come to me…”

“You came to me instead.”

“Going to let me in?” The words were light, but the pounding in her chest wasn’t.

He hesitated the barest second before stepping out of the doorway.

Taking that as permission, she stepped inside the penthouse.

“Wow,” she said. The entrance hall opened into a massive, open floor plan with a sunken living room flowing into a bright, airy kitchen. “This is beautiful.”

“My decorator says thank you.”

“You didn’t pick anything out?” she asked as she wandered through the designer furniture to the breathtaking view of the city outside his windows.

“Didn’t matter to me,” he said, moving with her. “I trusted everything would end up fine.”

She glanced over her shoulder at him. “My house must stress you out then,” she said. “I don’t think anything matches.”

“It’s lived-in,” he replied. “Everything in your place has a story or a purpose. I find it relaxing.”

“You say ‘cluttered’ differently than I do.”

He laughed. “Want a drink?”

“Sure,” she said, continuing her exploration of his home.

His gaze was like a weight on her as he went to the sideboard table. She perched on the arm of the black leather sofa as he came back to her with a whiskey in his hand.

“Thanks,” she said, accepting the drink.

“I didn’t think I’d see you today.”

She took a sip. “Did you want to?”

His smile was back as he fell into the closest armchair to her, kicking a leg over one arm.

“Yes.”

The knot in her chest eased. “Good.”

He arched a brow. “Good that I was thinking about you?”

She opened her mouth to dissemble then thought twice about her words. “Yes,” she said, answering as simply as he had.

Damien raised his own glass to his lips, watching her over the rim. “I wasn’t sure you’d want to come here. Enemy territory and all.”

“I wasn’t sure you’d want me to.”

“These days…” He stopped, looking out toward the window.

“What?” she asked, rising to close the distance between them.

The smile he gave her when his attention shifted back her way was soft. “These days I always want to see you.”

Butterflies filled her stomach.

“Me too,” she confessed, stopping before his chair.

Unwinding himself, he held out his free hand to her, and she slipped into the chair with him.

“There’s a couch right there,” she pointed out.

“It’s way easier to cop a feel this way,” he replied as he arranged her over his lap.

“I like a man who has his priorities straight.”

He laughed before giving her a slow, toe-curling kiss. “I’m glad you arrived out of nowhere. My evening would have been dull without you.”

“I wasn’t sure if you’d be busy.”

“I’m prepared for the meeting. Just didn’t want to drive across town in the morning traffic when my building is five minutes away from here.”

“I get that. Maybe we should sleep here more often.”

His gray eyes flicked to hers. “Maybe we should.”

We’re making plans. Future plans. Casual affairs don’t work this way, do they?

It’s not like she had a lot of experience when it came to nebulous corporate affairs.

“You promised to show me your sketchbook,” she said. “That might have been the sangria talking, but I’m going to hold you to it.”

He groaned. “Mercy.”

“Nope,” she replied. “Not in my vocabulary.”

“Mine either.”

A shiver of unease ran down her spine. No, neither of them backed down even when they should. And that might become an issue as this relationship went on.

He reached up, running a thumb over her cheek.

Her heart clenched.

I want more moments like this.

“I might need some convincing to show you a sketch.”

“Is that so?” Shifting, she slid her hands under the hem of his T-shirt to splay over his abdomen. “Pretty please?” she asked, brushing her lips over his in a teasing touch.

“Mmm,” he purred. “Not quite convinced.”

She deepened the kiss as her fingers played along the edge of his jeans. “I’m a little hampered by position here.”

“Luckily, I’m not,” he replied, cupping her breast through her shirt. She nearly moaned when he moved his attention to her neck, running his lips down the sensitive skin. The heat from his breath made her shiver in his arms.

“You’re trying to distract me,” she complained.

“Is it working?”

Too well.

“I’m not going to forget.”

He sighed, dropping his forehead to her shoulder. “Fine. One quick sketch and then I have plans for you.”

“Oh?” she asked, rising. “I’m sure I can agree to that.”

“Come on,” he said as he straightened his shirt. “This way.”

Caitlyn followed him out of the living room down a hallway with one thought in her mind.

He doesn’t treat me like this is casual.

Maybe that meant this strange relationship was evolving into something more than she’d ever anticipated.

…

When he’d gotten home tonight, he’d stepped through the door to a penthouse he hadn’t spent much time in the last few months. For the first time since he’d moved in, it felt empty.

Damien had wandered the halls, debating how much sleep he’d have to sacrifice if he drove over to Caitlyn’s now.

Then there’d been a knock on the door.

Best surprise I had all day.

He’d never thought she’d come to him. But as usual, he underestimated her. Caitlyn Brooks wasn’t a woman who’d ever settle for an unequal relationship. Not that he’d want her to.

Did I just think “relationship”?

His steps faltered.

“You okay?” she asked by his side.

“Fine. Come into my study.” Opening a door, he led her inside the room in his home he spent the most time in.

He moved to the desk first and switched off the monitor of his computer. Gathering some work papers, he put them in the desk drawer before straightening.

“Ah,” she said as she watched him. “Boundaries.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’d do the same.”

He nodded as he left his desk and headed for the bookshelf, grabbing a leather-bound sketchpad from the shelves.

“You should know,” he said as he closed the distance between them, “that I can’t remember the last time anyone but me looked at these.”

“Do you still draw?” she asked.

He shrugged. “Occasionally. I find it calming.”

Her eyes flicked to his. “I’m jealous. All I can draw are stick figures, and even they come out wobbly.” She held out her hand for the book.

I never show people this.

Spencer was probably the last one who’d ever noticed this hobby. His mother had never cared when he was younger, instructing him to show the nanny his scribbles rather than her. In fact, it’d been a nanny who had first seen the talent and decided to nurture it out of the goodness of her heart. It was a decision that had cost her the job once his father found out. He refused to have a son engaging in any activity he deemed too soft for his precious heir.

“Second thoughts?” Caitlyn teased as she waited. “I promise not to be too harsh a critic.”

“That would be a change.”

She stuck out her tongue.

Smiling, he set the book in her hand and moved back to lean on the edge of his desk.

She flipped the book open, and his shoulders tensed.

Looking down at the first image, she blinked, the humor sliding from her face. She began thumbing through the pages before lifting her surprised gaze to his.

“You’re good.”

The tension eased. “I’ve just had years of practice.”

“No, I mean it. You are really good at this. Why keep them in a book? You could have these out.”

He snorted. “It’s just a hobby.”

“But they’re so realistic. The attention to detail is unreal,” she said as she inspected a picture of an older man he’d seen once feeding pigeons at a park.

“It helps me think.”

“So this is your superpower, hmm?”

He laughed. “One of them.”

She drifted toward him, flipping page after page.

A curious vulnerability filled him as he watched her. While he might have told himself her opinion didn’t matter, seeing her now, it was clear he’d been wrong.

She sees every part of me anyways—why not this, too?

And then Caitlyn’s movements stopped. She froze, staring down at one particular page.

Curious, he angled his head forward to get a look and shot to his feet. Grabbing his notebook, he snapped it shut.

“That was a picture of me,” she breathed.

Yes, it was.

“I’d forgotten that was in there,” he said.

“But…” She frowned. “My hair was short. That was two years ago.”

“It’s just a hobby. Stress release and nothing more. Don’t think much about it,” he said.

“Don’t think about it?” she asked as he replaced the notebook on the bookshelf. “Why did you draw me? You didn’t even like me two years ago.”

Doesn’t mean I didn’t notice you.

He shrugged. “I needed a subject, and you were there.”

“I was your enemy then.”

“As opposed to now?”

“You know what I mean. I was nothing to you back in those days.” She paused, nibbling on her bottom lip before those expressive green eyes rose to his. “Wasn’t I?”

How far down this road do you want to go?

“You were…”

What? What was she to me? Is she to me?

He shook his head. “I don’t know why I sketched you. I just couldn’t stop.”

Her lips parted on a silent exhale. She was by his side in a heartbeat, gazing up at him with a tenderness in her eyes he’d never seen before.

His chest squeezed at the sight.

No one has ever looked at me like that. No one ever cared enough to try.

Because he didn’t do this. He didn’t care about his partners any more than they did for him. If anyone tried to get as close as Caitlyn was, he’d have walked away without a backward glance.

There’s no walking away from her.

Even if he should for both their sakes.

“Thank you,” she said as she gazed at him.

“For what?”

A small smile tipped her lips. “For getting a room across from mine at the conference.”

It occurred to him that had he just checked in like normal and never thought to ask about her, none of the rest would have happened. They might not even have crossed paths in DC, or if they had, it would have been fleeting encounters.

We both might have dodged a bullet that still has our names on it.

But not one ounce of regret filled him.

“Thank you for not murdering me when I did,” he replied.

She grinned. “I was only homicidal for the first day or two. Promise.”

“And now?”

Her glance dropped to his lips.

“Now everything is different.”

Yes, it was. Not that he knew what to do about it.

But when she pressed her lips to his, he realized there was one thing he could do something about.

Spinning them, he lifted her onto the edge of his desk and stepped between her legs.

“I’m sure you must have a bed around here somewhere,” she said as he tugged his T-shirt over his head.

“We could go there,” he replied. “Or I could make you scream my name here.”

“Decisions, decisions.” She wrapped her arms around his shoulders. “How about we do both?”

His grin was wide. “I knew you were my kind of woman.”

Exactly, maddeningly, perfectly my kind.