The Dare Collection: August 2018. Avril Tremayne
on this project, Lily,” he warned, then left without further comment.
I buried my face in my hands.
A minute later Caleb arrived, swiveling my chair to face him before tugging my hands down. He’d been listening on my laptop so I didn’t need to repeat what had happened. His solid presence took away some of my apprehension.
“Apart from my regret that I wasn’t here to punch that asshole in the face, the problem is only a minor bump in the road, right?”
“Maybe. Maybe not.”
He frowned, crouching down in front of me. “Meaning?”
“The mistake looks...sophisticated. I triple-checked everything yesterday. I could’ve missed it—”
“You think you were hacked?” he asked.
The icy hand on my nape wouldn’t let go. “I don’t think so but it’s possible...” I stopped as another thought occurred to me.
“What?”
“I added a last-minute tweaked version this morning from the team.”
“Which team?”
“Sanjeet’s team. But—”
His fingers brushed my lips, halting my words. “You want to think the best of everyone. I don’t want to take that away from you, but you have to accept sooner or later than not everyone is decent.”
My heart lurched. “I know, but I trust them.”
“Give them the benefit of the doubt if you want. Let me worry about who’s at fault here. Okay?”
Chest tight, my gaze settled on my laptop. “What’s their end goal, Caleb?”
“The stalking is most likely to keep you off balance while they try to get their hands on what you’re working on.”
The thought drew a horrified shudder. “That can’t happen.”
“It won’t,” he ground out. With a decisive click, he shut the lid. “It’s almost eight. You’ve been up since five this morning. I’m taking you home.”
I shook my head. “I can’t. The team always goes out to celebrate after a presentation. They’ll expect me to be there.”
“Where’s it happening?”
“Q Base in Cupertino.”
He pulled out his phone to relay the instruction to his security team. Then he cupped my shoulders. “You’re officially clocked off for the day. Understood?”
Feeling numb, I nodded.
I was grateful when Maggie called and kept Caleb on the phone for most of the time it took to drive to Q Base.
Thumping music when we entered the club further prevented me from making meaningful conversation with Caleb or my team.
I exchanged high fives with anyone who stopped at the VIP lounge reserved for SDM, but the first chance I got, I headed to the main bar.
“You want a lemondrop?” Caleb leaned down to ask in my ear.
Memories of last night flooded in, knocking aside a bit of my melancholy. “Not unless you’re making it,” I said before I fully grasped how revealing my answer was. His lips curved in a smug smile. “They don’t make it that well here. I’ll have a noche azul,” I added in a rush.
He ordered my drink and bourbon for himself.
Since it was early by clubbing standards, we had most of the dance floor to ourselves. But an hour later the place was packed.
I excused myself to go to the ladies’ room, and returned to find Miranda seated next to Caleb. Frozen, I watched her lean in close and whisper in his ear.
A smile crept up his face but he shook his head. She leaned in closer, her bare leg sliding against his.
Hot, green bile curdled in my gut, merrily aided by the two cocktails I’d consumed. I wanted to stalk over, uproot her by the hair and lay my claim on him.
But other than the two orgasms he’d given me, a few shared confidences and a promise to screw each other’s brains out sometime in the future, what hold did we have on one another? For all I knew, Caleb could be gone from my life this time next week.
The thought slashed through me, sharp and unexpectedly agonizing.
I made a U-turn, heading for the bar. Someone stepped in front of me. He looked familiar.
Mark, the ex who’d turned out to be harmless.
“I thought that was you,” he said.
“Hi.” I summoned a bright smile.
“Long time, no see.”
“Yeah...”
He cocked his head at the dance floor. “Wanna dance?”
I looked over my shoulder. Caleb’s eyes were fixed on me, narrowing as it flicked between Mark and me. Even from across the wide space, I witnessed tension climbing into his body.
I turned back around. “Sure, why not?”
Mark grinned. We headed to the dance floor and, with a sense of wild abandon, I threw myself into the dance. Seconds later Caleb materialized beside me.
“You. Beat it,” Caleb snarled at Mark.
Like a true analyst, Mark assessed the situation, saw he was on a losing streak and beat a hasty retreat.
Furious blue eyes glared at me. “What the fuck are you doing?”
I lifted an eyebrow. “I should ask you the same thing. You just deprived me of my dance partner.”
“You said you were going to the bathroom,” he accused.
“I did. Only when I returned, you seemed...busy.”
His jaw clenched. “So you decided to let some punk drool all over you?” he bit out.
I shrugged and his gaze dropped to my cleavage. I discarded my jacket a while ago, and without it my attire had transformed from quirky but acceptably professional to risqué.
“Not just some guy. I let my ex dance with me. Now that you’ve driven him away, are you going to take his place or just growl at me? You’re certainly putting on a great show for our audience.”
He didn’t so much as flick a glance at said audience. He stepped closer, towering over me. I tilted my head, met his furious gaze full-on. Then I placed my hands on his waist. He tensed. Still watching him, I began to move, swaying my hips to the slower tempo of the song now playing. Then I added subtle shoulder shimmies.
His gaze dropped again to my cleavage and a light shiver rolled through him. I dragged my nails across his abs as I swayed deeper. His hand landed on my back and yanked me closer.
“Are you trying to make me lose my shit, Lily?” he rasped in my ear.
I pouted. “I’m just trying to dance.”
He stared down at me for tense seconds. “Fine. Let’s dance.”
Over the next five songs, Caleb effortlessly proved how incredible he was on the dance floor. Smooth moves drew increasing attention until every pair of female eyes was fixed on him.
His wicked smile flashed with increasing frequency, until I was turned on beyond belief.
Enough to make me forget my disgruntlement. Enough to make me grip his hand tight as he led me off the dance floor.
“Want another drink?” he asked as we found a quiet spot near the bar.
“No, thanks.”
“Okay.” He smoothed a lock of hair behind my ear, then caressed my jaw.
I