Close To The Edge. Zara Cox
more challenging, then I agree to your terms.”
The direct taunt to his supposedly flawless record—and yes, to his ego—was one I made with my breath held tight. For reasons I couldn’t fathom, I hated the thought of him walking away even more.
With a single step, he closed the gap between us and lowered his lips to my ear. “Be very careful where you throw your little gauntlets, Lily Gracen. One might come back to bite you in your delectable ass.”
It was impossible to stop the hot little shiver that raced through me. He saw it, and a bright blue flame lit his eyes.
“Well, be warned. I bite back.”
“This is going to be very interesting,” he mused. Then without taking his eyes from mine, he reached for his phone. I heard faint ringing in the background before it was answered.
“Maggie, is the primary crew in place?”
“Yes, they’ll land in Palo Alto in thirty minutes. They can be at Miss Gracen’s house in an hour. Do we have a green light?”
He lowered the phone. “Do I have the green light, Lily?”
“Your team is already in San Francisco. So you intended to take my case all along?”
He shrugged. “I needed to make sure you were fully committed but I saw no reason not to start the ball rolling.”
I took a steadying breath. “I don’t appreciate being toyed with, Mr. Steele.”
All traces of humor left his face. “Then we’re in total agreement because this is no fucking joke.”
His harsh reply tightened the skin on my nape, warned me there was something else going on here.
“My guys are waiting,” he pressed. “All they’ll be doing tonight is setting up a few cameras outside the property and scoping out the area. They’re experts, trustworthy, handpicked by me. They won’t rifle through your underwear drawer or whatever naughty things you keep in your closet if that’s what you’re worried about. So, do I have the green light, Lily?” That last bit was muttered with a hot little taunt as his gaze raked my face.
I fought to hold on to my irritation and dismiss the tiny lick of embarrassment.
So okay, I wasn’t the tidiest person at the best of times. And being neck-deep in my project, I’d let my standards slip a little further and canceled my cleaning service because I hated the disruption. Which meant any number of personal items, including the ones I used to de-stress after a hard day’s coding, could be scattered anywhere in my house.
The joy of living alone meant I could pleasure myself anywhere from my bathroom floor to the movie room lounger where I usually crashed when I couldn’t be bothered to drag myself to my bed. The thought of Caleb Steele’s men reporting my habits back to him made my palms burn with humiliation.
Which was absurd.
I was a grown woman, for heaven’s sake. One with healthy needs I wasn’t ashamed of satisfying in defiance of the restrictions Chance Donovan had tried to place on me.
Nope, I wasn’t going to think about Chance or how he tried to control me through Scott, my ex-boyfriend.
Very soon they’d both be so far in my rearview I’d need a telescope to see them.
“You have the green light,” I said, blanking my mind to the possibility of my sex toys being discovered. “You’ll need a code to get into the house.”
The small cocky smile that curved his lips suggested that he really didn’t, but he chose not to vocalize the fact. “Shoot.”
I rattled out a long alphanumeric code. He impressed me by not asking me to repeat it and recited it to Maggie without hesitation.
About to hang up, he paused when Maggie called his name. “Yes?”
“The pilot is still on standby. I’m assuming you and the client are returning to Palo Alto, too?”
“Yes, we’ll be at the airport in half an hour.” He hung up, the blue of his eyes drenching me with the sensation of being swallowed whole. “Come on. Let’s go get this bastard out of your life.”
I grabbed my things and followed Caleb Steele outside with the distinct feeling he’d left out a vital part of his statement. Something along the lines of...and then we can get onto more important things.
Or maybe that was all in my dirty imagination.
Lily
IT WASN’T THE first time I’d ridden in a Bugatti—Silicon Valley was crawling with billionaire tech geeks who collected supercars like they were baseball cards.
But it was the first time I’d ridden in a supercar driven by a man like Caleb Steele. And this, too, was turning out to be a sex-steeped experience.
The man drove his car like he was making love to it. Scratch that. He drove like he was fucking it. Smooth. Sexy. Relentless. Each flick of the gear and flex of his thigh as he switched from gas to brake was a hypnotic symphony. One so absorbing I couldn’t look away.
I realized my lip was caught between my teeth, and my fingers were digging into the soft leather, and forced myself to release both. To take a breath unfortunately filled with sandalwood and prime male, in order to get my brain on track.
Caleb Steele was the type of guy who would see my discomfort as a weakness and use it to his advantage.
“Where are we flying from?” He’d been mostly silent since we left the mansion. Admittedly, I found it a little disconcerting, especially since I’d anticipated being peppered with questions.
He changed lanes again before he answered, sending me a sidelong glance that left me with that faint impression of what being electrocuted by a low current would feel like. Even after he looked away, I experienced aftershocks.
“Van Nuys Airport. Don’t worry, petal. I’ll have you home in no time.”
“I don’t like pet names, Mr. Steele.”
“You don’t like pet names and you don’t want me to use your first name. The only way I’m calling you Miss Gracen is if we’re role-playing naughty teacher/stern principal.”
I was gripping the seat again. Dammit. I forced myself to uncurl my fingers before I damaged them because I needed them to write code. “Maybe this wasn’t such a great idea, after all.”
Watchful blue eyes gleamed wickedly in the lights from the dashboard. “Sorry, baby, it’s too late to change your mind. You’re stuck with me.”
Baby. Sweetheart. Petal. He probably had an endless list of pet names he tossed at women.
Short of lowering myself to his level and calling him Big Guy or Sexy Ass or Hot Rod, I had to concede this round. “Fine, you can call me Lily. Because, heaven forbid, you run out of pet names and start calling me honey cheeks.”
“Thank you, Lily,” he said in a low, deep voice that rumbled over me like delicious hot fudge over a sundae. “And by the way, I would never peg you as honey cheeks. Not with that flawless pale skin.” That slow-building, insanely sexy smile returned. “Is it deliberate?”
“Is what deliberate?”
“Your paleness. It works well with the Goth vibe but it must be hell to avoid the sun when you live in California.”
“What does the paleness of my skin have to do with the case?” Or anything else that doesn’t make me think of sex?
“Zilch. This is insatiable curiosity on my part. So?”
“So, you’ll just have to accept that it won’t be satisfied