Flirting With Fate (4 page)

She’d moved a hand to her breast, slipping it into
her bra. Rolling her nipple under her palm, she wished it were his rough hand
and not her soft one. Was he here? Was he close? Standing at the foot of the
bed, waiting for when she might part her legs? Was his cock hard as he watched,
hoping for a glimpse of her swollen sex?

She went slick at the thought. She let her knees
fall open and slid her hand between her legs, rubbing herself through the wet
lace of her panties. She was so swollen for him and couldn’t have him.

But this—letting him watch while she touched
herself, letting him think she didn’t know he was there—this was harmless. It
might make him hard, but it wouldn’t make him fall in love. It wouldn’t start
anything she knew she couldn’t finish.

She slid her fingers under the lace, thinking of
him watching, thinking of him reaching for his cock as her fingers slid over
her clit. She pictured him squeezing his shaft in his hand, working it with
just enough friction, just enough movement.

She moaned, thinking of those always-changing eyes
studying her, imagining his balls growing tight as he watched her.

Her eyes flew open and she looked around. That
sense of another presence in the room, gone.

She sat up. She was no empath, but she was a lot
more in tune to energy in the room than some average human, and the only energy
in this room was her own.

She threw herself back against the pillows and let
out a quiet moan of frustration. She needed to finish what she’d started if she
was going to be recharged for tomorrow, but it would be a hell of a lot more
interesting if he were watching.

Tanner slid down the living room wall and closed
his eyes, but the image of Josie spreading her legs and slipping her hand
between them was seared on the back of his lids.

Her soft moans traveled through the thin walls.
Tanner pressed his head back, listening to her soft mewls as she touched
herself.

He couldn’t stop imagining he was still in there
with her, watching her. Wishing she were watching him, her eyes locked with his
as she stroked herself.

Her long cry echoed through the house, and his
aching cock demanded release.

Was she parting her labia? Slipping a finger
inside her pussy and rocking against it?

Her long moans shifted to more staccato
exclamation, and he had to force himself to stay put. Not to, at the very
least, slip his cock from his jeans and stroke himself to the sounds of her
pleasure.

He stood and paced. He wasn’t here to jack off. He
was here to figure out what the hell she was hiding from him. To get off while
listening to her pleasuring herself when she thought she was alone—it was…

Another long moan.

He paced faster, almost wishing she’d hear his
invisible footsteps. What would she do if she discovered him here now?

She murmured something. Was that his name?

He couldn’t resist, and he found himself at her
bedroom door. He couldn’t see her, but he her words were clear.

“Watch me,” she murmured. “I want you to watch me
while I come.”

His balls tightened. Fantasy, Wiley. It’s just her
fantasy. She’s not talking to you.

But, dear Mother Mary and all that was holy, what
if she was?

He leaned against the wall again, listening as her
breathing became more and more rapid and her moans grew into short little
bursts of exclaimed pleasure. And when the moans stopped all together, and all
he could hear was the bucking of her hips sliding against the sheets, he told
himself he was a better man for having left the room.

After all, when he first saw the rosy
post-orgasmic glow on her cheeks, he wanted to be the one who put it there.

He edged back quickly when she emerged from the
room.

In nothing but that lacy pink bra and thong, Josie
sauntered to the kitchen—hips swaying as if she knew he was there to taunt. She
turned on the faucet, licking her swollen lips as she filled a glass.

He couldn’t help but watch her face as she drank
the whole glass in one go. She was flushed and glowing. Her hair was tousled,
falling around her shoulders in soft blond waves.

She looked around the room, a half-smile on her
face, as if she were searching for something she lost.

“Was it as good for you as it was for me?” she
asked with a smirk.

Tanner froze. His heart kicked into double time.
Was she joking? Talking to herself?

“Quit screwing around, Wiley. I know you’re
there.”

Smooth, Wiley, real smooth.
He dropped his
mental cloak and materialized. “Hey, Jose.”

She quirked a brow and lowered her gaze to his
crotch. “Is that a hard on in your pocket, or are you just spying on me?”

He winced, muttered, “You knew I was here.”

“I can see the future.” She looked him up and
down. “But I have to say, I’m disappointed.”

“Josie, I left the room as soon as I realized what
you were doing.” He stared at the ceiling and silently added,
as much as it
cost me
.

“Huh. I would have thought you’d help me out.” She
strode from the kitchen until she stood two feet in front of him, her skin
flushed and exposed, her eyes hot, challenging. “I thought you’d have the balls
to watch.”

“I’m not some peeping Tom.”

She narrowed her eyes. “No, you’re just the ass
that broke into my house to go through my things.”

Tara Sykes smoothed the short hair at the nape of
her neck for the tenth time and wiggled her foot. She eyed Chrissie cautiously.

“What can I do for you?” Chrissie asked. Tara
looked nervous, so Chrissie tried to sound reassuring. No, she didn’t just look
nervous. She looked like she believed Chrissie had a nasty habit of spontaneous
cannibalism.

“Thanks for meeting with me,” Tara said,
swallowing. She clenched her hands in her lap. “I was going to meet with Josie,
but...”

“Josie’s not here. I don’t know when she’ll be
back.”
Or what this latest mission of hers is really about, or why she’s
keeping so many secrets from us
.

Chrissie crossed her legs and studied Paige’s
little sister. Though only nineteen, Tara had spent more time in the hospital
than most people do their whole lives. For most of her teenage years, she’d
suffered from what the doctors had called leukemia. Six months ago, she’d tried
to sacrifice herself to stop the then-president of the United States, the
Ascendants’ leader. To keep him from making non-Specials into little more than
slaves and cattle, she’d put herself in his clutches so he would drink her
toxic blood. Paige had saved her, but not before Winston had drained a
significant amount of blood from Tara. No one really understood why, but after
it was over, Tara’s “leukemia” was gone. And so was her power.

“What can I do for you, Tara?” Chrissie repeated.
Okay, it was a little weird to have Tara ask to meet with her, but she was
playing the ungrateful little sister and not speaking to Paige more than
absolutely necessary, so Chrissie wasn’t entirely surprised.

Tara wrung her hands and studied her feet. “I want
a job,” she blurted.

Chrissie relaxed. Maybe this would be easier than
she thought. “So, put in some applications.” She attempted her best reassuring
smile. This shit just didn’t come naturally to her. “It’s easier than it
sounds.”

Tara shook her head, still avoiding Chrissie’s
gaze.

Chrissie’s eyebrows shot up. Surely the kid didn’t
mean—

Before Tara could muster the courage to take her
eyes off her shoes, Chrissie put on a professional, neutral expression. “A job
where
?”
Never assume. Maybe Tara wanted a job...at the mall. There was no reason to
panic and think she wanted a job as a Stiletto Girl—which Paige would let
happen just as soon as hell frosted over. Paige wasn’t just a little protective
of Tara. She sometimes treated the girl as if she were a small child who might run
into the street.

Tara set her jaw and lifted her gaze to meet Chrissie’s.
“A job with Stilettos, Inc.,” she said, her tone—if not her words—spelling out
what an idiot Chrissie was.

“The hell you do,” Chrissie said, then felt like a
bitch when Tara winced as if she’d been slapped.

Chrissie sighed and cursed Paige. Damn it, if
Paige weren’t being so difficult about forbidding Collin to see Tara, then
maybe she and Tara would be talking. Then Paige would be the one having this
conversation. “Tara—”

“Don’t
Tara
me. Will you please take me
seriously for a minute instead of treating me like Paige’s little sister?”

Chrissie sighed. She could understand the girl’s
frustration. “Okay.”

“I’m a woman now,” Tara said.

Chrissie winced.
You’re only nineteen!

“I know I don’t have the experience that you,
Josie, and Paige do, but when you all started this firm, you didn’t have any
experience, either.”

Chrissie held her tongue because she didn’t think
Tara would appreciate it if she said,
But we weren’t nineteen
. She also
didn’t mention that they’d had their share of hard knocks before starting the
firm. Tara had been in the field
once
, and a suicide mission was a
hardly standard Stiletto Girl protocol.

Tara rolled her shoulders back and lifted her chin
a fraction of an inch, clearly gaining confidence from Chrissie’s silence.
“I’ve been watching you guys work since you opened, and I know more about the
business than you realize. I can also see where you’re holding yourselves back
from being a truly great firm.”

Chrissie’s jaw dropped. She couldn’t believe this
kid. “Holding ourselves—”

Tara held up a hand. “Now, don’t get upset. You’re
just too close to it, so you can’t see. You guys have so much potential.”

Potential? Were they not the number-one most
recommended firm in the metro D.C. area? Were they not turning away clients?

“What you really need is a big thinker,” Tara went
on. “That’s where I come in.” Tara smiled and looked at Chrissie expectantly.

Chrissie reached for her coffee, suddenly wishing
it were laced with vodka. She took a slow sip and concentrated on not slapping
the kid or at the very least giving her a solid piece of her mind. A couple of
semesters of college and suddenly the kid was Bill Gates. Did she even realize
this was Chrissie’s life she was criticizing?

But this was Paige’s little sister, so Chrissie
forced a smile. “Can you...”
Play nice, Chrissie
. She dug around for
strategies she’d learned in that stupid anger management class the court had
required her to take. “Please tell me what you mean by that?”

Tara smiled, obviously not sensing the irritation
Chrissie was doing her best to stamp down. “It’s been the three of you from the
beginning, and you’re hot, you’re cool, you’ve got that whole
Charlie’s
Angels
thing going for you, I get that, but...” She gave a condescending
shrug. “It just doesn’t make business sense.”

Chrissie’s tongue refused to stay bitten. “And
what would you know about how well we’re doing?”

“Well, sure, you’re turning a profit, but aren’t
you turning away clients?”

“We get enough business that we can be selective
with our cases, but—”

Tara turned her palms to the ceiling. “You see?
There it is. You see this as a sign of success, and it is, but it’s also an
opportunity to make a change you could profit from.” She held up a finger. “Let
me finish. You three pass on all these cases that are small beans, but the
clients are willing to pay Stiletto Girl rates. Essentially, what you’re doing
is turning away easy money. Why not take on a few new Girls and have them
handle the cake cases you’re passing on now? More profit for the company,
and
you’re grooming your replacements.”

Chrissie coughed up the coffee she’d just sucked
into her lungs. “Our replacements? What, now you’re forcing us into retirement,
too?”

Tara leaned forward, heady on momentum now. “I
know you love what you do, Chrissie, but don’t tell me you want to be kicking
ass forever. Think about the future. Someday you’ll have babies at
home...babies in your belly.”

Chrissie drew in a sharp breath. Score one for
team Tara. Maybe the little shit was more observant than she let on. Most people
saw Chrissie’s punk exterior and assumed none of that happily-ever-after crap
appealed to her.

“Do you really think you’ll want to carry on then
as you do now?”

Chrissie studied her coffee. She didn’t have
babies in her immediate future, but Tara was right. She couldn’t carry on like
this forever. She wasn’t even sure she’d want to. Damn it if the girl didn’t
have a convincing argument. “Paige will resist the idea,” she warned.

Tara grinned, and her whole face brightened in a
way that reminded Chrissie just how young she was. “You’ll talk to her, though?
I promise you won’t regret it!”

Unlikely. “I can’t make any promises, Tara. The
three of us make decisions together and—”

Tara flew around the desk and threw herself into
Chrissie’s lap, wrapping her arms around her waist. “Thank you so much,
Chrissie!”

Chrissie sighed and returned the hug. Tara was the
closest thing to a little sister she’d ever have. The girl had no way of
knowing how lonely life as a Stiletto Girl could be. And Paige had sheltered
Tara too much for her to even know how dangerous. But Chrissie saw something in
the girl she recognized. A desperate need to have a purpose.

She’d talk the other girls into it.

“I knew I could count on you to give me a chance,”
Tara said.

As she fingered the dark hair on the back of Tara’s
head, Chrissie wondered, a chance at what, exactly?

“So what’s our story?” Tanner asked Josie as they
exited the Metro and moved through the throng toward the street.