Accidentally on Purpose (Heartbreaker Bay #3)(4)

Complete bravado and they both knew it. She’d only been at this job for a year and it’d come as a surprise to her that he’d been in the building at all. An unfortunate coincidence. Before that it’d been years since they’d had any contact, but she still knew enough to get that no one got the better of him.

He was quick, light on his feet, and physically strong. But that wasn’t what made him so dangerous to her. No, it was his sharp intelligence, his quick wit, how he was willing to go as dark as he needed to in order to do what he thought was right.

And then there was the biggie—the way he had of making her feel shockingly alive.

He did as she asked and stepped back but not before pausing to make sure they both knew who was in control here, and it most definitely wasn’t her.

No one did intimidation like Archer, and in his line of work he could be in a coma and still intimidate everyone in the room. He had muscles on top of muscles but didn’t look beefed up like a body builder might. Instead his body seemed lean and seriously badass, with caramel skin that strayed from light to golden to mocha latte depending on what the season was, giving him a look of indeterminable origin.

And sexiness.

It worked for him, allowing him to fit in to just about any situation. Handy on the job, she imagined. But with her he was careful. Distant. And yet she’d seen the way he sometimes looked at her, and on the rare occasion when he’d touched her, like when he guided her through a door with his hand low on her back, he let himself linger. There was always a shocking and baffling yearning beyond both the glances and the touches.

That, or it was all just wishful thinking.

Not that it mattered since he still held back with her. The problem was she yearned too. Yearned for him to see her as a woman, strong and capable enough to stand at his side.

But after what they’d been through, she knew that would never happen. She turned away, annoyed by how her entire body had gone on high alert as always, every inch of her seeming to hum beneath the surface.

She should have just emailed him.

He waited until she got to the door before he spoke, “I’ve got a job I need your help on.”

“No,” she said.

He just looked at her.

She took online college classes at the crack of dawn. Her job was demanding and took up a solid eight hours a day. At night she studied, fighting for her ever elusive accounting degree. Someday she was going to run her own accounting firm and be badass too, just in a different way than Archer. She was going to be a stable, respectable badass—in great shoes. But in the meantime, she worked herself half into the grave just to keep her head above water.

Problem was, school was expensive, very expensive. As was living in San Francisco. As were great shoes. Plus good jobs didn’t grow on trees. The one she’d had before this had turned out to be a nightmare. She felt lucky here, and although she was paid very decently, college was breaking her bank. To help fund herself, she took the occasional job with Archer when he needed a woman on a job. A distraction usually, but sometimes he prevailed on her other skills, skills she’d honed a lifetime ago.

“It’s a challenging job,” he said, knowing exactly how to pique her interest, damn him. “Need an ID on a guy, and if it’s our man, we need a distraction while we . . . borrow his laptop, the one he never lets out of his sight.”

Hmm. Definitely a challenge. “I don’t suppose he’s the type you could just walk up to and ask his name,” she said.

His mouth curved in a small smile. “Let’s just say I’m not someone who would interest him.”

“No? So who would?” she asked.

“A hot blonde with legs for days in a short, tight dress.”

Heat pooled in her belly and spread outward. Dammit.

“One with the stickiest pickpocket fingers I’ve ever met,” he added.

With a low laugh—dammit, was there anything sexier than a man who knew you to the bone?—she made it to the outer reception area. She’d just reached for the front door when it opened and she collided with someone.

The man caught her, keeping her upright. “I’m so sorry. Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” she said. In his early thirties, he was about her height, medium build, and in a very nice suit. He also had a nice smile, a kind smile, and more than a little male interest in his expression.

“Mike Penham,” he said, offering her a hand. “I’m a client of Archer’s.”

“Elle Wheaton.” She smiled. “Not a client.”

“Ah, a mysterious woman,” he said with a smile.

“No, just a busy one.” She shot one last look at Archer—a mistake because his gaze was inscrutable and on her as always, and she felt her stupid heart do a stupid somersault in her chest as he came into the front room, moving with his usual liquid grace in spite of still being armed for a third-world skirmish.

“Mike,” he said in greeting to the man who’d just arrived. “Come on back.” He looked at Elle. “Tonight then?”

Since she’d never yet figured out how to say no to the hot bastard, she nodded. And for a single beat, the mask fell from his eyes and his golden green gaze warmed as he nodded back.

And then she shut the door between them.





Chapter 2