She hung up her towel on a hook and he did the same.
“There are many other forms of kink that I’m more than happy to try with you, Julia,” he said, then reached for her hand and led her back to her bedroom. Once they slipped under the covers, he wrapped his arms around her, then brushed her hair away from her ear. “I guess I’ll just have to imagine then how you’d look with my tie over your eyes, wearing nothing but stockings, sitting in a chair and touching yourself while I watch.”
She craned her neck to give him a curious stare. “Is that your fantasy?”
He nodded. “It is one of many.”
“Maybe someday, handsome. Maybe someday.”
“I have another fantasy,” he murmured softly in her ear, tugging her closer as they spooned.
“What’s that?” she asked curiously.
“Falling asleep with you in my arms.”
“I think that’s about to become your reality.”
“Lucky me.”
Chapter Twenty
The pancakes were as delicious as promised.
With breakfast finished, they walked past a block full of graffiti art and consignment shops in the Mission district. An up-and-coming neighborhood full of hipsters and Internet startup folks, the shops here bore the evidence of the clientele, but there was an element to these few blocks that bothered him. He didn’t like the idea of her living in a neighborhood still plagued with crime and trouble, even if the numbers were improving. She was an independent woman though and it wasn’t his place to criticize where she lived.
“You like living here?” he asked, keeping the question casual.
“Sure,” she said with a laid back shrug as they sidestepped a sleeping homeless man. “There’s a kickass bakery a few blocks over, some fabulous coffee shops, and lots of boutiques that my sister loves, so I get to see her more often.”
“Maybe we should all do something next time I’m in town,” he suggested and couldn’t deny the touch of nerves in his chest. Last time he’d asked for something more, she’d gone running. But maybe dinner with her sister was something she could handle.
“I would love that,” she said, and his nerves departed with her simple answer. “And you’re going to love Chris. He’s the best.”
“I’m looking forward to meeting him in person,” he said, checking the time on his watch, “In about twenty minutes.”
“Let’s get your bag so you’re not late,” she said as they turned onto her block, passing a vintage clothing shop a few doors down. His driver waited in a town car by her building. Clay gave him a quick wave, then headed to her third floor apartment. Her cell phone was still on the kitchen counter. She’d left it there all morning, and he’d been grateful to have her undivided attention, a luxury he’d rarely had with Sabrina. He grabbed his suitcase and tapped her metal table. “Good table. That’s a keeper.”
“I was planning on framing that table because I love what we did on it so much,” she said, then led him back down the stairs and out of her building.
She stopped in her tracks and cursed under her breath. “Fuck,” she muttered, and ran a hand through her hair.
“What is it?” he asked, and his shoulders tightened with worry. He zeroed in on her eyes, then followed her line of sight to a large man built like a slab of meat pacing a few feet away. The man had dark black hair, with a white streak down the side. He was scanning the street, and very quickly set his eyes on Julia.
Instantly, Clay reached for her, draping an arm protectively around her. He turned to look at her, holding her gaze tight with his own. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” she said in a thin voice as the freight-train-sized man walked toward them.
“You know him?”
“Sort of,” she said, as she pressed the tip of her tongue nervously along her teeth.
“Julia,” the man barked as he reached them. “You don’t answer your phone? Is everything okay?” He sounded strangely concerned, almost paternal, and that irked Clay.
“I was out to breakfast,” she said, through tight lips. Clay glanced from Julia to the man and back, wanting to know who the hell he was and why he was talking to her like he owned her.
“Charlie needs you tonight.”
Julia didn’t answer him.
“Julia,” Clay asked carefully. “Who’s this?”
The man held out a hand, flashed a toothy smile. “I’m Stevie. Who are you?”
Before he could answer, Julia squeezed his arm tightly, some kind of signal, it seemed, then started talking. “This is Carl. Carl and I met last night at the bar. He’s just heading home now.”
She shot Clay a pleading looking, asking with her eyes to go along with the lie.
“Nice to meet you, Carl,” he said, and out of the corner of his eye, Clay noticed a bulge by the man’s shins, as if a hard, square barrel of a gun were held safely in place with an ankle holster. Clay didn’t have a clue who this man was or why he was packing, but blood rushed fast through his veins, adrenaline kicking in as he quickly cycled through escape routes for the two of them if he pulled it. Down the block, into the building, behind the car. Or better yet, Clay could move first if he needed to. He could take this man; Stevie was big and slow, and Clay had speed on his side. A quick, hard jab to the ribs would double him over, giving them time to get away.
“Likewise,” Clay said, calling on his best acting ability. He had no idea why she needed him to lie, and he didn’t like it one bit, but he wasn’t going to make things worse for her in the moment. Papa bear attitude or not, the man had thug or dealer written all over him.
Dealer.
Once that notion touched down in his head, he couldn’t unsee it or unhear it. It was deja vu all over again. The sidewalk felt shaky, and the stores on the other side of the street seemed to fall in and out of focus. His chest tightened, and his heart turned cold as if she’d just shoved him into a walk-in freezer.
“But when you don’t answer,” the man said, tilting his head, and explaining in a gentle voice that didn’t match his size or his weaponry. “Charlie gets worried.”
“I’ll be there,” she said, and her voice was strained, her body visibly wracked with fear
The man nodded, seeming satisfied with her answer. “I will tell him. See you later. And nice meeting you, Carl.”
He walked away, his big frame fading down the block. Clay turned to her. “What was that about? Why did you tell him we met at the bar last night?”