Close To The Edge

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 this time.”

“Shame,” he murmured. “I’ll just have to use my imagination.”

I averted my gaze, but I was still thinking about that smile, the effortless sensuality he wove into the most innocuous words, when he swung the powerful sports car onto the exit ramp leading to the airport.

After passing through security, Caleb drove into a brightly lit hangar and parked next to a gleaming white jet. Its steps were lowered, the engine humming. The pilot and copilot were talking to two airport officials as we alighted but my attention was drawn to the woman standing at the bottom of the steps.

Her short, sequined silver tube dress, long silver necklaces and rows of hooped earrings ruled her out as an attendant. She was shrugging into a bomber jacket when Caleb stepped out and came around to open my door.

“Do we need to discuss appropriate work attire again?” His tone was bone-dry as he addressed her.

She reached up to free her bun, then gave a resigned grimace. “Not that you’ll care but I interrupted my date to return to the office for this assignment.”

“A date? With an actual guy?” Heavy skepticism laced his voice as he retrieved my overnight bag.

The woman rolled her eyes and turned to me. After a quick once-over, she held out her hand and smiled. “I’m Maggie, Mr. Steele’s long-suffering assistant. You must be Lily Gracen?”

At my nod, her face turned serious. “We’ll catch the A-hole who’s doing this to you. Don’t tell my boss I said so, but he’s ace at what he does. Our success record is pretty impressive. You’re in good hands.”

Caleb slammed the door. “Cut the corporate spiel, Maggie. Lily already knows she can trust me.”

I ignored him, and smiled at Maggie. “Thanks.”

“Did you bring what I needed?” he asked his assistant.

Maggie nodded. “Everything is already on board.”

“Are we cleared to fly?” he pressed impatiently.

“Almost.” She pointed to where the copilot was talking to the ground crew. “They’re not happy that you’re flying outside curfew—”

“You told them it was an emergency, right?”

“Yes, boss. They still need to tick their boxes. Give them a minute.”

“I don’t have a minute,” he snapped, turning toward the group.

“Seriously, they’re almost done—” Maggie started, but he was already walking away. She stopped talking, looking a little perplexed.

I frowned. “Is he always—?”

“The definition of a bull in a china shop? Surprisingly, no,” Maggie answered her own question, her voice contemplative. “Sure, he’s impatient and he wants everything done yesterday, but it takes a lot to ruffle his feathers. Although...”

“Although?” I prompted after a throb of silence, telling myself it was just mild curiosity that triggered the desire to know what made the enigmatic fixer tick. What made him give a damn and what bounced off those impressive shoulders?

Maggie’s sharp, gray-eyed gaze snapped to me. I suspected the evasive answer before she opened her mouth. “A testy client earlier tonight before he came to see you. That’s all.”

I suppressed surprisingly sharp disappointment and glanced over to where the man I’d appointed as my fixer was gesturing impatiently to the men. He stood over a head taller, easily the most striking, and the low timbre of his voice rumbled through the large space, sending a decadent shiver to my lady parts.

After a minute the officials handed over papers to the copilot.

Caleb returned and picked up the overnight bag he’d set down next to the car. “We’re clear to fly. Shall we?”

I sidestepped him when he reached for my arm, prompting another raised eyebrow I ignored. The lingering tingle between my thighs insisted touching him was a bad idea.

“Great to meet you, Maggie,” I said.

The assistant smiled. “Likewise.”

I walked up the stairs to the plane, aware that he trailed behind me. Drawn by an undeniable need, I looked over my shoulder. He’d paused with one foot on the bottom step; his eyes were fixed on me. Or rather on my ass. That insane tingle intensified between my legs.

I barely had time to step back before he was towering over me. For a handful of seconds, he stared down at me. Then his gaze flitted past me to the small cabin.