The Private Serials Box Set(11)

"Did you get a lot done?" My voice was calm and smooth. Part of me was still hoping he'd been away on business.

"Lena … "

He didn't want to talk.

"Will you be coming to bed?" I had no idea why I asked that question.  There were two reasons why that question was completely unnecessary.  One: I already knew the answer was no. I already knew he wouldn't be  coming to our bed. He would probably never be in that bed again, and I  knew that. And two: I didn't want him in our bed. I was almost sure I  didn't want him in our bed. What I wanted was to go to sleep and wake  up, having the last five years of my life be a sick and twisted  nightmare. I wanted to wake up to the husband who I loved, the husband  who honored our vows, and didn't sneak away for weekend getaways with  other women and his love children.

He didn't want to talk. So he didn't. He never answered my question,  just clicked his computer on and continued to ignore me, pretending to  be interested in whatever had appeared on his screen.

Watching him completely shut me out flipped some sort of switch inside  my body. The very last piece of me that was holding out for some sort of  understanding, some sort of resolution that included saving my  marriage, faded away right into the darkness that filled every room of  our house.

I turned and walked back up the stairs and climbed into my cold bed,  falling into sleep as I contemplated how I was going to move forward.  Unfortunately, all of those thoughts circled around Preston Reid.



The next day, I went to work as if it were any other day of the week. I  had a comfortable position at a lucrative and expanding marketing firm  in Portland. Derrek would have preferred me to sit on the board of a  charity, or spend my time doing more social activities, making  connections, networking with wives of powerful men, but I always stood  firm on having my own career.

I was halfway through the day, mindlessly tending to all the catch-up  from the weekend, when I heard my phone vibrating in the top drawer of  my desk. I pulled the phone out and slid my finger across the screen,  revealing I had a new text message. It was from Preston.

**I need you tonight.**

I read the words and tried to keep my pulse under control. Then I  admonished myself for allowing my body to react so powerfully to his  words. I gaped at my phone and felt my core pulsing with every  heartbeat, which was rapid and ferocious. I swallowed, but still didn't  move, uncertain of what my next move even was. Before I was forced to  make a decision, my phone vibrated again.

**I can be at your house to pick you up around five.**

What in the world was he talking about? I was still trying to recover  from his first text, also trying to keep my mind from running away with  those words and turning them into something completely inappropriate.

**What, exactly, do you need me for?**

I felt my breathing even out as I waited for a response. There was no  hope to focus on anything else until he responded. After what seemed  like a millennium, his answer came.

**Lena, there are many things I need you for. The list is long,  involved, and dirty. But tonight, I need you for professional reasons.  However, if you wish to rearrange the parameters of our relationship, I  am open to that discussion.**

Holy shit. He was flirting with me. Well, if one could call that  flirting. He was flat out propositioning me. My hand, of its own accord,  came to the base of my neck, trailing across my collarbone. I thought  about my options for a moment, and even though I tried, desperately, to  keep my mind on the task at hand  –  finding inarguable proof that Derrek  was cheating  –  my mind wandered to Preston's dark eyes and luscious  lips. My fingertips trailed down my sternum and then back up my neck,  the tickling sensation making goose bumps appear wherever my skin was  bare. Then my phone buzzed again and I jerked my eyes to the screen.         

     



 

**Sweetheart, are you with me?**

Oh, God.

**I'm here.**

I replied without meaning to.

**Will you be ready at five?**

I swallowed hard and my fingers moved over the screen.

**I'll be ready.**



At five sharp, I watched as a very sleek, very sexy, black Lotus pulled  into my driveway. I continued to watch as the driver's door opened and  Preston unfolded himself from it. He was still wearing that sexy jacket  and I wondered if he ever went anywhere without it, or even took it off.  He had a dark blue t-shirt stretched over his chest, just tight enough  to hint at what was beneath it, and a pair of black jeans. He walked  toward my front door and I forced myself to stop peering at him through  the living room blinds.

I stood and brushed my hands down my front, making sure I looked  presentable. When I heard the doorbell ring, I continued to the door,  opening it right after I took a calming breath. In through the nose, out  through the mouth.

When the door was open, we both just stood there, neither one of us able to hide the fact that our eyes roamed the other.

"You're not dressed appropriately." He spoke first, his eyes still running up and down my body.

I looked down at my outfit. "What do you mean?" I was wearing jeans and a soft, white, short-sleeved sweater.

"I mean," he said, stepping into my house, forcing me to step back and  allow him entrance, "you can't wear that. Go change into something dark,  like black. We can't have you standing out."

"Where are we going?"

"We're going to follow Derrek home from work. I'm hoping he'll head to his other home."

Well, that stung.

I nodded out the door to his black car with very dark tinted windows. "I  don't think anyone will be able to see me through your windows."

The corners of his mouth turned up slightly, not a full smile, but a  hint of one. He turned and walked further into the house, forcing me to  follow.

"Who says we'll stay in the car?"

I guess he had me there. "I'll be right back," I mumbled, grudgingly.  When I returned, I looked much the same as I did when Sam and I did our  stakeout. I was in black jeans, but instead of the turtleneck, I wore a  black, V-neck cotton tee. The jersey knit hugged my chest and I  purposefully chose it over the frumpy turtleneck. If I had to look at  Preston in his leather jacket and blue, clingy shirt, he would have to  endure my tee that gave a slight view of my cleavage. He looked at me  when I reentered the room, but quickly motioned toward the front door.

"Let's get a move on. We don't have much time."

The ride to Derrek's work was silent, and I was okay with that. I spent  my time trying to figure out what all the buttons did inside Preston's  Lotus. It looked how I imagined the inside of a space shuttle might:  flashing lights, switches, buttons everywhere, and even my ass was warm.  He parked across the street from the main door, just like Sam had, and  we sat and watched, waiting for him to come out. I was in the middle of  wishing we had snacks when Derrek walked out. My breath caught in my  throat as we silently watched him walk to his car, and I managed to  exhale when he pulled out into traffic. Preston pulled out after him,  but we didn't talk as he tailed him.

Preston was noticeably better at following a car than Sam and I had  been. He didn't need me to tell him where to go, or which direction  Derrek's car was heading, as he seemed to manage both the tailing and  driving aspects fairly well on his own. So well, in fact, I began to  wonder why he'd even brought me along.

"Why am I here?"

"What do you mean? You want to get your proof, right?"

"Yeah, but I'm obviously not needed. I haven't said one word and you  haven't asked me one question. I'm not aiding your investigation one  bit. So why did you bring me?"

"Where did you meet him?" he asked, keeping his eyes on the road and presumably Derrek's car.

"What?"

"Your husband. Where did you meet him?"

"How is that going to help your investigation?"

He shrugged. "It won't. You just seem a little uptight so I thought I'd give you what you want  –  a little interaction."

I eyed him, trying to decide whether I was going to answer his question.  I finally rolled my eyes and gave him the answer. "I met him at a frat  party my sophomore year of college."

"Hmm," was his response.

"Hmm?"

"I could totally see Derrek as a frat guy, but you, well, you don't  strike me as the kind of girl who hangs out with them." As he said this,  his head swiveled toward me and his eyes were gleaming, a slight smile  pulling up the corners of his mouth.

"I wasn't, really," I said, turning away from him again. "Sam dragged me  there and I was holding up a wall, drinking alone, when Derrek  approached me."

"And then he swept you off your feet?"

It was my turn to shrug. "I suppose. I mean, it's not like we were  engaged the next day or anything, but I never dated anyone else after I  met him that night."

"How old were you?"

"Nineteen."

"That's not a lot of time to cram in a lot of dating experience."