The Private Serials Box Set(12)

"I hadn't had any." The words came tumbling from my mouth and I wanted  to reach out and grab each and every one before he'd had a chance to  hear them. I cringed inwardly. Preston cleared his throat and shifted in  his seat, obviously uncomfortable with my careless and inappropriate  confession, and then suddenly, I realized I wasn't familiar with my  surroundings any longer. "I don't think he's heading to the same house  as he did the other night."

"What makes you say that?" he asked, and I couldn't help but think he was glad for the sudden change in subject.

"This isn't the same route. Last time, we left his building and made our  way straight to the freeway. He's definitely heading somewhere  different."

"Do you remember which freeway he took?"

"Yes. He took I-84, headed East."

Before I knew what was happening, Preston slid his souped-up Lotus  around the next corner, hanging a right so sharp I was forced to lean to  my left, and centrifugal force had me leaning right into Preston's  shoulder. My hands reached out to the sides, trying to find purchase on  any surface that would keep me upright.

"What the hell, Preston?" I shouted as the car straightened out. My  heartbeat was thundering and I looked to him, searching for an  explanation.

"If I get us to the freeway, can you direct me to the house again?"

"You mean his other house with his other wife and children?" My question  was snide. How could I forget the house my husband shared with another  woman or the path there? Both were branded into my mind.

"Yeah. Can you get me there?"

I blinked at him, my eyes narrowing, eyebrows scrunching together.  Somehow, in the last thirty seconds, he'd gone from somewhat aloof,  asking me pointless questions, to this high-strung man making demands  and full of tension.

"Yea … yes, I think I can get you there," I stammered.

Again, we were thrust into silence as he navigated his way to the  interstate. When we'd been driving for nearly thirty minutes, I  recognized our exit and then proceeded to direct him back to the house.

We pulled up and drove by slowly. The house was dark and seemed empty.  It was only early evening and it seemed unlikely that someone was  inside, considering how dark it was. Preston kept driving, but at the  next intersection, he made a U-turn and then pulled over a few houses  down the road. We sat in silence and I stole glances at Preston, waiting  for his next move.

"What are we doing here?" I whispered. No one could hear me but him, but it felt like a situation that warranted whispering.

"Investigating," he said slowly, his eyes still on the house.

"But no one's here," I whispered in response.

"That's where the private comes into play." This he said with a small  smile, and damn it if I couldn't help a smile coming across my face as  well. I let the smile settle. It caused a little bit of tension to roll  away, and I relaxed into the lush seats of his fancy car. For a few more  minutes we sat in the quiet car. Preston's eyes were locked on the  house and then finally he reached down an unbuckled his seatbelt.

"What are you doing?"

"We're going into the house."

"Oh, no, we're not," I stated loudly, a little surprised he would even consider it.

"The proof you're so desperate for might be inside that house, Lena. Do  you think he's just going to hand it to you? You think he's just going  to give up and hand you half of a fortune he feels one-hundred-percent  entitled to? You hired me to find you proof, and this is how we're going  to get it. Now, get out of the car and follow me."

My mouth gaped open for a moment, then I snapped it shut. He was right.  We wouldn't get the proof I needed sitting in his car. I unclicked my  seatbelt and opened the door, shutting it softly behind me, not wanting  to draw attention to us. I met Preston at the front of his car and  gasped when his hand folded around mine and laced our fingers together.  He tugged gently on my hand, pulling me into his side, and he pushed our  clasped hands behind me, pressing them into my lower back.         

     



 

The front of me was fully pressed against his side and his warm fingers  were wrapped around mine. I was sure he could hear my heartbeat pounding  through my body, and I instinctively pressed my free hand into his  chest, trying and failing to push him away. He was too close. He felt  too good. I was tugged a little closer and felt his lips on the shell of  my ear.

"Don't pull away, sweetheart." His breath floated over my skin and I bit  my lip to hold in a moan, still fighting my body for control, fighting  the reaction I was having. "If anyone is watching us, we simply look  like a couple taking an evening stroll." His mouth lingered and I  relaxed. I told myself I was playing along, not wanting to draw  attention. Really, I took the opportunity to feel him. My hand on his  chest moved slightly, running along the valley between his pectoral  muscles. His body was hard and warm, my fingers grazing along his front.  His hand gently squeezed mine behind my back, silently reassuring me.  My hand moved up over his shoulder, slowly cresting and ending up behind  his neck, my fingers running over the softness of the close-shaved hair  at the nape. He exhaled and I felt his forehead press into my temple.

"We're going to go in the house and you're going to keep watch, yeah?"

I nodded, but left my hand on his neck. I felt Preston's head tilt  slightly, and then his lips were pressed against the sensitive skin just  below my ear. My lungs quit working and all the synapses in my body  fired at the same time, and I felt my stomach flip. His mouth was on me  and it was glorious.

Then he was gone.

He kept a hold on my hand, pulling me toward the house I'd seen Derrek  go into just days before. As we walked up the drive, Preston pulled  something from his back pocket and when we reached the front door, he  let go of my hand and crouched down. I did my duty and looked around,  watching for anyone who might see us, and I heard the sound of the  doorknob jiggling and metal scraping against metal. When I heard the  door open, I turned and saw Preston slowly making his way inside.

My heart thundered so fiercely in my body, I wasn't sure I was going to  survive. Never in my life had I done anything illegal, so breaking into  someone's house was not something I was used to. When I stalled on the  front porch, Preston came back for me, wrapping his hand around mine  once again, and tugging me into the house, shutting the door behind me.

"Lena, breathe. Everything is going to be fine. No one is here."

I took his advice and dragged in a breath, doing my best not to pass out  in the entryway. I nodded at him, but couldn't see his expression in  the darkened house. He gave my hand a squeeze, but then let it go and  moved away from me.

"Where are you going?" I whispered, this time the whisper totally justified.

"I'm going to investigate." I didn't have to see his face to know he was  smiling. "You stay here and keep watch. If you see or hear anything  suspicious, let me know."

"Okay."

He disappeared, the darkness swallowing him, but I could still hear him  throughout the house. I stood at the door, peering out the windows next  to it, watching for anything that might cause alarm. Minutes passed and  my heart slowed and my body started to relax. A car came down the road  and my breath caught, but when it slowly drove past, I relaxed again.

After a while of nothing exciting, I saw a person walking on the  sidewalk across the street. They came from the right and when they were  directly across from the house, they stopped and turned toward it and  seemed to just stare. They were too far away for me to see clearly, but I  knew the person was facing the house and not moving. When they didn't  continue on their way, I panicked and went to find Preston.

"Preston," I whisper-shouted into the blackness. Not being familiar with  my husband's other home, I was fumbling in the darkness, trying not to  run into furniture or walls. "Preston!" I whisper-shouted again. I was  walking down a hallway, peering into dim doorways, trying quietly to  whisper his name.

I came to another door and noticed a figure moving inside the room.

"Preston?" I whispered.

"Yeah?" he said. I turned into the room and saw a beautiful four-poster  king-sized bed. I halted just a few steps in, realizing I was in a  bedroom. Most likely, their bedroom. A wave of nausea came over me, but  was pulled away from it when a warm hand wrapped around my upper arm.  "What is it?"

I blinked, trying to acclimate, trying to see him. "There's a person across the street watching the house."

He didn't respond right away, but his hand never left my arm.

"What did they look like?"

"I couldn't see them very well, what with the darkness and all," I said,  with more snark than I probably needed. His hand ran down my arm to  grasp mine and he led me to the side of the window. He pulled me next to  him so our backs were both pressed against the wall and then he leaned  over and peeked through the edge of the curtains. After a few seconds,  he moved back next to me.