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The Private Serials Box Set(9)

By:Anie Michaels


"How much do you need?"

"Two thousand," I said, as I winced.

"Done. I'll go to the bank today."

I sagged in my chair with relief. "Oh, my gosh, Sam, thank you so much. I  promise I will get you the money. It just might take a week or two."

"Don't worry about it. Honestly, I'm glad to help." She paused for a  moment, then tilted her head to the side and narrowed her eyes. "I can't  believe you hired a private investigator. How did you even find one?"

"Google," I said with a laugh. "It wasn't difficult at all."

"So, you just call them up and tell them what you need?"

"Well, basically, except we met in person to discuss specifics."

"Oh." Then her face scrunched up and she sat back further in her chair.  "I can't believe you met a P.I. without me." She frowned and I laughed.

"I didn't think it was a group activity."

"It totally was. It's like something out of an action movie. Your life  just got so exciting and I want to be there to watch everything unfold."  I raised an eyebrow at her. "You know what I mean! I'm not glad your  husband is a cheating bastard, but I am happy to watch him go down in  flames."

I could understand her point of view. Even I was looking forward to  watching Derrek's other world crumble. "Well, the next time I have  reason to call a private investigator, I'll be sure I conference you  in."

"So, what's he going to do? How is he going to earn his two grand?"

I bit my bottom lip, then opened my mouth to reply, but promptly shut it  again when I realized I didn't have an answer. "You know what? I'm not  quite sure. I didn't really ask him what his plans were."

"See, just one of the reasons you should have brought me with you. I would have asked all the pertinent questions."

"Okay," I said with a small laugh. "I'm beginning to see the error of my  ways." We continued eating our lunch with our usual light conversation,  only sometimes venturing to talk about Derrek and what we'd seen, or  Preston and what we thought he might be up to. Our imaginations were  more than likely a lot more interesting than the actual happenings. But  when Sam focused on something, she really focused. She seemed to be  convinced that Preston was more like a James Bond than the image of a  normal cop deciding to branch out on his own, which was what I believed  to be more likely. Although, Preston was devastatingly handsome, so I  gave Sam that tick in the Bond column.

We had just started clearing the table when the doorbell sounded  throughout the house. I put down the dishes in my hand and walked toward  the front door. When I opened it, I was immediately confused and  stammered my greeting.

"Preston … Mr. Reid … What are you … How did you … "

"Good afternoon, Lena." His voice was flat and all business.

"How do you know where I live?"         

     



 

At that, he smiled. It was a sardonic smile, as if he were laughing at  me, but it was still breathtaking. "I'm a private investigator,  sweetheart. It's my job to acquire information."

Why in the world did he keep calling me that? It was not only  unprofessional, but also flustered me and left me mumbling like an  idiot.

"What … why … ?"

"I was hoping I could take a peek in your husband's office. See if there's anything in there that might aid my investigation."

"Right. Of course. Come in, please." I stepped back, opening the door to  let him in. He walked past me and I tried so very hard not to notice  that he smelled divine. Clean, with a hint of spice, from an aftershave  perhaps. It wasn't overpowering, but just strong enough to penetrate my  thoughts and make me want to smell that scent forever.

He stopped just a few steps in, waiting for me to lead him back to Derrek's office, and just then, Sam walked into the foyer.

"Oh," she said with surprise. Her eyes roamed all over Preston and I  watched as she came to the same conclusion any straight woman with a  pulse would  –  he was absolutely beautiful.

He was still sporting his black leather jacket, but he was dressed a  little more casually underneath it than he'd been the day before. He  wore a dark blue Henley t-shirt, coupled with the same faded jeans, but  instead of his leather shoes, he had on black Converse.

"Who are you?" Sam asked, a little breathless, her eyes still taking in all of him.

"Sam, this is Mr. Reid, the private investigator I hired." Her eyes  slowly made their way to mine, one eyebrow raised, a conspiratorial  smile flashing across her mouth.

"Well, now I see why you didn't want me to come with you."

I glared at her, but tried my best to ignore her comment. "You can follow me, Mr. Re – "

"Preston, please. Call me Preston."

"All right. This way, Preston. Derrek's office is down the hall." I made  my way back to the office, trying not to think about the fact that  Preston was behind me, in my house, and that we were essentially alone  together. And I definitely tried not to think about the way he smelled.

I entered the office and stood in front of the desk as I watched him do  his P.I. thing. He looked around the room and I had no idea what it was  he thought he'd find, but he was intent. He walked to stand behind  Derrek's desk and opened up the first drawer on the right side, then  frowned. Next, he bent a little lower, opened the drawer beneath it, and  then frowned again.

"The drawers are empty," he said with confusion.

"Oh. Yes. I might have thrown some things away," I said, trying not to sound as embarrassed as I was.

"You might have thrown some things away?" His voice had a smile to it, but he was busy opening and closing empty drawers.

"The night we followed Derrek and saw him with his other family, I came home and needed to relieve some stress."

"So you threw away some papers?" His question came with a chuckle.

His words made my spine straighten. He was laughing at me.

"First, I threw them all over the room, then I threw them in the garbage."

He was trying to keep the smirk from his face, I could tell. "So you  came home, emptied his drawers in a fit of rage, scattering his  documents all over the room, and then you cleaned up your mess?"

He was definitely laughing at me.

I narrowed my eyes at him.

"What are you getting at?" I sneered.

He came from behind the desk and walked toward me. For just a moment,  his eyes were on mine, but then they moved to the wall behind me where  Derrek had his diplomas displayed. He passed me, but left no room  between us, his arm brushing my shoulder, but then I felt him turn  sharply so he was just behind me, pressed up against me slightly. I  stiffened when I felt his front graze my back. I lost the ability to  breathe when I felt his breath against my ear as he spoke.

"I'm just saying," he practically growled. "There are better, more  gratifying ways to release your aggression." I felt him move away, but  the absence of him made no difference to the storm that was now brewing  inside my traitorous body. I was stunned silent, my heartbeat pulsing  through me, pumping blood to areas suddenly awakened by his breath on my  skin. For the second time in just as many days, I found myself pressing  my thighs together, trying to stave off the physical reaction I was  having to Preston. My breath shuddered out of me, not quietly, and I  winced, thinking he had heard and could tell I was affected by him.  Although, it wouldn't take a rocket scientist to figure out I was  aroused; my entire body seemed to be quivering.

I tried to be angry at him, tried to be appalled that he, the supposed  professional in our arrangement, would be hitting on me, a married  woman. But even though the notion was there, the intention to find his  actions repulsive, I couldn't move past my acute arousal.

"I think," I managed to say, although I sounded completely unsure of my  words and not at all as forceful as I imagined I would in my mind, "I  think you need to leave."

"Why's that?" His voice was still behind me, but I turned to see him inspecting the certificates on the wall.

"What if Derrek returns? How will I explain a strange man in his office? In his home?"

He turned back around, but didn't look at me. He moved again, heading to  the big chair behind the desk and sat down, powering on the computer.  "You obviously have no faith in me and my ability to do my job. Why in  the world did you even hire me?"

"Your company was just the first one I came to," I answered honestly. He  nodded but didn't speak immediately. He pressed some buttons on the  computer then spoke again.

"You hired me to investigate your husband and his extracurricular  activities. He is currently in Bend. Whether he's there for business or  pleasure, I'm not sure."

"Then shouldn't you be there trying to investigate that?"

His eyes snapped to me and his voice was smooth but dark. "Would you  like to pay me six hundred dollars, each way, to follow your  philandering husband on a ski weekend?" He paused and watched me. I  tried not to give away that no, I did not want to pay him twelve hundred  dollars to drive to Bend, but I wouldn't give him the satisfaction.