Intrigue Me Read online

  Motherfuck! That smell.

  Long-past-emotions splintered through me like sharp shards of bursting wood.

  Her gaze lifted, icy blue eyes meeting mine. Eyes I’d once stared into, believing she would one day be by my side.

  Eyes that held lies.

  Eyes full of betrayal.

  Eight years had passed since I’d had my hands on that silken skin. Since I told her she would one day be my wife. Yet, it had only been days since she had entered my thoughts.

  Thanks to my female staff, I knew all about Ava’s Advice and her sensitive, yet customary responses that were generally also laced with a touch of humor and sarcasm. The newspaper column was a hit amongst the ladies in the office, and it wasn’t unusual to see them in the breakroom reading responses over lunch and comparing her advice to their own thoughts and opinions. Catering toward broken relationships and marriages, they didn’t exactly apply to me. Relationships were a joke. Fictional shit made up for books and movies. But, be that as it may, I’d read quite a few of them.

  Why the fuck was she here? Where was Adam?

  You’re an advice columnist. Why are you renewing mundane contracts?

  Nearly a decade had passed since I’d seen Ava. She had been stunning in high school, and I’d once believed she was the prettiest girl I had ever seen. Today, however, she wasn’t only stunning, but absolutely breathtaking, the quintessential Venus, so pure and unblemished that the sight of her could brighten even the darkest of days.

  The Wednesday’s Wrangle profile picture hadn’t done this beauty justice.

  Wisps of shiny dark hair laced with subtle auburn streaks fell past her shoulders, caressing flawless, pale skin that I remembered to be as silky as satin. Her heart-shaped face still resembled a perfectly painted portrait with china-blue eyes and those damned distracting lips that were just thick and pouty enough to be perfect for my cock. My gaze plummeted, absently tracing the soft curves of her body. That soft neck that I knew had a most gorgeous row of freckles directly below the right ear. Perfectly-sized tits. Round seductive hips. And the way she smelled … it was nothing but pure, damn sensuous, female essence. So fucking sweet. So graceful. So breathtakingly woman.

  With a dainty, small hand resting on the front of her thigh and a folder in the other, surprise seemed to ripple through her as she studied me with a gaze that appeared headstrong, also soft, delicate, even fragile. She wasn’t blushing or blinking away like so many women seemed to do, but looking straight into my eyes, even though something in her reception was like a conflict of expressions, heavy and deep, and one I couldn’t comprehend. Shock, perhaps? Anger? Guilt?

  With our eyes locked, for a quick moment I found myself struggling with my own bout of shock, yet brushed the thought aside. Now was not the time. Business was on the table.

  Hand dropping from her thigh, she strode toward us, breathing deep in her chest. She glanced at me again, this time with a piercing glare—stunned, I suspected—and not in a way that meant she was happy to see me after all this time. Dressed in casual white skinny jeans and a silky blue blouse with wedge sandals covering her feet, she looked like she was headed out toward a day of shopping or a casual trip to the grocery store, instead of directing a business meeting. She also seemed much more petite than I remembered, and I instantly wondered if she’d lost weight recently and if she was well. I quickly shoved the thought away, along with the unintentional boner alert behind my zipper. Overly thin or thick with curves, Ava Montgomery was beautiful beyond words.

  She really hadn’t changed much since the days at Farmersville ISD.

  Glaring at me like I was the antichrist, she lifted the Briand folder full of The Times’s new contract and launched it toward me with such an outrage and strength, that it missed the edge of my chin by a mere inch, landing behind me in a heap all over the floor.

  Flinching, every muscle in my body clutched.

  I pulled oxygen into my lungs, anger, along with immediate lust, biting at me. But being a master at discipline, I barely registered her move and instead shot her a quick, harried smile, hoping to hell it came across as intimidating. Something about Ava Montgomery still held the power to get in my head to a degree that no one else ever had, or would. Something heavy that set off a warmth behind my chest, made my palm twitch with need, and my legs readjust underneath the table as my cock officially hardened. I wanted her naked, squirming, as the sweet sting of fine leather settled against her ass, before I demanded she drop to her knees for the outburst of temper.

  Oh sweetheart, your fine ass would be black and blue for days if you were mine.

  Quiet as a church mouse, standing stock-still, the air crackled with tension as she glared at me as if she were looking into the face of Satan himself, while I fought like hell to take my eyes off the curve of her hips, the length of her legs, that right foot that quivered nervously.

  “Very nice to see you again, Tage Morgan,” she said with an expression angry enough to chew rusty nails. “I’m sorry about the folder.”

  Ahh, so you finally speak.

  Nervousness sounded in her tone, while something entirely different stirred behind the piercing hue of her gaze.

  What happened to you, sweetheart?

  Blindsided by her beauty, her name fell from my lips in nothing but a breath. “Ava.” I motioned to the seat beside me. “Please. Take a seat.”

  She didn’t move a muscle, her eyes boring into mine like she wanted to kill someone and cry all at the same time. Christ, the woman was stunning beyond belief. She also presently hated my fucking existence.

  Why are you so pissed at me? Why are you making my heart pound?

  She shot me another dirty look, her skin paling as she dubiously spat out a response. “Just tell me what I need to know and show me what I need to sign. Adam went home with the man flu last minute. And I’m,” she added with a sarcastic flicker of her hand, “in the middle of something, so I need to keep this short if we can.”

  While her tone shivered with exasperation, my lips quirked at the defiance in her voice, my cock twitching in sequence. Motherfuck, I wanted to tear my tie off and shove it down her delicate throat.

  “Very well noted, Ava. Please, send my condolences to Adam. I’ve heard the man flu can be downright horrific,” I added with a flash of a grin. “Now, I’d like you to meet Davis Anderson, my Senior VP in National Account Sales. He’s revised the contract, which unfortunately,” I gestured to the floor, “happens to be in a nice little shamble behind me.”

  She cut her gaze abruptly, ignoring the mess of paperwork, and instead stared at my mouth like I had spinach between my teeth as a soft blush lifted up her cheeks.

  Minutes ticked by as Davis stuttered through a quick introduction, before picking up the three-page contract and placing it in front of Ava, offering her a Briand pen from inside his coat pocket. My gaze followed her hand, which quivered as she took the ink pen. Jesus, the woman was pissed. For what, I still didn’t know. And as for me, I was kidding no one, most especially myself. I was shuddering with my own anger. I wanted to haul this woman over the top of my shoulder, tie her to my bed, a rack, or any damn where else, and teach her a nice, lengthy, painful lesson for the temper-laced outbreak and lack of respect. I wanted to see her in tears. In pain. Miserable and anxious. I wanted to spend hours, days, or however damn long it took, drilling her with questions that I had needed answers to for far too long. I dismissed the thought; this was business. The ball was in her court, so to speak—for now.

  I’d settle on her fiery temper, get through the next ten minutes, obtain a signature, then get Davis the hell out of here so I could…

  Fuck. So I could do what? Spank her ass? Wipe the smirk off her damn mouth? Kiss the hell out of her beautiful, pouty lips? Shit, I didn’t know what the fuck I wanted to do, or if I wanted to do anything at all. I damn well knew I wasn’t ready to explain that I’d been reading her column over coffee every morning since learning Ava’s Advice existed, or that I’d sea
rched, unsuccessfully, for a personal Facebook profile the minute I’d seen her on the Wednesday’s Wrangle page, and later jacked my dick so motherfucking hard that I’d been sore.

  “Fuck me,” I mumbled in an undertone. Unless being two seconds from losing my complete shit counted, right now, I didn’t know a damn thing.

  Besides the fact that I felt like I was dying inside.

  No emotions, Tage. No feelings.

  “Tage, if you wouldn’t mind, I’m in a hurry. Would one of you please just show me what to sign so we can put an end to this asinine fiasco?” Bitterness flickered in her eyes as she stared up at me like I was some kind of hardened criminal. But I didn’t fail to notice the breathlessness in her voice, the continued shaking of her hands, or quivering of her bottom lip. The way she fought to make eye contact, staring at my mouth.

  What a beautiful contradiction this woman was.

  I paused, intentionally delaying a response to her demand, while I took a long, hard look in her gaze that was clearly glassing over. Tears … I fucking hated them. Unless, of course, they were brought on during the cusp of gratification, or while a woman was naked and deserving. Otherwise, they were nothing more than annoying pleas of emotion, something I had no patience for. But she looked so damn small right now. So fragile. So upset.

  So damned beautiful.

  I felt drawn, as if an energy or some kind of far-off force was pulling her toward me.

  Mine. All mine.

  “Davis,” I said with a stern tone, scarcely contained anger barreling through my chest as my gaze into Ava’s eyes remained unwavering. “Why don’t you quickly reiterate the minor changes of the contract with Ms. Montgomery so we can all get back to work?” Once again, she cut her eyes. She could no longer even look my direction.

  Look at me, dammit. My eyes, Ava. My eyes.

  Less than two minutes later, tension in the room was palpable, the air pulsating with an unsettling frigidity. Davis quickly convened his briefing on the security update, Ava signed the new contract, mumbled a curt goodbye, and was on her way out the door.

  Pushing anxiously out of my chair, I took two strides to reach her. “Ava! Don’t go yet.”

  She turned toward me with that damn bold look on her face, while her eyes shimmered with unshed tears. She pushed at the tangled mess of hair covering her shoulder. Ashy white heat couldn’t have melted the coldness of this woman’s temperament, but I didn’t relent. Undaunted by her anger, I reached for her arm, gripping the silky material of her blouse, while that sweet scent of hers teased my nostrils and thickened my cock. “Wait. Please.”

  Something that resembled a deep sigh, combined with an incredulous laugh had her stepping back and staring me straight in the eye. “Wait? Really?” she asked, her nostrils flaring. “Shove waiting straight up your ass!” she added, her voice cracking as she glowered at me. “I did that once before, and I can promise you I’ll never do it again. Damn you straight to hell and back, Tage. And your assistant here … damn him as well.”

  Fury filled my head as my jaw tightened, my pulse beating rampantly as she turned her back to me and walked away. I had the sudden urge to kick the shit out of something. Another two from going after her just to give her a small dose of what being an inconsiderate bitch could involve with a man like me.

  What was her damn problem? Who did she think she was, flying off the handle like that? An employee too special to be fired for unprofessional conduct? British fucking royalty? A million thoughts raced through my brain, not a single one of them pleasant. Go after her, my head commanded. Let her go, my heart argued.

  As I watched her walking away, I followed my heart for the time being, but I would see this woman again outside a work environment. And when I did, her anger would find her a prime seat in one spot—across my knee.

  “Holy fucking shit! What the hell just happened here?”

  Having no real answer, I stared back at a shell-shocked Davis with visible displeasure, my tone turning cold. “I have no damn idea. Let’s get the hell out of here.” With strides long and impatient, I walked out of the Times’s office with a familiar stirring behind my chest.

  Succumbing to something I often felt.

  Anger. Rage.

  “I think I could use a drink,” I uttered to a silent Davis as we pulled out of The Times’s parking lot, the fact that I was still seeing visions of ice blue eyes and more than one freckle, proving just how much the last hour had affected me. Davis stared straight ahead, his eyebrows raised with obvious question. “Go ahead. Spit it out, Davis. What do you want to know?”

  His gaze met mine. “What I want to know is who the hell is she?”

  “I knew her when I lived in Farmersville.”

  “She obviously meant something to you.”

  “You might say that,” I responded dryly.

  “Well fuck me,” Davis added. “She loves you, doesn’t she?”

  A rapid-fire sequence of images blazed through my head, unveiling a dozen things I felt like doing. Not one of them could be defined as love. “No, Davis. Women don’t love me.”

  “You sure about that? Personally, I’m not convinced this isn’t going to be one of those sickly-passionate, second chance romance kind of things.”

  My chest tightened, my expression converting to a scowl. “Second chance romance, Davis? That,” I added sarcastically, “isn’t a possibility.”

  “Anything is possible, Tage. Even for you.”

  I grunted. “I wouldn’t plan on it.”

  Second, first, or any damn kind of romance wasn’t within the realms of possibility. That wasn’t the issue. Not at all what this was.

  But something felt different. My thinking was way outside the normal box. Crazy shit was filling my head, an urgency bellowing behind my chest. Every belligerent, hot-headed word from Ava’s mouth had left thoughts racing through my mind that made no sense. Ava Montgomery was nothing more than a childhood fantasy.

  Yet, every frigid cell in my body thawed just at the thought of her.

  And that was a problem.

  Chapter Four

  Ava

  From the instant he strutted through the door to sixth period study hall like he owned the place, my heart rate had towered. Not because he had the face and body of a god. Not because he carried himself with pride and confidence and had a provocative air to him that weakened my knees. But because my skin grew hot. My heartbeat quickened. And he had the most beautiful pair of Nordic eyes I’d ever seen, a shade so clear and blue—almost disgustingly—that made me feel as if I could see straight into his soul. They were passion. Ice. The ocean. One quick look into those eyes, and I had known he was going to change my life.

  The hottest fires would always burn blue.

  From day one, I’d been drawn to Tage Morgan like a moth to a bright light.

  Eight years later, I should probably despise him, hate the mere mention of his name. Yet, I didn’t. I couldn’t.

  The heart wants what it wants.

  I stormed out of the conference room with my heart pounding in my ears. I felt like I was in a fog that I couldn’t find my way through, or a dream I couldn’t awaken from. I could still feel his presence and had an inscrutable longing to run to the building’s front door, find him, and beg forgiveness for my childish outbreak. I’d just acted like a three-year-old when Adam had relied on me to handle a simple business transaction. Instead of being professional and taking five minutes to handle a simple contract renewal, I’d let my personal feelings influence my behavior. In other words, I’d behaved like a blithering idiot.

  Lara Beth was watching me with a hard stare.

  “Ava,” she whispered. “Are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  “I have,” I responded, tingling with pins and needles.

  A dire desperation stirred inside me, another unspeakable need to go after him. Even knowing who he was … what he had done … and hadn’t.

  He was still so handsome. Square jaw, straight no
se, a perfect mouth, ice blue eyes. Of course, he looked older, and appeared more thick-skinned and reserved, wearing a designer suit that probably cost what I earned in a month, instead of boots and jeans or sporting attire. Just the thought of him made my heart race, the past suddenly so near, so imminent. Then again, had it ever really been far away? When similar, watercolor blue eyes, olive skin, and dark waves and curls stared up at me each and every day?

  It felt like I had blindly run face-first into a brick wall and had every wisp of air knocked out of my lungs.

  With a chill creeping down my back, I shut the office door, my brain still stuttering. I tuned into two photos on the corner of my desk, both of a dancing Melli dressed in her beloved pink tutu that was long worn out and ripped in the front after a collision with a bedpost. Even though it was ragged and frayed, she still refused to give it up for no other reason than she thought it made her look pretty. Another icy tremor slid down my spine. I was trembling so hard that my knees shook. I pushed tears from my eyes, staring at the photos of my daughter and the first of many dance costumes I’d purchased over the last six months.

  Did Tage know she loved to dance? Did he know pink was her favorite color? Did he even know her sex? Her birthday?

  “Fuck you. Fuck you, Tage fucking Morgan. Fuck you and all your indifference.”

  Shaking like I was having a seizure, with a sudden feeling of revulsion, I forced back a scream and blinked back more unwanted emotion. I hated this numbing feeling inside me and the fact that I was so easily unraveled by seeing him after all these years. The last thing I’d ever expected was Tage Morgan being the “Morgan” Adam had referred to. Puke-ridden or otherwise, I shouldn’t have ever agreed to handle that meeting. I was an advice columnist, for shit’s sake, not a damn negotiator.

  The past stabbed at me like a dozen red-hot pokers.