Zara Cox - Close To The Edge

I fought to hold on to my irritation and dismiss the tiny lick of embarrassment.

So okay, I wasn’t the tidiest person at the best of times. And being neck-deep in my project, I’d let my standards slip a little further and canceled my cleaning service because I hated the disruption. Which meant any number of personal items, including the ones I used to de-stress after a hard day’s coding, could be scattered anywhere in my house.

The joy of living alone meant I could pleasure myself anywhere from my bathroom floor to the movie room lounger where I usually crashed when I couldn’t be bothered to drag myself to my bed. The thought of Caleb Steele’s men reporting my habits back to him made my palms burn with humiliation.

Which was absurd.

I was a grown woman, for heaven’s sake. One with healthy needs I wasn’t ashamed of satisfying in defiance of the restrictions Chance Donovan had tried to place on me.

Nope, I wasn’t going to think about Chance or how he tried to control me through Scott, my ex-boyfriend.

Very soon they’d both be so far in my rearview I’d need a telescope to see them.

“You have the green light,” I said, blanking my mind to the possibility of my sex toys being discovered. “You’ll need a code to get into the house.”

The small cocky smile that curved his lips suggested that he really didn’t, but he chose not to vocalize the fact. “Shoot.”

I rattled out a long alphanumeric code. He impressed me by not asking me to repeat it and recited it to Maggie without hesitation.

About to hang up, he paused when Maggie called his name. “Yes?”

“The pilot is still on standby. I’m assuming you and the client are returning to Palo Alto, too?”

“Yes, we’ll be at the airport in half an hour.” He hung up, the blue of his eyes drenching me with the sensation of being swallowed whole. “Come on. Let’s go get this bastard out of your life.”

I grabbed my things and followed Caleb Steele outside with the distinct feeling he’d left out a vital part of his statement. Something along the lines of... and then we can get onto more important things .

Or maybe that was all in my dirty imagination.

CHAPTER THREE

Lily

IT WASN’T THE first time I’d ridden in a Bugatti—Silicon Valley was crawling with billionaire tech geeks who collected supercars like they were baseball cards.

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—?”