Burning Through Gravity Page 7

  I shrug over at Ford and blow him a quick kiss, but his eyes are locked in horror. His mouth falls open as if he’s about to say something. The bony brunette that threatened a firing squad upon the next person who fondled her toilet paper cuts me a hard look before whispering into his ear.

  “Wait a minute,” it comes from me less than air. The second she leaned into him the distinct feeling of deja vu set in. Was she at the party that night? I think she was—doing exactly that.

  Jener claps his hands, and I fall hard into my seat. “Welcome everyone to Jinx headquarters.” The room stills as we sit like obedient children ready to glean whatever guerrilla warfare tactics they’re willing to dispense, but, the truth is, I can’t take my eyes off that beautiful man.

  Jener starts in on an eerie slow clap. “The corporate owners make their offices right here on campus, but even they’ll admit it’s a rare feat to have them all in the room at once—at least without killing each other.”

  He manages to generate a soft laugh from the crowd. Jener is the ringleader, and we’re the posse of manicured poodles. Suddenly I’m embarrassed that Ford has the opportunity to witness the event.

  “And, now, may I introduce you to the famous, or rather infamous yet brilliant Cannon brothers.” He motions to a couple of dark-haired gentlemen standing to his right, each one more handsome than the next, but, of course, they pale in comparison to Ford who’s standing on the other end. That woman, that skeleton with hair, is still dangling off his shoulder like a parrot.

  Jener motions to an open laptop in front of him. “First we have Cash who is here both in spirit and Skype.” He flicks his wrist to the gentlemen to his right. “Carson and Carter.” They both give a mock bow before taking a seat at the front.

  Something about those names… They ring in the back of my head like a song I can’t remember all the lyrics to. Wait—is that Aspen’s old friend, Carter?

  “And, of course,” Jener claps just once, loud as a pop of thunder—“let us not forget the master of disaster, the man of every hour who is the very reason each one of us are seated where we are today because without him there would be no Jinx—Mr. Crawford Cannon himself.”

  The room explodes in wild applause. Jener turns to his left, but there’s nobody there. Nobody but—Ford. The spindly brunette claps the longest, the loudest, the ass-kissing proudest. But Ford has locked his eyes over mine, his face pale as alabaster.

  Crawford Cannon?

  My mouth opens at the revelation. Everything in me demands to bolt, but my heels have screwed themselves into the floor.

  It can’t be. It’s not. He’s just pulling some elaborate stunt to impress me.

  Ford steps up to the empty leather chair awaiting him and gives a quick nod to the crowd before taking a seat.

  “Welcome.” That warm baritone vibrates off the walls, inviting me in without excuse.

  Holy hell.

  That vexingly hot man that chased me around his brother’s beach house for two carnally exhausting weeks was no lowly driver, no man of simple means just getting by like he painted himself to be. He wasn’t at all the man I thought he was.

  The walls press in, the room heaves and swelters. My adrenaline spikes, punctures a hole right through my heart. I want to run, to scream, to vomit all at the same time. I’ve become a cat clawing at the bottom of the well, the water rising over my head.

  Our eyes remain locked like some unfortunate livewire neither of us can let go of. Here we are, standing in a pool of water, gyrating to a deep fried finish in front of my peers—in front of the skeletal earpiece whispering sweet nothings to him right this very moment.

  Holy hell, I don’t know this man at all.

  But I do know two things.

  He is nothing but a liar—and his name is Crawford Cannon.

  Ford

  Shit.

  Here she is, staring back at me with a wild-eyed look that says I’ll rip your balls off first chance I get. That shadow of ever-present hurt on her face is magnified by this very moment.

  I’ve felt like an ass before on multiple occasions although it’s safe to say this moment would be the pinnacle—the culmination of heartbreaking deceit I’ve piled on any human being.

  The enthusiastic applause dies down. This is usually the part where I espouse my own genius for twenty minutes straight only to have them howling with approval before breaking off into groups.

  “Go on.” I nod to Jener. He’d better take over this three-ringed circus. If given another free moment, I’ll kick everyone out of this room and strap myself to Stevie until that look of horror is gone from her face. Hell, it’s not horror. It’s disappointment.

  “Um.” He looks to Evelyn before proceeding. He segues into one long unholy spiel about the company, my family and I just sit there skirting the table, the walls, but my eyes keep tracking back to Stevie like a wet brush to canvas. “So are there any questions you might have for the board?” Jener finishes off like a consummate professional.

  A few arms go up, and, for the first time, I let my gaze fall to my lap like a coward.

  “I have one.” A voice emits from the side, female, I don’t need to glance over to confirm who it is, but I do—it’s Stevie. She sits straight in her seat, her back erect, her neck slightly arched, and, for a moment, I picture her sitting on my lap that way. The color comes back to her face. Her eyes lock onto mine once again—gone is the confusion and heartbreak, replaced with iron-hot rage. “Are you married?” She asks loud and clear, the hint of strangulating anger rings out in her tone.

  The room explodes with a quick bout of laughter. Evelyn loosens next to me as if she too found it comical. My fuck-‘em-and-leave-‘em status is a joke that everyone in the room is in on but Stevie. I’m more or less a degenerate when it comes to relationships. Stevie had changed that, changed me in just a few short weeks, but something in me knows I may never have the privilege to show her.

  “Yes, he is.” Jener booms from over my shoulder, and I wince.

  Shit.

  Stevie’s face drains of all color, and, for a second, I consider running over and ushering her out. I could make up an excuse about getting her downstairs to see the nurse, but the only person I want her to see, to speak with right now, is me.

  “He’s married to Jinx,” Jener continues. “It’s a match made in cyber hell, and they’re both very happy. So, all willing applicants need not apply.”

  Another rumble of laughter prickles through the room. Nice save. I think.

  Stevie leans back in her seat as the blonde next to her whispers into her ear.

  “Please excuse my student’s inquisition.” Dr. Bennett, the school’s liaison wears her embarrassment on her sleeve. “I’m sure Ms. Eaton meant no ill-will. In fact, she’s spoken for herself.” She dips her chin in Stevie’s direction in a reprimanding manor. “I heard her speak of him fondly on the elevator ride up.” My ego wants to believe that was me. Dr. Bennett reverts her attention to the board. “The Rigby School of Business has made it clear to our students that this is not a social event, pardon the pun. Should any of our interns cross a sexual line with your staff, they are automatically qualified for expulsion. This is strictly a business arrangement, and we plan on keeping things chaste.” Her eyes scour the student body with the threat.

  “As do we.” Jener pipes up. “Here at Jinx we treat each of the interns as one of our own but draw the line at intimacy of any kind. Romantic interludes between staff and students are strictly forbidden and cause for employee reprimand. We consider our interns as family, younger siblings, if you will. Your young men are our brothers, your young women our sisters. We apply the same chaste regard toward your students.”

  I close my eyes a moment, and an involuntary smile comes and goes on my lips.

  I sit back as Jener breaks them off into groups of five, leaving two left over, Stevie and the blonde next to her.

  My eyes graft onto hers once again. She’s so damn beautiful my heart breaks as she hard
ens, cold as stone. Her hair hits the light giving her that girl on fire look—girl pissed to hell and back look—and for some unknown reason it has my boxers stirring to life.

  Evelyn shifts in her seat. “I’ll take them.” She spits the words across the table like machetes, and, as a reflex, I want to protect Stevie.

  “No. I will.” My throat clenches dry as the words leave my lips. Shit. I’ve never had so much as a secretary until last month. Evelyn has filled every void I’ve needed around here for as long as I can remember.

  My brothers press in on me. Evelyn’s eyes jet out like rubber balls.

  Jener leans in and whispers, “Dude, I just gave that whole spiel about policy. The last thing we need is you alone with two girls ready to slap you with sexual assault charges the first time you brush against them in the hall. The brunette has ballbuster written all over her. I’d stay away.”

  “I’m the founder.” I look right at her. “What better way to learn than hands on right from the top?” I gently tap the table as if I were trying to convince myself. “What do you say, Stevie?”

  The room stills. I can hardly believe her name as it sailed from my traitorous lips, but, deep down, a part of me wants to let her know I remember everything about us. That we’re still us—or, at the very least, we can be.

  She leans in with her hair slicing over the table. Her cherry-stained lips part with promise, and my gut cinches with grief just looking at her.

  “My name is Stephanie Eaton,” her words slit through the air like throwing stars.

  “I’m sorry.” Dr. Bennett bounces in her seat. Her face glows red as beads of sweat form on her upper lip. “Stevie is what her friends call her. I’m sure she wasn’t trying to be rude.” Her entire face sours in Stevie’s direction. “We’ve instructed the students to adopt their formal names in business. Isn’t that right, Ms. Eaton?”

  “That’s right. Stevie is what my friends call me.” A dangerous smile flirts with her lips. “Only my friends.” She pierces me with that javelin gaze before nodding toward Evelyn. “Arabella and I would be honored to have you as our preceptor. Isn’t that right Belle?”

  Honored? Evelyn is more of a serrated hinge-trap waiting to slice Stevie and her friend in two. But then Stevie doesn’t know that, and, next to me, I’m sure she’d fill anyone with glowing admiration.

  The girl to her side startles. “Oh, right.” Her features sag with disappointment. It’s becoming clear the only one not interested in me is Stevie—Stephanie, as it were.

  The room drains as the small group sessions get underway.

  “I’ve got this.” Evelyn leans in with her blouse unbuttoned just enough, her cleavage placed beneath my line of vision.

  Evelyn pouts in my direction. It’s one of her many tricks of seduction. Evelyn has no idea who’s in the room with us. She has no idea of the power Stevie has over me. I’ve handed her the reins. I’m hoping for the best but bracing for the worse. Once Evelyn finds out, I’m sure she’ll administer a corporate flogging with Stevie as her victim. And, knowing Evelyn, she’ll take it out on her friend as well.

  “Don’t worry.” Evelyn huffs a dull laugh. “I’ll take care of the mouthy little bitch.” Her lips pull back in a tight line. “There’s nothing I’d like more.” She smooths out her skirt and heads over to the girls as my brothers stand on either side of me like a fortress.

  “What?” I growl it out without bothering to look up. I know what they’re thinking. Carson is wondering if I’ll mind that he’s about to break the house rules and bang a few coeds—and Carter wants to flog my ass for keeping him longer than necessary. He mentioned he needed to pick up Abby, his three-year-old that he shares custody of. Outside of his baby girl, he’s buried himself in work after the divorce.

  Carson leans in. “Put the boys on ice and stop staring.” He socks me in the arm. “I’ll go out there and deflect the old hag for you.” He heads in Dr. Bennett’s direction.

  Carter steps forward, and I fully expect some wise-ass remark, some ironic reprimand that, of course, I would deserve, but, instead, he heads over to where Evelyn is staring down Stevie, trying to melt her like a glacier—and gives Stevie a hug.

  I buck out of my seat and make my way over.

  “How’s Aspen?” He pats Stevie on the back like they’re old friends, and, evidently, they are.

  “She’s still Aspen.” Her eyes dart to mine.

  “Evelyn”—I don’t take my eyes from Stevie—“why don’t you take Arabella and give her a full tour of the facility?”

  “And the mouthy one?” Evelyn settles her shoulder into mine as if we were a unified front about to take these girls down.

  “Carter will want to spend more time with her today.”

  “As you wish.” She scowls at the chesty blonde shivering in her presence. Evelyn can be a hardline bitch when she wants to, and she pretty much always wants to. “Come,” she crows, and the poor girl follows her out of the room.

  “There’s so much to catch up on.” Carter cups his hand over Stevie’s shoulder.

  “Get out.” I tell him without taking my eyes off hers. “Shut the door and make sure no one comes in.”

  “You just said I’d get to spend more time with Stevie today.” I’m not sure if he’s mocking me, but either way he’s wrong.

  “I lied.”

  A satisfied smile spreads across her face. “You lie about a lot of things don’t you—Ford?”

  “My friends call me Ford.” I soften into her, pleading for her understanding. It feels hopeless as if we’ve both landed in quicksand, and there’s no one to throw us a line.

  “Crawford.” She shrugs.

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  “Whoa.” Carter holds up his hands a moment. “Everything okay? What’s going on?” He stands between us like he’s breaking up a fight.

  “Why are you still here?” I give him a hard shove to the side, hoping he’ll take the hint. “I need to speak with Ms. Eaton for a moment.”

  “What about the tour?”

  “I’ll be giving it.”

  “I won’t be taking it,” she counters, trying to follow him out. I shove Carter’s ass out into the hall and seal it shut before she has a chance to disappear from my life for good.

  “Please.” I press in against her and feel the warmth of her body so close to mine for the first time in days. “Let me tell you everything. Let’s do this.”

  “Let’s not.” She tries to sidestep me, but I move along with her.

  “I never lied to you.” I pant right over her mouth.

  “You’re lying now.” Her eyes glint with tears, but a laugh bubbles from her throat. “You never told the truth.”

  “I thought you knew who I was.”

  “Sounds like someone has an inflated ego.”

  “And”—I step into her and force her eyes to connect with mine, watery and amber, the color of maple syrup filtered by the sun—“when I realized you truly didn’t…” Crap. “I thought it was refreshing.”

  “Refreshing?” Her brow hikes up one side, amused.

  Shit. Not the right words, but then it’s becoming quickly obvious I can’t seem to navigate the English language around her—at least not without slipping my neck into a noose in the process.

  “I didn’t mean refreshing.” I pull her in by the waist, and she doesn’t flinch or scream. That has to be a good sign. “I meant it was sweet—I loved it. I wanted that pure moment with you. I haven’t had that with anyone in so long, I thought I might never get that back. You were there with me—with Ford—nobody else, not this suit or the dollar signs behind this company. You didn’t care about any of it.”

  “Because you denied me the right.” Her chest pulses into mine with every other breath. Her mouth opens as she inches her way toward me, and, for a moment, I think we’re about to put this entire nightmare behind us and take that picnic down at Shipwrecks a little earlier than anticipated.

  “And I wouldn’t have cared abou
t any of that.” She whispers the words right over my lips. “Just like I didn’t care about you.” Her eyes knife into mine. “Still don’t.”

  She swipes her way around me and opens the door.

  “Dr. Bennett mentioned you had a boyfriend.” The desperation oozes out of me. “Was that me?” The look of rage in her eyes has already tattooed itself inside my eyelids.

  “Aren’t you all ego, Mr. Cannon? Don’t you wish it were you? I already have a boyfriend.” Her heels click just outside the room and stop. “How does it feel to be lied to?”

  She takes off, and her heels hammer into the floor as if sealing a casket.

  It doesn’t feel good to be lied to. I already knew that all too well.

  But I think we both know even that was a lie. I’m pretty sure I was the boyfriend in question, and I blew it.

  I stare out at the dead space left in her wake—it feels like a punch in the gut.

  Stevie knocked the wind out of me.

  I get the feeling I’ll need her around just to breathe.

  Hell, I know I will.

  3

  The Air I Breathe

  Stevie

  He lied to me. Lied. To. Me. I almost want to laugh. I’m a bigger liar than he could ever hope to be.

  All I can think of is Ford—his soft smile and amused eyes, and now I know their secret. He wasn’t being heartfelt. He wasn’t falling in love with me. He was mocking me. It was my own fault, really. I should have stood under the steel umbrella of my mother’s very wise words. All men are liars. Those words sound off in my mind like a fire alarm that won’t stop ringing. They course through my veins, giving new life to this unique brand of revenge that my father has enabled me with. I probably shouldn’t hurt so much, but I was so close to finding that mythical unicorn called love. I really wanted to believe it. I don’t think what Ford did was terrible. He was simply playing a game he had played a thousand times before, only, this time, he found a real live sucker—the one person on the planet who he could hide his identity from. I was the one who made the assumptions, but he was quick not to correct me. Instead, he indulged in the game. He was the cat with a mouse bouncing between his paws, or in this case, legs.