Accidentally on Purpose

  “Me?” Elle asked.

  “Yes. We’ll worry about what’s wrong, if maybe you need help and you’re just being too stubborn to ask. Or . . . you could just spare us the gray hair and tell us.”

  “Gray hair? Really?”

  “Hey, family worries about family,” Pru said. “And family gives family gray hair.”

  They loved her. They really did, and at that realization, it all spilled right out of her. “My sister’s in town,” she heard herself say. “And that means bad shit is coming along right behind her as always, like category five hurricane bad shit. Also, I’m never going gray, not even for you two—at least not that anyone will ever know.”

  Pru smiled and took her hand. “You do know that when this category five storm hits, your real sisters will be at your back, right?”

  Willa took her other hand and squeezed, nodding her agreement with Pru’s words, her eyes solemn. “Always,” she said. “Through sickness, gray hair, and health, babe.”

  Elle’s throat went tight, too tight to talk. Because really, she wasn’t alone at all. She’d wanted family and she had it. Her friends were her family, more so than any blood relation had ever been.

  For the rest of the day, Elle struggled with what she’d done, turning Morgan away crisis unheard. And yes, she was one hundred percent sure there’d been some sort of crisis. She felt like such a jerk.

  She also struggled with something else. She needed to apologize to Archer. Not for the email. Oh hell, no way was she going to apologize for her feelings, especially as in the moment they’d been genuine. But she’d B&E’d his office and had used one of his men to do it.

  Not cool of her.

  And then there was the other thing—she’d been watching his office all day, wanting to get eyes on him and make sure he was really okay after being stabbed. Eyes only. No mouth. Under absolutely no circumstances was she going to let her mouth get involved.

  She’d given him up and she was sticking by that decision.

  But he’d stayed away from his office. This wasn’t all that uncommon. He spent whole weeks out in the field on jobs. In his opinion, the office was an evil necessity. So she gave it up and tried to get the scoop from Mollie.

  “He’s doing better,” Mollie said. “Not that he’d admit he wasn’t in top form all this week.”

  “So he’s on a job.”

  “Of course,” Mollie said. “That man doesn’t take time off for, and I’ll quote him here, ‘a little scratch.’ Luckily he’s just doing surveillance.”

  “Where?” Elle asked.

  “Sorry, honey.” Mollie shook her head. “I can’t give out his location.”

  “He shouldn’t be working at all, should he?”

  “No. The doctor doesn’t want him working for at least another week, which of course he thinks is ridiculous. The guys would’ve handled today’s surveillance but he refused help. He’s not into letting people take care of him, which is silly since the man’s done nothing but take care of all of us like we’re his family.” She shook her head. “Anyway, I’d really like to tell you where he’s at since you’re probably the only one of all of us who can improve his mood, but—”

  “Oh trust me,” Elle said, “I don’t improve his mood.”

  Mollie gave her a get-real look. “Are you seriously going to stand in my reception room in that amazing dress—and I’m going to need deets on where you got that—and look me right in the eyes and tell me you don’t know what kind of influence you have on that man?”

  Elle opened her mouth and then shut it. Her phone rang and she’d never been so happy for the excuse to step out into the hallway to answer it.

  The number wasn’t one she recognized and when she answered, she knew she’d never heard the voice before either.

  “Morgan,” a man’s gruff voice said.

  Elle narrowed her eyes. “No. You’ve got the wrong number—”

  “Elle, then.”

  She stilled. “Who is this?”

  But he’d disconnected. “Dammit.” She turned to walk down the hallway and nearly plowed into Joe. “Hey,” she said. “Just who I wanted to see.”

  “No,” he said.

  “Excuse me?”

  He blew out a sigh and scrubbed a hand down his face, looking pained. “Look, Elle, you’re hot as hell and I really like you. But on top of all that, boss man’s in a bitch of a mood today, okay? I mean I know you’d improve it but—”

  “Okay, you’re the second person to say that to me. It’s not true.”

  He snorted. “Yeah, right, but you’re still going to have to find another stooge for today’s game.”

  “For your information, there is no game,” she said, watching as he vanished into the office. “Chicken.” She pulled out her phone again and called Trev.

  “Hell no,” he answered. “You’re scary, sweet thing. But Archer’s scarier.”

  A scary man who was making it all but impossible to apologize! She called Spence.

  “I knew it was going to be you,” he said, distinctly not happy to hear her voice. “Thanks for returning my keys last night after you kyped them and used them to break into Archer’s office.”

  She’d set them on his kitchen counter before going home. “How did you know it was me?”

  “Because I let you take them.”

  Either she was losing her touch or he was just that good. She voted for the latter. “I need to know where Archer is.”

  “Fine but I’m only going to tell you because I think you’ll actually improve his mood.”

  She pulled the phone from her ear and stared at it, and then shook her head. “Why does everyone keep saying that to me?”

  He snorted. “Stand by,” he said. “I’ll text you.”

  And sure enough, five minutes later a text came through with an address and a note.

  Spence: He’s on a surveillance recon only, nothing dangerous, and he’s alone. You owe me. Muffins, Elle. For a week.

  Archer was on one of those rare jobs where he spent most of his time wondering why he’d taken it on in the first place. He hadn’t wanted to—as a rule he turned away most domestic cases. Having to stand between a husband and a wife with proof of infidelity on one side or the other never failed to leave him with a bad taste in his mouth. Yeah, he was cynical and jaded and could be a cold bastard. He knew and accepted this about himself. But he still hated providing the final nail in the coffin on a marriage.

  This case involved doing just that. His client was a wealthy socialite at the top of the food chain, the elite of the elite in San Francisco, and she suspected her city council husband was cheating on her.

  Archer had taken the case only because he owed the mayor a favor, and he’d called Archer himself and asked for his help for his “dear friend.”

  He’d reluctantly agreed, ultimately deciding it would be good for him to clear the slate. Plus it was a job he could actually do one-handed, thankfully, as it would be at least another week before he was up to his usual speed. Getting knifed was a bitch. Worse, his men had turned into a bunch of babysitters, watching out for him, taking on the jobs they didn’t think he should do.

  It was something he’d have done for any one of them, but having it turned on him when he was so used to being in charge drove him nuts. He was leaning casually against the hood of his car like maybe he was waiting for someone, watching the entrance of his client’s husband’s town house when he heard the sound of heels coming his way.

  Not Elle.

  That was his first thought. The stride was neither purposeful nor effortlessly graceful enough, but it was the walk of a woman on a mission.

  He turned to see Maya, his client, standing on the sidewalk. “What are you doing here?” he asked.

  She smiled and came to lean against his car at his side, mocking his stance. “Just found out that Kyle’s out of town tonight, left on short notice. Thought you might want to know since I’d told you he’d be here tonight with his skank.”

&nbs
p; “You could have called me with this info.”

  She bumped her shoulder against his. “What would the fun have been in that?”

  While he processed that statement and all she meant by it, his brain processed something else. Another set of heels coming his way, these ones everything that Maya’s hadn’t been.

  Elle.

  She was holding a brown bag from his absolute favorite Thai take-out in all the land, making his mouth water. Or hell, maybe that was just Elle herself in a stark white blouse and a tight royal blue skirt hugging her sexy curves.

  He had zero idea what she was doing and he’d found it best to not waste time wondering. Elle kept her own council. The question, as always, was did she come seeking a truce—or the next round of battle?

  Elle slowed her steps at the sight of Archer and a woman leaning on his vehicle, standing closer than social niceties dictated. She’d learned early to be as sure and confident as she could, and if she couldn’t—then to fake it.

  But sometimes faking it took a minute, such as now, when she was hit by two things. One, she shouldn’t have come. She’d given him up and she needed, intended, to stay strong on that.

  And two, she hadn’t gone through normal social situations like a regular child. Hell, she’d never even been a child. Certain emotions had always had to take a backseat to survival so she’d never had to deal with them before.

  Jealousy being one of them.

  And it was absolutely jealousy feasting on her good sense as she took in the sight of Archer with yet another woman cozying up to him, probably in a trance under all the testosterone and pheromones that came off him in waves.

  Yeah, it was a very good thing she’d given him up. She spun on a heel to walk away but Archer was faster.

  He was always faster.

  Snatching her by the wrist, he slowly reeled her in, taking advantage of her quick little stumble on her heels to haul her in close and wrap his arms around her.

  “Hey, baby,” he said gruffly, his mouth at her jaw.

  She froze in shock. Baby?

  “So glad you finally made it,” he growled against her skin, causing a full body shiver. “What took you so long?”

  It was a tough decision between kneeing him in the family jewels or jumping his sexy bones, but he took it out of her hands when he lifted her a little higher so that now her feet were entirely off the ground.

  And then he kissed her.

  At the first touch of his sexy, knowing, talented mouth on hers, all thought processes shut off. Her brain ceased to work. Not her body though. Nope, operating independently now, it wrapped itself around him as pleasure, sheer, unadulterated pleasure, infused every inch of her.

  Archer tightened his grip and deepened their connection and she felt a hard tug on her heart. Somewhere far, far away, her brain clicked back on and understood that this was all for show, that for whatever reason they were in a distraction job and that worked because it meant that this wasn’t real. And that was perfect since with his tongue in her mouth and her tongue now rubbing up on his like a cat in heat, she couldn’t muster up a single objection. Instead she threw herself fully into her role of the protective, possessive girlfriend and wrapped her arms around him.

  When the kiss ended and he pulled back, eyes hot, she smiled, hoping he couldn’t feel her knees knocking together. “Brought you dinner, sugar.”

  He arched a brow, whether at her put-on heavy Southern accent or the nickname she had no idea. Sometimes on distractions she did this, pulled a persona out of her arsenal, and she knew damn well she was good enough at it to win an Academy Award.

  “Look at you,” he said, amused, “being all domesticated and . . . sweet.”

  Oh, he’d pay for that. She handed him the brown bag with one hand while her other slid from low on his spine southbound and right into his back pocket, where she pinched his ass.

  Hard.

  He merely grinned at her. “Smells delicious. What do I owe you?”

  “We’ll settle up.” More of a threat than a promise, and to make sure he knew it, she pinched him again. “Later.” Then she turned to the woman. “So who’s this?” she drawled.

  “Maya Rodriguez,” Archer said. “My client. Maya, this is—”

  “Candy,” Elle said. “Archer’s . . . fiancée. You aren’t by any chance hitting on another woman’s fiancé, are you?”

  Archer choked on that one and Elle helpfully pounded him on the back hard enough to nearly crack a few ribs.

  Maya shook her head. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t aware that he was engaged. I was just”—she glanced at Archer—“hopeful, is all. You’re a lucky woman, Candy. Archer here’s the full package. Smart, dedicated . . .” She smiled. “Sexy.”

  He smiled at her.

  “Candy” resisted the urge to pinch him yet again.

  “Family is very important to me,” Maya said. “In fact, family’s everything.” Her eyes went a little misty. “My father cheated on my mom for years. And now my ratfink bastard husband is doing the same. And I nearly . . .” She glanced at Archer, looking regretful. “Well, never mind. We have a daughter. I need to get it together for her sake.” She pulled out her phone and showed them the pic on her screen—an adorable-looking little girl with a sweet smile.

  Well, hell. “She’s beautiful,” Elle said quietly.

  Maya’s eyes were still misty. “I know. She’s the best thing I’ve ever done in my entire life. I know everyone says that, but it’s true. It’s something you can’t understand unless you have your own family, tight-knit like the two of you.” She smiled a little bit bittersweetly. “Don’t be like me, okay? Don’t fall into the pattern. Appreciate what you’ve got and fight for it.” She took another step back. “I’ve gotta go. But I sincerely hope the two of you have the real thing and that a silly, lonely woman making a play she shouldn’t have made can’t hurt what you have.”

  They both watched her walk away.

  “You realize that within the hour the entire county will think I’m engaged,” Archer said, not sounding particularly bothered.

  “Hey,” Elle said, losing the Southern accent. “You’re the one who started that. You kissed me. Which, by the way, is confusing. You clearly don’t want to be with me but you kiss me like you can’t get enough. I’m over it, Archer. Keep that admittedly great mouth to yourself until you figure your shit out.”

  He turned his head and met her gaze.

  “I mean it,” she said, not liking the attitude implied in his expression. “I deserve more. I mean I understand, I do. Once you’ve protected someone the way you protected me, you get . . . well, protective. But I’m no longer that sixteen-year-old girl, Archer. I’m a grown woman, and while we’re at it you’re welcome by the way for the save just now. By my calculations, that was the fifteenth job I’ve done for you.”

  A whisper of what she thought was surprise crossed his face. “You keep count?” he asked.

  “Of course I keep count. And don’t think I don’t know that we’re still not even. I’m working on that. I pay my debts, Archer.” A wind had kicked up and she hugged herself. “All of them.”

  “Elle . . .” All traces of humor were gone from his face. “There is no debt.”

  “Yes, there is,” she said, earnestly now, needing him to understand. “What you did for me all those years ago, it was everything. We’re still not even, not even close. And actually, I don’t know how I can ever repay you. You took me in and showed me something I didn’t know—that I could walk away from a life I didn’t want. That I could instead create a new life I did want. All I had to do was . . . well, do it.”

  He didn’t move. He was maybe not even breathing. “I want you to listen to me very carefully,” he finally said in a very serious voice. “There’s no price on what we do for each other. Ever.”

  “But pulling me out of there was at such a huge cost to yourself, then taking me to the doctor, giving me food and shelter, stuffing that two hundred bucks in the sweatshirt you ga
ve me, leaving it for me to find in the pocket—”

  “Anyone would have tried to help you, Elle.”

  Not where she’d grown up. “Here. Hope it’s good. I’ve gotta go.”