Accidentally on Purpose, Page 26

  She’d just finished when Archer strode in. He tossed his keys to the counter and headed straight toward her, his nostrils flaring. “What’s that smell?”

  She panicked. She’d lit the two candles she’d been able to find and she’d shut the patio door, but not before standing there like an idiot in the living room waving a magazine around, trying to get the burnt smell outside. “Um . . .”

  “Italian,” he said with a smile, staring down at the table. “I thought so. Chicken Parmesan? Looks amazing.”

  She took a breath and smiled with relief.

  “I had no idea you could cook,” he said.

  “Oh well, I—” She gasped when he curled an arm around her waist and tugged her into him.

  He gave her a smacking kiss on the lips and then pulled back, cocking his head as he studied her.

  “What?” she asked.

  “Like the look.”

  Pulling free, she turned to eyeball her reflection in his stainless-steel refrigerator and barely repressed a shocked shriek. Her hair had rioted and there were streaks of what looked suspiciously like charcoal across her jaw and cheek and forehead.

  Archer came up behind her, leaving not even air between them, his hands on her hips, his jaw pressed to hers. He had to bend to do it too because she’d left her shoes on the patio.

  Along with her brain, apparently.

  “Barefoot in my kitchen,” he murmured, his hot mouth against her ear.

  And maybe pregnant . . . She thought of the test kit she had in her purse. One of these days she was going to take it. Soon. “Don’t get used to it,” she managed.

  “What, you being barefoot?”

  “Me being a mess.”

  He turned her to him and cupped her face, suddenly serious. “I’ve wanted in under your armor for a long time, Elle. Don’t deny me now.”

  This just about undid her. It certainly left her speechless.

  He smiled again, looking pleased with himself. “Can we eat now? I’m starving and your food looks amazing.”

  She watched as he moved away from her to sprawl into a chair and dig in. Guilt consumed her. “So about the food—”

  “Hang on a second,” he said around a huge bite, leaning back, his eyes closed. “I’m having a moment.”

  “But—”

  “I skipped lunch,” he said. “And this is almost as good as an orgasm. Only almost because let’s face it, nothing’s as good as an orgasm.”

  “I didn’t cook it,” she blurted out.

  He flashed her a smile. “I know.”

  She stared at him. “You knew the whole time?”

  “Well yeah.” He was slathering a thick hunk of Italian bread with enough butter for a heart attack with one hand, spooning more chicken Parm onto his plate with his other. She had no idea how he ate the way he did and stayed so leanly muscled.

  Bastard. “How?” she demanded. “How did you know?”

  He slid her an amused glance. “My barbeque’s still smoking and smells like you torched it in a bonfire. You’ve got soot on your face and on your feet. The trash isn’t shut all the way and even from here I can see a take-out container near the top.”

  “Do you have to be so observant?” she demanded.

  “How else would I be able to keep up with you?” An arm snaked out and he yanked her onto his lap, where he buried his face in her hair. “You cared enough to want me fed. That turns me on about as much as you barefoot in my kitchen. Barefoot and—”

  She put a finger over his lips. “Don’t say it.” She didn’t want to hear the word pregnant on his lips. Behind her hand, he was smiling. “You’re a very odd man,” she said.

  “Have you taken a pregnancy test?” he asked around her finger.

  “Not yet.”

  “Take the test, Elle. We need to know.”

  But it would change his actions, she thought with a catch in her gut. He’d stay with her out of even more obligation to her and—

  “Stop.” He lifted her face to his as he read her thoughts, making sure she knew his. “Whatever we find out,” he said, “I’m here for you. Whether it’s just you, or you and our baby. Always. But it’s a fact that you’re getting the raw end of the deal.”

  She shook her head. “Not true.”

  He nipped the finger she still held to his mouth.

  “Very odd man,” she repeated softly.

  Not insulted in the least, he smiled and pulled her hand away from his mouth and then took that mouth on a leisurely tour up her throat, letting it make its way along her jaw to her ear.

  “Here, Archer?” she asked breathlessly, tilting her head to give him better access as she eyeballed the table.

  “Not the table. I’ve been dreaming about all the things I want to do to you and I don’t want to be interrupted.”

  “There’s more . . . things?” she asked a little breathlessly.

  “Oh yeah.”

  While she quivered at the thought of that, he rose and carried her to his bedroom, where he kicked the door closed, hit the lock, and dumped her onto his bed.

  Elle expected Archer to quickly strip her out of her clothes but instead he made himself at home between her thighs and nudged her face to his. “I want in your life, Elle. All the way in.”

  “Well if I’m not mistaken . . .” She rocked against an impressive erection. “You’re about to get as far in me as you can.”

  But he wasn’t playing. “You know what I mean. I’m trying to give you the time you need but I need a hint on how this is going.”

  “The fact that I’m halfway to orgasmic bliss in your bed should be a pretty big hint,” she said.

  He smiled. “So you’re halfway to orgasmic bliss already, huh? Damn, I’m good.”

  She kissed his jaw and nuzzled his throat. “You are.” She pulled back and cupped his face. “You’re going to be able to stop manipulating me?”

  He sighed. “I manipulate everyone.”

  “Yes, but I’m not everyone.”

  Their gazes locked and held. The silence stretched and finally he spoke. “Stay with me.” It was worded like a command but he said it softly. Probably as close to asking as he would come, she thought, her heart pounding hard. God. Was she really going to do this, give him the power she’d never really given anyone by falling for him? “How about if we go one night at a time?”

  “Works for me,” Archer murmured. And closing the distance between their mouths, he kissed her.

  Chapter 23

  #GoingGoingGone

  The next morning Elle walked into the kitchen followed by a dressed for general badassery Archer. He headed straight to the oven, turned it on, and set a bagel on the rack. He looked at Elle questioningly but she shook her head.

  Carbs were the devil.

  Instead she hit the coffeepot and poured two cups, handing one to the big, silent alpha leaning against the counter while he waited for the bagel to heat up. He gave her one of those smiles that made her knees wobble.

  Morgan came in and eyed them both. “Cozy,” she noted.

  Ignoring that, Elle found an orange in the fridge and commandeered it.

  “Seriously,” Morgan said. “The big guy’s even smiling.” She turned to Elle. “Nicely done.”

  Elle rolled her eyes. “Gotta get to class,” she said as she grabbed her purse.

  “I’ll take you.” Archer looked at Morgan. “And you.”

  “I can call a cab.”

  Archer shook his head. “I got a call from Trev. They managed to triangulate the last calls from the burner phone, which were all placed from the Tenderloin District. We have a job we can’t get out of this morning but this afternoon we’re going to try to root Lars out. Until then, I need you two to stay in the Pacific Pier Building.”

  They drove in silence, everyone apparently locked in their own thoughts. As for Elle, hers bounced all over the place, from the danger Morgan had brought to their door to giving Archer another shot at her heart—which was possibly the most terr
ifying.

  When they’d parked and were walking through the courtyard, Morgan turned to Elle and said quietly under her breath, “I’m really not okay with you all putting yourselves in danger to keep me safe.”

  “I get that,” Elle said. “But I don’t see another choice right now. The guys will get to the bottom of this soon.”

  “How?”

  “They’ll find Lars.”

  Morgan looked worried. “He’ll hurt them.” She reached for Elle’s hand. “Can we talk?” She glanced at Archer, who’d gone on ahead of them. “Alone?”

  A bad feeling went through Elle. “Yes, but I have a class and then two meetings. Can it wait until after?”

  “I’ll come to you at lunch.”

  Elle nodded and caught Morgan’s hand, in which she held her phone. “You trust me, right?”

  Morgan blinked. “Um . . . yes?”

  Uh-huh. “If that’s really true, you won’t mind loading the Find My Friends app on your phone so we can keep track of each other.”

  To her credit, Morgan barely hesitated before relinquishing her phone to Elle so she could load the app. Elle decided to accept that gesture as a giant step in the Trusting Each Other Program . . .

  Until Morgan didn’t show for lunch.

  At twelve thirty, Elle called Mollie, looking to see if her sister was maybe caught working through lunch. She’d gotten a text from Archer several hours earlier reminding her that he and the guys were leaving the building and he didn’t want her going anywhere alone.

  Mollie told Elle that Morgan had vanished about thirty minutes ago without a word.

  Since it took two minutes tops to walk from Archer’s office to Elle’s, this wasn’t good news. What was Morgan thinking? That she could really take down a dangerous man on her own?

  Oh shit. That’s exactly what Morgan was thinking. Elle brought up the Find My Friends app on her phone and sat there, heart pounding while it loaded Morgan’s approximate whereabouts.

  The Tenderloin.

  She called Archer but she went straight to voice mail. She tried Spence next. “I’ve got a problem,” she said.

  “Your problems are my problems,” Spence said.

  She’d been hoping he’d say that. “It’s about Morgan.”

  “Okay.”

  “I need you to come with me to stop her from being stupid.”

  “Meet me out front in five,” he said.

  When she got out to the street, Spence was there in an old beat-up Ford truck. He leaned over and pushed open the passenger door.

  It took her a minute to figure out how to climb up into the truck without flashing the world her goodies and when she did, she found Old Man Eddie squished into the backseat.

  “It’s his truck,” Spence said. “He’s not allowed to drive it anymore, hasn’t been since the seventies when he got his license taken away.”

  “And it still runs?” she marveled aloud.

  Spence flashed a smile. “Let’s just say I’ve done a lot of work on it here and there when I’ve had time.”

  Eddie snorted. “Don’t be modest, boy. You took the entire thing apart and put it back together again. Baby’s better than brand-spanking-new. She’s bionic.” He looked at Spence. “Bionic’s still a thing, right, boy genius?”

  “Sure,” Spence said. “But she’s only bionic on the inside.” He looked at Elle. “He didn’t want anything on the outside to change.”

  “Of course not,” Eddie said, stroking the truck. “Baby likes flying under the radar.”

  “And as for your next question,” Spence said to Elle. “She’s almost legal.”

  “I never question a favor.” Elle searched for a seatbelt, finding only a lap one. It’d have to do. “But we’re in a hurry. Does baby hurry?”

  Spence laughed and revved an engine that sounded Formula One race ready.

  Elle pulled out her phone. “I’m calling Archer to leave a message and let him know what we’re up to.”

  “Good idea,” Spence said. “Since I already did.”

  She slid him a look that usually had a man’s testicles going north for the winter. “You didn’t trust me to know that was the right call?”

  “Bros before hoes,” Eddie said from the backseat.

  “He tried calling you back,” Spence said. “You didn’t pick up.”

  She stared down at her phone. Yep. A missed call.

  “Text him where we’re headed,” Spence said. “He’s going to meet us there. Do it now before he kills us both.”

  “I’ve got Morgan’s dot on the map but I want to try calling her again for her exact location.” Elle nearly collapsed in relief when her sister answered.

  “Yo.”

  “Yo yourself,” Elle said. “Where the hell are you?”

  “Well, you’re not going to like it.”

  “Try me.”

  “I’m on my way to Lars’s place—”

  “No—”

  “I didn’t want you or Archer to get hurt. I need to do this, Elle. I want to clean my slate. I want to start over without anything hanging over my head. That way I can get myself a life like you, with a great job, a great guy—”

  “Morgan—”

  “And I’m going to turn myself in,” Morgan said firmly. “With the Russian pocket watch. It’ll go back to its rightful owner and when it’s all over and done, I’ll be free and clear and finally in the right place to start anew.”

  Elle’s stomach dropped. “Morgan, I don’t know the statute of limitations on stolen antiques. You could go to jail.”

  “I stole it, Elle,” Morgan said softly. “I did this. I’m coming to terms with paying the consequences for that, but first I want to make some things right. I hate all the crap and danger I’ve brought to your life and I’m furious at Lars. I need to see him.”

  “No,” Elle said firmly. “No way—”

  “I’m going to tell him I have the watch hidden safely away and that I’ll give it to him if he promises he’ll leave me and you alone.”

  Panic and fear were unhappy twins inside Elle. “He’ll never do it. And you’re not naïve enough to believe otherwise.”

  “Of course not,” Morgan said. “But you know how arrogant he is, how much he likes to talk about himself. I’m going to record our conversation and hopefully get him to implicate himself. I’m going down but he’s coming with me. And the beauty is, he won’t see this coming. He’ll never believe a grifter like me would actually go to the police. But that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

  “You don’t even know if he’s going to be home.”

  “If he’s not, I’m going to search it for the brooch and turn that in too. Lars inherited his grandma’s house in the Tenderloin while he was in jail. It’s a pit, but it’s a free-and-clear pit, and he’s living there.”