Bared to You: A Crossfire Novel

“I know, right?” I enjoyed another sip of my wine. It was a crisp and nicely chil ed sauvignon blanc I’d picked up on the walk home. “That was my reaction, too. I’m stil not sure I didn’t hal ucinate the conversation while overdosing on his pheromones.”

“So?”

I tucked my legs beneath me on the couch and leaned into the corner. “So what?”

“You know what, Eva.” Grabbing his netbook off the coffee table, Cary propped it on his crossed legs. “Are you going to tap that or what?”

“I don’t even know him. I don’t even know his first name and he threw that curvebal at me.”

“He knew yours.” He started typing on his keyboard.

“And what about the thing with the vodka? Asking for your boss in particular?”

The hand I was running through my loose hair stil ed.

“Mark is very talented. If Cross has any sort of business sense at al , he’d pick up on that and exploit it.”

“I’d say he knows business.” Cary spun his netbook around and showed me the home page of Cross Industries, which boasted an awesome photo of the Crossfire. “That’s his building, Eva. Gideon Cross owns it.”

Damn it. My eyes closed. Gideon Cross. I thought the name suited him. It was as sexy and elegantly masculine as the man himself.

“He has people to handle marketing for his subsidiaries. Probably dozens of people to handle it.”

“Stop talking, Cary”

“He’s hot, rich, and wants to jump your bones.

What’s the problem?”

I looked at him. “It’s going to be awkward running into him al the time. I’m hoping to hang on to my job for a long while. I real y like it. I real y like Mark. He’s total y involved me in the process and I’ve learned so much from him already.”

“Remember what Dr. Travis says about calculated risks? When your shrink tel s you to take some, you should take some. You can deal with it. You and Cross are both adults.” He turned his attention back to his Internet search. “Wow. Did you know he doesn’t turn thirty for another two years? Think of the stamina.”

“Think of the rudeness. I’m offended by how he just threw it out there. I hate feeling like a vagina with legs.” Cary paused and looked up at me, his eyes softening with sympathy. “I’m sorry, baby girl. You’re so strong, so much stronger than I am. I just don’t see you carrying around the baggage I do.”

“I don’t think I am, most of the time.” I looked away because I didn’t want to talk about what we’d been through in our pasts. “It’s not like I wanted him to ask me out on a date. But there has to be a better way to tel a woman you want to take her to bed.”

“You’re right. He’s an arrogant douche. Let him lust after you until he has blue bal s. Serves him right.” That made me smile. Cary could always do that. “I doubt that man has ever had blue bal s in his life, but it’s a fun fantasy.”

He shut his netbook with a decisive snap. “What should we do tonight?”

“I was thinking I’d like to go check out that Krav Maga studio in Brooklyn.” I’d done a little research after meeting Parker Smith during my workout at Equinox and as the week passed, the thought of having that kind of raw, physical outlet for stress seemed more and more ideal.

I knew it wouldn’t be anything close to banging the hel out of Gideon Cross, but I suspected it would be a lot less dangerous to my health.

“There’s no way your mom and Stanton are going to let you come out here at night multiple times a week,” Cary said, hugging his stylish denim jacket around him even though it wasn’t more than slightly chil y.

The converted warehouse Parker Smith used as his studio was a brick-faced building in a formerly industrial area of Brooklyn presently struggling to revitalize. The space was vast, and the massive metal delivery-bay doors offered no exterior clue as to what was taking place inside. Cary and I sat in aluminum bleachers, watching a half-dozen combatants on the mats below.

“Ouch.” I winced in sympathy as a guy took a kick to the groin. Even with padding, that had to sting. “How’s Stanton going to find out, Cary?”

“Because you’l be in the hospital?” He glanced at me. “Seriously. Krav Maga is brutal. They’re just sparring and it’s ful contact. And even if the bruises don’t give you away, your stepdad wil find out somehow. He always does.”

“Because of my mom; she tel s him everything. But I’m not tel ing her about this.”

“Why not?”

“She won’t understand. She’l think I want to protect myself because of what happened, and she’l feel guilty and give me grief about it. She won’t believe my main interest is exercise and stress relief.” I propped my chin on my palm and watched Parker take the floor with a woman. He was a good instructor.