Page 13 of James (Big Northwest #6)

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

JAMES

T HE WATER PRESSURE at the hotel left a lot to be desired.

James stood under the showerhead, working her fingers through the length of her hair as she tried to rinse away the shampoo she’d bought at the store. It smelled fantastic—and worked way better than Phillip’s—but the moisturizing lather needed a little more than a gentle drip to exit her strands.

She gave up on her hair and went to work scrubbing her body, figuring the water would eventually work everything out if she just stayed under it long enough. Grabbing the shower pouf and bodywash, she popped the cap and squeezed some onto the netting, working it into billowing suds before passing it over every nook and cranny. Like she could somehow erase the mess of the past two days.

It was as unlikely as enjoying a calm, peaceful night next to Phillip was. Just knowing he’d be joining her in bed again had her skin hot and her body reacting.

He was attracted to her. His dick made that perfectly clear. But for some stupid reason, the man wouldn’t act on it. Every time they’d gotten close to doing more than just teasing each other, he’d backed off.

Or ran away.

Maybe he didn’t mix business with pleasure. Maybe he thought becoming physical would cloud his judgment.

Or hers.

Whatever his reasons for avoiding the very real spark between them, it was probably for the best. The man was too attractive. Too likable. Too sexy and too competent. No one was that great. He had to be hiding some sort of character flaw.

And it was probably a doozy.

Still. It would be fun to at least make out with him a little. He was so reactive to her. And so aggravated by it. It made her want to push his buttons. Inch him just a little closer to the line he pretended was between them.

Obviously Phillip didn’t share her opinion that lines were made for crossing and limits were made for pushing. Wonder how he felt about her thoughts on men being made for tormenting?

Reaching up, she was relieved to find the shampoo had finally rinsed free of her hair. Keeping the shitty water pressure in mind, James added the tiniest amount of conditioner to her ends, gave everything another hit with the spray, and stepped out. After drying off, she combed through her hair and hit it with the hotel dryer. The thing was about as useful as the shower, so she gave up after ten minutes, shaking out her still damp waves as she brushed her teeth.

And then she was done. Clean and dressed in the cute pajama set she’d picked out. It was a pretty grayish blue and the stretchy ribbed fabric was buttery soft. The stitching on the edges curled the hem of both the cropped spaghetti strap tank top and the tiny shorts, giving it a feminine feel.

Normally she slept in an old T-shirt, but those were all gone now. And part of her didn’t hate it. Life as she knew it was over. Gone in the blink of an eye. She had no choice but to start over. Begin again. Fresh and free.

As long as Phillip and his old friend could clean up the bit of that old life that was leaking into the new one.

After sliding on one of the hotel robes, she opened the door and walked out into the room, carrying the clothes she’d been wearing in one of the plastic bags from her shopping trip.

Phillip was at the built-in desk, working at his laptop. His eyes came her way, moving over the white robe before settling on the dirty laundry in her hands. “What’s in the bag?”

“My dirty clothes.” James frowned at his expensive suitcase and the even more expensive clothes inside it. “I figured this would be the best way to keep them separate from everything else.”

Phillip stood, crossing to the room to join her at the open suitcase. Unzipping the large front section, he pulled out a black knit bag with a drawstring top. He tugged it open and held it between them. “You can toss your clothes in here with mine.”

She peered down into the bag of underwear, socks, and white T-shirts. “That’s really nice of you to offer to do my laundry for me.” She snorted at her own joke.

But Phillip didn’t seem to get it. His expression remained neutral as she added her clothes. “Might as well. It’s not like I don’t have room in the loads.”

She watched as he cinched the top closed. “You actually do your own laundry?”

He tossed the knit bag back into his suitcase. “Who else is going to do it?”

That was a good question. “It’s just hard to imagine you folding socks.”

“Imagine it.” He tugged at the tie he’d already loosened, freeing it from his neck. “I also cook and clean.” Tossing the tie away, he smirked. “And I can iron.”

“Impressive.” She swallowed hard as he worked the buttons of his shirt loose. “You’re the full package. It’s a wonder no one’s snapped you up.”

The minute the words came out of her mouth she frowned, her mind circling back to her earlier thoughts. There definitely had to be something wrong with him. No way would women let a man as great as he claimed to be pass them by.

“Actually, why has no one snapped you up?”

Phillip’s playful expression slipped, his eyes hardening. “Lots of reasons.” He turned away, peeling off his shirt as he headed for the bathroom.

Like he planned to escape the conversation. It wasn’t happening. Not this time.

“You keep avoiding giving me answers, and it’s getting really freaking annoying.” James followed behind him as he picked up the pace.

“I’ve given you plenty of answers.” As she expected, Phillip tried to dart into the bathroom, swinging the door closed. He was moving fast, but she was faster.

Putting both hands up, she caught the door and bumped it back at him, following Phillip into the still steamy space. “You’ve given me answers about my sisters.” She narrowed her eyes in suspicion. “Not about you.”

Phillip’s hands went to his hips as his head tipped back to the ceiling. He pulled in a slow breath. “Fine. What do you want to know?”

Everything. Why he came back for her even though he said he wouldn’t. How he became a private investigator. What was in that shaker cup he held while Lily painted his nails.

Why he let her paint them in the first place.

Where his dad’s ex-wife lived and what her schedule looked like. How many suits he owned. If he sorted his clothes into just lights and darks or if he also separated out colors. What could he cook and who did he make it for?

Phillip was unlike any penis possessor she’d ever known, and there was no limit to what she wanted to know about what made him tick. But there was one thing she wanted to know above all others.

“Why do you pretend you don’t want me?”

Phillip’s body went still. Like he wasn’t expecting that to be the question she led with. He was silent for a very, very long time, his eyes still directed at the ceiling.

Right as she was about to give up on getting an answer, his face tipped her way, gaze heated. “Because I shouldn’t want you.”

Her stomach flipped at the way he was looking at her. It wasn’t like the men who came into the club. They leered or fawned. Phillip devoured. As if he could consume her with nothing but his eyes. And holy fuck was it hot.

She pressed one hand to her somersaulting stomach, trying to keep from melting into a puddle of swoon on the tile floor. “Is that because I’m your client?” She stepped closer, pushing the limits of her wobbly knees. “Because I remember you saying my sisters’ money ran out a while ago. Pretty sure that means the agreement you had with them has ended.”

Phillip’s nostrils flared as she stepped closer. “It’s got nothing to do with that.” His hands clenched at his sides. “I wouldn’t be good for you, James. You need someone calm. Someone who can balance you out.”

That stalled her momentum a little. “But you are calm.” Even when she was hitting people with cars and confessing murder, Phillip was relatively cool and collected. Way more chill than most people would have been under the circumstances.

“Not always.” Phillip’s eyes tracked her movements as she reached out to trace a line down the center of his undershirt. “I’ve worked hard to learn how to rein myself in, but there are still times when I lose my shit. We would just feed off each other until…”

Her eyes dipped to the spot on his side. She grabbed the cotton fabric between them, tugging it up until the shiny line of his scar was visible. Gently, she stroked the tip of a finger along the ultra-smooth skin. “Until someone gets stabbed.”

A few of the puzzle pieces were starting to fit together. She knew better than anyone how much a father could fuck up his kid. Maybe a blade wasn’t the only thing that damaged Phillip that night.

She flattened her palms against his stomach, inching closer. “You know you can be like your father but still go down a different path, right?”

It’s what she and her sisters had done. There was no denying their connection to Mehir. It was literally ingrained in their DNA. Manifested in so many of the skills they possessed. Was undeniable and colored nearly everything they did.

But that didn’t mean she had plans to take over the world, or intentions of manipulating innocent people for her own gain.

The people she manipulated came asking for it.

“That’s not as simple as you want to believe it is.” Phillip gripped her wrist, stalling her movement, but he didn’t pull her hand from his skin. “You can’t just decide not to be who you are deep down. Certain parts of us aren’t malleable like that.” His eyes moved over her face. “You know that better than anyone.”

That was true. She could change a lot about herself. Had changed a lot. But some things couldn’t be controlled. Her eyes. Her anger. “What is it you think you are? Because I’m not seeing what the problem is.”

Phillip’s grip tightened on her wrist, but he still didn’t pull it away from his body. “I worked as a mercenary after I got out of the military. Killed people for a living. Did the government’s dirty work when they needed a mess cleaned up but couldn’t be connected to it.”

“Really?” She was insanely interested in hearing more about that. “How many people have you killed?”

“More than you.” He tried to step around her, but she blocked his path.

“That’s a pretty bold assumption.” She lifted her chin. “As far as you know there’s a whole pile of dead bodies in my past.”

That made him pause. “ Is there a whole pile of dead bodies in your past?” Phillip raked one hand through his hair the way he did when he got overwhelmed. “Because that’s going to complicate shit.”

She laughed at his genuine concern. The ease with which he believed she could be a homicidal maniac was flattering. “Calm down. I’ve only killed the one guy.”

Phillip frowned down at her. “The fact that you’re using only one murder to reassure me is fucked up, you know that, right?”

“My whole life is fucked up.” She shrugged. “I never had a choice to be a normal person.” Her amusement dissipated, sobering at the thought of Phillip’s own life. “Seems like you didn’t either.”

And he so clearly wanted to be. Phillip was desperate to be a basic bitch, suit-wearing businessman who led a boring, monotonous life filled with unending phone conferences and bland meetings.

Her sisters were a lot like that. They wanted as simple and quiet of a life as they could eke out. To get as far from their initial existence as they could.

Not her. The world was unfair to her from the second she was born. Ripped away the only parent who might have halfway cared, thrusting that parent’s roles and responsibilities for her onto her sisters. Punishing them all for their father’s misdeeds.

And she wanted to punish it back. Had been doing her best since leaving Shadow Pine.

Phillip stared down at her, the lines of his face hard. “I’m not good for you, James.” He paused before laying out the rest of the issue. “And you’re not good for me.”

She scoffed. “Are you fucking kidding?” She shoved at his chest with the hand not still tight in his grip. “You haven’t killed a single person since I’ve been around.” She shoved him again, harder this time, following him across the space as he stumbled back. “And you sure as hell haven’t been stabbed.” The thought of that woman cutting him—even if it was meant for his father—had her anger flaring. “And I fucking saved you from falling off the side of that building. Without me, you’d be dead. Seems like I’m really freaking good for you.” She started to push him again, but Phillip caught her other wrist before she could make contact.

Holding her hands hostage, he spun, switching their places before pushing her back against the wall next to the sink. “Without you I wouldn’t have been on the side of that building in the first place.”

He did kind of have her there.

“You’re right.” She smiled up at him, the expression less sweet and more snide. “Without me you’d be sitting behind your desk looking through some old man’s financial records or sorting through his twenty-year-old wife’s Instagram page looking for evidence she’s fucking someone with a working dick.”

The second one actually didn’t sound so bad, but Phillip probably loathed it. Not that he seemed ready to admit it. He was still pretending it was his dream life. But if that was true, he would have walked away from her. From her sisters.

Using his hold on her hands against him, James pulled Phillip closer, pushing up on her toes so they were eye-to-eye. “That’s the real reason you didn’t walk away from me, isn’t it? Because you needed something to cut through the miserably boring life you’re trying so hard to convince yourself is exactly what you want.”

Phillip’s nostrils flared, his eyes narrowing. “You’re a fucking terror.”

A smile bloomed across her face. “You really mean that, don’t you?” She sucked in a breath as their position fully registered. Dropping her eyes between them, she zeroed in on where his hips pressed into her. “At least one part of you doesn’t seem scared of me at all.”

“That’s the fucking problem.” Phillip’s hand dropped hers and came to bracket her throat, warm and solid but offering no pressure. “Not a single fucking cell in my body is scared of you.” He leaned in, running his nose along her neck as he breathed deep. “Unfortunately.”

She tipped her head, offering not so subtle encouragement as his mouth barely brushed the line of her jaw. “What’s unfortunate is your self-restraint.” She gripped the waist of his pants with one hand, holding tight. “Because I’d really love to get off tonight.”