Page 121 of Theirs to Desire (Club M: Boxed Set)

NOLAN

I don’t do relationships. I don’t do commitments. I don’t stick around. I’m in uncharted territory here.

Don’t panic, I tell myself as I drive over to Caleb’s place. All you’re going to do is have dinner with Kiera and Caleb. It’s not a big deal. It’s just a meal.

Telling myself not to freak out doesn’t work.

I didn’t mean to pour all that stuff out to Caleb earlier.

It just… happened. Ever since that ill-fated Saturday night, thoughts of Kiera have infiltrated my brain.

Over and over, I relive our time in Club M.

The way her eyes had widened when I’d run the flogger over her arm.

The way her skin had broken out into goosebumps.

The way she’d leaned forward, her lips parted, curiosity and anticipation written large on her face.

The hitch in her voice. Her pretty and pink and cream underwear, the lingerie of a good girl who so desperately wanted to explore her wilder side. My mind puts these images on auto-replay, and I can’t think of anything else but Kiera.

My focus should be on Luis Martinez. I’ve spent more than three years of my life hunting for the elusive arms dealer, and I’ve never been closer to finding him. Bianca Thompson is our best and most promising lead.

I shouldn’t be driving toward Caleb’s house.

I should drive to New York and join Caleb’s covert surveillance crew.

I still don’t have a photo of Martinez. Caleb’s team is being extremely cautious, and we still haven’t made contact with Bianca.

I should be chomping at the bit. Instead, I’m letting Caleb’s analysts take point on this job.

And me? I handled the refreshment station at Nala’s soccer practice. Yeah. I, Nolan Wolanski, was in charge of the Gatorade today. And I’d enjoyed it. Not the overt flirting of some of the mothers—that had been a little awkward—but I’d liked seeing the kids running around and having fun.

Maybe I’m catching something. Maybe I’m coming down with the flu. That would explain this inexplicable sappiness.

I pull into Caleb’s driveway. Kiera’s not here yet; her car isn’t in sight. I grab the bottle of champagne in the passenger seat and head straight to Caleb’s backyard.

Caleb’s putting burgers on the grill. He sees the champagne and his lips tilt up. “You shouldn’t have,” he quips. “Oh wait. You didn’t do it for me.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. You have an ice bucket somewhere?”

“In the kitchen.”

I head inside and put the champagne to chill. Grabbing a beer from Caleb’s refrigerator, I head outside. It was humid as hell earlier, but it’s cooled down. A welcome breeze runs through the yard. “Looks like it might rain.”

Kiera arrives in time to save us from a full-fledged discussion about the weather.

She’s changed. She’s wearing a sky-blue sundress that stops two inches above her knees and shows off her glorious legs.

The fabric is thin cotton, printed with large red poppies.

When she nears us, her scent wafts over me.

She smells like roses and jasmine, and I want to close my eyes and breathe her in.

If this is the flu, I have it bad.

Caleb gives her a smile of welcome. “Hey, Kiera. Can I get you something to drink? Nolan brought champagne.”

Her eyebrow rises. “What’s the occasion?”

“I told Xavier something he wanted to hear, and he was in a generous mood.”

“That’s very mysterious.”

I get up to pour her a glass of champagne, and then elaborate. “Have you met Rafael Garcia?”

“Xavier’s friend, the hot Spanish guy? Yeah, he was in the club a few months ago.”

A flash of jealousy runs through me at her description of Rafe.

I push it back. “Back in college, Rafe and Xavier were in love with Layla Shleifer. Lina, the woman who died in the breath-play scene gone wrong was Layla’s twin.

Lina’s death tore them apart, but I don’t think any of them really moved on. ”

Caleb lifts his head from the grill, where he’s tending to his burgers. “You haven’t heard the gossip? The three of them scened together one evening at the club. Not too long ago.”

“Really?” My beer freezes halfway to my mouth. “Are they back together?”

“I asked Xavier. He nearly bit my head off, and then he told me it was a one-time thing.”

I snort. “One-time thing. As if.” I turn back to Kiera.

“Sorry. Old college gossip. The long and the short of it is that Layla throws herself recklessly into danger, and Xavier and Rafe secretly try and arrange security teams to watch her. I was in Bangkok not too long ago, and I had lunch with Layla. I might have yelled at her about how reckless she was being. Anyway, she’s come around to the idea of bodyguards, and Xavier expressed his gratitude with a case of champagne. ”

Lightning flashes, followed almost instantly by a roll of thunder. Caleb hastily slides the cooked burgers on a platter. “Looks like it’s about to rain. Let’s eat inside.”

We move indoors and settle around Caleb’s kitchen island. “Soledad made potato salad and coleslaw,” he announces, taking them out of the refrigerator. “There are brownies for dessert, and also ice-cream, unless Naya’s been over this week when I’m at work, in which case I promise nothing.”

We start eating. Our conversation stays light.

Intentionally or not, we stay away from land mines.

We don’t discuss Bianca, Greg Dratch, or Luis Fernando Martinez.

We don’t talk about Saturday night either.

We talk about books and TV shows, and we discover a shared love of science fiction and fantasy.

“Is that why you have a dragon tattooed on your hip?”

Her cheeks turn pink. “I used to have an imaginary dragon best friend when I was a little kid.”

“That’s adorable.” The story about her imaginary friend, but also the way she’s blushing as she tells us about it. “I never had a dragon, but I had a favorite blanket. Until I was thirteen, I never went anywhere without it.”

“You did?”

“I was sent away to boarding school when I was seven. I didn’t want to go; I was scared. The blanket was a coping strategy.”

Her expression turns sympathetic. “What color was it?”

“Red. It’s faded and tattered, but it’s in my apartment.”

“Where do you live?”

Caleb snorts a laugh. “Nolan lives in hotel rooms,” he says. “But he owns a very expensive condo in Manhattan. Upper East Side, Central Park adjacent. How many days did you spend in your bed last year, do you think, buddy?”

“I don’t know. Less than twenty.” I shrug. “My accountants tell me it’s a good investment.” The words leave my mouth before I realize how tone-deaf I sound. Ouch. Don’t be a dick, Nolan.

Kiera fixes me with a searching look. “Why do you travel so much?” she asks. “It’s not for fun, is it? Dixie said you used to collaborate with Adrian and Brody. Why did you have a picture of Greg Dratch on your laptop?”

I don’t talk about what I do. I don’t let people in. I don’t involve anyone in my life, because knowing too much might put them at risk. And yet, when Kiera looks at me with her amber eyes, my resolve turns to dust. I take a deep breath and prepare to tell her everything.