Magnetic Love: A Protector Romance (A Surviving Love Novel Book 3) Read online

  I head out and go to work in a much better mood than I’ve been in all week.

  Jordy appears in the doorway to my office at half past noon. He stands, watching me, while I finish my phone call. I motion for him to sit and wait. He’s been here only a couple of times, but instead of sitting he walks around looking at plaques and photos lining my walls.

  I end the call. “What’s going on?” I ask.

  Jordy always looks like he’s still in college. His red Cardinals hoodie and worn jeans belie the fact that he makes more money than Collin and me combined. We kiddingly called him the Software King until he made us stop.

  He turns to answer. “You have a few minutes?”

  “Yeah.” I lean back in my chair, wishing he’d sit down and quit making me nervous.

  He finally moves to one of the black leather chairs in front of my desk and drops into it like he’s exhausted. “There’s something you should know.”

  “Okay.” I study him, the all-serious Jordy that rarely makes an appearance. “You in some kind of trouble?”

  “No, man. Nothing like that.”

  “Need advice on where to shop so you don’t look like you’re twelve?”

  Jordy flips me off.

  “Touché.” I grin, trying to bring out his carefree attitude, but he’s not biting. “Just say whatever is on your mind.”

  Then it hits me. It probably has to do with Emerson. Maybe Jordy lied and he and Emerson have something going on and I’ve been a clueless fool. If they’ve been sleeping together, I don’t know if I can stomach that.

  “It’s about Emerson,” Jordy says.

  My stomach bottoms out like it’s been tossed into a lake with a concrete block. “What about her?”

  “Well, she...um...”

  “Spit it out.” I barely hold on to my irritation, my words slow and monotone.

  “She’s not what you think.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “Emerson’s been through a lot. She comes from a family that had money. Her dad wrote the programs used by Barney & Meyers to predict stock market changes.”

  “So, she had money and now she doesn’t. I know about her dad going to prison for something dealing with military data.” I exhale in a relieved laugh. For a second, I thought he might tell me that there was something between the two of them.

  “She told you?”

  I give a nod. “Yeah.”

  “I’m surprised. She’s never mentioned it to me.”

  It takes me a minute to absorb this statement. The clock on my wall ticks, the people in the showroom walk past my glass wall, the lights on my phone blink—but for all this activity, I feel like time stands still.

  “Then how do you know?” I stop leaning back in my chair. Every muscle in my body tenses.

  “Because I’m the one who turned him in.”

  Jordy gets up and paces the room. I can’t do more than stare at him, trying to absorb this revelation. He swings around, his hands moving to brace the top of his head. “No one was ever supposed to know the tip came from me. I didn’t even have to testify. It was an anonymous tip. She can’t find out.”

  “Why the hell are you telling me then?” I swallow, but there’s not an ounce of saliva in my mouth. “I don’t want to know this.”

  “Too late, man. Listen. Her dad was a criminal. She knows this, but I don’t know how she’s going to feel when she finds out it was me. She’ll quit working for us. And I don’t want her back in that strip club. I got her out of there, and I’m not having her resort to something like that again.”

  “Back up. If you’re going to tell me, start at the beginning. I’ve never understood how a girl like Emerson could’ve been a stripper.”

  “So, I was in college and working as an intern at a small company that provided checks on security systems. My job was to try to hack in and break a system to prove how safe it was. I noticed some activity that wasn’t from me and started monitoring.” Jordy shoves his hands into his pockets and walks to stand at the glass wall.

  “That’s when you discovered her dad hacking?”

  “Well, yeah, but I didn’t know what I was getting into. So, I went to my professor and asked what I should do. He said I could report it anonymously. I wasn’t even supposed to be monitoring. My project was checking security against my own hacks. Not monitoring in other areas, but I was bored and had extra time on my hands and—”

  He slaps a hand on the wall. “Fuck.”

  “Jordy, calm down. You turned him in. That was the right thing to do. How did you find Emerson in the strip club?”

  “I learned about the case and that the hacker had been prosecuted. I nosed around and found he had kids. A senior in high school and a younger one. I’ve kept tabs on them this whole time.”

  “Wow. You’re a regular cyber stalker.”

  “Fuck you.”

  “Hey. I was kidding. Maybe if you tell Emerson...” I can’t finish the sentence because I realize how stupid it is. Emerson will hate him.

  “Not a chance. I’m only telling you so you’ll understand why I’m worried about her situation. You’ve got to promise you won’t say anything. Come on. She’ll be out of our lives before you can blink. She needs the money. She was maxed on her credit cards. Maxed on student loans. But I wanted to help her and that’s why I gave her the job.”

  My mind wanders as his last statements ring in my head. She lives in a shithole. What does she do with her money? I try to focus on the immediate problem. “I won’t tell her. Your secret is safe. Try not to have a coronary.”

  “The other day I got the license plate number from my guy.” Jordy gulps in air, obviously more nervous than he’s been since entering the room.

  “Go ahead. We’ll work this out. You found out who is following Emerson and broke in...”

  “I don’t know.” He waits a beat and rubs a hand over his eyes. “My friend has security clearances beyond the DMV. I don’t know what’s going on, but the license plate belongs to the feds.”

  Chapter Nine

  Story of My Life

  Emerson

  The parking lot of Iggie’s Pizzeria is packed, like it always is on Friday nights. Dylan opens the car door for me and extends a hand to help me out. His hand is warm and large. His fingers tighten around mine for a second when he smiles at me.

  My heart does a funny little jumping jack in response. How many girls have jumped into his bed over that smile alone? That last pair of lacy panties on his dresser six months ago should tell me plenty.

  Dylan said we were going to hang out like friends. It’s not like a date or anything. I’d insisted on that. When he doesn’t release his hold, I tug my hand from his reluctantly. There’s a flash of something in his eyes that I’m not sure about. “Thanks,” I murmur.

  Dylan leans in near my ear. “Holding my hand is harmless.”

  The wind blows my hair back from my face and I shiver. “Harmless as petting a tiger.”

  He laughs low as if the analogy makes him happy. The sound tickles my insides, giving me the distinct urge to burrow my face into the hollow of his neck where I can feel the sound against my lips.

  I pull in a gulp of cold air to sober myself. He was the one saying we’d be friends. I’m the one having trouble with that.

  We head toward the neon lights that illuminate the door. A couple of guys approach the restaurant from the sidewalk and Dylan moves his hand around my back possessively. So much for avoiding physical contact.

  I look at his profile in the dim lighting. He’s watching the men as they slow, allowing us to enter. At first, I think maybe he knows them by the way he continues to stare, but I must be wrong because no one speaks.

  Dylan opens the door to Iggie’s since he’s a perfect gentleman when he wants to be. The hostess grabs two menus and asks us to follow her. She proceeds to seat us in the center of the restaurant.

  Dylan hesitates and looks to the back of the room. “Could you put us somewhere else?” He gi
ves her a sultry smile. It’s not even pointed at me and still my heart goes into a sprint.

  Gah. He turns on the charm with everyone.

  The hostess beams back and nods. “Of course. Follow me.”

  She seats us in a corner booth that’s dimly lit and secluded. Dylan gives her a blinding smile and a wink as she hands him the menu.

  “Really?” I store my purse beside me and take off my wool coat.

  “What’s wrong?” His brows furrow, as if he hasn’t a clue.

  “The hostess? You flirt with women everywhere?”

  Dylan looks at the hostess, who stands once more near the door of the restaurant. “I was being nice.”

  “Your version of nice is an awful lot like my version of foreplay.”

  “Baby, you need better foreplay in your life.” He flashes me a confident grin.

  My body temperature rises a couple hundred degrees. I drop my gaze from his mouth and the five o’ clock shadow of scruff on his chin to focus on the menu in front of me. “So, what’s your favorite pizza here?”

  “Calabrese.” He points at his menu. “But I like variety, so I’ll try anything.”

  “I bet. You probably get bored with too much of the same thing.”

  He grins at me, his gaze intense. “Some things are so spectacular, I’d never get bored.”

  My face heats as he doesn’t look away. “So, Calabrese it is.”

  “Am I making you nervous?”

  If he thinks he has this kind of effect on me, I’m in trouble. I force a light laugh. “Oh come on. Of course not.” I tilt my head and give him a playful smile. “Tell me about this stress at work. What’s up?”

  The waiter fills our water glasses and takes our order. I’m relieved to have time to think about how this evening will play out. Why hadn’t I prepared better for the flirting? I almost snort aloud at the thought. Like calisthenics might’ve prepped me from getting turned on whenever he gives me the smoldering eye.

  “Oh,” he says and takes a sip of water. “Just the usual stuff.”

  “You acted like something more was going on. That’s what you wanted to talk about, right?”

  He doesn’t meet my gaze as he rubs a thumb along the back of his neck. “Well, yeah. It’s a headache sometimes, being in charge of everything, but at the same time I love it. I just didn’t think I’d be taking over for my dad at this point in my life.”

  “He’s retired for good?”

  “I think so. He was probably unsure at first because he’s always worked so hard. But now it’s been several months and he doesn’t even call to check in. So, yeah. Probably for good.”

  I subtly drilled Jordy once after listening to Dylan talking to his mother on the phone. Dylan was so sugary sweet to her, I drooled just listening.

  Jordy’s explanation of Dylan’s background consisted of a few concise phrases: only child, doting parents, heir to the multi-million dollar business. In other words, Prince Dylan wouldn’t be interested in a girl whose family has made headline news more than once. And not in a good way.

  “And you’re okay with that?”

  He’s silent for a second while he studies the table as if he’s never been asked this particular question. He nods and the corner of his mouth tilts up. “Yeah. I get stressed sometimes over the finances. It’s a rush to see success, but I do things differently from my dad and worry that he’ll be disappointed about the changes I’m making. I want to do so much with the business—” He stops suddenly and gets a little-boy grin on his face. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to start going into all that.”

  “Why not? It’s the reason I asked. What’s the most exciting and scary thing going on right now?”

  He takes a sip of water and gives me a dazzling smile that starts at his mouth but shines from his eyes. “Well, it’s something new for us. And I’ll be sinking marketing dollars into it, but the return will be great. I think. I know.”

  “Tell me.”

  “Car shows. New models and classics, but inside a showroom where it’s one big party. I partner with the technology companies who do the sound systems for the new models and it’s by invitation only. We serve wine and appetizers. We hire a DJ.”

  “Sounds so cool. If I had money to buy one of your cars, I’d love that.”

  He takes a deep breath as if he thought I’d have a different reaction. “Thanks. But my dad thinks I’m crazy.”

  “I don’t.”

  “Thanks. That means a lot to me.”

  The waiter returns with the pizza and we grab a slice each. Dylan was right. The Calabrese pizza is fantastic, a real treat since it’s been a while since I’ve had more than a frozen pizza at home.

  I lick the rich sauce from my upper lip and notice he’s watching me with an amused expression. Swallowing my unladylike mouthful, I frown.

  “I can tell you like it.” He nods slowly. “It’s nice to see a girl eat. The girls I date usually pick around a bowl of lettuce.”

  I smirk. “Good thing this isn’t a date.” To prove my point, I take a rather larger bite of pizza. When I finish the bite, he still isn’t doing more than looking at me with a troubled face, his eyebrows lowered. I scowl in return.

  “You’ve got some sauce on you.” He leans in and brushes a thumb across my bottom lip. “Got it.”

  In the moment he pulls back from me, I feel like an inexperienced teen on my first date. I’ve never been seduced, but I know in this one look and touch, Dylan could turn all my protests into ineffective mumbling.

  I fantasize that he sweeps an arm across the table to clear it. He takes my hand to pull me from my chair and lifts me by the waist to sit on the table. And then—

  “Emerson?” He’s grinning again. This guy has my number in the way he looks so confident. My fantasies must’ve flashed across my face like a New York billboard.

  Where is my resolve to keep my distance, sanity, and job? The hostess seats a couple at the next table and gives Dylan a speculating eye the entire time. I consider tripping her, but I can’t blame her. One wink from him and she’s willing to throw herself on the table as well.

  Be strong! No ravishing guy friends on public tables no matter how much sex appeal radiates like a force field around him. I take a deep breath and he’s still looking at me. Avert his attention. I glance at the dish in the center of the table. “I am so full. This pizza’s so freakin' good, I’m going to ask for a doggie bag.”

  Dylan laughs and the deep, rolling sound sends a shiver of pleasure all the way to my toes. My mouth tugs up against my will. His mood is as contagious as a yawn.

  “I have something else I’d like to do after this.” Dylan glances around for our waiter.

  “Oh, yeah? What other things do you do when you hang out with your female friends?”

  He makes a face. “What other female friends? Since you’re the sole one I put in that category, this will be a first. You know...consider it a trial and error thing. You can tell me how I do.”

  “Okay. What are we doing?”

  The waiter places the bill folder on the table and Dylan places cash inside. “Ready to go?”

  “We can split the bill.”

  Dylan shakes his head. “Not this time. My treat. You can make dinner for me sometime.”

  He seems to enjoy the statement, if his huge grin is any indication. “But—”

  “I’m not a picky eater. It’ll be easy to please me.” He stands and extends a hand to me. “I can tell you’re looking forward to it already.”

  “What if I give you food poisoning?”

  “You won’t—”

  “On purpose,” I mutter and take his hand. “Do you know that you’re on the bossy side?”

  “It’s what you like about me.” Dylan places his hand on the small of my back and my skin tingles at the warmth through my shirt. He takes my coat from one of our empty chairs and holds it out for me. Such a gentleman...like my dad was. Is. Even though he’s in prison, he’s probably still courteous.

 
; I try not to think about the man I haven’t visited since he went away.

  I shrug into my coat and keep my chin tucked. There’s no way I want Dylan to see the confusion he sets in motion every time he talks to me or touches me. He puts his own coat on and we head to the door.

  The minute we step outside, I’m transfixed by the huge flakes of snow drifting from above. “I thought we weren’t getting this until tomorrow.”

  “Me either. Forecaster got it wrong.” He takes my hand before I realize his intention. “Careful. It already looks slick out here.”

  “I’m fine,” I say and then make a fool of myself by sliding on the concrete in the next second.

  His arm sweeps around my shoulders and steadies me. Instant warmth floods my cheeks. It’s like a blowtorch hits me whenever we come into physical contact. My breathing quickens.

  I’m not sure when I started this blushing thing. So not cool. In high school, I dated the hunkiest football captain to ever walk planet earth, met that DJ Denny Porter from MTV, walked out in a bikini for that modeling gig with the swimwear company.

  Ended up wearing less than a bikini during the strip shows at Earl’s Temptations.

  This lack of self-control when it comes to Dylan horrifies me beyond anything I can imagine. Because, if nothing else, I have to be totally in control of my emotions and my life.

  I pull out of his hold and smile, the effort nearly cracking my lips. “So, what’s the secret thing we’re doing now?”

  His gaze moves to the sky. “I planned something, but I’m not sure. It’s not a place I’ve ever taken a girl.”

  “Don’t think of me like I’m female. I’m one of the guys tonight. Bring it on.”

  Dylan’s almost imperceptible shrug paired with a mischievous grin peak my curiosity. He clicks his key fob and opens the passenger door. “Good. It’s one of my favorite places in the world. But it’s sort of a guy’s place.”

  “Hmm...mysterious. Can’t wait to see what this is. You take me to a strip club, and I’m decking you.”

  “I seriously don’t want to see you inside a strip club again,” he says.