Public Affair Read online

  “Matthew Grayson.”

  “Who is that?”

  “A guy I found at a bar,” I mumble.

  “And you’re meeting him at his room?” she questions.

  “I’m taking him to his room.”

  “Can he not tell you his room number?”

  I hesitate to answer, and indeed, part of me considers lying. But whatever Seidi and I are, whatever we’ve done, we do not lie. To each other, that is. “He’s unconscious.”

  Seidi sighs. “Did you make him that way?”

  “Of course not!” I say, offended that she’d even consider that. “I think he took something.”

  “Great. Please don’t involve yourself with druggies, E.”

  “I’m not. I just… I think he needs my help.”

  Huffing again, she says, “I don’t agree.”

  “Are you going to get me the information?”

  “Fine. Give me ten minutes.”

  Exactly ten minutes later, she calls me back with his room number. After instructing Carlos to meet me there, I drive to the hotel off Vanderbilt Beach Road. By the time we arrive, he’s waiting for me in front of room 116.

  “Fuck. What’d you do to him?” he asks as I round the car and open the door.

  “Nothing. I found him like that.”

  “What, like in a dumpster?” His sarcastic humor isn’t meant to be humorous at all, I’m sure. He really wants to know if I found this man in a dumpster.

  “Does he look like he came from a dumpster? Just help me take him inside.”

  “He looks heavy,” Carlos remarks.

  “He is, which is why I called you.”

  Carlos pulls Matt out none too gently and lifts him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. He follows me to the door I parked in front of, where I swipe the key I found in Matt’s pocket. A light turns green and there’s an audible unlocking within the electronic mechanism.

  Once inside, Carlos drops Matt onto the mattress. He lands with his arms wide, much like a tuckered-out child would.

  “Is he alive?” Carlos asks.

  “Of course he is.” I start taking Matt’s shoes off. They’re nice, black leather. Not overly expensive. After I place them neatly by the television cabinet, I go back to him and remove his watch, also nice but not expensive. It tells me he makes a decent living, could probably afford something better, but doesn’t put much importance on material things. “Here, help me lift him.”

  He does it, but not without questioning, “What are you doing? Let’s get out of here before he wakes up and thinks we’re robbing him.”

  “Do you see him? He’s not waking up anytime soon.”

  “Did you roofie him?”

  Rolling my eyes at him, I say, “I don’t roofie people. What is it with you and Seidi? Just help me.”

  With Carlos’ help, I strip Matt down to his white T-shirt and boxer briefs. We lift his head to the pillow, then I pull the covers up to his chest.

  “Are we good to go, boss lady?”

  “You can go.” I wave him away. “I’m going to stay a little.”

  “The hell I’ll be leaving you alone with this guy.”

  “Go. I can handle myself. Got a knife on me.”

  He looks at my tiny bag, raising a brow. “What kind of knife fits in that?”

  “A small but sharp one.”

  Carlos shrugs. “Well, they say size doesn’t matter.”

  “It matters. But in a pinch, any size will do. Now go.”

  Straightening his spine, he stands by the wall. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  “You are if you still want a job tomorrow.”

  His eyes grow wide momentarily before he covers them with his aviators and gives me a curt nod. “I’ll leave the room. But I’ll be right outside that door.”

  Sighing, I shake my head. “Okay. I’ll allow it.”

  He walks out, and I’m alone with my sleeping charge. I sit beside him, looking down at his face. I’ve always loved watching a manly man sleep, because all of that aggression and masculinity gives way to the sweetness of the child within. Matt is no different.

  With the intensity of his brown eyes concealed, I can see the boyish side to his features. His enviously long lashes curve over his scruffy cheeks. Full pink lips part slightly as he breathes, and the rigidness of his jaw is relaxed now that he’s not constantly working it.

  Feeling daring, I reach up and caress his cheek the way he did with me at the bar. I run my fingers over his soft lips, then dig them into hair that’s as thick as I envisioned it would be. Goodness, but he’s a beautiful thing to behold.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I spot an orange bottle on the nightstand. When I read it, I figure out why he’s in this state. Sleeping pills. The same ones I was prescribed years ago. But they shut out the voices I desperately longed to hear, so I stopped taking them.

  Gazing around the large studio, I notice how nice it is. I’ve never stayed at the Saddler Beach Resort, but I’ve driven by it almost every day. The Key West inspired hotel certainly does evoke the feel of the island with its lush landscapes, pastel siding, and lazy fans.

  From what I understand, all of their rooms have a view of the ocean. I open the slider to the patio. It’s pitch dark outside tonight with the moon somewhere unseen and heavy clouds veiling the stars. Even so, I can hear the ocean waves crashing in the distance, taste the salty air.

  Leaving the door open, I walk around, desperate to learn anything I can about Matthew Grayson. I know he’s a private investigator. He’s lost his wife. But I want to know more. Does he like sports? What’s his favorite ice cream flavor? How deep do his wounds run?

  On a white desk beneath the window is his laptop. Beside it is a photograph of a woman. Even though I realize it’s impossible, my first instinct is to think it’s me. But when I pick it up and inspect it more closely, I see her brown eyes. Lena.

  She really does look like me. The same dark hair, shape of the face. She even has the full lips I’ve always hated on myself. As a kid, I was made fun of because of them, and then as I got older, men assumed the size of my lips meant I was more willing to spread my legs for them. Not long ago, I was told being in my line of work was perfect for someone with my mouth.

  “Sorry you got stuck with them too,” I tell Lena, setting her down where I found her.

  Matt’s luggage is empty. Suits hang neatly in the closet, all grays and browns. There’s a safe inside, locked, but from seeing the shoulder holster hanging with the clothes, I can surmise there’s a gun in it.

  Toiletries line the bathroom counter, everything here also neat. There are no hairs all over the sink from shaving, no towels thrown around haphazardly.

  When I go back into the room, I find that Matt’s rolled onto his side. I lie next to him, staring into his face, feeling his warm breath on me. A long while passes as I watch him sleep, wondering what he’s dreaming about, if anything. Does he see her? He certainly does while he’s awake.

  She was a lucky woman, to have someone like him love her so. But him…

  He’s the one who got left behind. Now he’s stuck here in this room with a complete stranger. A pale reminder of the woman he loved.

  I place my hand over his. His warmth penetrates my skin and reaches a part of me I’ve long thought dead.

  His lids flutter, then open slightly. He sees me—I can tell. But sleep still has too strong a hold for him to understand who he’s seeing.

  I lean over and kiss him. Feeling the fullness of his lips against mine, I shut my eyes and savor every moment of their heat. When I move away, he’s out again.

  In his ear, I whisper, “I’m Eva Jean. I’ll do whatever it takes to grant your desire, Matt. I promise.”

  After switching his nightstand lamp off, I walk to the door. When I look back at him, the ring in my hand pulses, like a living thing. Like something that knows my plans. Holding it to my heart, I leave, gently closing the door behind me.

  Chapter 2

 
“You do realize this is what’s going to get us arrested, don’t you?” Seidi turns to me from the driver’s seat, pursing her red lips. “You would have survived selling your body, washing your money, and tax evasion to end up with a mugshot because you’re horny.”

  “No one is getting arrested.”

  “We’re stalking a man!” She gestures at the windshield toward said man.

  “I wouldn’t call it stalking. More like coincidentally following his path.”

  “Coincidence, my ass.”

  “Seidi, just follow him please.”

  We trail behind the black Charger through downtown Jacksonville until it parallel parks in front of a café.

  “Park there!” I point to a spot not far away.

  “Sure thing, Miss Daisy. Speaking of, why couldn’t you go on this crazy mission by yourself?”

  “I need to know more about him than what I’ve read. I need to know what makes him tick. That’s the only way I’ll be able to design the perfect desire. You’re with me because you’re my friend.”

  “A damned good one, I’ll add, to come with you to Jacksonville.”

  “The best.” I reach over, squeezing her hand and smiling at her, meaning it.

  I’ve been here three days. Seidi drove up this morning to give me her opinion on the desire I came up with, even though she’s against me doing it in the first place. Usually, she does a background check, then her team does a psychological evaluation disguised as an interview. By the time I get a client’s information and requests, I know everything about them. Designing a scene they will find intensely gratifying is a piece of cake.

  Not so with Matt. He’s a puzzle solver. A rescuer. His scene will need to have a mysterious element that will captivate him. One where the goal at the end of the maze will be a reason to live. That’s the challenge. How do I give him Lena, take her away again, and still leave him with a reason to live?

  Seidi breaks my train of thought. “So what have you found so far? Other than what I’ve given you to read on him, that is.”

  Watching his car, I say, “All night I see the light through his window, and he paces.”

  “Please don’t tell me you slept outside his house.”

  “Fine, I won’t tell you.”

  Rolling her eyes, she asks, “What else?”

  “He runs every evening. Hard. Like he’s being chased.”

  “Maybe it’s the devil that’s chasing him,” she suggests.

  “No. The devil’s too busy chasing us.”

  Seidi chuckles. “You think the devil cares about our damned souls?”

  Frowning, I look at her. “Do you believe your soul is damned?”

  “Sometimes. But then I remember everything I have—Eduard, my family, and I think no one who loves this much can be damned. God would take it away if…” She stops, realizing what she’s saying. “E, no, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.”

  “It’s okay. It makes sense that God would damn me. I’m the one who started it all.”

  “E, I—”

  “Look! He’s getting out!” I point to him excitedly.

  Seidi smacks my hand down. “Are you trying to get us caught?”

  “He can’t see us through these windows.”

  We watch as he exits his car, his tall form unfolding from the low seat.

  Seidi’s mouth drops open. “Damn. He looked handsome in his pictures, but he’s hot!”

  “I know,” I reply, my own mouth nearly dry.

  “You never said he was that handsome. No wonder he’s got you so crazy.”

  “It’s not just about the way he looks,” I tell her.

  “Then what is it?”

  “It’s the way he looked at me. I don’t know; I can’t explain it.”

  A ding on Seidi’s phone interrupts our perusal. “You were right. He’s rich.”

  Pulling her screen toward me, I read the information one of her girls just sent. Matt’s accounts. I gauged him correctly. He’s got a little over a million tied up in his 401k account and a few other investments. Absolutely no debt.

  “What’s that?” I ask, pointing to an account with only five hundred dollars.

  “His checking.”

  Rubbing my chin, I glance up to see him ordering a cup of coffee as he spies on someone nearby. He’s dressed casually, or in what I’d suspect is casual for him. Brown slacks, blue button-up, no jacket. Though he looks sinfully handsome, I’d be willing to bet those aren’t Gucci shoes he’s wearing.

  “He doesn’t leave himself much for fineries. Do you think he’s a tightwad?” Seidi asks, observing him in much the same way I am.

  “No. I think material things don’t matter to him.”

  “So, you still want to go through with this desire? Would he even remember who you are?”

  Shaking my head, I say, “I’m not sure. Maybe. I’d like him to remember some part of me.”

  The truth is, I’d hate to have been forgotten, especially when he’s invaded my every waking moment, my every dream, since I met him last week.

  Everywhere I go, he’s with me. Those dark eyes follow me to sleep. When his fingers touched my cheek, they left a brand, one I can feel even now.

  At my request, Seidi, my very own private investigator, dug deep into his past. He was born and raised in Florida but went to college in Georgia. He joined the police force at twenty-five years old. Bought his first place soon after.

  He married in August of 2011. His wife, Lena Marie, died September 19, 2016. They had no children. Her online obituary said she was an elementary school teacher. She loved the color pink, sunsets, and the ocean. As I think of her, I touch my hand to the ring that hangs from a thin chain around my neck, close to my heart. Her ring.

  Matt quit the force a month after she died. He moved back to Florida and started working for Grayson Investigations under his father, Neil.

  There are no arrests, no dings on his record of any kind. Which leads me to believe that he’s not normally the type to go around to bars drunk or on some drug like he did the other night.

  “Do you still want to go through with this?” Seidi asks again, turning to me.

  “I have to.”

  “E, who are you doing this for? Because it seems rather pointless to do it for a man who may not remember he hired you. Much less for one who didn’t pay.”

  “He paid.” I show her the ring.

  Seidi shakes her head. “A ring I’m willing to bet Eduard’s Ferrari you’re giving back.”

  “Why not bet one of your own cars?”

  “Just in case I lose.” She gives me a quick smile then gets serious again. “Now answer my question.”

  Sighing, I look at Matt. “Does it matter?”

  “Yes, it does. Girl, I see something in your eyes that scares me. I don’t want your heart broken.”

  “You can’t break what’s already been shattered,” I inform her.

  She nods because she knows me, was there to pick up the pieces when my life disintegrated. “What is his heart’s desire?”

  “A reason to live again.”

  Her eyes snap up to mine. It’s not the first time she’s heard those words from my lips.

  I’ll do anything to give him what he wants, even if I can’t have it myself.

  Chapter 3

  Present Time…

  The ring in my hand clinks against the table behind where I sit on the couch. My fingers nervously fumble with it as I think about another ring, the one I wore around my neck for months so that I wouldn’t forget my promise. Not that I needed it. The words I spoke back then have never left my mind.

  Over and over I turn it, remembering the night I first saw Matt. Something about him made me yearn to touch him, to make a connection. Physical attraction wasn’t the only player in that game.

  God, just thinking about his brown eyes, the scruffiness of his cheeks between my thighs, the way he dug his fingers painfully into my hips as though he couldn’t get deep enough. As though he couldn’t
get enough of me. I ache to feel that again.

  But there was so much more than that. There always has been. From that first moment. The way he looked at me, the pain when he realized I wasn’t Lena. It shook me. It touched some part of me, a nerve ending that was still exposed.

  I wanted to make the pain go away. His pain. Mine.

  “Eva. Eva! You have got to pay attention! You’re in serious trouble,” Holly says. “And you’re going to scratch my table.”

  Roused from my thoughts, I look up at her, slightly annoyed that she’s there. “I know the trouble I’m in, Holly. That trouble has already cost me thirty thousand just for bail.”

  “Really? Well, you seem awfully unconcerned.”

  “My girls are clear?”

  “The police don’t have their names. As long as no one gives them away…”

  “Then that’s all I care about.”

  Holly sits beside me on her overstuffed, overly white sofa. It matches her. This entire office does. Perfectly crisp. Not a speck of dust. No-nonsense.

  Her sharp blonde hair barely touches the stiff neck of her white button-up blouse as she turns to me. “Eva, I don’t think you understand. This process taking too long could trigger a domino effect. It gives them time to dig into the pasts of all your connections. First it’s you, then they link all of your criminal charges to anyone they can get their hands on.”

  “Let them try.”

  “You’re that confident in your girl’s abilities to cover all of your tracks? Think about it, you’ve been doing this for eight years. That’s a lot of tracks.”

  I don’t doubt Claire’s abilities. Never have. She’s kept the police going around in circles this long. She heads Ember’s tech team, the one that can hack into anything, the one that came up with our phone system. But even her MIT brain may not be enough to shield her from being caught forever.

  “What do you want me to do? You’re the lawyer. I hired you to fix this,” I remind her.

  “We need something to bring to the table. Some sort of bargaining chip. You’re not exactly making it easy with your refusal to give me anything.”

  “If by anything you mean names, I told you, that’s not going to happen. Come up with another idea.”