belongings packed up, Skye surveyed the cubicle. All her clients’ files would have to be given to other sales consultants, but she’d leave that for Nelly to worry about. And then she spotted the red lace bra lying in the corner. How could she have overlooked it? The thought of touching the thing repulsed her, but she couldn’t leave it behind as gossip fodder for Dottie and her cronies, who were not below rummaging through former coworkers’ desks.
Skye grabbed a pen and used it to lift the bra. She went for the garbage can under her desk, but something stopped her. It was as if, even after his slimy exit from her life, Martin still had a hold on her. Some other woman’s bra was the only tangible evidence of him left. At least now she understood his aversion to photo-graphs—he hadn’t wanted to leave proof of his presence behind.
Sighing, Skye dropped the gigantic bra into her shopping bag. She’d take it home for a ritual burning, if nothing else. Or maybe her roommate would decide to use it in one of her mixed-media art collages.
And now there was nothing left for her to do but slink out of the office.
Nico Valletti, the jerk… He thought he could strut into her office and screw up everything? If he hadn’t shown up and ignored that little troll Dottie, she wouldn’t have squealed on Skye, and she’d still have a job. Nico thought he could mess with her life without there being consequences?
Okay, so he probably could. What could she do to him, anyway? She wasn’t sure, but she’d think of something. At the very least, she’d let him know exactly what she thought of his setting off this chain of events. Why would he appear in her office, say he was going to get her fired, and then not do it?
It made no sense. But if she happened to accidentally hurl something at his head in the process of sorting out the truth, she definitely wouldn’t feel guilty.
Not one bit.
NICO DRUMMED his fingers on the steering wheel and watched the door of the office building. Should he stay or should he go? That was the question of the minute. And while logic said to leave and forget the whole problem of Skye Ellison, his guy instincts said to stay. Skye had been haunting his fantasies ever since he’d first laid eyes on her, and something had to give.
He could remember the first time he’d seen her as though it was a classic movie scene.
She’d been walking up the driveway to the cottage on his property last fall, on her way to visit Martin, and she’d been wearing a flippy little dress that was no match for the sea breeze. He’d watched through the window, half amused and half aroused as she’d struggled to keep her pink satin panties covered while her dress flailed in the wind. Damn, but he’d have loved to bring her inside, push that skirt up her thighs, tug off those panties, and bury himself inside her right at that moment.
Her long brown hair had caught his eye for no particular reason except for the way it was tangled around her face in the wind, and he couldn’t help admiring her sweet, tight ass as she struggled with her dress. He’d been composing his first witty comment to her when she’d bypassed his door and kept walking toward the cottage.
And that had been the first thing he’d disliked about Martin. Later, listening to him drone on and on about how great Skye was had only made it worse.
But showing up at her office the way Nico just had? Sitting in the parking lot now like a world-class loser? Plotting his next move? He definitely, without a doubt, needed to find a better way to spend his time.
Besides, being inconspicuous while driving a white Ferrari 360 Modena was going to be damn near impossible.
Nico hadn’t come to Dynalux planning to follow Skye—if he had, he would have borrowed someone else’s car—but after she’d refused to help him and he’d pretended to talk to her boss, he’d left her office unsure what else to do. So here he sat, like a stalker waiting for his next victim.
He had been sure cornering her at her office and threatening to let her boss know about her probable criminal history would be enough to get her to cooperate a little. Catching her slacking off on the job had been icing on the cake, and yet she’d surprised him by not giving in.
Nico suffered a few pangs of remorse over having come here at all, but he figured she’d get a slap on the wrist at worst for having a personal visitor.
Damn it. He couldn’t believe he was sitting here, thinking of following a woman whose ass he couldn’t stop fantasizing about.
This is what his life had come to. Why hadn’t anyone warned him how much retirement would suck?
Oh hell, there he went again letting self-pity creep in. He would not feel sorry for himself. He’d had a great racing career, and he’d chosen when to end it on his own—while he was still at the top. Wrecking his car, breaking his leg in five places and enduring the past year of physical therapy might not have been part of his plan, but he knew he was lucky to have walked away from that wreck alive.
And he had not quit out of fear, as some people had claimed. So what if his father, also a racecar driver, had been killed in a crash twenty years ago? That didn’t mean he was afraid of the same fate.
His quitting had simply meant he had enough sense to see a pattern emerging—Valletti men and racing careers resulted in bad news. Driving for Team California in the Indy racing circuit had been his dream come true, but he was ready to move on to the next thing.
Whatever that was.
The entrance of Dynalux Systems opened. Skye came walking out carrying a shopping bag and swiping at her eyes with the back of her hand. As she headed across the parking lot, he could see that she was crying. Bawling, actually, her pretty face contorted in sobs that wracked her shoulders and made him feel like a complete jerk.
Just what he needed. A woman who could turn her emotions on and off like a faucet. Thirty minutes ago, she’d been all smart-ass comments and scathing looks, and now she was crying as if the world had come to an end. Knowing his luck, she’d spotted his car in the parking lot and had emerged from the building already trying to con him again.
He’d never thought of himself as a sucker before three weeks ago. Now, thanks to Martin, or whatever the hell his name was—Nico felt as if he couldn’t trust anyone. Especially not the two-faced little hottie who was probably still Martin’s girlfriend.
And yet, here he was, torn between wanting to prove she was involved with Martin so he could forget about her, and hoping like hell she wasn’t involved so he could get with her himself.
She got into the red Honda del Sol he’d seen parked in his driveway a hundred times, and he knew he was going to follow her. What he’d do when they reached her destination, he had no idea.
Nico waited until she’d pulled into traffic to leave his parking spot, allowing three or four cars between them all the time to make sure she wouldn’t notice she was being tailed. The rush-hour congestion on the road gave her little chance to get away from him anyway.
As they sat at what must have been their fifth cycle through the same traffic light, Nico allowed himself to examine his reaction to Skye today. Instead of hating her as much as he’d hoped he would upon confronting her, he’d found himself as mesmerized as ever.
Maybe it was the excitement she stirred in him that was such a draw. Whereas he mostly felt as though he was walking around in a fog, his senses and emotions dulled ever since he’d retired, Skye made him feel completely alive again. How someone he’d
