The Crevasse by Amy Craig

Author:Amy Craig [Craig, Amy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: FIC027110 FICTION / Romance / Suspense
Publisher: The Wild Rose Press
Published: 2023-05-23T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

Sober, morning light streamed through the white curtain panels. An unfamiliar alarm roused Vivian from her dreams. Shielding her eyes, she squinted. “Damon, is that your phone?”

Leaving one arm cradling her shoulders, he turned and fumbled toward the nightstand.

“It’s on the floor.” She followed his warmth and savored the pleasure of waking next to him. If she could start every day like this one, her productivity would lag, but her serotonin would soar. She yawned and nuzzled into his shoulder.

Picking up the phone, he silenced the alarm and dropped an arm over his eyes. “Pretend you didn’t hear it.”

She yawned and lifted her head. “You might as well get up.”

“Work is overrated.”

She smiled and scooted to the bed’s edge. His muffled response sounded like a petulant teenager’s protest, but his muscled body inspired delicious, adult thoughts. Teenagers don’t have glutes that look like conjoined bowling balls. She second-guessed her practical response to the alarm. Maybe I should stay.

Reaching out a hand, he snagged her ankle. “Five more minutes.”

Temptation beckoned, and she hesitated. “I have a meeting.”

“Five more minutes”—he yawned—“for me.”

What about my responsibilities? The sex rocks my world, but he upended my life. Nobody makes a hangover remedy for a criminal summons. Taking a deep breath, she pulled free of his grasp and stood. “Aren't you supposed to be early for your first day of work?”

He rose and propped himself on one elbow. “You expect your employees to be early?”

“I do.” She reached for her thin, cotton robe.

“What time do you get in?” he asked.

“Usually by eight.”

He checked his phone. “It’s five after eight. You’re late for your double standard.”

Missing the luxury of waking up in his arms, she put her hands on her hips. “Do you want a ride or not?”

Yawning, he stretched his jaw. “I can manage.”

“Great.” Despite the robe, she felt naked in the bright, morning light. She belted the fabric and walked toward the bedroom door. “I’ll have more time to pow-wow with my lawyer.”

“About what?”

Turning, she stared. “The summons?”

He flopped onto the sheets. “Don’t worry about it, Vivi. You climbed a tree.”

The push and pull between their lives could never reach equilibrium. Agreeing to help meant extra resources, not absolution. “I climbed a tree, and I ended up with a trespassing charge! I’m the face of Hoat Analytics. People depend on me.”

“Unlike me.” He stared out the window. “You think a felony conviction is a speed bump on my life’s long, rocky road—”

She opened her mouth to reassure him.

“—but a misdemeanor is the end of your career.”

She inhaled, caught in a snare of her design. She sat on the bed, but she hesitated to touch him. “I have to be proactive, Damon. Someone else can spin the facts and set a trap.”

“They’re not catching an opossum.” He sat and swung his legs over the bed’s side. Dropping his forehead to his palms, he sighed. “How bad can it get for you? No invitations to be the keynote speaker?”

She brushed her knuckles along his side. Beneath the tight muscles, she felt the strength of his ribs.

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