Page 87 of Burning Caine

I had her.

“Yes! I have a half hour between appointments at 1:30. I can send you GPS coordinates for where to meet.”

Another adventure with my Samantha. “Bene, I’ll bring lunch. See you then.”

Her coordinates led me to a rural road in the middle of southern Michigan, the pavement cracked and in need of repair. It was barely wide enough for two-way traffic, and the shoulder was a narrow strip of grass and weeds that barely fit her giant truck. The cornfield across the road waved in the gentle wind, and the sun was high in the sky. The drive had been magnificent.

I shifted the car into park and grinned, lust filling every inch of me. Kings of Leon screeched out “Sex on Fire” through the stereo system. Was it making an impression? Did it make her think of all the things I thought of?

No reaction.

Did she even recognize the song?

She sat on the tailgate of her truck, unlike I had ever seen her. Gone were the suits and formal wear, replaced by thick-soled work boots, black cargo pants, and a stained pink polo shirt. And a ball cap, confining her luxurious hair. This was the rock climber, the woman who trekked to the top of mountains, who owned the exquisite arms I had been fantasizing about since the night at the restaurant.

I wanted to touch her, taste her, make her smile like she had before Victoria had inserted herself.

I turned the car off and got out, my freshly polished shoes already coated with dirt. No matter. I would walk through fire for her, so what was a little dirt? The black dress pants and button-down had done their job already. She had scanned the length of me and bit her lip.

Smoothing my tie and shirt, as well as the fall of my pants, I kept my eyes on her. The seduction had begun. This was date number three, after all. I grabbed the two containers from Russo’s and approached her.

“What did you bring me?” she asked casually.

“Ciao, bella.” Balancing the two containers, I took her hand, her surprisingly soft but strong hand, and brought it to my lips. I savored her, thinking again of how much I had wanted to kiss her Saturday night. She had obviously wanted the same.

“Antipasti from Russo’s!” I bowed to present her container. It was cheesy, but she would like it.

“Looks great, thanks.” She opened it briefly, glanced inside, and placed it next to where she sat. “About the ultraviolet pictures, though?”

“Speaking of things which look great. I like your look today. Very rugged.” Rugged? Was that a compliment?

“This is my fieldwork look. And speaking of work—about those pictures?”

I retreated to my car and leaned a hip on it, waving a dismissive hand. “No work until we’ve eaten.”

“I only have—” She checked her watch. “—twenty-six minutes before I need to go.”

“Then, we eat fast.” I smirked, but she must not have been feeling playful.

She didn’t pick up her container; instead she narrowed her eyes and tightened her mouth. I approached and placed my food next to hers, settling my hands on either side of her, touching her thighs. I looked directly into her eyes, pale green today, less than a foot away from her. She wouldn’t be able to avoid the conversation this time.

“You are still bothered by Victoria, sì?”

The blush climbed up her cheeks, and she broke my gaze.“Yeah.”

“Tell me.” I pulled her face back to mine. “What did she say?”

She pulled her face from my grip, and I jumped up on the tailgate to sit next to her, the width of the small containers between us. She withdrew a newspaper clipping from her back pocket and handed it to me.

As I unfolded it, I nodded. As I had expected. Victoria Meyers. “I would guess she told you we dated.”

“Last month.” There was a tremor in her voice. Not nervous, but angry.

“Sì.”

“She called me August.”

“Scusi?”