ADAM
I am not a morning person, but I find my eyes bursting open at the crack of dawn for the second day in a row. Exhaustion tugs at me like a robot finger caught in my shirt, but there’s a zero percent chance of going back to sleep, not with Nova down the hall in my bed.
I roll to a sitting position, groaning at the way my back pops. I don’t know when it happened, but I woke up one morning and all my muscles suddenly decided they were done being spry.
I push my hand into the sofa. How did Nova sleep on this thing?
Running a palm over my cheek, I stumble to the kitchen and make a full pot of coffee. As I lean against the counter, sipping my brew, I think over what Nova said last night.
What would happen if I said I want to?
Was that an invitation to cross the line? Was she baiting me?
My relentless optimism is sliding the scale towards she totally wants me, but even on a good day I know that Nova would never be anything close to flirtatious. It makes more sense that she was drunk on exhaustion and endorphins.
I take another sip and then set the cup down.
Thinking about my puzzling executive assistant will only land me in trouble. The kind I can’t afford to have. Especially since I went out of my way to assure Nova that I won’t cross any lines.
That’s a tall order, since I battle the unbearable urge to kiss her when she so much as opens her mouth. And I’ve come mighty close to doing so over the last few days.
I don’t know what keeps coming over me to make me touch her like that. Last night, I was one moan away from carting her over my shoulder like a caveman. From the smoky, intoxicated look in her brown eyes, I got the feeling she would have wanted it.
But a promise is a promise.
Until she comes right out and admits that she’s inclined to go there, I’ll hold my peace. Pushing myself on her isn’t just a sure way to scare her off, it’s an invitation for a harassment suit.
Frowning, I return to the living room with my coffee. After rummaging around, I grab a pen and an index card. I’m not as organized as Nova, but I have picked up on her habit of writing lists.
Most Important Tasks This Week:
#1 Find Alexa.
#2 Hire Nova’s sister.
#3 Convince Nova to stay.
I stare at the list. The third will definitely be the hardest, but it’s the one I’m most determined to accomplish.
The first is more of a personal curiosity than a burning need, but I can’t shake the thought that there’s more to Rowan showing up on my doorstep than Alexa is letting on.
Yesterday, the kid let it slip that something might be wrong with his mom. I don’t know what kind of trouble Alexa’s gotten into, but I’m definitely going to find out.
Picking up my phone, I navigate to the number that Darrel Hastings gave me yesterday.
While the women were chatting and the kids were playing a near-violent game of UNO, I took Hastings aside to ask about recommendations for a PI. I figured his connections to the military would give me some great leads.
‘This is one of my college buddies. He’s former military and has his own successful security company. They do everything from personal bodyguards to cyber protection. You can call him any time.’
I check my watch. It’s pretty early, but Darrel did assure me that I could call Clay Bolton ‘any time’. I’d like to get this done before Nova wakes up. Although I have no romantic attachments to Alexa, I still feel uneasy asking Nova to be a liaison between me and my old girlfriend.
The line rings twice.
Then there’s a click.
“Who is this?”
At Bolton’s brusque voice, I immediately picture a bear in hibernation getting stabbed with a stick and waking up with a roar.
I’m a little intimidated, but I keep my voice steady. “Clay Bolton? I’m Adam Harrison. Darrel gave me your number.”
The human-bear on the other end of the line calms a smidge. Not enough to make me any less intimidated, but at least it doesn’t sound like he wants to reach through the phone and choke me.
Bolton grunts. “Why’d he do that?”
“I need to find someone. Discreetly. Darrel assured me you were the best in the business.”
“Darrel has a big mouth.”
I blink in shock.
Out of all the guys yesterday, Darrel spoke the least. And that’s saying something, because neither Alistair, Sazuki, or Stinton are conversationalists.
“Can you help me?” I prod.
Something rustles. It sounds like a mattress creaks and a door opens and shuts. “I don’t normally handle cases personally, but since Darrel sent you, I’ll make an exception. Tell me the details.”
I share everything I know.
Which isn’t a lot.
The information-sharing ends in less than a minute, but Bolton seems satisfied.
“Alright,” he drawls, “give me five days and I’ll get back to you with an address.”
“Don’t you think you’re underestimating the task? I did a Google search and couldn’t find any traces of Alexa online.”
“I’m going to do a hell of a lot more than a Google search.”
“That’s a given, but—”
“Rest assured, Harrison. It won’t take me more than a week.”
He sounds confident, which makes me think that hiring him was the right choice.
I’m about to thank him when a door bangs on his end of the line.
“Daddy, I had a bad dream!”
“Alright, butterfly. Just a minute…”
“There was a flying dragon and it spit fire and it tried to barbecue me!”
I smile at the kid’s imaginative descriptions.
Bolton sighs. “I told your brother to stop watching Lord Of The Rings with you.”
“I’m scared.”
“Just climb in there and I’ll protect you.”
“You have kids?” I say without really thinking it through. I’ve never seen Bolton before but, given the grumpiness in his voice and the shortness of his answers, I imagined that he lived alone. Probably in some underground bunker. With a mahogany log for a bed and a carpet of nails that he walked on every morning.
The other end of the line goes deathly silent.
Then Bolton says warily, “I’ll send the bill when I find her.”
“Go ahead and send me the bill now.”
“After.” He insists. “I’m charging you by our platinum package. Since you want this to stay discreet, it comes with an extra cost.”
“That’s not a problem.”
“Figured it wasn’t. Darrel doesn’t keep broke friends.”
I don’t know what to say to that.
Bolton proves he doesn’t expect an answer because the line goes dead immediately.
Alright then.
I glance at the to-do list and pick up my pen. Now for the best part and, admittedly, the reason why Nova likes writing lists.
With great aplomb, I strike a line through the first task and grin.
Done.
Then I slide my gaze down to the other two tasks and my joy putters out like a cold winter wind snapping out a candle.
Hiring Lyra will put me in Nova’s line of fire. I shudder at the thought of Nova’s angry face and sharpening brown eyes when she finds out.
Maybe I can put that one off for a bit.
Tapping my pen against the coffee table, I consider my next steps until I hear the soft putter of footsteps.
My heart knows it’s Nova before she enters the living room and blinks sleepily at me.
“Morning,” I say, shoving the list into my back pocket. “Sleep well?”
She nods. “Uh… how did I get into your bed last night?”
“I carried you.”
Having Nova Delaney in my arms felt like coming home and, I admit, I held her an extra beat before laying her gently on the bed.
Then I spent a long time doing push ups and trying not to think about how badly I wanted to be beside her.
Nova stares at her feet.
I slide my eyes over her outfit. Have I mentioned how much I love Nova wearing my clothes? After so many years of watching her in sharp, professional outfits, there’s something much softer about her in my over-sized T-shirt and grey sweatpants.
It’s like her armor’s been stripped and the vulnerable side of her is peeping through.
“Are you hungry?”
She shakes her head.
“I can fix you a cup of coffee.”
“It’s okay.” Her lips tremble in a strained smile.
I lean back and just… absorb the sight of her. In real life, I can never call her mine, but looking at her now, I can almost pretend that she’s in my clothes because we spent the night together.
Together-together.
Not her in my bed and me in the couch.
Nova clears her throat and glances away from me. “Do you still have the change of clothes Dejonae brought yesterday?”
“It’s in my closet.”
She bobs her head. “I’ll get ready and call Steve to pick me up.”
“I can take you.”
She lifts a hand. “No need. I, uh, I want to go straight to work to start planning the sports event.”
“Sure,” I say uneasily. Is she putting distance between us because of last night? “I’ll make breakfast then.”
But Nova doesn’t eat my breakfast.
When Steve arrives, she bursts out of my bedroom, throws a rushed ‘see you later’ at me and bustles through the door.
It’s been two days and I’m certain now that Nova is avoiding me.
“She’s out of the office again?” I ask Rochelle.
The OA blinks unsteadily. “There’s a lot to do for the sports day.”
I sigh and rub the bridge of my nose. I told Nova not to rush things, but she insisted on announcing the event sooner rather than later.
‘We have to capitalize on this moment. Fifteen seconds of fame can turn into fifteen million if we time it right.’
“Would you like me to leave a message?” Rochelle asks, breaking me from my thoughts.
“No, that’s fine. Thanks.”
The office assistant gives me a pitiful look. I guess I must seem like a puppy left out in the rain.
So what?
I miss Nova.
Slipping a hand into my pocket, I walk listlessly to the elevator. I’ve been busy too. I had improvements to make on my kinetic batteries and shuttling Rowan to and from art school was like a second job. But two days without seeing Nova’s face? That’s a first.
Before, she would have stopped by the lab to talk things over with me. Lately, our communication has devolved into phone calls and nothing else.
Did I scare her off that night? Is that why she’s putting so much distance between us?
I head downstairs but, rather than leave, I hang around the cafeteria, hoping that Nova will return to the office while I’m here. I can pretend to bump into her or something. Make up an excuse.
Since when do I have to make up an excuse just to see her?
I sip my coffee, pull my hat lower and check the time on my phone.
Just then, Rochelle and a few others from HR waltz into the cafeteria.
“Did Mr. Harrison stop by the office again?”
“Yeah.” Rochelle tosses her hair. “He’s always hanging around the boss.”
“You think that’s how he got his director position? By kissing up to Nova?”
“It certainly looks that way to me,” Rochelle says.
“I heard Mr. Harrison’s, like, the pickiest inventor at Vision Tech. The guys in the lab are always complaining about how bossy he is. They say he acts like he owns the place.”
Rochelle laughs. “Do you see how he dresses? And have you seen his car? Would the owner of the company drive a pickup that’s about to bite the dust? It’s not him. I bet he’s just one of the guys who are in love with Nova.”
“She does have a lot of admirers. Mr. Roberts is always flirting with her.”
I pull my fingers into fists. That damn Mr. Roberts. I would have fired him long ago if he wasn’t so good at his job.
“Mr. Harrison’s a lot hotter than Mr. Roberts,” Rochelle says.
I puff out my chest.
“But he’s a lot more annoying too,” she adds.
My chest deflates like one of those dying inflatable balloons.
“Every time he stops by, Nova has to drop everything and look after him,” Rochelle complains. “He’s so high maintenance.”
The women twitter.
I scowl and take note of their faces. Pay cuts for all of you.
A moment later, the ladies receive their meals and retreat to a table across the room.
One of the perks of being an undercover boss is blending in and hearing how the employees really feel.
I turn over their words. On the one hand, my pride is shot from being called ‘annoying’. On the other, I’m glad that Rochelle and the others hold Nova in such high regard. She might be their boss, but it’s clear that she has their admiration and respect.
Adjusting my hat, I rise from the table and head to the exits.
Maybe they’re right. Maybe Nova needs her space.
I’ll let her get away with avoiding me for now.
But as soon as the sports event is over, I’m cornering her.
Nova can run all she wants.
As long as she knows I’ll always be right behind her.
Henry’s behind her.
Well, technically, Henry’s beside Nova as they do a walk-hop-stumble combo down the track for the three-legged race.
I’m sitting on the bleachers high up in the VIP perch and glaring angrily, which isn’t doing much other than giving me a headache.
Nova arranged for all the directors to have VIP seats at the sports event. Roberts, the financial director, is beside me, muttering about how Henry lacks hand-eye coordination and, for once, I totally agree with the man.
Roars break out from the crowd as Rochelle and another girl from the HR team pull ahead. I glance at the sea of familiar faces filling the benches and crowding the track.
I’m surprised by how much of the company showed up. Most of the games for the adult age ranges seem to be filled with Vision Tech employees. It’s like everyone was chomping at the bit to do something different on a Friday morning rather than sit in their labs and cubicles.
I should have known this event would have been a PR stunt and an opportunity to raise morale. Nova has the ability to turn my regular old ideas into something bigger and better than I originally intended.
Sometimes, I can’t decide if I’m more drawn to her face or her brilliance.
My eyes catch on Nova laughing as she and Henry try to keep up with Rochelle.
It’s her face. Definitely her face.
I’m charmed by the curve of her smile, the bright flash of her brown eyes and the dark tones of her skin.
And I hate…
Abhor…
Despise…
The fact that another man has his arms around her.
My heart thuds at the way Henry closes his fingers over Nova’s hip. I want to charge down there and bat him away like a fly swatter. Hands off, man.
Instead, I have to sit in my place and take my anger out on the chair I’m gripping while Roberts sits beside me, hurling curses at Henry and reminding me yet again that I am not the only man at Vision Tech with eyes on Nova Delaney.
The contestants are getting close to the finish line.
Everyone is cheering and waving their pompoms. The strings are blue and silver, Vision Tech colors.
It’s annoying how Nova thinks of everything.
The teams on the track are running along with the two contenders, yelling encouragements.
I can see the sweat rolling down Nova’s face from here. She hates losing with a passion and I don’t think Henry was prepared for just how seriously she takes every competition.
Nova and Henry fall out of their rhythm and Rochelle gains more ground. Nova pulls on Henry’s neck as if that’ll get him to speed up, but it actually does the opposite.
I see the kid lose his balance almost in slow motion, his long arms sprawling out while his giraffe-like legs cave in.
Henry goes down like a kid without his training wheels.
Nova tumbles after him, hitting the pavement. Hard.
The crowd goes silent.
No one cheers for Rochelle when she and the other girl pass the finish line.
Every eye is stuck on Nova.
Including mine.
My heart surges to my throat when I see her groan of pain and then I’m on the move. I might have stepped on a few hands, soda cans and phones as I make a bee-line to the bottom of the track.
At one point, I might even have stepped on someone’s head.
I’m not too sure and nothing else really infiltrates my focus. Not until I get on the track.
“Nova!” Henry yells. He’s smart enough to quickly untie the binds holding their legs together.
Nova pushes herself to a sitting position, making a brave face despite the tremble of her bottom lip alerting me to her discomfort.
I push Henry out of the way and grab Nova’s hand, hissing at the burn marks that shreds her dark brown skin.
“Adam, I’m fine,” she says under her breath.
“Like hell you are,” I grind out.
She tries to pull her hand back. “Everyone is watching.”
Her words barely penetrate my mind. I’m scanning her for other injuries. I notice that there are scrapes on her legs too, long, painful-looking marks from the gravel.
Watching Nova while she’s hurt feels like someone is skinning me alive. I smack my hand against my chest to bring relief, but it only makes the ache worse.
“Hey, man,” Henry touches my shoulder, “let me—”
“You don’t do anything,” I growl and flash him a dark look.
He inches back, his eyes wide.
“Adam,” Nova scolds me in a weak voice. She presses on her scraped hand again and tries to stand up.
I wrap my fingers around her arm to help her and notice every wince and crease of her brow when she tries to put weight on her left foot.
Dropping to my haunches, I press on her ankle. “Does this hurt?”
“Ah.” She makes a pained sound and then clamps her lips shut. “No, it doesn’t hurt. I’m fine.”
“You’re such a bad liar, Nova.”
“And you’re making a scene,” she hisses.
Rochelle jogs up to us. “Hey, is she okay?”
“I’m—”
“She’s not.” I stop Nova before she can lie to more people. “Do we have an infirmary on the grounds?”
“It’s that way,” Rochelle says.
I scoop Nova into my arms. She lets out a yelp of surprise when I cradle her close to my chest.
Henry looks scandalized. Almost foaming at the mouth, he launches at me and tries to take Nova away.
Big mistake, buddy.
I snarl at him. “Back off.”
She’s mine.
Mine, mine, mine.
“Let me take her,” Henry insists. “I’m her partner.”
“If you were a good one, you wouldn’t have let her fall,” I snap.
“Adam, stop. It was an accident.”
I shut my mouth, but my jaw clenches. Tightening my grip on Nova, I stomp away. Thankfully, the kid chooses life and doesn’t follow me.
“Why are you acting like this?” Nova hisses, ducking her head into my neck to hide as we pass the crowd of Vision Tech onlookers.
“Like what?”
“All growly and over-possessive.”
“I’m not growly.”
“You’re acting like a caveman.”
“Cavemen aren’t as handsome as me.”
She snorts and then shakes her head. “Why are you so angry? It’s not like you’re the one with blood oozing down your arm.”
“I might as well be, Nova. It feels like I’m getting stabbed in the chest right now. So stop wiggling before you make your injuries worse.”
Her eyebrows slant over her eyes. “Why do you always switch personalities at the worst moment? I don’t need growly, over-protective Adam right now.”
“That’s the Adam you’re going to get.” I turn left and notice the tent with the giant red cross on it. “If you don’t want to meet this side of me, then don’t get hurt.”
She rolls her eyes. “I can’t believe this.”
I frown at her.
“You’re being dramatic. It’s just a few scrapes and bruises.”
“Should I put you down and test that?”
Her hands tighten around my neck. “We’re halfway there, you might as well take me the rest of the way.”
I shake my head. Nova knows good and well that her ankle is messed up. Why she’s fighting to stay strong and in control in front of me is a mystery. I know, more than anyone, that she’s not made of stone.
Rushing into the tent, I flag down the nurse who looks stunned to actually be receiving a patient.
“Can you help her?” I beg, setting Nova gently on the hospital cot. “She got hurt on the track. I think she might have twisted her ankle.”
The nurse takes off Nova’s sneakers and inspects her foot. She turns it around a bit and Nova hisses every time she so much as goes near it. My heart squeezes in my chest. I hover over Nova, trying to see how I can ease her pain.
“Sir, can you step back please?” the nurse asks.
I take a mini-step away.
The nurse wiggles past me in order to check Nova’s other ankle. Nova keeps quiet despite the prodding of her foot. At least that leg doesn’t seem to be injured.
“I don’t think it’s broken,” the nurse declares after inspecting her left ankle a second time.
I let out a sigh of relief.
“But it is swelling. I recommend she stay off that foot for at least forty-eight hours.”
“I have a wheelbarrow competition coming up,” Nova says, her eyes wide.
My scowl is dark and pointed right at her. What the hell did she just say? “You’re obviously not going to do that.”
She frowns in return.
I glance at the nurse. “I’ll make sure she stays off her foot.”
The nurse nods and then tends to Nova’s scrapes. When she’s all bandaged up, the nurse retreats to the front of the tent and pulls out a binder to start scribbling things down. It’s either a report or a prescription.
Either way, I’m alone with Nova now.
I fold my arms over my chest, staring her down.
“What?” She sounds annoyed.
“I told you not to partner with anyone else.”
She lets out a disbelieving laugh. “Really? You’re blaming me? Right now? While I’m injured?”
“I’m just saying. If you’d stayed away from Henry like I told you…”
“You’re ridiculous.” Nova places her hand down as if she’ll move off the bed. The moment her palm makes contact with the cot, she hisses.
I fly straight over to her. “Are you okay?”
“I keep forgetting that I left some of my skin on the track,” she mutters, wincing.
Concerned, I look for a clean cloth and then I sit beside her and wipe the dirt from her arm. She stops complaining and closes her eyes, so I assume that it feels calming.
Shaking the cloth out, I move my attention to her face. I lean forward, sliding the fabric over her smooth forehead and delicate cheekbones. She has her hair up in a wide, curly ponytail today, but some of the curls escaped from her clip when she fell.
My fingers graze her ear as I push the curls back. Her breath hitches and her eyelids crack open, revealing beautiful brown eyes.
I stare at her, caught in a current that I couldn’t resist if I tried.
She’s Nova.
The most important person in the world to me.
And she got hurt.
As much as she likes to pretend she’s a robot who can go days without stopping, she’s capable of getting hurt.
My thumb swirls over her cheek. “Nova.”
She turns her face toward me, not backing away as I thought she would.
My eyes lock on her lips. I lean forward slowly, inching closer to her face, watching for any hint of discomfort. But she doesn’t recoil. She stays there, waiting for me as I move at an excruciatingly sluggish pace.
I’m aware of what it means if I kiss her.
I’m aware of how much is at stake.
And it’s that thought, the thought that I might lose her for good, that has me freezing mere inches away from her glorious lips.
Nova inhales sharply and I almost groan in frustration when she pulls back.
I want her so much it makes me dizzy, but I know I can’t have her.
I clear my throat. “Nova, I—”
A loud, brassy sound makes Nova jump and makes me whip my head around. We both face the track.
There’s a disturbance in the distance.
On the field, it looks like…
A jazz band?
“Did you hire musical entertainment?”
“No,” Nova says. Sliding off the cot, she balances on one leg and hops forward.
“What do you think you’re doing?” I grab her arm.
“I have to check it out.”
“Here.” The nurse offers a pair of crutches. “Luckily, I had these just in case. You can use them to get around.”
Nova clips the sticks under her arm pits and starts moving like a pro. It shouldn’t surprise me at this point how excellent she is at everything.
We move out of the tent, me—staying close by Nova’s side while she swings through the lawn like a grounded Tarzan.
“Nova Delaney!” A voice blares through what sounds like a bull horn.
Nova freezes. “Oh crap,” she says under her breath.
“What?”
“I know that voice.”
“Nova Delaney, I’m just a boy… standing in front of a girl… asking her to forgive him!”
“Is that from Notting Hill?” I gawk.
Nova forced me to watch the romantic movie once. Okay, she didn’t force me, but she mentioned that it was one of her comfort flicks and I wanted to know what she liked.
I ended up secretly enjoying the cheesy flick.
Although I would never tell Nova that.
Screech. “Nova Delaney, I’m here for you.”
Who would be making such a loud fuss over Nova? And how would this faceless voice know Nova’s taste in comfort movies enough to quote it?
Unless…
My fingers curl into fists.
This can’t be the mysterious Jax, can it?
Nova and I arrive on the track. My eyes widen when I see a black guy in a suit standing along with a group of five men—each boasting their own wind instrument.
The guy starts grinning when he sees Nova and he gestures to the band. They play a smooth, sultry song that I don’t recognize but has way too much soul to belong to anyone of my complexion.
Jax saunters forward with a bouquet of flowers that probably cost a small fortune and holds it over to Nova.
I barely stop myself from taking the flowers, throwing it on the ground and stomping all over it.
Roberts.
Henry.
And now this ex-boyfriend.
Can men who are in love with Nova stop pouring through the cracks? Thanks!
Nova doesn’t reach for the flowers, which is always a good sign, but Jax doesn’t seem deterred. He notices her crutches and waves for the jazz players to stop.
“Nova, are you okay?” Jax launches forward.
I slide in front of him before he can touch Nova.
His eyes trip to me and then jump back to her.
“Jax, what are you doing here?” Nova demands.
“You weren’t answering my phone calls.”
“That generally means I don’t want to talk to you.” She gestures to the band. “What made you think I wanted a serenade?”
“Nova, I messed up. I can’t live without you.”
Her eyes dart to the crowd who are hanging on every word as if this is a live theatre performance or their favorite soap opera.
I wonder what this show would be called. The Young and the Tactless? This guy obviously has no idea who Nova is if he thinks public displays like this will please her.
“I’m sorry you wasted so much effort, Jax, but we’re over. I’m not interested in starting again with you.”
Jax motions to the band. “Play another one!”
The jazz band launches nervously into song. I recognize the tune as ‘I Will Survive’, arguably one of the greatest break-up songs. Ever.
“Please leave, Jax.” Nova motions with her head. “And take your jazz band with you.”
“Wait, Nova, let’s talk about this.” Jax reaches for her.
I grab his hand and shove it back. “She said she’s not interested, buddy. Step away.”
“Who the hell are you?” Jax fumes.
“I’m just the guy who takes out her trash,” I say simply.
His eyes bulge with anger. Then they widen in recognition.
He laughs humorlessly. “Wait. Are you Harrison?”
Nova looks nervous but, when she speaks, her words escape on a hiss, “I’m serious, Jax. I’m going to call security if you don’t leave now.”
“Oh, I see.” Jax looks me up and down with his beady eyes. “This is the reason you wouldn’t sleep with—”
I only see a blur of grey swooping in my peripheral vision. Then Nova’s crutches land a solid blow to Jax’s jaw. His head snaps to the left and I swear I can see cartoon stars dancing around his head.
The crowd makes an ‘ooh’ sound.
Someone behind me snickers.
The jazz band, in an ironic twist, starts playing Michael Jackson’s Another One Bites The Dust.
I drag my shocked gaze from Jax to Nova who’s down a crutch and looks like she wouldn’t mind the other meeting a similar fate.
“Don’t make me ask you again, Jax,” she hisses. “Get out of here. Now.”
