Trouble In Tampa (Great Exploitations #3)(7)
Author: Nicole Williams

The interstate was fairly quiet, and I really wanted to wrap the Errand up quickly. Those were the two reasons why I did what I did next.

Slipping a mischievous smile into place, I glanced at Rob, who was back to checking me out. Apparently he was convinced I knew what I was doing behind the wheel of a vehicle, and he was back to his usual dog self. Removing a hand from the steering wheel, I lowered it onto his lap.

“I don’t know. It could be harder.” I cupped my hand over him, eliciting a low moan from him.

“You keep that up, and harder’s going to be the least of your worries.”

And size isn’t exactly the least of yours. Fitting my hand tighter around him, I slid it up and down until he was back to gripping the hell out of the armrest.

“I take it you’ve made up your mind when it comes to me,” Rob panted, cupping his hand around mine and guiding it in a more frenzied motion.

Flipping across three lanes of freeway, I took the next exit and sped back toward the dealership. Mind you, I did that all one-handed while my other hand controlled a much less impressive “driving machine.”

“I’m still a long ways from making up my mind about you.” Total lie. I made up my mind about you before I hopped on the plane from San Fran to Tampa. “But there’s no reason we can’t enjoy ourselves while our minds are figuring things out.” Yet another total lie. As far as enjoying myself goes, I’m on the other side of the galaxy.

Rob’s face was going a shade of purple, and his breathing had morphed into something that more resembled grunting when I whipped into the dealership. I couldn’t have timed it better. From the feel and look of it, Rob was two seconds away from singing the alphabet. I wanted him to know what I was capable of, but I couldn’t give him the full wham-bam-thank-you-hand-ma’am yet. All men—as big of a stretch as it was to ascribe that designation to Rob Tucker—were hunters. If I gave Rob the hand job equivalent of the gold medal, there wouldn’t be much left for him to chase. Sure, there’d be something, but I wanted as many “somethings” for him to chase as possible because I wanted to make sure he’d chase me into bed.

“Nice ride,” I said as I stopped and slipped my hand off of his lap.

“Why, thank you,” he said, adjusting his pants.

“I was talking about the car.” Shoving the door open, I slid out of my seat.

His hand whipped out and grabbed my forearm. “Where do you think you’re going?”

When he tugged my arm, it wasn’t gently. In fact, I came close to wincing. So that’s when it started—thirty minutes after meeting him. I’d worked other Errands with wife-beaters, but Rob Tucker was the first one who’d tried it on me.

I stared down at him, demonstrating that I wasn’t scared or intimidated or whatever he wanted me to feel. “Wherever I want to go. Now be a good boy and let go of my arm before I make you let go of it.”

He didn’t listen right away, not that I’d expected him to. As I kept my eyes locked on his and my expression strong, his grip loosened.

“You make a habit out of leaving a man high and dry?” That menacing gleam was back in his eyes as he leaned over to stare up at me.

“Only the ones I’m undecided about.” I wanted to shake my arm—Rob’s grip had been that painful—but I couldn’t let him see he’d gotten to me—physically or mentally.

“You’re a tease.”

I lifted an eyebrow. “You have no idea.” Turning around, I walked away. I’d barely made it five steps before I heard his door slam and hurried footsteps following me.

“Dinner tomorrow night. Me and you.”

Rob fell in line beside me, so I picked up my pace toward my rental car. Not because I was scared of him, but because I wanted him to be aware of his place in our “relationship”: chasing after me.

“If you’d be honest with me about what you really had in mind for tomorrow night, I might actually give you an answer.”

“Fine,” Rob said, reaching for my arm again.

I stepped to the side and tucked my arm out of his reach. If he tried manhandling me one more time, I would show him how I handled a man like him.

“Fucking tomorrow night. Me and you.”

Romance at its finest.

“We’ll see,” was my clipped reply as I opened the rental car’s door.

Rob slammed the door closed, earning a glare. “Tell you what. How about I tell you the time and place, and you’ll be there. I’m done playing your ‘woman in control’ routine.” He stepped into me, so his chest was bumping against mine. Mr. Tucker might have been in his fifties, but he had the muscle-mass and strength of a much younger man. “Why don’t you stop pretending you don’t want me to bend you over right here and take you for all of Tampa to see? We can both cut the act.”

For “most vile human being ever created,” Rob Tucker had just secured the number one spot.

“This glare isn’t an act. Me about to push you away isn’t an act.” Using my free hand, I gave his chest a hard shove. “Me about to get in my car and run you over if you don’t get out of my way isn’t an act. And me being undecided about whether I want you to bend me over and take me for anyone to see isn’t an act.” Giving him one more shove, I broke free of his hold and slipped into the driver’s seat. Right before I slammed the door, I glanced at him. “So? Are you getting out of my way, or is my bumper going to have to help you with that?”

His expression went from infuriated to amused. “I sincerely hope you’re as feisty in bed as you are out of it.”

“No, Rob. You sincerely hope you get to find out.” Slipping my sunglasses back over my eyes, I slammed the door, started the car, and reversed out of my parking spot so quickly, I left a little rubber behind. When I glanced in my rearview mirror, I saw Rob watching me speed out of the dealership with that same crooked smile on his face. I slammed my palm into the steering wheel a few times and screamed a few dirty words.

As far as Greets go, that one wasn’t ideal. I’d let my emotions get in the way of my job. I’d let the Target get to me. I’d let him ruffle my feathers. Whether it was him asserting physical power over me after barely saying hello or that smirk of superiority he wore like a badge of honor, Rob Tucker had most definitely shaken me.

The whole goal of the Greet was to serve as a gateway to future encounters. I’d all but threatened to run him over, and that didn’t parlay into a ripe environment for wanting to see me again. If I’d said and done the same things to another Target, I would have as good as failed the Errand . . . but something about Rob Tucker led me to believe standing up to him might serve as a kind of catnip. I couldn’t say for sure, and if I told G how the Greet had gone, her head would start revolving, but I had a feeling that instead of permanently alienating Mr. Tucker, I’d permanently ensnared him.

Either way, if he didn’t find me like I guessed he’d try, I had to find some way to work my way back into his good graces. The job wasn’t just another Errand; it was more like a mission. A woman’s life depended on me doing my job correctly and succinctly.

I wouldn’t fail her. No matter the cost.

The Heat

I HAD A bruise “bangle” on my wrist from Mr. Tucker’s grip yesterday. I wasn’t a person who bruised easily, either.

After returning to the hotel to regroup and figure out where to take that mess of a Greet, I decided I’d wait two days for Rob to come to me. Even though I hadn’t told him my phone number or where I was staying or anything other than my name, I didn’t doubt a man as well connected and ambitious as he was could find out anything he wanted to.

If he didn’t come find me, it would be back to the drawing board until I’d worked out a plan to get the Errand closed. Two days. That was all the time I could afford before I’d have to go after him. I only had five days before I had to be back in California.

My schedule was getting out of control, and I had the lack of energy to prove it.

In an effort to bolster my energy stores, I wandered down to the hotel lounge and ordered an extra cherries cherry Coke while I went through Henry’s file for the three thousandth time. I was looking for something I couldn’t find. I wanted something to pop up that would explain everything. I was searching for the vice that would remind me of the kind of person I was dealing with on the Callahan Errand.

By the time I was almost finished my second soda, I still hadn’t found anything. I’d thumbed through the file start-to-finish for the second time that night. I groaned and resisted the urge to punch something. As far as files went, Henry’s was pristine. Mrs. Callahan’s notes held no hint that Henry was the kind of husband who deserved to be taken to the bank and smeared by a messy divorce. There. Was. Nothing.

Other than what he’d done to me. That the one piece of evidence I had against Henry Callahan was what he’d done to me years before he’d even met Mrs. Callahan put me in a sticky spot. Especially since my traitor self emerged from time to time and pretended that nothing had changed between Henry and me.

If I didn’t keep that image of Henry in bed with another woman while I had his engagement ring on my finger, the Errand would continue being exceedingly difficult. If I didn’t separate myself from the man who seemed impossible to dislike, the Errand would turn into a disaster.

I was just looking up to catch the bartender’s attention when someone practically stumbled into my view. It had only been a day—I could have sighed with relief. But then I noticed his stumbling was paired with glazed-over eyes and a flushed face, and relief became the last thing I felt. Alcohol paired with a man like Rob Tucker was like lighting a stick of dyn**ite.

“There’s my girl,” he said as he bumped into the chair across from me.

Trying to be casual yet quick, I shoved the Callahan file back together and stuffed it into my briefcase. Once it was locked, I composed my face and took a deep breath before looking at Rob. I’d been anticipating him finding me, but that was the second time a Target had stumbled upon me while I was studying an Errand file. Even though he was at least a few drinks away from comatose, it still made me feel like some Eve rookie.

“I thought I made it pretty clear yesterday that I’m no one’s ‘girl,’” I replied, crossing my legs and leaning back. Thankfully, I’d worn something appropriate to the lounge instead of my tank and yoga pants.

Rob grabbed the chair in front of him, pulled it out, and sat. He barely kept from falling out of it, though. “And I thought I made it clear that whatever I want, I get.” He pointed his empty drink glass at me, almost in accusation. “I want you. So that makes you my girl.”

I wanted to shake my head so badly. “You had trouble with that whole sharing concept in preschool, didn’t you?”

“No. The other kids had trouble with my concept of sharing perhaps, but I had no trouble with that.”

Spoken like a true narcissist. “Because you took what you wanted whenever you wanted it. Here you are, forty years later, trying to do the same to a young woman you don’t know anything about other than her first name and that she likes fast, expensive cars.”