Accidentally on Purpose Read online

  By the time she placed her mouth on him he was no longer coherent. And moments later, as the world spiraled out of control, it was apparent that she not only owned his body, she was also the keeper of his soul.

  The next morning Elle sat straight up in bed and found Archer standing by his dresser buck naked, searching through a drawer. He pulled on black knit boxers, cargo pants, and a black T-shirt. Then he walked to a wall safe and began to strap on weapons. Glock on his right hip. Knife clipped to the inside of one of his pockets. Cell in another pocket. Black baseball cap on backward, boots on and laced up, flak vest strapped across his chest and back.

  Why this turned her on so much, she had no idea but she could scarcely breathe for wanting him.

  When he was loaded for bear, he turned and caught her staring at him, probably drooling, and his eyes darkened.

  “Say the word,” he said, “and it all comes back off. You’ll be late for class, very late, but I’ll make it worth your while.”

  She felt herself go damp and was so tempted she had to bite her tongue to keep the “oh yes, please” in.

  Apparently reading her mind, Archer started toward her with sexy, wickedly dirty intent blazing in his hot eyes. He got to the bed just as a knock came on the bedroom door.

  “Hurry up, bitches,” Morgan yelled through the door. “I need the shower.”

  Archer groaned and dropped his forehead to Elle’s shoulder.

  “You should’ve let me kill her,” she said.

  At the end of the day, Elle was still at her desk when her phone went off with a text.

  Morgan: I’m staying in the building instead of heading to Archer’s with you. Got plans.

  Elle: What plans?

  Morgan: Poker game in the basement at seven.

  Elle: No. Hell, no. I refuse to let you grift my friends out of their money.

  Morgan: I won’t cheat! The sexy geek said he’ll bring me to Archer’s afterward. Okay with you, MOM?

  Elle: Don’t even think about sleeping with Spence.

  Morgan: Aw. Worried about me?

  Elle: Worried about HIM.

  Morgan’s response was the middle finger emoji. Elle rolled her eyes and stood up to get ready to leave when her phone buzzed again, a call this time.

  “You hanging in there?” Archer asked.

  She could hear the exhaustion in his voice. “Better than you, it sounds like. How about dinner?”

  “You cooking?” he asked with such wistful hope that she was caught off guard.

  “Yes,” she said, then she stilled in shock. Yes? Was she insane? “I’m leaving now.”

  “With Morgan?”

  “No, she’s staying for tonight’s poker game.”

  “Take Joe,” Archer said. “Give him five minutes to get to you.”

  “Not necessary.”

  “There’s a missing dickwad out there sending his goons after you and your sister,” Archer said. “Humor me.”

  Three minutes later, Joe was at her door. “I’ve gotta stop at the grocery store,” Elle warned. They got under way and after a while she eyeballed him. “I don’t suppose you know how to cook?”

  “Hell yeah I know how to cook,” he said. “It attracts the ladies.”

  She rolled her eyes and dragged him into the store with her. “Help me pick out something that an idiot could cook and still impress someone.”

  He grinned. “You going to seduce boss man tonight?”

  “None of your business. Can you help me or what?”

  He set her up with a pack of steaks, potatoes, and a ready-made salad. “Doesn’t get better than barbequed steak and potato, and a little green to make you feel healthy,” he said.

  “I don’t know how to barbeque,” she said.

  “You turn a knob, toss these babies on the grill, wait a few minutes and then flip them over. Trust me, you’ll have that man eating out of the palm of your hand.” He flashed a grin. “Or wherever you want him eating . . .”

  She gave him a long look.

  This didn’t faze him in the slightest. “Call me if you have any problems.” He walked her into Archer’s place, checked for monsters in all the corners, declared her good to go, and left her alone.

  Elle walked out the living room sliding-glass door and stared at the biggest barbeque she’d ever seen. There was indeed a knob on it. As well as instructions engraved on the steel side. Turn on gas. Point knob to desired flame height. Grill.

  “Easy enough,” she said out loud. She turned on the gas. She heard it hiss out. Then she cranked the knob and—

  Whooomph.

  The flame ripped out from beneath the grill and just about took her eyelashes and eyebrows along with it. “Holy shit!” she gasped, leaping back, tripping over a lounge chair, and falling to her ass on the deck. Sitting there, she reached up to touch her face.

  Still there.

  Relieved, she got to her feet and studied the flame before turning it down a little. Note to self: men are stupid. Five minutes later she had the steaks and the potatoes on the grill.

  “Take that, Iron Chef,” she murmured as she poured herself a very big glass of wine. She went back onto the deck and stared down at the busy streets below, at the marina past that, and the gorgeous bay. The view made her sigh with pleasure. If she had this view, she’d never leave. She’d take off her heels and curl up on the chair and watch the world go by.

  Which, in the end, is exactly what she did. She kicked off her heels, hiked up her dress enough to get comfy, and took in the view as she sipped her wine, feeling damn content and righteous as hell that she’d made dinner with her own hands for the man she . . . well. Wasn’t that a little complicated? She liked him. A lot. She also admired his strength, both inside and out. He was smart, self-made, and when he chose to be, funny as hell.

  And yeah, she possibly, maybe, probably loved him.

  She leaned back and closed her eyes at that terrifying thought while images flashed through her mind. Archer giving her that just-for-her smile that very morning, the smile that said he got her . . . and damn but he did always seem to get her, in a way no one else ever had. Archer, ticked after that distraction job and yet he’d still taken her into his arms on the dance floor, rocking her to that slow song. Rocking her world while he was at it because there was no one who could make her as crazy as he did, and no one else on the planet who could make her feel as much as he did either. Archer, busting into her office, willing to put his life and limb on the line to save hers, always, without question . . .

  The only thing more shocking than that was that she knew she’d do the same for him . . .

  She had no idea how many minutes later she jerked awake. The smell came to her first, charbroiled meat. The smoke came next. And then when she whipped her head around, she saw the flames shooting out of the barbeque.

  She flew to her feet, stubbing her toe on the leg of the barbeque as she slammed the lid of it down and cranked the knobs to off before crouching low to turn off the gas below as well.

  By the time she straightened, the flames had died.

  And so had the black lumps that had been the steak and potatoes.

  Dead. She’d killed them dead. Reaching out, she picked up one charred lump, burned her finger, and dropped it. With a sigh, she shoved her hair back from her sweaty face—the heat coming off the barbeque was surely giving her a sunburn—and whipped out her phone. “You suck,” she said to Joe.

  “Only if you ask real nice,” he said.

  Ungh! “I burned everything!”

  “Did you trim the fat?” he asked. “Keep the flame on medium? Turn the steaks after three to four minutes? Immediately remove from the flames?”

  No, no, no, and a solid no. She disconnected on him and went hands on hips, staring down at the mess. Then she whipped her phone back up and called her favorite Italian restaurant, which delivered. She placed an order, offering to double the tip if they rushed it.

  By the time she’d cleaned up the barbeque m