Accidentally on Purpose Read online

  Archer hated hospitals. Hated the smell, hated the sound of the machines beeping and hissing, hated the pale walls that always seemed to close in on him. He hated everything about them and had ever since his mom had died after her very long, very tortured battle with cancer.

  If he never stepped inside one again in his entire life he’d be perfectly happy.

  A nurse popped her head in and smiled at him. “You look ready to get out of here.”

  “I was ready before I arrived.”

  “Good news then,” she said. “I’m just waiting for a signature from the doctor and you’re free.”

  Archer ground his teeth when she vanished but resigned himself to the wait. When his phone went off, he pulled it from his pocket and stared at the notification in disbelief. Someone had just tried accessing his computer. His office computer. Someone was in his office and it wasn’t him.

  This was immediately followed by a text from Joe, which explained the situation but not the reason.

  Joe: Elle’s here. Wanted something off your computer. Per protocol, I escorted her from your office. She pretended to leave but she’s hiding in reception area. Please advise.

  Archer: Remote lock all exits without revealing yourself.

  Joe: You mean lock her in? Repeat, lock her IN???

  Archer: Affirmative. My ETA’s ten minutes.

  He shook his head in disbelief. Elle wanted on his computer. He had no idea what the hell she could be looking for, but she didn’t do anything without a reason. She was up to something and it couldn’t be good.

  Screw the doctor’s signature. Ignoring the pain throbbing through his arm, he pulled his shirt and sweatshirt back on and strode from the ER cubicle.

  He got to his offices in six minutes and came in the back entrance. Joe was standing there waiting for him, looking terrified. Earlier that night he’d faced down a crazy dude with a knife without blinking, but Elle scared him. Good to know. “I’ve got it from here,” he said.

  Joe let out a huge breath of clear relief, nodded, and then ran out of there faster than Archer had ever seen him move. He didn’t blame the guy. Elle was gorgeous, wily, conniving, amazing, and truly scary as fuck.

  He made his way down the hall, not bothering to hide his presence but not making a lot of noise either. His arm was aching like a son of a bitch and he was to-the-bone exhausted. He wasn’t sure what he’d find, but he knew one thing.

  It wasn’t going to be easy.

  It never was with Elle.

  He got halfway down the hallway when he heard a noise in the storage room. Jesus, what the hell was she up to? He stepped into the doorway and flipped on the light.

  There she was, looking like the hottest B&E expert he’d ever seen, all in black, half crouched beside a shelving unit, a stapler in her raised hand like she’d been about to throw it.

  “What the hell, Archer?” she said, rising to her full height, lowering her weapon of mass destruction. “You scared the crap out of me.”

  “What were you going to do, attack me with the stapler?” he asked. “That’ll only work if it’s a heavy-duty one, and even then you don’t throw it, you’ll miss. You swing it with as much momentum as you can muster and hit the guy on the head. As long as it’s not my head.”

  With a grimace that could have been annoyance or embarrassment, she set it back on the shelf. “All I knew was that it wasn’t Joe coming down the hall. He walks with a heavier gait and also he’s still slightly favoring his left foot from when he broke it last year. I thought it might be you because you walk like a wildcat stalking his prey but I couldn’t be sure.”

  Now wasn’t the time to be impressed with her skills. He already knew she was amazing, and if she wasn’t bat-shit crazy, he’d have hired her a long time ago.

  Hell, who was he kidding? He couldn’t hire her, she’d kill him in his sleep.

  Or vice versa.

  Her gaze went to the bandage around his arm. “Are you okay?” she asked.

  “Oh, no,” he said. “You first. What the hell are you doing here in the middle of the night?”

  “Well, I wouldn’t say middle of the night exactly. It’s only midnight.”

  “That’s not an answer, Elle.”

  She hesitated and looked away. A very rare tell for a woman who seldom if ever gave herself away. He decided he was too tired for this, for these games that he didn’t ever seem to have a full set of rules to. “You broke into my office.”

  “Technically, no,” she said. “I didn’t break in, there was no need.”

  “Yeah, because you flashed those dangerous baby blues at Joe,” he said.

  “Don’t blame Joe.”

  “I don’t. I blame you.”

  Eyes still on his arm, she took a step closer to him. Brave to the end. Always had been too. Few people dared half the shit with him that she did, but for some reason with her he allowed it. Clearly it was early onset of insanity due to misguided lust, he decided. “What did you need in my office, Elle? What’s on my computer?”

  “Was it deep?” she asked, very gently running a finger down his injured arm. “Did you need a lot of stitches? Are there any complications?”

  He caught her hand in his. “No, no, and no.” His other hand went to her ponytail, which he used to tug her face up to his. The gesture felt shockingly intimate and a vision came to him of other reasons why he might fist his hand in her hair to hold her head.

  Maybe he’d hit his own head tonight and didn’t know it. That would explain a lot. “Now you,” he said. “What are you up to, Elle?”

  “Nothing.”

  “A lie,” he said. “Let me guess why. You were mad that I cut short your booty call. Then you sent me an email that you clearly regret sending so you broke in here with the intention of deleting it from my computer before I could read it on my phone. How am I doing?”

  She was good. Really good. She didn’t even wince at the realization he’d already read the email. She simply inhaled slow and deep and said, “It wasn’t a booty call. It was a date.”

  “It was Mike,” he said. “It was totally a booty call. You need to learn the difference.”

  She stared at him for a long time, clearly taking this in, torn between trusting him and holding on to her mad. “He seems like a nice guy,” she finally said.

  “He is. He’s a nice guy who loves women. All of them.”

  She took this in as well and then hugged herself, another rare tell. “I’m single. That gives me the right to see who I want and do whatever I want with them.”

  Then it was his turn to draw in a slow, controlled breath, during which he tried to erase the image of her doing “whatever she wanted” with Mike.

  Or any man other than him.

  Christ, he had it bad.

  “Look,” she said. “You pissed me off with the Neanderthal act of ending my date, okay? You don’t have any claim on me, Archer.”

  Their gazes locked and held while he bit his tongue to keep the words in. Bit it hard too. Because it hadn’t been an act at all. Just the real him. “We done here?”

  Her eyes narrowed. Yep, if the steam coming out of her ears meant anything, they were completely done.

  Elle whirled away to leave, but her temper took over and before she could stop herself, she spun back. “And for your information, I do know the difference between a date and a booty call. A date is when two people go out and enjoy each other’s company, not just falling into bed like you probably did last week with that woman from the pub after the distraction job. Because that, Archer, that was a booty call.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  She gaped at him, not sure if she was surprised or pissed. “You don’t even remember. Unbelievable. I hope she gave you something that makes your dick fall off.”

  He stared at her and then laughed.

  Laughed.

  “The other day you announced that I’ve got a full body rash and now you hope my dick falls off,” he repeated, still grinning. �€