It was early, even though I wasn’t sure of the hour. Most of the city was still sleeping, and the sky had yet to shed it stars as it slowly surrendered the night to the rosy hints of dawn.
Never in my life had I experienced anything as peaceful as standing on that balcony in the clouds, gazing out at the sleepy world beneath me. It was a tranquility I’d never felt, but it was quickly interrupted by an unexpected splash.
A dollop of scalding coffee spilled over my hand as I whirled around in surprise. I barely stifled a curse as I quickly discarded the mug, and my eyes flickered up the staircase that led to the roof.
Of course he had to find the one place higher than the balcony.
I stood silently at the top of those stairs, watching as he opted for a morning swim instead of a morning jog. He lapped the pool, his tantalizing body cutting gracefully through the water. I decided that it made perfect sense that he was a swimmer, with a body like that. He was muscular but lean and fit, an athlete but not a bodybuilder. While I’d attribute most of it to some Olympian genetics, the fact that he jumped into the water every morning certainly didn’t hurt.
The pool itself was enormous, like one in a gymnasium in some Ivy League school. It was also conveniently shaded by several potted trees, which allowed me to ogle James to my heart’s content without him seeing me.
> It was strangely hypnotizing, watching him slice through the blue water, his body straight as an arrow. His head was often submerged for so long, but he always came up for air at just the right time. If not for my step back, during which I inadvertently rattled a loose tile on the edge of the roof, I could have stood there and watched him for hours.
He stopped swimming immediately and glanced over his shoulder in surprise before his face melted into a welcoming grin. “Morning, sunshine. Coffee?”
“Already found and already spilled,” I answered with a salute, sashaying forward with a little grin. “Nice pool, by the way.”
“Nice legs, by the way,” he said with an appreciative grin, after sweeping his eyes over his t-shirt and down to my thighs below it.
I flushed and sat down at the edge of the tile, dangling my feet in up to my knees. The water wasn’t exactly heated, but it wasn’t outrageously cold either. It was brisk, the perfect temperature to keep occupants moving. “Do you do this every morning?”
“Yep, every day.”
He shook back his wet hair and climbed up the ladder as I leapt to my feet to grab a towel off the rack for him. He flashed me a grateful smile, but for the first time, I was momentarily distracted, looking not at his beautiful face but at a scar on his leg. I’d never seen it before, as he was usually doused in flickering moonlight and shadows during our intimate times together.
“Gruesome, isn’t it?” James caught my eye as he toweled himself off. Rather than being embarrassed or upset, he simply seemed resigned to the whole thing.
I took a step closer, my eyes flicking up to his for permission. “What happened?”
“Car accident,” he said shortly. A second later, he gestured to the tattoo. “I got it a few weeks after my accident.”
Without thinking, I reached out and traced the ink. “What’s that mean?” I asked curiously, my hand still lingering on the numbers on his chest as I looked up at him.
He glanced down briefly, before wrapping the towel around his waist. “Latitude and longitude, a time and place.”
I pulled my hand back in surprise, shocked by his answer. “When and where?”
A ghost of a smile flickered across his face as he gazed down into my eyes. “When and where I died.”
Speechless, I just stared at the scar again, then darted my eyes back up to his, begging for an explanation.
There was a beat of silence before his face brightened into a smile. “More coffee?”
Chapter 13
I WAS THE NEWEST EMPLOYEE at the top corporate firm in the entire British Empire. More than that, I was a woman working a man’s job, a woman who was recently conscripted into a competition that could fundamentally change my entire career. Of course, in order to accomplish that, I had to actually go to work.
I understood that. I really did. Nevertheless, I’d reached one of those milestones I just couldn’t walk away from them, one of those pivotal moments that required my attention. His “when I died” left me gobsmacked, (learned that word from Madison) and I had to know what he was talking about, especially because he was anything but dead the night before. “I’m sorry. What was that?” I demanded, looking at him the way Madison often looked at me, as if he was speaking in some ancient alien tongue I couldn’t possibly decipher.
James glanced over his shoulder as he held the balcony door open, seemingly surprised that I was still stuck on the subject when he’d obviously moved on to other things. His wet hair clung to the sides of his neck, dangling along the edge of his angular jaw, and the second we stepped back into the air-conditioned penthouse, the hairs on his arms rose atop goosebump peaks. “Coffee,” he repeated, heading toward the machine. “Do you want another—”
I stepped in front of him, forcing him to stop in his tracks and too halt his offer. “Uh...when you died?”
His face lightened with surprise at the seriousness of my tone before an intentionally distracting smile curled his mouth. “Sounds worse than it really was,” he said with a grin I found as unsettling as his nonchalance.
Sure, I was under the man’s spell, but a brush with his morality wasn’t something I was willing to sweep under the rug. “What happened?” I coaxed. Then, instead of following him to the kitchen, I headed to the living room and sank down on the couch, waiting for an explanation.
He hesitated uncertainly before settling down beside me. “A car accident, like I told you,” he said, his expression twisting a bit. “It was a long time ago, Della, almost seven years. I barely recall it anymore.”