Boiling Point (Crossing the Line #3)(55)

“Lead the way,” Austin interrupted gently. “I’m on God’s time. And God’s time belongs to the people.”

She pressed a hand to her bosom. “Thank you, Father. Now, I’ll just fill you in on the way over…”

Austin actually had to bite down on his tongue as they passed Polly where she placed a breakfast order, for fear he would shout at her for leaving Chicago without a word. Honestly. When had he become so irrational? Or he might have just shouted at her for looking so edible in a red-and-white polka-dot dress when he couldn’t get his f*cking hands on her. God, the things he would do to her right now. Probably best to hold off on images of tongue-f*cking Polly while dressed as a priest, however. A hard-on might be a touch difficult to explain.

When he heard Polly placing her order, however, he couldn’t resist reaching into his pocket and dropping the contents onto her table.

...

“It’s the strangest thing,” Polly’s father said, drumming his fingers on the table as he perused the menu. “I can’t find our Fullings’ verbena mint tea anywhere now. It’s like it up and disappeared off the face of the earth.”

The waiter stood to Polly’s left, pen scratching down their orders as her father sighed in disappointment that their tea wasn’t listed. “Yeah. Something like that,” she muttered, wishing little reminders of Austin—such as his epic tea-bag hoarding efforts—would stop popping up. “I’ll have coffee instead, please.”

“Me, too,” Drake said, handing his menu back to the waiter.

Polly followed suit, smiling when they were alone again. “So. Have you forgiven me for surprising you?”

“You know I hate surprises. There’s a reason people have phones and calendars and phones.” Her father reached across the table and tapped her hand in reproof. “Would it have killed you to call ahead? The guest room hasn’t been dusted in months.”

“I’m not staying.” She had to look away from his disappointment. “I can’t stay. I have to get back to work tomorrow.”

“On a Saturday?”

Well. She hadn’t really thought that one through, had she? Not that many nuggets of wisdom had been forthcoming since she’d made the decision to break up with Chicago for the day. The farther she’d gotten from Chicago, the worse the drilling in her middle had become. A little crew of tinkers chipped away at her stomach lining with tiny pickaxes, singing merrily through her misery. It had taken her a few hours to clue in to the problem, but her humorless laughter had rung out inside the borrowed car when the reason for her anxious feelings became obvious.

These were withdrawals. She was addicted to Austin. And God, she wished it were just the sex. Because, by all things holy, the man was criminally talented. Putting on her underwear, showering, tying her shoelaces. All these actions had taken on new significance. Every action felt like preparation. Would he call her “mistress” next time? Or would he be too desperate to allow games?

What would it feel like when he held her?

She wanted the promised holding almost as much as the epic, leg-shaking orgasm that would surely precede it. I can’t think of anything but you. She still couldn’t believe those words had come out of Austin’s mouth. Even more unbelievable, they could have come straight out of hers.

Much as she’d like to pretend otherwise, the sentiment had been mutual for so long. She’d put it down to a rivalry, the way he’d commandeered her thoughts that first meeting. Using the excuse of wanting to stay on her toes where Austin was concerned, she hadn’t seen her infatuation for what it was. Now that those glimpses beneath his surface were no longer fleeting, but…extended and powerful? The truth wouldn’t stay buried anymore. She’d fallen for Austin despite his past, his arrogance, his seeming lack of remorse. And getting to know him as more than an admittedly manipulative con man had only solidified her feelings.

But Polly had always been a realistic person. That personality trait was what had drawn her to computers in the first place. Once programmed, they didn’t deviate. You could depend on the outcomes they provided, and if they froze or encountered a glitch, there was a tried-and-true method of fixing them. If she and Austin tried…holding…what if they didn’t compute? Was there a method of fixing her when he walked away, his sights set on the next mark? The next…woman? Truth was, they didn’t work together on paper. They were already a failed line of code. The time they’d spent together over the last few days didn’t change the very important fact that he was a con. She was supposed to loathe him.

Somewhere along the line, though, she’d stopped. And looking at the man across from her, the father who’d been conned by Austin’s ex-partner, she felt like the ultimate traitor.

“So eerily quiet over there.” Drake gave her that familiar smile, the one where she could see the overbite he claimed made him accessibly handsome. “Makes me think this visit is more than some whimsical road trip.”

Polly smirked at his sarcasm. They both knew she did nothing in the name of whimsy. But she appreciated his humor all the same. He’d even maintained it throughout her prison time and tangles with the law, when he should have been questioning his lot in life. After being swindled and left alone by his partner, he’d still managed to remain positive over having adopted a dud daughter. “I owed you a visit. It’s been—”