Mystery Man (The Dream Man Series Book 1)

I’d hit my zone and was able to focus even with a bunch of commandos banging around in my house when I suddenly felt my hair shifted off one shoulder, swept across my neck and over my other shoulder.

Then I felt lips at the skin at the back of my ear.

A delicious tremble radiated from my ear going up, down and out and my eyes on the computer screen unfocused as I came crashing headlong out of my zone and careened happily into an entirely different zone. The lips left my ear and, dazedly, I saw a brown paper bag accompanied by a white plastic bag hit the desk by my keyboard. I looked at the bottom right of my computer screen to see the time was twelve forty-seven.

Lunchtime.

I swiveled in my chair and looked up to see Hawk standing there, tearing open the folded over and stapled top of the bag.

I didn’t say anything because I was too busy freaking out because this was the subject matter of a daydream. When I said that I meant I had actually daydreamed this and now I was living it.

Okay, not the Thai food but, many a time, I’d drifted off and dreamed about what it would be like if my Mystery Man showed in the light of day, coming up to me silently while I did the dishes in the kitchen and he slid his arms around me. Or while I was in the shower and he joined me.

Or while I was working and he snuck up on me and kissed my neck.

Just like I liked in the spot that I liked.

Exactly like he’d just snuck up on me and kissed my neck.

Just like I liked in the spot that I liked.

And it was better than a daydream and not only because J’s Noodles was a welcome addition but because it was real.

Damn.

He started pulling food from the bag as I struggled to pull myself together. I saw him reveal a lidded cardboard cup of soup and another container of noodles, both of which I knew, from experience with J’s takeout, were for me. Next came chopsticks in paper and then he took out another container for him. Then he picked up the bag, dropped it on the floor and rifled through the other bag that had familiar red, orange and green logo on it. He took out a bottled water which I knew was for him when he set a can of diet grape soda by my food.

I stared at the soda. Then I looked back up at him.

“What? Do you follow me?” I asked.

“Sometimes,” he answered and I felt my eyes get squinty. “Sometimes my boys do it.”

He turned away from me and went to my couch, sat down, set his water on a side table and opened the top of his food container.

“So do you have a big, fat file on me at your base?” I asked, tearing the paper off my chopsticks then picking up my soup and pulling the lid off.

“Nope,” he replied, “verbal reports. ‘She went to J’s, got soup and noodles, then to 7-Eleven for a diet grape.’ Shit like that.”

Unreal.

“Why?” I asked.

“Why?” he repeated.

“Why did you and your boys follow me?”

“Babe,” he replied then he dug into his noodles with his chopsticks as if this was nothing, him and his boys following me, sharing reports about my food and beverage preferences, intruding into my life without my knowledge. Then my eyes dropped to his food and his noodles looked like nothing but noodles and veggies. No sauce. No cashews. No peanut bits. No succulent shrimp. None of the good stuff. Nothing. Just noodles and veg.

This reminded me of the first time I saw him when we were at a restaurant. He had a steak, baked potato and steamed vegetables. I remembered noting then, somewhat drunkenly, that he didn’t have anything on his potato. Not sour cream. Not bacon bits. Not cheese. Not even butter.

“What are you eating?” I asked.

“Noodles and veg,” he pointed out the obvious then shoved some into his mouth with his chopsticks.

“Just noodles and veg?”

He chewed, swallowed and said, “Yep,” then shoved more noodles in his mouth.

“No sauce?” I pushed.

More chewing then swallowing then, “Babe, I ate like you, I’d get a gut. In my work, you can’t have a gut.”

I felt my blood pressure rise. “Are you saying I’m fat?”

The double dimple threat popped out and, chopsticks loaded with noodles and veg halfway to his mouth, he replied, “Sweet Pea, the way you eat means you got tits and ass. This is good because I like tits and ass. This is bad because Tack and Lawson like ‘em just as much as me.” Then he shoved his noodles and veg into his mouth and said with his mouth full, “Tack maybe more.”

Shit.

“I need to focus on work,” I announced.

He stretched his long legs out in front of him, crossed his feet at the ankles, clearly planning to stay awhile, and replied, “Then focus.”

I glared at him. This was bad since he looked good stretched out in my office like that. Tracy and I had painted the walls white but I’d had the guy at the hardware store squirt a hint of orange in the paint so the white had warmth to it. My desk was long, white, sleek, narrow and girlie. My shelves were white and likewise girlie. The narrow, square tables on each side of the couch were equally white and girlie. My couch was cushiony and salmon-colored with chartreuse and peacock blue toss pillows. I’d decorated heavily in light wicker and had white ceramic, circular, lacy shaded lamps dotting the space. It wasn’t OTT girlie, all pink and ruffled, but it was definitely feminine space.

Sitting on my couch like that, Hawk looked like an invading conqueror enjoying a meal, bulking up before expending the effort to rape and pillage. Except he wouldn’t have to rape, all the townswomen would line up for their turn.

Shit.

I swiveled to face my desk and sniffed my soup. Lemongrass. Yum. I swirled it with my chopsticks then took a sip.

Then I asked Hawk, eyes on my computer, “What’s your real name?”

“Cabe Delgado.”

He answered without hesitation and my head turned to him in surprise.

“Cabe Delgado?”

He shoved more noodles into his mouth and didn’t answer.

“What kind of name is Cabe?” I asked.

He swallowed and captured more noodles, muttering, “Who the fuck knows? Ma’s a nut.”

His Ma was a nut.

Interesting.

“Is Delgado Mexican?” I pressed.

“Puerto Rican,” he answered, again without hesitation.

“You’re Puerto Rican?”

“Look at me, babe, not full-blooded Scandinavian.”

Nope, he was definitely not that.

“Were you born in Puerto Rico?”

“Nope. Denver.”

A rare Denver native. Surprising.

I, on the other hand, was not a native. Dad had moved Meredith, Ginger and me to Denver from South Dakota when I was ten but I didn’t share this piece of information because Hawk probably already knew that.

“So your parents are Puerto Rican.”

“Dad is. Ma’s half Italian, half Cuban.”

No wonder. Puerto Rican, Italian and Cuban – the perfect ingredients for a hot, bossy, badass cocktail.

His brows went up. “Is this focus?”

Guess someone was done sharing.

I turned back to the computer, fished in my soup with my chopsticks, secured a big prawn, pulled it out and ate it.

Fresh, spicy, brilliant.

I washed the prawn down with another sip of soup. Then I tried to focus on work with Cabe “Hawk” Delgado stretched out on my couch. Unsurprisingly, I was completely unable to do this but hopefully I was successful at pretending I could.

I’d finished my soup, leaving the mysterious bits uneaten in the bottom (I loved that soup but those mysterious bits freaked me out and I never ate them), taken a sip of my grape in preparation for the next culinary delight and opened my noodles when Hawk approached my desk, bending as he moved to snatch up the discarded bag.

He shoved his container in the bag while I pretended to ignore him and he was reaching for my soup container when I heard, “Hawk.”

I twisted to see who I suspected was Hawk’s Numero Dos, the slim but cut man that Hawk was talking to outside earlier. He looked to be the same ethnic cocktail as Hawk and, even shorter and slighter, since he’d shared his name was “Smoke” and he had a scar that went from his temple into his dark hair, I figured he was probably not someone you messed with.

“Company,” he said to Hawk, his eyes not coming to me even for an instant then, like his name, poof! he vanished.

Hawk moved, dumping my soup container into the bag and the bag into my garbage bin as he went. I moved too. Putting my noodles on my desk, I followed him.

When I hit the hall, Hawk stopped suddenly and turned so I ran into his front.

I took a step back, looked up at him and before I could say anything, he asked, “Any chance I tell you to stay up here you won’t give me lip?”

“No chance at all,” I answered.

He stared at me a second then shook his head like I was intruding on his greeting company at his house rather than me walking down the stairs in my own damned house to greet my company. Then he turned and proceeded walking to the stairs.

I followed and heard him before I saw him.

Then I remembered it was Wednesday and Wednesday afternoons were Troy Days. We had a standing Wednesday afternoon appointment for coffee or beer or whatever since he had Wednesday afternoons off because he worked Saturday mornings.

Shit.

“Who are you guys?” Troy asked as I walked down the stairs. “And where’s Gwen?”

He came into my line of sight but by the time he did, Hawk had come into his line of sight and Troy was staring at him as I would guess anyone would have a tendency to stare at Hawk, Hawk being all that was Hawk. Then he jerked like he was pulling himself out of a trance and his eyes came to me.

“Gwen, honey, what’s going on? You didn’t tell me you were having work done.”

“Hey Troy,” I greeted as I came to stand several feet to the side of where Hawk was standing several feet from Troy.

Hawk, however, didn’t like this distance and I knew this when he closed it and he didn’t close it by moving to me. He closed it by leaning to me, grabbing my forearm and giving it a tug so I had no option but to teeter sideways. I slammed into him, his hand left my arm and he caught me by clamping his arm around my shoulders.

“Wednesday,” Hawk muttered when he’d accomplished this feat, his eyes on Troy. “Shit, I forgot.”

Troy stared at Hawk, then he stared at me, then he stared at Hawk and me and he did all of this with his eyes wide and his mouth hanging open much like, I suspected, I looked on more than one occasion recently.

However I didn’t struggle against Hawk’s hold because I was catapulted back to yesterday when Hawk told me Troy wanted to get into my pants and therefore I was standing there, staring at Troy with his sandy blond hair and blue eyes, wearing his suit from the bank, and comparing. He was a Loan Manager. He wasn’t tall but he wasn’t short, he was, however, taller than me. He didn’t have a bad body but he wasn’t ripped by any stretch of the imagination. And he was so far from a commando it wasn’t funny.

Troy finally settled his gaze on Hawk and asked, “Who are you?”

“He’s –” I started but Hawk spoke over me.

“Hawk, Gwen’s man.”

Shit! I wished he’d quit saying that!

“Gwen’s man?” Troy whispered, now his face had paled.

Shit again!

“Troy, it’s not –” I began.

Troy’s pale face moved to me.

“You have a man?”

“Well… um –”

“Gwennie!” We all heard shouted and through the front door flew Tracy.

Troy turned to the door and all the commandos stopped dead. That happened a lot when Tracy Richmond entered a room and I was unsurprised that even commandos weren’t immune to Tracy’s charms.

This was because she looked like a model, no joke. She was tall, taller than me by two inches. She had natural blonde hair that was long, sleek and straight as a sheet. She had dancing green eyes. She had perfect bone structure. She had a symmetrical face. She was thin with long, long legs and long, graceful, thin arms. She was not tits and ass. She was a human mannequin of the beautiful variety. Fashion designers the world over would be in throes of ecstasy, they caught sight of her. That was why any retail store in Denver hired her even though she was flighty and got bored easily so her average length of employment was around eleven months. If she told you something looked good on you, you’d visualize that you were her because you wanted to be her with every fiber of your being, you’d believe it and then you’d buy it.

“Cam called and said that Leo said that you got broken –” Tracy skidded to a halt beside Troy when her eyes caught sight of Hawk. Those eyes widened, her jaw went slack and she stared at him. Then, before I could do anything about it, she got the way wrong idea, her face lit with sheer delight and she screeched, “Ohmigod!”

Then she jumped up and down and clapped while the commandos took in the show and she tore her gaze from Hawk and grabbed my hand still jumping up and down.

“Gwennie! Hurray!” she cried.

Shit!

I took hold of her hand and squeezed firm, “Trace, it’s not what you –”

Before I could finish, she dropped my hand and looked up at Hawk. “I know you! And I knew it! Cam called me and told me you’d come over yesterday and Gwennie got broken into last night and here you are! To the rescue! Hurray!”

Shit, shit, shit!

“Trace –”

She looked at me. “I told you! Didn’t I tell you?” She looked at Hawk and informed him, “I told her, like, a bazillion times!”

“You got broken into?” This was Troy breaking into Tracy’s glee and I stopped looking at Tracy and started looking at Troy.

“Um… yeah but it wasn’t a big deal,” I lied.

“You got broken into?” Troy repeated.

“Is that why all these guys are here?” Tracy asked, her head swiveling around on her neck to take in the commandos then she looked at me. “What are they doing? Are they building a fortress?”

“They’re putting in a security system,” Hawk answered, Tracy’s face instantly fell at this news and her eyes came to me.

“Oh honey, does that mean you won’t be able to get those Jimmy Choos you’ve had your eye on for, freaking, ever? You know, I can’t hold them very much longer. Someone will notice.”

That was Tracy: fashion before everything, even safety.

“She’s not payin’ for it,” Hawk replied, Tracy’s face instantly lit up again and her eyes flew back to Hawk while Troy’s eyes narrowed on him.

“Hurray!” Tracy exclaimed.

“Babe, stop saying ‘hurray’, this isn’t what it seems,” I finally got out and Hawk’s arm squeezed my shoulders.

“What is it then?” Troy asked me but didn’t wait for me to answer. “And who is this guy? And who broke in? Are you okay? Did you get hurt? Do the police know? Did they catch him?”

I opened my mouth to answer but Hawk answered before me and for me.

“Like I said, I’m Hawk, Gwen’s man. We don’t know who broke in. Gwen’s fine, my boys and I are lookin’ out for her and the police have been informed.”

“Hawk,” Tracy breathed, gazing up at him with stars in her eyes. “Cool name. Way cool. Super cool. Super, double extra cool.”

Good God.

“Honey, you need a brief but I don’t have time, I have work,” I told her and looked at Troy. “And I’m sorry, Troy, I can see you’re concerned but things are a little crazy and I have deadlines. I can’t do my Troy Day today. But I’m fine, totally fine. I’ll call you and explain everything tomorrow.” Then I looked at Hawk and snapped, “And you. Will you quit speaking for me?”

“That’s cool,” Tracy said immediately before Hawk could reply and went on. “And by the way, honey, your hair is the bomb.”

Troy wasn’t cool. He was staring at me. Then he asked, “Does this have to do with Ginger?”

When he asked that, Tracy’s eyes swung to me and they were wide.

“Ohmigod,” she breathed. “I didn’t think of that.”

Troy didn’t wait for my answer; he jumped straight to the right conclusion. He’d known me a long time but my escapades, even at their worst, wouldn’t lead to a team of commandos installing a security system.

“What’d she do?” Troy asked.

“I don’t know and I don’t care. I’ve disowned her,” I answered.

“Finally,” Tracy muttered.

“I want to know and I care if it means, in a day, you’ve found and hooked up with Rambo,” Troy clipped, jerking his head at Hawk.

Hawk did that deep, manly, amused chuckle.

Tracy missed the chuckle because she was declaring, “It wasn’t a day. They’ve been seeing each other for a year and a half.”

Uh-oh.

Tracy saw the look on Troy’s face, realized what she’d done and said my thought out loud, “Uh-oh.”

“A year and a half,” Troy whispered and my stomach lurched. He looked like I’d kicked him and not in a good place.

Shit, Hawk was right. Troy definitely wanted to get in my pants.

“Troy –” I whispered back and Hawk spoke.

“Friendly advice. Next time, get your head outta your ass and stake your claim.”

My body went solid but it still turned woodenly toward Hawk and I snapped loudly, “Hawk!”

Hawk looked down at me. “Man to man, babe, he’s a man, he can take it and he’s gotta know he fucked up.”

For the first time in my life I was wishing murder wasn’t illegal.

“I can see you’re not in the mood for an intervention,” Tracy said softly to Troy, “but, um… he’s kind of right, honey.”

This time, my mouth dropped open as I stared at my sweet, wouldn’t-do-or-say-a-thing-to-hurt-a-soul Tracy saying something that hurt a soul.

And Troy looked at her just like I’d figure someone would look whose soul was just wounded.

Then he jerked around and started to go.

I pulled away from Hawk, rushed forward and grabbed his hand, saying, “Troy –”

He stopped and shook his hand free, his eyes narrowed on me. “Don’t,” he whispered.

“Troy –” I started, again.

“You need a washer changed or you’re freezing your ass off because your furnace doesn’t work, Gwen, don’t call my number. Call Rambo there,” he jerked his head toward Hawk, “and hope he knows how to use a fucking wrench.”

Then he walked out my front door.

When he did I swung to face Hawk and Tracy.

“What the hell?” I yelled.

“Babe,” Hawk replied.

“I know,” Tracy said softly. “It was harsh, honey, but Cam isn’t here and someone had to say it. She and I have been talking about it for ages. He should have made his move or moved on. He didn’t do either. Now that you have Hawk, maybe he’ll forget about you and move on.”

Cam and her had been talking about it for ages? Why hadn’t they talked to me?

I didn’t ask this. Instead I shouted, “He’s already moved on! He’s got a girlfriend.”

Tracy waved her hand in front of her face. “Hardly. Every girl he picks he picks so they’d be someone he could drop like a rock if you gave him an in. I don’t like her. Cam doesn’t like her. You don’t like her. She’s a whiner. No one likes a whiner. Even Troy. Therefore, easy to drop like a rock.”

I looked at Tracy. Then I looked at Hawk. Then I looked at my audience of commandos.

Then I went into denial.

“This isn’t happening,” I announced. “I can’t do this right now. My Pad Thai is already cold. I need to nuke it, eat it and get work done. No one exists. I live in a world all alone.”

Then I stomped through Tracy and Hawk, up my stairs and to my food.

When I’d grabbed my noodles and turned around, Hawk was in the door.

“Babe,” he said.

“I don’t see you. You don’t exist,” I informed him.

“Gwen, someone had to tell him.”

“No, they didn’t and if they did, it didn’t have to be you,” I shot back.

“I did him a favor.”

“Really? You did? Should I call Troy and ask him if he thought you did him a favor, telling him that shit in front of me, Trace and your bunch of badasses?”

“Next time, he’ll get his finger outta his ass.”

Definitely exploring the boundaries of head explosion.

“Go away. I don’t want to see you for, I don’t know… maybe a million years. A million years ought to do it. If I have a million years, I think I’ll get over being,” I leaned forward, “insanely pissed at you.”

He grinned.

Then he repeated, “Babe.”

“Thanks for the food,” I snapped sounding about as grateful as I felt, which was to say, not at all. I walked toward him and finished, “See you in a million years.”

As I tried to move around him, he caught me with an arm around my belly and I decided not to struggle because firstly, I might drop my Pad Thai and secondly, I’d lose.

“What?” I snapped when I’d twisted my neck to look up at him.

“We’re havin’ dinner tonight,” he informed me.

“No, we’re not,” I informed him. “I’m enduring dinner with Dad and Meredith where I’ll have to explain about Ginger and you. Then I’m working until I fall asleep at the keyboard.”

His brows drew together. “Are you that far behind?”

“Yes!” I shouted. “I was that far behind yesterday when Darla came to visit and I stupid, stupid, stupidly decided to go to Ride. Now I’m even more far behind and all this shit, Hawk, it is not helping.”

“I should let you get shit done,” he muttered.

“You think?” I snapped.

His arm curled, moving me to his front and curving around me so I had to execute evasive maneuvers not to lose my Pad Thai.

“Hawk…” I warned when his head dropped, I twisted my neck to try to avoid it, his arm tightened, his other one wrapping around me, and I failed to avoid his lips hitting my neck.

“You need to get caught up, baby, carve some time out for me,” he murmured against my neck and I was about to say something snotty but wasn’t able to when his tongue touched the skin behind my ear, I instantly forgot I was insanely pissed at him and then he said, “We’re due.”

“Due?” I breathed because I could still feel his tongue behind my ear.

His head came up, he looked at me and he repeated, “Due.”

“For what?”

His black eyes warmed, the dimples popped out and his arms got even tighter, plastering me to his long, hard body.

Oh.

Due.

Mm.

I momentarily forgot that we were over as I stared into his warm, black eyes in the light of day, felt his long, hard body against mine and mentally recalled what that body felt like naked.

Mm.

“Babe,” he called and I blinked.

“Hunh?”

He smiled, this time with white teeth against his beautiful brown skin and he dropped his head and kissed me lightly.

“Get to work,” he ordered.

Then, suddenly, he was gone.

I stood there with my Pad Thai staring at my empty hall thinking, shit.