Bordering On Love Read online

  A cup of romance with a twist of steam.

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission from the copyright holder.

  Bordering On Love

  E-book ISBN: 978-1-7774689-2-7

  First E-book Publication: August 2022

  Cover design by Dawné Dominique

  Edited by Write Right Edits

  All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-one

  Chapter Thirty-two

  Chapter Thirty-three

  Chapter Thirty-four

  Chapter Thirty-five

  Chapter Thirty-six

  Chapter Thirty-seven

  Chapter Thirty-eight

  Other books by Nat

  Message from Grayson

  Dedication

  Unconditional love is the best gift we’ll ever experience.

  Acknowledgment

  To those who have supported my crazy endeavor of writing romance novels, I thank you.

  Bordering On Love

  Chapter One

  F rom Grayson’s vantage point, the decrepit industrial warehouse on the San Diego waterfront appeared quiet. Like him, other members of the narcotics vice squad waited in unmarked vehicles hidden in key locations. Intercepting two hundred million dollars’ worth of cocaine before it hit the streets would put a smile on his face, but the lack of activity indicated the anonymous tip to the task force was bogus.

  He tilted his wrist to check the time. Twenty-three-hundred hours on a warm May night. Until the operation’s lead officer stood them down, Grayson monitored the odd stray cat on a nightly prowl.

  His cell vibrated from the center console. He checked the ID of the caller. Second Chances. He grimaced, recognizing the name of the inner-city shelter.

  “Detective Brooks,” he answered.

  “Hello. This is Emma Flask from Second Chances Rehabilitation. My apologies for disturbing you at this time of night.”

  Maybe he’d luck out and the woman wasn’t calling about Erika, but he seriously doubted it. “What can I do for you, Emma?”

  “A detective by the name of Grant Warren gave me your number when he dropped a woman off at our shelter a few minutes ago.”

  Grant was a buddy and worked in vice as well, but his area of responsibility covered a district in San Diego known for prostitution and small-time drug trade.

  Keeping an eye out for movement near the weathered, metal-clad building with an air of abandonment and broken windows, Gray asked, “Okay, and you’re calling me because…?”

  “Normally, we’d make room for Erika Armstrong. She’s stayed with us before but, unfortunately, we’re over capacity and our policy is that our guests are not under the influence at the time of admittance. Erika is in an agitated state, and I don’t want to release her in this condition for safety reasons. She said you’re her boyfriend and would pick her up.”

  Boyfriend wasn’t a term he’d use. Erika was a woman he kept rescuing every time she hit rock bottom, which was often. Grant hadn’t called him yet, but there was a reason he’d dropped Erika off at the shelter. Grayson guessed it was that or jail.

  “Yeah, all right, I understand. Listen, I’ll be there as soon as I can, but I’m working a case. Give her a cup of coffee and tell her I’m coming. She’ll calm down.”

  “Thank you, Detective.”

  As if the gods favored Erika’s self-induced dilemma, the lieutenant soon called an all-clear over the radio. Grayson responded that he was standing down for the night.

  Driving through the city, he called the detective who had dropped Erika at the shelter.

  On the second ring, Grant answered. “Hey, man. Guess you got the message. Dispatch said you were on the job, and I didn’t want to interrupt.”

  “We’re stood down. I’m heading over to the shelter now. Where did you find her?”

  “The Red Room. I’ve been working the area for the last couple weeks. I know you and Erika have history, which is why I didn’t arrest her when she approached me at the bar. She was looking to make some money the old-fashioned way, if you get my drift.”

  Grayson had hooked up with Erika years ago when he was still a Navy SEAL. She’d been a one-night stand that evolved into a toxic union he couldn’t shake.

  “Yeah, I get your drift.”

  “I’m sorry, Gray. She’s using again, that’s why she wanted some one-on-one time. I figured the shelter would take her, but they were full and not happy about letting her in the door in her current condition. I know it’s not your problem, but it was that or arrest her.”

  Erika’s abusive father and negligent mother had forced her onto the streets at a young age. Extremely beautiful, she’d relied on men to keep a roof over her head, at least temporarily, but she was still a victim. That’s the real reason Grayson kept answering her SOS calls and patiently listening to her vows to kick the drugs. When they were in their early twenties, her appreciation came in the form of wild sex and like an idiot, he’d accepted payment.

  “Thanks for dropping her off,” Grayson said.

  Two blocks from the shelter, he stopped at a red light. A mix of restaurants and stores had grown up around an older suburban neighborhood. The shelter had converted an old apartment complex, adding a medical clinic and counseling facility.

  “You bet, buddy. Not my business, but if I were you, I’d stop playing Clark Kent to her damsel in distress. Guys in our profession have a hard enough time juggling a relationship and the job. You’re never gonna find a future Mrs. Brooks while Erika has you on speed dial every time she gets into trouble.”

  Relationship? Not likely. If nature called, he hooked up, but he’d never run across someone who made him double-time to a jewelry store.

  “If I ever find that elusive creature, I’ll worry about it then.” Grayson was pretty sure she didn’t exist. After ten years with the SEALs and five working for the Sheriff’s Narcotics Task Force, his profession took precedence.

  “Never say never, Gray. I used to think the same thing until I met Donna.”

  “She’s too good for you, man. Say hello to the wife for me.”

  “You bet.”

  He disconnected and slipped the cell into his shirt pocket. Grayson liked Grant’s wife, Donna. She was an intelligent, friendly woman. Before the wedding, the guys from vice squad had thrown Grant a bachelor party. After ten beers, the groom had admitted that falling in lust with beautiful women always ended in disaster. Donna wasn’t a beauty queen but she was all heart, and he was going to love her until death did they part. Grayso
n had to respect that. His parents had been married for thirty years when his mom died unexpectedly.

  When the light turned green, he took a right turn at the intersection.

  He eased the black, unmarked sedan into an empty spot along the sidewalk across from the Second Chances shelter, a brick-faced building with green lawns and landscaped flower beds. Tired, he sighed while shutting the engine off. This record had played so many times, he could almost recite the next two hours verbatim.

  ****

  As Grayson walked into a lobby reminiscent of a hotel with calming, neutral tones, a middle-aged brunette looked up from the computer at reception.

  “Detective Brooks,” she greeted, rounding the desk and offering her hand for a shake.

  “What gave it away?” he asked.

  “You look like a cop.”

  He grinned. Not what an undercover detective wanted to hear. “Thanks. I think.” The name tag on her pale blue nurse’s uniform identified the woman as Emma. “Has she calmed down?”

  She clasped her hands together and offered a professional smile. “Erika is—”

  “Gray! There you are.” Erika’s tight tone announced her approach. She swaggered down the hallway, able to navigate on spike heels while half cut. Wearing skin-tight jeans and a snug, red shirt that barely covered her breasts, she aimed for him then slung her arms around his neck. “Baby, I’m so glad you’re here. Get me outta this place.”

  Her big, blue eyes stared up at him while she blinked her fake lashes. Even with all the drugs she’d put in her system, her features were stunning, with high cheekbones, soft lips, and silky, blonde hair. At five-ten, her rockin’ bod was a man’s wet dream. Grayson gripped her wrists and untangled her hold on him. Chastising her wouldn’t work. He’d tried many times before. Talking sense to an addict fell on deaf ears until the high wore off.

  Grayson nodded at the nurse. “Thanks for keeping her safe.”

  Emma’s brow creased with empathy and understanding. “I’ll have room tomorrow.”

  Erika’s expression curled with disdain. “I’m not coming back here—ever! I don’t need this place. I’m not an addict.” She coiled her cold hands around his upper right arm and leaned against his side. “Grayson, let’s go home.”

  Instead of pointing out that his place wasn’t her home, nor had it ever been, he put a hand to Erika’s back and escorted her out to the undercover sedan, opened the passenger door, and closed it once she’d tumbled inside.

  “Are you mad at me?” she asked in a sweet tone after he got behind the wheel.

  Checking for traffic, then pulling a U-turn, he headed for his townhouse in Grant Hill. “You hungry?” Grayson kept his attention on the road when her slender hand slid over his thigh.

  “For you, always.”

  When her fingers crawled closer to his junk, he placed his palm over her hand and removed it from his leg. “Food, Erika. Are you hungry?”

  She snapped her hand back and crossed her arms over her chest. “No. But I could use a drink.”

  He switched into the left lane and slowed for a red light. “Think you’ve had enough for tonight.”

  Erika swept her luscious hair over her left shoulder. “Guess you know the cop that picked me up.”

  “Yeah, I know him. That’s why you’re not in lock-up.” She wasn’t falling down drunk and could probably string a few thoughts together. “You think it’s wise selling yourself for a hit?”

  “That’s a lie! You always think the worst of me.” When he didn’t respond, she said, “Grayson, I’m not a bad person.”

  “I know that.” He glanced across his shoulder at her. “You’re a victim. And you keep putting yourself in that position every time you numb the pain with narcotics or alcohol.”

  She was quiet for a blissful few minutes but that wouldn’t last, and she didn’t disappoint. “I know a part of you still loves me, Gray. That’s why you come when I call. I wanted things to be different between us, but you wouldn’t let that happen. Your job was always more important than me.”

  He wasn’t going to burst her bubble but he’d never loved Erika. During his time in the Special Forces, she’d find him when he returned from deployment. In those days, she wasn’t smoking crack or popping ecstasy. They’d hook up, and Erika had satisfied his needs. When Grayson left town, she’d warm another team guy’s bed.

  “Erika, I want you to clean up your act. There’s nothing but tragedy waiting at the end of the line if you don’t get help.”

  She shifted onto her left hip. “If that’s what you want, I’ll do it. Even when we’re apart, I think about you. I worry about you, Gray.” She scrounged through her leather purse and pulled out a pack of cigarettes.

  “Put ‘em away. No smoking in the patrol car.”

  She sighed and let the pack tumble from her fingers back into the purse. “We had a lot of good times together. If you’d just give us a chance, we could build a family. I’ve told you that a thousand times.”

  Grayson hung a left and rolled into the entrance of his townhouse complex then took the first right. At the fifth driveway, he turned the wheel and opened the single garage door with the remote access on his phone. With any luck, he’d get a call-out tonight and let Erika sleep it off.

  Easing the sedan past his Ford pickup, he entered the narrow garage, parked and turned off the ignition, then released his seatbelt.

  Erika clutched his arm. “Gray, don’t shut me out. You’ve always done this whenever I’ve talked about a future.” She shook her head, her eyes filled with emotion. “I’m not perfect. I know that. Is that what you’re waiting for? Because if it is, no one will meet your lofty standards. It’s easy for you to criticize someone when you come from a good home and have a successful career. You had all the chances I didn’t.”

  He scrubbed his jaw and eyed her. “I do come from a good home, but the rest I achieved on my own. Every time you drink too much or get high on crack it’s your choice, Erika. Every guy you fuck for money is your decision.”

  “But you never cared,” she whispered.

  “I do care. That’s why you’re staying here tonight, because I hate that a beautiful woman like you continues to destroy herself.”

  Erika snapped her eyes closed as if resisting the truth. “But you saved me. You come when I call. It means something.”

  Yeah, it meant he hated to see anyone suffer. As much as he’d love to snap his fingers and erase her demons, that wasn’t possible. Instead, she kept flying into his net on purpose, hoping he’d change his mind and ask her to stay. Like taming a feral cat, she’d curl up on the couch for a rest but the call of the wild never went away. Nor the urge to party. She’d take refuge at his place for a couple of days, empty his wallet, and take off.

  “It means you need to get some rest,” he said, cracking open the driver’s door.

  Erika followed him into the modest townhouse he’d bought while serving in the Navy. A place to crash, and easy to lock and walk away from for seven months.

  Grayson flicked on the kitchen light. Erika slid up behind him and pressed her breasts against his back.

  “There was always one thing we were good at.” She wrapped her arms around his waist. “You make me wet just looking at you, baby.”

  He turned to face her and Erika flattened her palms on his chest. The urge was there but he hadn’t touched her in five years. “You know where the spare bedroom is. Get some sleep.”

  She huffed and stepped back, her blue eyes steely with determination. Erika gripped the hem of her snug shirt and pulled it over her head. Although his cock flexed at the sight of her perfect breasts and rock-hard nipples, he’d never walk down that road again.

  “How long has it been, Grayson?” She slowly unzipped her jeans and thumbed the waist, shimmying the pants and thong to her ankles, then easing the clothes aside with her foot. “C’mon, Gray. I’m not asking for forever.”

  The woman stood there in nothing but high heels and a seductive smile. Temp
tation begged him to give in. Most men would have her hanging onto the back of the couch by now. Years ago, he’d been one of those guys. Every time they’d hooked up, she’d fallen deeper in love with him.

  “Erika, my cock is staying in my pants.”

  Her face constricted with angry creases, then she swept her clothes from the tile floor and marched out of the kitchen toward the stairs. Grayson released his tight grip on the granite counter and exhaled a deep breath.

  There had to be something wrong with him. No matter what woman he spent the night with, nurturing anything outside of an orgasm never entered the picture. His cock recognized lust and sex, but his heart was color-blind. Never a flicker of light. Before Grayson left his hometown in the Pacific Northwest, he’d been a different guy. At eighteen, he’d joined the Navy, leaving the farm, his friends, and family behind. He’d served his country and now his community.

  A door slammed upstairs and roused him from his thoughts. Instead of using the spare room, she’d entered his bedroom. Grayson shot a glance toward the clock above the sink. Ten past midnight. Time for a cold beer.

  ****

  The shrill ring of his cell woke Grayson with a start. He blinked and reached for his phone sitting next to his empty beer bottle on the coffee table.

  “Six-thirty in the morning. So much for sleeping in.” He shifted to a sitting position on the couch and forked a hand through his hair.

  “Hello.”

  “Gray. Did I wake you?” the woman asked.

  He groaned. “Ivy. Hey what’s up?” he asked his sister.

  “I wanted to catch you before you went to work and before Dad gets up.”

  “Everything okay?”

  Their father had a heart attack last year. The doctors operated, and the old man ended up with a triple bypass and a second shot at his golden years. Samuel Brooks, the patriarch of the family, was tough as nails. When Grayson had watched the TV show “The Ranch”, he’d laughed his head off. Sam Elliot’s character and his father were like twins separated at birth.

  “No, things aren’t okay,” Ivy said.