Chapter Five—Only Basic Facts


Edward waited in his truck across from the cafe the following morning. "Is the owner clean?"

"Isabella Swan has been arrested for protesting and an assault, but the charges were later dropped. There's not much on her record."

He heard Jason Jenks, his go-to man for background checks, typing away on his computer back home. In fact, Jenks was heading out of Chicago in a couple days to join Edward and his security teams to investigate a series of disappearances that might tie to Alec Rossi.

"Ah, she had a thing for speed. Had some speeding tickets, paid for one, the other two she took to court and won." He grunted then whistled. "Damn, she's a looker. Gymnastics, swim team, choir in high school."

Edward cringed and wondered how young she was, considering she barely looked a day over twenty-one. "How old is she?"

"Twenty-five, and wow. . ." Jenks sounded impressed, which rarely happened. Not much would pull him away from a computer. "She has several of these cafes spread out along the West Coast. She fast-tracked through college, has a business degree, minors in computer science and construction. Where the hell has she been all my life?"

Edward's jaw clenched. "Watch it."

Jenks chuckled. "I'm guessing the rumors of you searching for a wife are true."

Edward was going to kill Emmett; his brother loved to gossip. Chicago's barracudas would be after Edward if they knew he was looking for a wife.

"Keep the name and all information to yourself. Do you understand? Not even my father is to know. I just met her."

"Yes, sir." More typing. "Should I send you the file?"

"Yes." Edward ended the call and exited his truck, jogging across the street as the woman in question struggled with a few items in her arms. The trunk of a black Audi was still open. "Need a hand?"

She startled. "Oh, it's you." She wasn't pleased to see him, but her eyes lingered on his chest and arms. The gray T-shirt he wore already worked in his favor.

Edward helped her, taking one of the larger items, a nail gun, from her. "Should I wave a little white flag? Is that the only way I can get a smile from you?"

Her lips pursed for a moment. She handed him a heavy but small box of nail strips for the nail gun. "I'd say buy me a cup of coffee, and we'll see what happens."

"But..." Edward sensed she was trying not to smile.

"But I don't need you to buy me a cup of coffee, since I own a cafe."

He knew she'd say that, playing right into his very capable hands. "You're right—how about dinner?" He followed Bella inside the cafe, a barista waving hello.

She walked into the construction area, pointing at a table for him to put down the items he held.

"Do you normally ask out women who made a fool of you?" There was that smile, but it wasn't aimed at him.

The memory of her note and condoms still made him chuckle. "No, I'm afraid public humiliation is not my kink." He loved her reaction.

Her mouth dropped open in surprise.

"But a woman who calls me on my bullshit, her, I'd love a chance to get to know better."

Bella's arms crossed over her chest, her hip resting against the table. "I'm not sure. There's something about you I can't figure out."

Edward promised himself he'd do his best to avoid lying to her; something told him she'd see right through blatant lies. "How about you ask me a few questions, then you can decide if I deserve a smile."

She seemed wary. "In exchange for a date?"

Edward wondered if he could give her something for nothing. He normally didn't work that way, but he was in Washington for a reason. To find someone who would be unconditionally loyal, and couldn't be bought. Someone who believed family was most important.

"I'll take the date off the table." He slipped his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. "For now." He leaned toward her, finding her perfume alluring. It stirred his senses. "Three questions, three answers. No date unless you decide it's what you want."

It didn't take long for her to decide. "I'll bite, only because I'm curious by nature." She didn't immediately ask a question; instead, she started to walk around him. "Your clothes and truck say construction, or something outside, but your fingernails give you away. They're too clean."

Her pinky finger hooked around his, her body coming to a stop along his right side. She had him aching with such a simple touch.

Warmth ran up the length of his arm, his body reacting to her nearness in various ways. Her hands were softer than his, almost luxurious. She took care of her body.

She studied his hand. "The skin on your hands is soft, so you don't work with them, at least not outside."

Edward was used to women assessing him the moment he walked into a room. Some he immediately intimidated, others were desperate to sink their nails into him. This woman's tour around him felt intimate and strangely important.

Her fingers brushed the middle of his palm, and he felt the thrum of her pulse along her wrist. She dropped his hand a second later, almost as if she were afraid of her reaction. "What do you do for a living?"

Edward already had an answer prepared, and it was something he had dabbled with in college. "Web design, and I work from home." He winked. "That last part was for free."

She stopped in front of him, her eyes settling on his lips. Her study of his features felt like a touch. He wanted her to touch him. "And home is here in Washington? Has it always been?"

"I needed a change of scenery." He licked his lips, her mouth parting to pull in a shuddering breath. Was she as affected by him as he was by her? "I left home back in Illinois a couple weeks ago."

Not a lie.

Confusion tightened her brow. "That's strange, I've been to Chicago. Almost everyone I met had an accent."

Edward laughed. "I traveled a lot growing up, so I lost it over time." He offered nothing else, but had a feeling she wanted to know more.

Her gaze held more questions. It wasn't easy to describe her eyes—various shades of brown, touches of gold and green, mixing into something mesmerizing. All framed by dark, long lashes. She was beautiful.

"My name is Edward Masen." He also reminded her of their deal, leaning closer to whisper. "One more question, Bella."

"My employees and customers call me by that, everyone else calls me Isabella." She grumbled something about the matchmaking schemes of Mrs. Cope. Deep in thought, she circled his body one last time, lingering behind him.

He looked over his shoulder, her eyes on his thighs or ass, likely both. "Isabella."

He felt her shiver.

Their eyes met; there was no shame in hers. "What time are you picking me up Friday?"

Now she surprised him.

He turned toward her, taking hold of her wrist, pulling her closer. Another shiver moved deliciously through her, chest to chest. "Eight, Friday, dinner and dancing."

The look in his eyes made her press closer, her fingers flexing in his hold. "Something tells me you're trouble, Mr. Masen."

If she only knew.

.

.

.

Edward and Isabella weren't ready to end their interaction, touring her cafe, going over expansion plans. She welcomed his opinion about lighting, after he explained his mother called herself an interior designer. There was truth in his words, and he often helped his family with design at their clubs.

He wanted to stay and spend more time with her—but what was the saying? Always leave them wanting more.

"I should go. I have a lot of work to do at home." He did, and Jenks' report on Isabella Swan was waiting for him.

She had taken a seat right beside him when they sat and shared the morning's paper and a couple cups of coffee. The move surprised him, and though he wanted to look at her, having her closer felt infinitely better. She bumped his shoulder and gave him a killer smile.

"I do have work to do, too."

"Do you have an office here?" Edward would send his crew to insure the building's safety and security system, as a precaution. His enemies knew nothing of Isabella, and he intended it to stay that way, for now.

"In the back and another one upstairs." She probably rented out the floor above for storage. "How about you give me your phone number and maybe we can do lunch soon?"

Edward couldn't stop the pull on his lips, likely resembling a smirk.

Isabella laughed. "Oh, your ego just went up a few notches, didn't it?"

He simply smiled as he entered his number in hers and called his phone to gain her number. "There you go, Miss Swan." He rose to his feet, bending to press a kiss to her cheek. A sweet sigh had him stilling for a moment beside her ear. "And now a few more notches."

Isabella pushed him away, laughing again. "So much trouble. Now go so I can get some work done." She watched him leave, a smile still on her lips that matched his own.

.

.

.

Once Edward returned to the house, he printed out Jenks' report and flipped through Isabella's history. Mostly basic facts made up the file. If he wanted to know what made her tick, he needed to gain that knowledge through her. He wanted to know everything, from her hobbies to what her favorite foods were, or if she had a sweet tooth like him.

Her grades throughout school were remarkable, even college, graduating at the top of her class. She seemed to have a taste for speed as Jenks had stated, having been to several racetracks for training. She had a license to fly small planes and was a certified skydiver.

Edward had a feeling Isabella was going to surprise him even more, and he couldn't wait. He went to bed that night after exchanging texts with her, and she had made the first move by asking if he danced.

He did dance, and the idea of holding Isabella's incredible body while they moved across a dancefloor called for some relieving. His hand curled tight around his cock as images invaded his mind and made him groan.

Isabella, on her knees, on the floor, her hands on his ass as he fucked her mouth.

Isabella bent over the hood of her sexy car, his cock pounding into her from behind.

His mouth on her pussy, her body thrashing as she came with a scream of his name.

The last one had him coming hard.

Reality would be a hundred times more intense. How the hell was he supposed to take it slow when he wanted it all?

.

.

.

Over the following days, leading to their date, Edward stopped by the cafe to share a coffee or lunch with her, keeping personal questions for a more intimate setting.

Edward received an unexpected call the morning of his date with Isabella, wiping away the anticipation he felt all week. Calls from his family were rarely good news.

"Edward?"

Edward checked the time; it wasn't even six yet. "Hello, Mother."

"Good morning, Son." The worry and the hundred questions were in those three little words.

Jasper had refused to talk to any of the family for the last couple days, claiming he needed time. The fact one of her sons wouldn't talk to her had made Esme Grace Cullen cling to her other boys.

Emmett had complained their mother was overfeeding him, a first in his entire life. Even his father and uncles said Esme practically lived in her kitchen, and she was driving the small estate staff crazy.

"How are you?" Edward scrubbed a hand over his face, rising from bed to start the day. There was no way he'd manage to fall back to asleep after a call from his mother. He wasn't one for sleeping in, usually; there was little time for it back home.

In Washington, he was getting used to more sleep, leaving him time to dream of Isabella, but also old nightmares.

He shook off the darkness, his fingers absentmindedly skimming over several scars, remnants from his kidnapping. Most of what happened was lost in his head, his memories blocked from even himself. He found it increasingly disturbing not to be able to remember; especially, knowing they never found one of men involved in the incident.

"Edward?"

Damn, he needed to focus. "Sorry, I'm just getting out of bed."

"Shoot, I didn't even notice the time. I'll call you back say in thirty minutes."

"Sounds good; that should be enough time for the coffee maker to kick in and a shower."

"My, my." His mother giggled; a sound she rarely allowed to slip through her perfect composure. "You sound awfully domestic, Son."

"I have made coffee before." A lie, but his mother didn't know that.

"I'm sure you're right, dear. I'll call you back soon. It'll give you time to tell me about this woman you've been seen with."

Edward was going to kill his security crew. He knew they were loyal to the family, but he wanted to keep Isabella to himself for a little while.

"I see."

He'd share with her as little as possible, and under no circumstances would he reveal Isabella's name. Not yet, not when it was all so new. Despite it all, something told him, Isabella was important. It was up to him to figure out how much.


AN: Thanks to Midnight Cougar for all your help with this! Next is a more detailed version of their first date compared to the one shot version. See you soon.