Rewriting Romance (Bonus)

Kayla C. Oliver

Chapter One

Trent

 

 

Marnie was talking. In my personal opinion, that was all she did. Talk, talk, talk. She was like the energizer bunny, minus the drum and with a permanent scowl on her otherwise pretty face. You would think sleeping with my best friend might change some of that, but no. Maybe that was why I didn’t give two shakes about the blah that was coming out of her mouth. She was my editor, and it was a given that she was trying to make my book better, but I was confident. I didn’t need the fucking help, and I didn’t need it from some woman whose idea of a job was picking someone else’s work apart.

And I wonder why she’s constantly scowling, I thought mildly.

If I was honest about things, it wasn’t really Marnie McKenna’s fault that I was basically zoning out during our little meetings. Sure, I thought editors were full of shit and that I had climbed to the top without them, thank you very much, but my mind was elsewhere and that had more to do with my lack of interest than anything else.

She was wearing purple.

I could picture the sexy little spitfire that was Marnie’s assistant in my head with perfect clarity. She was short, but curvy in the best kind of way. Hips that made you want to put your hands on ’em and tits that begged to be suckled. She had that retro curly-hair thing going on that was fucking Marilyn sexy on her, and I wasn’t a big fan of purple, but damn she made that dress look good.

It would look better on the floor, her standing beside it in those damn killer heels, not a stitch on her…

My mind couldn’t help but wander to the things I wanted to do to her. The least of which was kiss those fire-engine-red lips.

Fucking sexy.

But, of course, there was a small hitch with what my cock wanted. Marnie’s assistant, Courtney Hughes, hated my guts.

It was a real problem point in our relationship.

“Damnit, Harvey, are you even listening to me?”

I blinked, Marnie’s pissed-off voice bringing me back to her office. She was tapping her nude-painted nails on her desktop. Behind the desk, I could see her knee bobbing, telling me her legs were crossed. And her eyes were narrowed in the equivalent to fire and fury.

To my credit—or detriment—I didn’t wince. Instead, I smiled wanly and shrugged. “Sorry, what did you say?”

She opened her mouth, ready to let me have it, when I interrupted her by standing up.

“Never mind,” I told her congenially. “I’m not going to listen this time anyway. I’ve got other stuff to take care of, so don’t you worry your pretty little head about it.”

I didn’t think I could make Marnie McKenna any angrier than I had, but as her freckled face reddened, I realized I’d managed to do just that. There was some part of me deep down inside that was slightly terrified of her in the way that all men are terrified of an angry female, but I reminded myself that she couldn’t do anything. I held all the cards.

I was the one she’d signed to S&W Publishing.

I was the one who won her that much-sought-after partnership.

And I was the one who was going to make her and her associates a lot of fucking money with my latest soon-to-be best-selling novel.

So she could take her anger and shove it where the sun don’t shine.

“You are two months behind the original deadline!” she ground out from behind gritted teeth. Her hands slapped onto the top of her desk, palms flat, her eyes glittering in anger like a Disney villain’s. “If you don’t get your shit together—”

“You’ll what?” I taunted lightly. “Cancel my contract?”

She ground her teeth together in a really unhealthy manner. I might have pointed that out except I wasn’t an idiot. She was an angry redheaded woman. All I needed to do was find out she was Irish and that would seal the crazy deal.

“Get me the manuscript, Harvey, or it’s your ass.”

That was all she told me and while the warning rang true, I knew there wasn’t really anything she could do.

I smiled broadly, showing as many pearly white teeth as I could. “Sure, sure, sweetheart. I’ll get it to you.”

Before she exploded at me for the sweetheart comment, I sauntered out of there feeling as though I’d won a victory. Maybe that was petty of me, but I was a petty man and big enough to admit it.

As soon as I’d exited Marnie’s office, however, I encountered another angry woman who wanted to wring my neck. Unfortunately, she was the one that I was using as source material for my wet dreams at night.

Fucking sexy Courtney Hughes. She was even a goddamned secretary. How could I not have dirty thoughts about her?

My smile faltered and for just a second I thought about walking back into Marnie’s office just to beg for a little more time to figure out what to say to Courtney. But it was too late. Courtney’s steely eyes flickered up toward me, the rest of her body facing away and sitting up straight.

I suddenly had a lot more appreciation for posture. Sitting straight meant her breasts were pushed slightly forward, round and perky in that tight-fitting purple dress, cleavage begging to spill from the deep-cut neckline. Her back was curved slightly, emphasizing her slim waist as it flared out into those fucking sexy, grab-me-some hips.

I felt my dick harden in my trousers, and suddenly I wished I’d been wearing jeans. They did a little more to hide the evidence of my arousal.

Nothing to do about it, I thought, adjusting my belt in an effort to discreetly adjust my cock.

“Hello, Miss Hughes,” I greeted the little vixen, letting my broad smile turn sultry and sexy.

Her full, bright red lips pursed together tightly as her eyes narrowed, the long lashes silky and dark against her pale skin. When her lips parted, I imagined all kinds of naughty things, including but not limited to sliding my already hardened cock between them. Which of course led to images of her on her knees with an excellent view of her cleavage, followed by her not in a dress, followed by—

Well, the rest is pretty obvious.

Unfortunately, her line of thinking didn’t exactly go the same way.

“Do I look like I’m in grade school, Mr. Harvey?”

Her tone was a shade above nuclear winter. I internalized my wince, managing to hold on to my grin.

Letting my eyes wander over that tight, sexy little body of hers, I dragged them back up to her face as I said, “No, you most definitely do not.”

Her cheeks darkened, but her eyes remained narrowed. “Then don’t call me miss. It’s Ms. Hughes to you.” She turned away from me then and went to typing on her computer. Her little movements were just enough to jiggle those lovely tits, and that held my attention for a moment longer.

Shaking my head, I said, “My apologies, then. Maybe I should just call you Courtney so I don’t mess it up again.”

She didn’t even look at me. “That would be inappropriate, Mr. Harvey.”

Determined to make some headway with her, I put both hands on her desk in front of her and leaned forward slightly. I could smell a soft, flowery scent that she wore, faint so as not to be overpowering. “C’mon, sweetheart. Why not give a guy a chance? You never know, you might find that you like it.”

“It” could have been any number of things, from dating to kissing to my cock buried so deep inside her that she screamed out mine and God’s name in the same breath. I let her decide for herself on that one.

I thought her blush deepened slightly, and I marked that one down as a victory. She was definitely thinking of my cock now.

The downside was a second later, I found out what else she was thinking of. “That’s okay. I already know what I do and don’t like, and I know for a fact that I don’t like a cocky, womanizing asshole. Namely, you.”

The phone rang then, which was probably a good thing because I didn’t know what in the fuck I was supposed to say in response to that.

A player. That was what she thought of me.

Which I would love to wholeheartedly deny in this particular instance, but I couldn’t. I liked my women, and I liked to play with them until I didn’t. Numbers weren’t important so much as the experience was. There was a little tickle in the back of my mind that was telling me that Courtney wasn’t the kind of girl to just play with, but I was ignoring that. Just like I was ignoring the one that was hinting that I maybe wasn’t looking to just play with her.

“Marnie McKenna’s Office, S&W Publishing, this is Courtney,” she answered in a professionally friendly voice. All the while she shot daggers at me like I was a spinning knife-thrower’s target at the circus. “Oh, hey, Callum. Yeah, she’s out of her meeting.”

She transferred Callum back—who happened to be my best friend—then addressed me again. “What are you still doing here? Can’t you see I’m busy?”

Before I even came up with an answer, she returned to her computer and plucked away at it.

I thought of telling her to have a nice day or that she should give me a chance again or that I was the “agent” that she’d been talking to on the phone for the last three months, but I couldn’t quite bring myself to say any of that. So I turned around and left, letting the elevator doors close on my image of the spicy, sexy Courtney Hughes.

Chapter Two

Trent

 

 

I wasn’t in a foul mood so much as in a depressed mood when I got home. Sarah poked her head into the living room as I plopped down on the couch like a sack of potatoes, complete with a deep, mournful sigh.

Her dark eyebrows rose, her mouth kicked half up in an amused smile. “Really? That bad?”

I grunted in answer.

She shook her head at me, coming farther into the living room. She plopped down beside me. “I know McKenna’s supposed to be a ballbuster, but it’s not like you to be such a weenie about it.”

There were a few things that should be known about Sarah Allens. First, she was a very good friend of mine. The kind of friend that passed the test of time and still managed to not hate my guts. The kind of friend that looked past the bullshit and the drama to see that beneath my cocky exterior, I had a less abrasive, slightly less cocky interior that generally meant I wasn’t a total asshole.

Sometimes.

It was this friendship that let her get away with things like calling me a weenie.

The second thing was that she acted as my roommate, secretary, editor, agent, idea emulsifier, and general business operating badass. Without her, my work fell apart. It was a little unmanly to admit, but I was pretty sure all men had some woman working behind the scenes to ensure his personal success. Generally it was the woman they married, but it wasn’t like that with Sarah. We were platonic friends, pure and simple, and we were both okay with that. For a player like me, it was nice to just have a female friend that I wasn’t fucking on the side. That just got messy.

Lastly, she hated Marnie McKenna, my editor. It wasn’t anything personal, per se. In fact, Sarah had never even met Marnie. But she’d been obsessed with Callum for as long as she’d known him and as long as I’d known her, meaning Marnie was automatically her enemy.

“I am not being a weenie,” I defended. “And if I were, it would be a huge weenie, meaning it wasn’t weenie-like at all.”

She rolled her eyes at me. “So you’re saying you would be a dick?”

I winced. “Okay, not what I meant.”

“A cock?”

“Sarah,” I said in warning.

She shrugged. “I’m just saying that McKenna is just an editor. You’ve had loads of them. None made you this miserable before. I don’t see why you’re letting her get under your skin now.”

I mulled over the idea of spilling what was going on with Courtney, but that seemed… complicated. So, much like I usually did, I took the path of least resistance and told her about my meeting instead.

“It’s not Marnie that’s the problem.” I paused and considered that, then shrugged. “Not really anyway. She’s a pain in my ass, but that’s the job of an editor. They stress so I don’t have to, and when shit rolls downhill, there’s heat on her, and so pressure gets put on me. Simple as that.”

“Fine. So it’s not the ballbuster. What is it?”

“The manuscript.” It was more or less the truth. My book was due for publication in only a couple of months’ time, meaning I was way behind. I wasn’t in the red yet, but Marnie had decent reason to be pissed at me, and it wasn’t for the sweetheart comment. She still had to go over everything I submitted—even though it was automatically awesome—and I wasn’t leaving her a lot of time to do that. Worse, I knew it.

Sarah’s eyebrows rose in question. “And?”

“I don’t know what my issue is,” I admitted. It was confession time, much as I loathed it. “I feel like my inspiration has evaporated. Something’s missing. I sit down at my damn computer and see that fucking blank page and want to tear my hair out.”

“You’re bald,” she pointed out mildly.

I scowled at her. “I choose to shave my head. That’s not the same thing.”

She rolled her eyes. “Choosing to be bald doesn’t mean you’re not bald.”

“Bald is a term for people losing their hair, not for those who decide their head is too magnificently shaped to deny the rest of the world.”

Hey, I was dark skinned. I could have a bald head and still look good.

“You mean your ego is so big there isn’t any room for hair follicles?”

I shrugged. “Yeah, some of that, too.”

She considered me for a moment, mulling something around in her head before laying it on me. “You always do this, you know.”

“Well, yeah, writing is kind of my career choice.”

She ignored my quip and continued as though I hadn’t said anything. “You get all juiced up for a project, hyper as a damn rabbit, then you get 30 or 40 percent through and hit a roadblock. You come to me and whine about how you’ve lost your inspiration and that you’ll never finish.”

I slung one arm over the couch and glanced at her out of the corner of my eyes. One of the things that sucked about having a best friend was that they already knew all of your bullshit.

“But then you find it again, get your ass into gear, and have a coffee-binging-slash-writing marathon to get the damn thing finished on time. Which you always manage to do.”

I scratched at the bottom of my chin, jutting it out slightly in front of me as I raised an eyebrow at her skeptically. “Yeah, well, maybe this time is different.”

“You say that every time, too.”

I paused. Then I said, “You’re just not going to let me off the hook for this one, are you?”

She shook her head. “Nope.” She patted my thigh affectionately. “Suck it up. Like you said, this is your career.”

I scowled at her as she grinned and stood up, looking pleased with herself. I kept up the scowl until she left the room for her office, which was a second door off the main hallway. When she was out of sight, I sat back with a heavy sigh. There was a rational part of my mind that knew she was right. I did this to myself. Excited about a new project, burn myself out, hit a writer’s block, and finally pick up my steam all over again for the win.

But there was another, less optimistic side of me, and that one said I was screwed.

Letting my head fall back, I considered just lying there like the sack of shit I was imitating today. But before I could do that, I heard Sarah’s voice echo down the hall.

“Get off your ass, Harvey.”

I rolled my eyes. Damnit, she knew me well. But I heaved myself off the couch anyway and headed up the stairs toward my workshop. I sat down at my desk, facing my dreaded blank screen. Putting my fingers on the keyboard, I braced myself for the crap that was going to flow from my mind, none of it worth keeping.

Before I could add pressure to even a single key, my phone went off. I mentally chided myself for not turning the damn thing off. Rule one: Never leave electronic distractions in the room.

I dug my phone out of my pocket and was about to silence it when I saw that it was Callum.

My eyebrows rose, but I answered it. “I would have thought you were busy sexting Marnie with unsolicited dick pics,” I said by way of greeting.

I heard him grunt on the other side. My words were meant to irk him, and that grunt told me I’d been successful. But Callum was almost as close to me as Sarah; he was used to my shit.

“Who says they’re unsolicited?”

I laughed. “Hey, I don’t want to know what kinds of kinky shit the two of you do to entertain yourselves.” I paused, then added, “But if you want to send me a pic of your lady in some sexy lingerie, I wouldn’t be opposed.”

“Trent,” Callum warned.

I grinned but didn’t push it. Marnie was attractive, but not really my type. In other words, she was a pain in the ass. Besides, Callum was over the moon for her, despite his lack of belief in love as he put it.

Ignoring me, Callum cleared his throat, and a note of apology formed in his voice. “I called because I’m going to have to cancel our plans this afternoon.”

“Are you breaking up with me?” I whined, placing an exaggerated hand over my chest, though he couldn’t see it.

I could almost hear the eye roll through the phone. Impressive. “Don’t be an ass. I have something to take care of, so you’re on your own.”

“No linner together?”

“Please stop calling it that,” he groaned.

Linner. Lunch and dinner. It sounded horrible, which was why I enjoyed using it so much.

“Fine, fine,” I chuckled. “What’s this thing you have to take care of anyway?”

There was a beat. A pause too long to be natural. It was unlike Callum to withhold something, but that pause told me that was exactly what he was intending on doing. “It’s nothing.”

My eyebrows rose and I sat up straight in my chair. “Nothing is why you’re canceling on me?” I pushed.

He huffed. “No, of course not. I just have something else to do.”

“Something else.”

“Yes, Trent, something else. Believe it or not, you are not the only thing in my life.”

“If you’re just doing kinky shit with Marnie, you can just tell me. I won’t hold it against you.”

His voice dropped slightly in warning. “That’s not what I mean.”

“Then what the fuck is it?”

“Jesus, Trent, it’s fucking nothing. Why do you have to make a big deal out of everything?”

He didn’t necessarily sound heated, but he sounded annoyed—or nervous. How very unlike my dear friend…

“All right,” I told him finally. “You let Marnie tie you up. I won’t say anything.”

He huffed, but sounded relieved more than annoyed. “Whatever. I’ll text you tomorrow.”

We hung up then, and I wondered what he was so wound up about. What was this thing he didn’t want to tell me about? He didn’t do a lot of secret keeping with me. Mostly I just didn’t think he had enough of a life outside of business to bother with personal secrets, and business secrets were boring.

Maybe it really is something dirty with Marnie, I thought.

An image of Callum and Marnie bumping uglies ran through my head before I could stop it. I shuddered. I liked my friend and Marnie was sexy, but I didn’t need to see them in the throes of passion.

“Christ, how am I supposed to write with that image?” I said out loud.

It turned out I wouldn’t have to worry about it. Before I’d even put my phone down, it chimed in my hand. I unlocked it to see a new message.

Are we going to meet?

I groaned loudly and tossed my phone across the room to land on the couch in the corner with a flop. My hands scrubbed at my face as I realized just how much I was screwed.

The message was from Courtney Hughes and it was to Malcom Resner, my agent. Except I didn’t have an agent, and there wasn’t anyone named Malcom Resner.

Malcom was my middle name. Resner I’d taken from my bookcase in a panic when I realized that Courtney wanted a name from me.

And therein lay the rub.

Courtney hated my guts. She thought I was a conceited, womanizing asshole. Which wasn’t wholly inaccurate. I never promised a woman anything, and if she thought she was getting it, it was her fault, not mine. But I definitely wasn’t what one would call chivalrous. I liked to fuck ’em and leave ’em. I was good in the sack, so I figured they got something for their trouble regardless. But I had a thing for Courtney and wanted to pursue it if she’d just give me a damn chance.

The trouble was that she was giving me a chance—she just didn’t know it was me. She thought it was my agent, and I was playing that up. We were texting, talking on the phone, emailing. And it wasn’t necessarily kinky, but it was kind of personal, intimate. Now, she wanted to take it to the next level. Which I did, too. Images of her puckered ruby lips parting to let the head of my cock pop into her mouth flooded most of my brain, and the rest involved me balls-deep in her pussy.

But I couldn’t figure out how to get her to be okay with going out to meet Malcom Resner only to figure out he was Trent Harvey.

Somehow, I didn’t think she’d take it well.

I debated how I was supposed to answer her until it was too late to respond. Which may have been my subconscious’s way of not dealing with things. That seemed pretty legitimate.

Ultimately, I left the message unanswered. I undressed, brushed my teeth, threw a paper airplane at my computer, then gave up and went to bed. I told myself I’d figure out what to do in the morning. Until then, I would hope for pleasant dreams involving a certain little ruby-lipped spitfire.

Chapter Three

Courtney

 

 

My drink was sweating on the table in front of me. I’d taken all of two sips of it, and it was my first. Across from me, Elizabeth was on her third and about halfway through it to boot. She was probably also giving me the evil eye considering how rude I was being. But even knowing that I was being rude, I couldn’t stop myself.

I reached for my phone, which I’d put in my purse in an effort to stop myself from checking every five seconds. Digging it out, I checked the notifications. Nothing. I’d sent Malcom that text nearly two hours ago.

“Bastard,” I muttered to myself.

Used to be he would answer me within seconds. Even when he was in meetings and doing agent things. He always made time for me. Hell, even when it looked like Harvey—Malcom’s client, unfortunately—was going to sign with another publisher, Malcom still said he wanted to remain “friends.” Well, we were passing the last few mile markers for friendship and passing into that fast lane of romance.

That was, assuming we ever got around to meeting in person.

“Are you seriously going to spend the whole night with your phone?”

I glanced up to see Elizabeth sitting across from me. Her glass was empty on the table and her arms were crossed. She didn’t look pissed. Yet. But I knew it was only a matter of time if I didn’t pull my head out of my ass and give her some attention.

After all, I hadn’t seen her in years.

I winced apologetically. “Sorry, Liz. I’m just—”

“Waiting on some asshole to text you back?” she supplied nonchalantly as she waved down the waiter again. When he appeared she asked for a refill and a second one for me, even though I hadn’t finished my first. After he left, she fixed her dark eyes on me again. “Seriously. I haven’t seen you this worked up over anyone since… Well, actually, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this worked up over the other half of the species.” She leaned forward conspiratorially. “I always thought you were secretly playing for the other team.”

She winked and I laughed.

“Shut up,” I told her. “First, I am decidedly straight. Girls just aren’t my thing. Second, this isn’t about a guy.”

Liz laughed. “Please. Do you honestly think that’s going to work on me, honey? I know you too well.”

I quickly debated trying to lie convincingly to Liz, but dismissed the idea before I could do something stupid. Truth was, she did know me too well. The only other person who knew me so well was Marnie—and she was a little preoccupied with her own love life to worry over mine.

I sighed and took my drink in my hand. “I don’t know what the hell is wrong with me,” I finally admitted.

Elizabeth shook her head a little. “You and Marnie. I swear, I haven’t seen the two of you in years, and first Marnie flakes on me, then you have a love affair with your phone. What gives?”

“Sorry,” I said again. I really did feel badly about it.

She waved off my apology. “Never mind that. Make it up to me with the deets. Who’s the guy?”

“It’s complicated.”

“All the best stories are,” she said with a grin.

I smiled a little, then caved. “His name’s Malcom. He’s an agent.”

“Ooh, an agent. Trouble from the get-go, eh?”

“You don’t know the half of it. He’s not just any agent—he’s Trent Harvey’s agent.”

That got Liz’s attention. “The Trent Harvey? The dude who sleeps with three girls at a time, has crazy hotel sexapades, and is loaded?”

“I was going to say best-selling author, but sure, that, too,” I responded dryly.

“Oh, whatever. Who cares about the books? He’s sexy, he’s rich, and he’s a total manwhore.”

I nodded in agreement. “Yeah, I’m not going to argue with you on any of those points. But that’s not the point. I’m not texting him. Just his agent.”

“Okay, and what’s the damage with his agent?”

Our drinks came then, prompting me to down the rest of my first one so that I could start on my second. I sipped at it as I dished.

“Marnie got that big account, remember?”

Liz nodded.

“Well, it was Harvey’s account. It was a whole big deal—I’m not going to get into the nitty-gritty of it, but there was some competition involved with another publisher. Tarvish Press. Anyway, I’m trying to help her get the account by dealing with Harvey and his agent.”

“So… this is a business thing?” Liz lifted a skeptical eyebrow.

I shrugged. “No, but it started out that way. The account was what Marnie needed to make partner. I pulled every string I could to get that damn account.” I hesitated before slowly adding, “Including making a deal with Malcom.”

Liz’s eyes lit up, and she leaned forward, her face splitting in a grin. “Oh, a deal, eh? And what kind of deal was it? What fancy-shmancy schmoozing did you have to do? Tell me it was something dirty, kinky, and or totally skanky.”

I rolled my eyes. “Don’t be crude. I promised him a favor.”

She was still grinning as she asked, “Has he cashed it in yet?”

I spit my tongue out at her like we were back in college. Then I sat back in my chair. “No, that’s actually part of the problem.”

“Now I’m confused. What?”

I took a longer sip from my drink. “We’ve been talking since Marnie got the account. And texting. And emailing.”

“But?” Liz prompted.

“But that’s it. We haven’t met in person. I don’t even know what this guy looks like!”

Liz’s grin dropped as her eyebrows rose high up on her head. “What? Are you crazy?”

I blinked. Probably,I thought, but all I said was, “I hope not.”

Liz ignored my answer and pushed forward. “You’re getting worked up over some guy you haven’t even seen before?”

I winced. “Um, kind of?”

Liz muttered some things under her breath that I couldn’t catch, then downed her drink. She signaled the waiter for another, which likely meant he’d bring another for me. Not that I would mind. I was starting to think I’d need more than a few tonight.

“Jesus. Okay, before I list off the million reasons why you’re being dumb right now, I’ll ask you this: why not just meet him, then?”

“I’ve tried,” I blurted, not even caring that she was going to tell me what an idiot I was being. Hell, I probably needed someone to tell me. “We’ve made plans to go out for drinks, to have coffee, to grab brunch. Every time he cancels on me. Something comes up. His fucking dog dies, whatever, and I’m left with no plans and no idea what I’m doing wrong.”

There was a pause, then, “Did his dog actually die?”

I rolled my eyes. “No! I don’t think he even has a dog. It was just an example.”

“Oh, good. Because that is a 100 percent legitimate excuse. Like, I would forgive someone for blowing me off over that.”

I waited impatiently for her to get to her point.

“Sorry,” she apologized, then leaned back and considered me. “So you’re upset over some dude you’ve never even met in person?”

I nodded.

“And he’s blown off meeting you several times.”

I nodded again.

“And you’re still stalking your text messages waiting for him to respond?”

“Um.”

“‘Um’ is an admission of guilt,” she informed me, her tone and pose superior. “To which I have only this to say: what the hell happened to that ball-busting, take no prisoners, hell-on-wheels girl I know and love?”

The corners of my mouth tugged down in a pout. “I am not a ballbuster.”

“Not anymore!”

“I never have been.” When she just stared at me, I added, “I’m just selective.”

“You mean sardonic. Pessimistic. Angry at men.”

“Realistic,” I countered. “Cautious.”

She shrugged her slender shoulders. Sitting there in the soft lighting, her hair so pale it was almost white and her limbs so long and elegant, it was no wonder how she became a model. She had to be born for it. “Whatever. Point is, the old Court never would have let herself get all wound up over some guy.”

I frowned. There was a thread of truth there that tugged at me. I didn’t think of myself as a “man hater,” though obviously my friends leaned that way. I just didn’t like to bend over backward for some guy. And now, I was starting to think that was exactly what I was doing.

When did I get so damn pathetic?

“What are you suggesting?”

She smiled silkily at me. “Dump the prick.”

“What?”

“You heard me, dump him.”

“But we’ve really connected.”

She laughed at me. Loudly. Several people from other tables actually glanced over at us when they heard her. It made me wince, but I tried to convince myself it didn’t make me feel uncomfortable.

“What?” I demanded when her laughter was dwindling to chuckles.

She wiped dramatically at her eyes. “Nothing, it’s just… have you heard yourself? I mean, you sound like the kind of girl we always used to laugh at. Connected, seriously.” She shook her head. “Fact is, connection or not, if this thing with him was really meant to be, you would have already met. It wouldn’t be this difficult, you know? Relationships should be organic, not forced, and it really sounds like this guy is pulling back on the reins.”

I sat silently for several moments. My stomach churned and it wasn’t because of the fruity, sugary alcoholic beverages we were consuming. I had a bad feeling all of a sudden, because there was a big part of me that knew Liz was right. I shouldn’t have to fight to get him to so much as meet me. If he didn’t want to meet me, then I shouldn’t have to fight to convince him otherwise.

Despite the bitterness that was crawling up my throat, I forced a smile at Liz. Then I held up my glass to her. “You’re right. To organic relationships,” I toasted.

“To man haters, the only ones who have it figured out,” she countered.

I laughed, and then we downed our drinks. A moment later, the waiter came with our refills. Liz told him to keep them coming. We were going to get completely trashed. Liz gave the waiter a card with the number of her preferred taxi and said that when we were ready to go, he should call them. The waiter easily agreed.

Then we drank.

Chapter Four

Trent

 

I tapped a pen idly against the edge of my desk as I reclined back in my chair. I was trying to think of what greatness I was supposed to bring to life on my computer today. Unfortunately, I was drawing a blank. Ideas might as well have been raindrops in the damn Sahara. Few, far between, and evaporative as hell. There was no inspiration that morning, which was why I was thinking of Courtney Hughes, sexy secretary.

Or maybe there was no inspiration because all I could think about was Courtney Hughes. Either way, she was on my mind.

I slumped forward and put my hands on the keyboard. Words flowed from my fingertips at a hearty eighty-eight words per minute until I had half a page full of them. Then I decided they were complete crap and erased the whole damn thing.

“Fuck,” I muttered to the screen.

I tried again, my fingers hesitating for a moment before the words started to come.

Her eyes were cold, guarded, but I knew that warmth lay beneath them. I’d seen it before. Warmth that turned into fire as she opened up to me. Heat spilled from the ruby-red plumpness of her lips, slipped from her pink tongue, until she was breathing fire. A fire that consumed me. I watched as that fire slipped down her slender throat, over those delicate shoulders, and down. Down beneath the fabric of her dress, dipping between her breasts to form that line of cleavage that led to the promise of spicy sweetness.

I longed for a taste of that—

My fingers paused on the keyboard as I realized what I was doing. My novel wasn’t really a romance. There were a few spicy moments for the sake of character development—and because a little fucking never hurt anyone—but it wasn’t about love. It was a murder mystery about a guy dealing with an existential crisis as he considered the possibility that his father was a serial killer.

Not exactly the kind of novel that needed extended details on a woman’s cleavage.

What was worse, I knew that the woman I’d described wasn’t Kelly, my female love interest. No, the woman I’d just been writing about was Courtney. Her perky breasts. Her full, red, red lips. Her ice-cold eyes.

“Damnit.”

I deleted the whole section, knowing I wouldn’t be able to use it. Worse, knowing that it was going to give me a raging hard-on that I wouldn’t be able to make go away without envisioning her in some compromising positions.

Sighing, I shook my head and got up. I needed a break from that damn computer.

Stretching first, I tried to figure out what I was going to do. Not about the novel—that would either come together or it wouldn’t, just like always—but about her. She wanted to meet, but if I let that happen, she would not be happy. She was expecting Malcom Resner, but she was going to get Trent Harvey. But I couldn’t leave things as they were either. She wanted more. I could practically taste it in her text messages.

And honestly, I wanted more, too. I wanted to touch her and taste her and feel her in my arms. I was a physical person, and it was killing me to do this through text messages. Especially when I knew what she looked like.

Fucking sexy.

What am I going to do?

I paced around my office, trying to come up with a solution to the mess I’d created. But I had nothing. There was no getting out of this short of a face transplant, and I didn’t think I wanted to try that John Travolta movie thing anyway.

I slid my hands over my smooth head, trying to come up with an answer.

If she would just give the real me a chance, I know I could win her over.

At least, I thought I could. There was a part of me that acknowledged that her hatred for me seemed to run pretty deep. But I was confident. She obviously liked my personality, or she wouldn’t still be texting Trent.

I was thinking myself into circles, and it was exhausting. Deciding that I needed a break—from thinking about Courtney and from working on my damn novel—I headed downstairs in search of coffee and food. Maybe I’d go to that café I liked.

Or, well, pretended to like. It was more for show than anything else. It was one of those hip places that authors like me were supposed to be into. And I knew that sometimes the best way to sell yourself was image. Look the part. Cafés helped me look the part.

I grabbed my phone as I headed downstairs. Rule one of writing: turn off or silence all electronic devices that weren’t actively being used for writing. Meaning my phone was not in the picture when I was working.

As I turned it on, it told me that I had several missed calls. They were all from Marnie.

I didn’t bother to listen to the voicemails. I could guess.

“What’s taking so long?” and “Do you take anything seriously?” and my personal favorite, “Get the damn manuscript done or it’s your ass.” All in that lovely tone of pissed-off redhead.

No, I definitely didn’t need to listen to the messages.

Once I sifted through the missed calls, I noticed that I also received several text messages. These I was much more invested in. They were from Courtney.

Two in the morning, she texted me this:

Fuck off.

Two after two in the morning, I got a second one.

I don’t need your stupid ass.

Five after two in the morning, I got a third message.

If you aren’t interested in a piece of my lovely self, then I don’t need you.

And finally, eight after two in the morning, I got a final message.

Did I mention I don’t need you? ’Cause I don’t.

“Jesus,” I muttered.

I had a feeling she’d been drunk when sending those messages, but that didn’t mean that she hadn’t meant every one of them. Especially the not needing me part. I felt panic well up inside me, and it was that panic that had me dialing her number before I could talk myself out of it.

The phone rang twice before I heard her pick up. “Hello?” Her voice sounded gruff, sandy. Like she had just woken up or was still hungover.

Before she could say anything else or hang up on me, I launched into the fray. “First, we’re going to fucking meet. For real this time. No bailing, no jokes, no sometime in the fucking futures. I want to see every bit of you, damnit, and I’m tired of waiting. Second, you have to stay for the entire date. You owe me a favor, and I’m cashing in on it.”

That favor was going to be my salvation—and probably get me fucking killed at the same damn time, but I didn’t care. It was my only shot, and I’d make it work.

It had to work.

There was a long stretch of silence, and I almost thought she’d hung up on me. Then, I heard her answer. “Fine. Don’t fuck this up.”

She hung up before either of us could say anything else. But I didn’t care.

She’d stay for the whole date, meaning I had one night to convince her that Trent Harvey was the man she was falling for. Somehow, I knew this was a recipe for disaster.

Chapter Five

Courtney

 

 

My date with Malcom was set for that Friday and I asked Marnie beforehand if I could leave a little early.

“Early? Are you feeling sick, or have you just lost your mind?” she asked incredulously.

I hadn’t so much as shown up five minutes late in the years I’d worked for her. I could see why she was a little surprised.

I lifted my shoulders in a shrug. It was Monday, so I was giving her as much notice as I could. If Malcom had set up this impromptu date a little earlier, I’d have let her know then, but I decided a week was plenty of time to let her know I was getting off a little early. Seriously, she could live without me for a couple of hours.

“I have a hot date,” I informed her with a smile.

Her eyebrows shot up into her hairline. “Seriously? When the fuck did this happen?”

Marnie knew tentatively that I’d been in contact with Harvey’s agent. She didn’t outwardly disapprove, mostly because I didn’t think she knew how serious it was. Hell, I didn’t know how serious it was anymore. And since Harvey was working for S&W Publishing now, it wouldn’t be a conflict of interest or anything.

She never needed to know that I’d been planning on still talking to Malcom even if Harvey decided to go with Tarvish.

“It’s actually been going on for a while,” I informed her. “We’ve been talking and texting and—”

“Wait, so is this a real date or a virtual one?”

I shot her a glare. “A real one, thank you very much.” Finally, I thought but didn’t add. I didn’t need to tell her that the guy had only just manned up enough to meet me in person.

Marnie considered me for a moment. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

For once, she sounded a little hurt, and I felt bad. For about 2.5 seconds.

I gathered up my papers and shoved them into the oversized tote bag that could have fit a body if I chopped it into pieces first. “Oh, please. You had already slept with Callum by the time you told me about what was going on.”

She winced. Point to me. “Okay, I’m sorry. You’re right. I just… don’t want you to feel like you can’t tell me things, you know? We’ve been friends for ages.”

I softened slightly, then nodded. “You’re right. I wasn’t keeping this a secret—I just wasn’t really sure where it was going. I didn’t want to be the asshole who thought the marriage was around the corner when I didn’t even have a first date secured.”

Marnie grinned at me. “Good point.”

“And speaking of friends for ages, Liz missed you last night.”

Another wince and another point for me. “Shit, I’m an asshole.”

I nodded in agreement. “Especially since you bailed for a little sexy time with Callum.”

She scowled at me. “I did not.”

All I did was raise a single eyebrow at her in skepticism.

Sighing, she half nodded. “Okay, fine, sort of. I just needed to talk to him, and one thing led to another. I didn’t mean to bail on you guys for sex. It just sort of happened that way.”

I actually laughed at her. “That explanation totally wins you points. Accidental sex excuse. I like it. I’ll use it sometime.”

She shoved playfully at my shoulder. “Oh, shut up.” She glanced at the delicate watch on her wrist. “Are you headed to lunch?”

I nodded. “Yeah. I’m going to take some work with me and make a few calls, because some of your clients have gotten it into their head that if I’m at lunch, they can dodge me.” I waggled a finger at her. “Such is not the case.”

She grinned at me. “This is why I love you.”

“What would you do without me?”

“Crash and burn, I’m sure.”

I waved goodbye, and she headed back into her office.

 

***

 

Friday rolled around at what felt like a snail’s pace. I didn’t want to admit how excited I was about my date, but the truth was it had been a long time. A long time since I’d had much of anything in the form of a social life, much less romance. Marnie was my best friend, meaning work and social went hand in hand. And forget about dating. I’d sworn off guys since the last asshole in my life. Malcom was the first chance I’d been willing to take in years.

Which was why I wasn’t just excited, but anxious, too.

What if things went wrong? What if he was a dick in real life? What if I met him and I just wasn’t attracted to him?

I didn’t think of myself as overly shallow, but there was no denying that physicality was an important part of my personal relationships. I didn’t need Brad Pitt, but I needed someone that pushed the right buttons and set off the right signals in my body. Sure, I was all about this guy’s personality, but what if we just didn’t mesh physically?

Worse, what if he decided I wasn’t the right physical type for him? Not every man appreciated a short chick. And while I wasn’t fat, I was curvy. What if that wasn’t his thing?

Doubt ate at me steadily throughout the day, despite my attempts to quell it. I put on a good front, enough that even Marnie didn’t know how nervous I was, but it didn’t do anything for how I felt on the inside.

When three thirty rolled around, I knocked on Marnie’s door and poked my head into her office. “Hey, it’s that time.”

She glanced up from her desk—she looked a little stressed, so she was probably looking over something from Harvey—blinked twice, then glanced at her wristwatch. “What? That late already?”

“I’m leaving early, remember? Hot date?”

It took her several seconds before it clicked for her. “Oh! Right, your date. I totally spaced it. But go, you’re good. Definitely. Be sure to tell me everything that happens afterwards.”

“I will,” I promised, grinning.

“And Court?”

“Yeah?”

“Try to have a good time.”

I nodded. “I will.”

I grabbed a few things from my desk to work on over the weekend, made sure my computer was off, and grabbed my cell. Then I headed out.

When I got home, the first thing I did was shower. I wanted to be as clean as a whistle and as bare as a newborn baby, not a hair in sight. So I took a little longer than usual and shaved all my lady bits until I was smooth. When I got out, I put that soft vanilla-smelling lotion on, then went to work getting dressed. I’d pulled aside several viable options for that evening, but I still had to decide which of them was the best of the bunch.

“Something sexy, something sexy,” I muttered to myself as I stared at the five dresses I’d laid out on my bed.

One was a deep burgundy thing that went past my knees. Not quite a pencil, but it cinched tightly at the waist and emphasized my hips. The neckline was modest enough for public and a nice restaurant, but showed a hint of cleavage just the same.

Two were blue, which I quickly dismissed. Blue was a cold color and more appropriate for work, dealing with people I didn’t like, and the occasional perfect spring day for whatever reason.

I’d been pissed at Malcom when I’d picked them out, debating being an asshole to him.

That had changed, so now I was debating between the burgundy, the pink, and the red with black, lacy overlay.

The pink was cute, but I quickly decided I didn’t want to be cute. I wanted to wow him. To lure him in with sexiness and the promise of more. Which was why I ended up dismissing the burgundy, too. It was pretty and even a little sexy, but it was too modest. I needed to reel him in, not leave him guessing.

“Red and black it is,” I muttered.

Which was how I picked my underwear. Lacy black seamless panties coupled with a plunging push-up bra that did wonders for the shape of my large breasts.

I wiggled into the dress, then threw a T-shirt over the top to finish up my makeup and hair. I painstakingly curled my silky tresses, then put them mostly up in an elegant twist. Shaking my head a little, I loosened some of the curls until they fell naturally down the nape of my neck and framed my heart-shaped face.

Perfect. Or as close to perfect as any woman got.

I checked the time, then grabbed my clutch. It was just big enough for my ID, credit card, some cash, a compact, and a condom. Just in case.

I headed out the door, hoping tonight was going to be as good as my mind was building it up to be.

About forty-five minutes later—thanks a lot, Seattle traffic—I got out of my car and walked the half block to the restaurant where I was supposed to meet Malcom. He’d texted me the details the day after asking me out, and that was about all I’d heard from him.

I told myself it was because he was trying to build up the suspense to meet me.

It was a sit-down restaurant, a nicer one that required reservations, and I hesitantly went up to the host to ask if my party had arrived yet.

“I’m sorry, I don’t see a reservation under that name,” he said, doing his best to not look down his nose at me. He failed miserably. “Perhaps you have the wrong restaurant.”

I lifted a single eyebrow at him. “Check again. Malcom Resner.”

The man pursed his lips but did as I asked. After a quick perusal of the names, he looked up at me again and smiled thinly. “I’m afraid I don’t see a Resner anywhere.”

My shoulders slumped, but I forced myself to thank the man. He was an ass, but he was probably paid to be that way. I turned and headed back out to wait at the front.

Had I gotten the wrong restaurant? Or did Malcom not realize it was the type of place to need a reservation?

I checked my phone and the message he’d sent me. Shay’s, 6:30pm Friday.

Glancing up at the sign, I confirmed that this was most definitely Shay’s. The corners of my mouth tugged down into a frown. Because suddenly there were only a few options of what was going wrong. Either he didn’t realize this was a reservation type of place, this was the wrong place, or… he forgot.

That last one sent a cold chill down my spine.

Had he seriously forgotten? I was halfway through a very angry text about leaving a woman waiting when I heard someone call my name.

“Courtney!”

It sounded familiar. Instantly, my shoulders relaxed. I turned toward it as I said, “Malcom.”

Except when I caught sight of who it was, it wasn’t Malcom at all. I froze. It was Trent Harvey. I felt tension crawl across my body again. He was sexy, dressed in fitted black slacks and a silky, deep-burgundy button-down. Its colors shifted subtly in different lighting, and it suited him wonderfully. His body was well-defined, and he was tall. Tall enough that I would have to look up at him if we were standing any closer.

But I didn’t care about any of that. I wasn’t interested in seeing him. I wanted Malcom, and damnit, that disappointed me immensely that he hadn’t shown yet.

He will, I told myself.

Setting my shoulders, I said, “Mr. Harvey. What a pleasant surprise.” My tone directly contradicted that statement.

“It certainly is,” he said with a perfect smile. “Care to join me?”

My lips pursed tightly together, even as I tried to smile politely. “I’m sorry, I really can’t. I have a prior engagement.”

“Oh? And here I thought we had a date tonight?”

I frowned outright at him this time. “A date? Are you crazy? I have plans with your agent, Mr. Resner.”

His perfect smile faltered, and I took a little pleasure knowing I’d thrown him off balance. That is, until he spoke again.

“I’m afraid Mr. Resner isn’t coming.”

“What?”

Had I really been stood up? Worse, was Trent Harvey the one telling me I’d been stood up?

“That’s bullshit. He’ll be here any minute.”

Harvey shook his head. “No. He’s not coming because… because he doesn’t exist.”

I felt my eyes roll all on their own. “Did you forget to take your meds or something? Of course he’s real. I’ve been talking to him on the phone for months now. He’s the one who invited me here.”

But Harvey didn’t budge. He shook his head. “No, he didn’t.”

I crossed my arms over my chest, an inkling of doubt trickling slowly down my spine. “Then who the hell have I been talking to?”

He offered a half smile, which was surprisingly… sexy. Not that I’d ever tell him that. He didn’t need any ego stroking and wasn’t going to get it from me, that was for sure.

“Me.”

I stared at him. “I’m sorry, but what sort of phony-baloney nonsense are you trying to sell me?”

“It’s the truth,” he told me, and his smile dropped. Suddenly, he was all seriousness. “I told you to meet me here. I told you I wanted to see every bit of you, damnit, and I’m tired of waiting. And I told you that you had to stay for the whole date. You owe me a favor, and I’m cashing it in.”

I froze as it slowly sunk in.

Because that sounded exactly like Malcom Resner. Not just the exact words he used—not a text message that someone could have read over, but words he verbally spoke to me—but the exact tone and timbre of his voice.

Oh, God.

“No,” I said flatly. “I refuse to believe it.”

“You assumed I was Trent Harvey’s agent when you were trying to sway me to S&W Publishing. And I didn’t correct you.”

“You lied to me.” Oh, yeah, it was sinking in. Big-time.

He winced and a flicker of panic ran across his face. “I needed you to give me a chance, but you’d already decided to hate me. I… I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to get to know you.”

My eyes narrowed. I wouldn’t be swayed by his stupidity or his pretty words. “You lied. To me. A lot.”

He swallowed thickly, Adam’s apple bobbing. “Not a lot. About this one thing, yes. But not about the rest. Not about how I feel about you or how we’ve connected.”

I made a frustrated sound, coming out half like a petulant whine and half like a roar. “Damnit! I connected with Malcom!”

He spread his arms, hands open and palms up. “I am Malcom. You connected with me.”

“You’re an asshole.” I was just close enough that when the urge to slap him washed over me, I didn’t resist and there was a resounding smack as my open palm touched his cheek.

What a dick.

I spun on my heel, prepared to walk the half block to my car and never, ever go on another fucking date again. In fact, I was seriously thinking about reconsidering my stance on lesbianism. If I could just train my libido…

“You owe me a favor.”

I froze. Damnit.

It took a long time for me to turn back to face him, but when I did, I threw daggers at him with my eyes. Bastard.

“I said you have to stay for the whole date. That’s the favor. And I’m going to hold you to it.”

He looked marginally desperate, just for a second, before it melted away to that smooth, cocky exterior. What an asshole.

Rage swelled inside me. He was the worst kind of man. The kind who felt entitled to whatever the fuck he wanted. He should be shot for that kind of personality. I didn’t have to fucking stay. I could leave whenever I wanted. Screw him and his stupid favor and… and…

My body walked over to him mechanically. I thought about slapping him again, but didn’t. Because in the end, whatever kind of an egomaniac he was, he was right. I did owe him a favor. And I was a good enough person to hold up my end of the bargain.

Even if I was so goddamned mad that I had heartburn.

“Fine,” I said through gritted teeth. “I’ll stay for the whole date. Then I’m done. If you text me again after this, I’ll feed your balls to my fish.”

He grinned broadly at me, and okay, I didn’t have fish, but I’d get some just to keep that promise.

He held up his hands to indicate he wouldn’t cross me, but I already knew that was bullshit.

“Whatever,” I grumbled, then stalked past him into the main lobby again.

The same snooty host was at the podium. His smile was snide as I approached him for the second time. “Trent Harvey,” I told him with acid in my tone.

He blanched. “I’m sorry?”

“You heard me, Ponyboy. Trent Harvey is the name. Does he have a table?”

The man didn’t even have to look. His eyes were as wide as saucers, and he was nodding quickly. “Yes, yes, of course, Mr. Harvey. What a pleasure to have you back with us! Please, this way.” His eyes were fixed right over my shoulder where I presumed Harvey was standing.

Bastard.

The host grabbed two menus and escorted us through the crowded restaurant to the back, where there was an exclusive little booth. He seated us there.

“Shall I bring out a wine list?”

“No,” I said at the same time Harvey said, “Yes.”

I scowled at him, but I could guess which of us the host would listen to. He disappeared quickly. What seemed like a second later, a clean-shaven young man came to our table and deposited not only two glasses of water, but a wine list.

“Are you folks ready to order?”

I just folded my arms over my chest, staring daggers at Harvey.

He seemed unconcerned with my venom and smiled at the waiter. “The steak for me; chicken for the lady. And a bottle of red.”

“Steak,” I blurted, even though I’d probably like the chicken better. But I’d be damned if I let this asshole order for me. “I’ll have the steak, too.”

Harvey looked momentarily surprised but smiled and nodded. “The steak for the lady. I like a carnivore.”

“Carnivore either way. Chicken’s still meat, asshole.”

The waiter wisely backed away from the table, slipping out while he still could.

Harvey ignored the asshole comment and leaned over the table toward me. “This is one of my favorite places,” he told me and looked ready to launch into some sentimental story about himself or whatever, but I wasn’t having it.

“This where you take all your hostage dates?”

His smile didn’t flicker as he answered, “Only the ones I really like.”

I rolled my eyes at him and silently admitted to myself that the place was nice. Like, really nice. I wasn’t a poor college student anymore, so I got to treat myself every so often, but not to places like this. This was above my pay grade.

“I love your dress,” he told me, his eyes wisely remaining firmly on my face, not my cleavage.

It must have been a monumental feat for him.

“Thanks.”

The wine came quickly; the dinner would take a while. I debated the wisdom of getting plowed versus dealing with Harvey sober. It was going to be a long night, so I compromised with a sip of wine, coupled with a drink of water. Maybe I could at least dodge the hangover.

“I’m glad you came,” he told me, sincerity all but dripping from his full, sensuous lips.

But I wasn’t interested in sincerity or giving him a chance. In my book, he was still an asshole and would likely remain that way for a good, long while. Prick. “Glad one of us is,” I told him, holding my glass up to him before taking a sip.

If he was disappointed by my statement, he didn’t show it. His expression remained pleased.

When he didn’t add anything, I asked him about this date. “So, dinner? Very original.”

He lifted a shoulder in a half shrug, but his smile widened. “It’s actually dinner and a show.”

I deliberately looked around us. I didn’t see any stage, no screens. Nothing to indicate there might be a show in addition to this very nice, very expensive dinner. “Really. And this show is, what, hiding on your phone?”

He shook his head. “No. It’s upstairs.”

Okay, I was a little intrigued. “Upstairs?” From outside, it had looked like a simple one-story place. I thought I saw a gate of some kind along the outside edge of the building, but it hadn’t looked like much.

Smiling, he nodded. “Yes. It’s exclusive, so even most of the guests won’t be staying for it. There are only a handful of seats.”

I’m not impressed, I’m not impressed, I thought to myself, but even my inner self knew that was bullshit.

Suddenly, this date had gotten a lot more interesting.

The steaks took forever, but it was worth it. It was the best damn steak I’d ever had, cooked to perfection with just the right amount of pink in the middle. I didn’t even touch the A1 sauce, not wanting to ruin the flavor.

I ate about half before slowing down, and when I looked up, I saw that Harvey was sipping at his wine, smiling at me. “Good?” he asked smugly.

I spit my tongue out at him, even as my cheeks flushed. “My compliments to the chef.”

“I’m sure he’ll appreciate a compliment from such a lovely lady.”

I dabbed at my mouth politely with the tip of my napkin. “I’m sure it’s nothing new for him,” I replied. I put my napkin down and reached for my wine again, reminding myself about small sips and water. “Some men are used to gaggles of women at their beck and call.”

Harvey nodded absently. “Some guys are,” he agreed. “But only a few are lucky enough to have a woman like you in their life.”

Okay, that was smooth. Charming, even. But I wasn’t stupid, not now that I knew who I was dealing with. If he thought he could win me over with a good—amazing—steak and some natural charm, he had another thing coming. There was a reason I didn’t trust charming men.

Or men in general, at this point.

“So what’s this show,” I asked, swapping topics. I wasn’t about to make it easy for him to just woo me.

“It’s called Being Earnest. It’s about two men who both pretend to be Earnest—”

“To win over a couple of batty, idiot women who are so hung up on a fucking name that they don’t care who it belongs to,” I finished helpfully for him.

He looked slightly derailed that I was familiar with the story. “You’ve seen it before?”

“Read the book,” I informed him. “I do work for a publishing company.”

He laughed. “That’s an excellent point. I never should have underestimated you.”

“That would be mistake number one, wouldn’t it?”

Wincing, he took another sip of his wine, then set it back down gently. “Courtney, I know you’re angry with me.”

“That’s a mild way of putting it, don’t you think?”

He ignored me and continued. “But I asked you out tonight, because I want a shot. A real shot. Not at being your virtual boyfriend, but your in-the-flesh one.”

I scoffed. “Meaning you want in my panties.”

His gaze shifted over my body, and there was absolutely no arguing that sexual desire was part of his reasoning. But when his eyes came back to me, full of smoldering lust, I noticed that they were pleading with me. For a wild moment, I wondered if maybe he wanted more than just to get between my legs.

Don’t be stupid, Court, you know better.

But that reasonable part of my brain couldn’t entirely quell the part of me that hoped he did want more. Though I couldn’t fathom why. The whole situation was just fucked-up.

“I’m not going to lie, I’ve thought about it,” he admitted honestly. “But that’s not the only thing I’ve thought about.”

I lifted a brow in question.

“I’ve thought about this. Dinner with you. Being able to talk to you in person, to do things with you.”

I wanted to tell him that he was an asshole—again—and that he was crazy if he thought that I would want something like that, too. Except… I kind of did. No, not with him. Not with a player. But I’d been steadily falling for Malcom, and I wasn’t sure what to do with that now that Malcom was Trent Harvey.

What was I supposed to do with that?

So instead of calling him an asshole, I said, “Guess you’d better milk tonight, then. It’s probably going to be your only shot at any of that.”

He didn’t look scared. Instead, he looked determined. “Challenge accepted.”

We finished dinner and I managed to go almost an hour without calling him an asshole. He paid the bill for dinner before I ever even got to see the bill. Even when I politely asked to pay my half, he insisted that it was his treat.

“Since I’m holding you hostage and all,” he told me with a wink.

I rolled my eyes but didn’t argue.

We got up then, and he directed me toward the back of the restaurant. Just before we reached the kitchen, he turned to the right. A set of stairs seemed to appear out of nowhere. They were narrow, so we had to go up single file. I followed him, because honestly it was starting to freak me out a little bit. I mean, it wasn’t a killer’s basement necessarily, but the vibe was similar.

Until we got to the roof.

The door opened up to reveal that the roof was definitely fenced in by delicately designed wrought iron. At the far end of the roof was a large silk screen pulled taught on either side by more wrought iron. Currently, there was a canopy of green superimposed on the screen, twitching every so often as though by the wind. Except that it was a digital image, so probably not.

There were luxurious chairs and love seats set in front of the screen, some already occupied by gossiping adults.

“What do you think?” Harvey asked as a whisper in my ear.

I answered before thinking. “It’s beautiful.”

“Not half as beautiful as you.”

I pursed my lips together, reminding myself that he was an ass—even as I felt a little flutter of pleasure in my belly. Just because he was an ass didn’t mean I didn’t appreciate a compliment.

“C’mon. Let’s get seats.”

He took my hand, and it was warm. His palms were smooth, soft, his fingertips light pinpoints of pressure on my skin. I felt a tingle race up my arm, sending gooseflesh over my skin.

It was nice and awful at the same time. Get a grip, Court.

He led us to a love seat, and before I could complain about sharing the seat, he plopped down and yanked on my hand to bring me down with him. I dropped on the soft cushions in a highly unladylike manner, complete with a small squeak. But as soon as my ass touched the soft, velvety exterior of the love seat, I wasn’t getting up. I had a full belly, it was a warm night, and the lighting was perfect. If I hadn’t been tucked so close to Harvey, I probably would have fallen asleep right then and there.

Either way, I wasn’t getting up.

We sat there quietly for a little while as more guests came and took their seats. I wasn’t sure if there were reservations, first come first serve, or if you just had to know the secret handshake to get up here. But everyone seemed to know where they were supposed to be and settled down easily.

There were a few muted conversations and giggles, but it was soft enough to be little more than background noise.

In fact, I’d nearly dozed off when the music began to play.

I sat up straight and looked around wildly, wondering how long I’d been catnapping. By the look on Harvey’s face, I’d been asleep for at least a couple of minutes.

My cheeks flushed in embarrassment, but I tried to play it cool. “What’s playing, anyway?”

He leaned closer to me, my body pressed against his. “Being Earnest, remember?”

I winced. Good one, Court. Instead of trying to avoid embarrassment, I completely shot myself in the foot. “Oh, right.”

Thankfully, the movie started playing and I was saved from further stupidity.

The movie was about as expected. The book had been infinitely better, and much of the nuances had been lost in the transition to film. Still, I appreciated the fact that everyone was being stupid—not just the men for pretending to be someone else just for the sake of a name.

The women were being dumb, too. After all, it was just a damn name. It didn’t change who the man was.

And just like that, I talked myself into a corner. Because the fact was, I was being hardheaded, just like they were, all because of Trent Harvey’s name. Well, and reputation. Fact was, I’d been taken with Malcom, and if they really were the same guy… did any of my affection change just because his name was different?

Except Trent Harvey is a player and an asshole, a voice in my head reminded me.

I wasn’t sure what to do with what I knew secondhand about Harvey versus the firsthand information I had on Malcom.

Can I trust anything he says? After all, the only thing I know for sure is that he’s lied to me.

By the end of the movie, I hadn’t come to any sort of definitive conclusion. Instead, I was left mulling over the idea of giving Harvey a real chance. Mostly, that seemed like a stupid idea. But I’d connected so well with Malcom.

“Are you ready?”

I blinked rapidly, realizing that the movie was over and that people were getting up. Lights had come on, though they were soft, and I was the last person sitting. My cheeks burned and I stood quickly.

“Um, yeah, sure.” I let him lead me downstairs again.

He nodded politely to the waiter and the host—I assumed he had tipped generously—then took me out to the front. It was dark outside and cool, though not unpleasantly so. Just like the rooftop, it was softer and sweeter for the darkness. I was all about the summer nights, because we didn’t get a lot of truly good weather in Washington.

Standing on the sidewalk, I spun to face him. “Thank you,” I said politely. “For a nice evening.”

I was ready to start back to my car, but he apparently wasn’t ready to let me yet.

“Whoa, whoa! Hold up,” he called, reaching for me and gently pulling me back around to face him. “You owe me, remember? You have to stay for the whole date.”

I raised a single eyebrow. “Um, yeah. Dinner. Movie. Date is over.”

He shook his head. “No, it’s not. We haven’t had dessert yet.”

Rolling my eyes, I said, “Seriously? But we just left the restaurant.”

He waved off my words, then slipped my hand into the crook of his arm. I felt my body react even as I tried to remind myself that this date was the last I would deal with Trent. “The restaurant has great food, but the dessert gets all fancy.”

“Fancy?” I half laughed.

He nodded somberly. “Yes. Fancy. Tiny-ass portions that are as big as your pinky on plates the size of flying saucers, and they think that because they draw on all the extra plate that it means you get way more. It’s stupid. Worse than stupid, it’s just wasteful.”

I did my best to hold in a laugh, but a little chuckle escaped despite my efforts. “Okay, fine. No fancy dessert. So what are we doing instead?”

“You’ll see,” he said, overdoing the mysterious tone by a mile and a half. But it was kind of cute, endearing even how hard he was trying.

I let him lead me down the sidewalk and didn’t pull my arm from his.

“When I was a kid, my grandmother used to say that the simplest things in life were the best,” he told me as we rounded the corner. “And as a kid, I thought she was crazy.”

I smiled, picturing a young Trent. Probably adorable and cocky as hell.

“But I had this really bad day,” he continued, his tone turning wistful. “I’d been bullied. Torn my favorite pants. Lost my homework. Even got chased by a dog. By the time I got home, I was a sad, soggy mess—did I mention it rained on me, too? Anyway. I got home and Grams was there. She was sitting in that big overstuffed chair, knitting, because she was the kind of grandmother that did that stuff. And when she looked up at me, she just knew, it had been a bad one.”

His story tugged at my heartstrings. Just the idea of this little Trent getting kicked while he was down… it was horrible. “What did she do?” I murmured softly.

He glanced over at me, then grinned, showing those pearly white teeth. “She said, ‘Honey, the best things in life are the simplest.’ Then she got up and went to the kitchen. She opened up the freezer, and damn it all to hell, the only thing we had in there was vanilla bean ice cream. But she gave me two hearty scoops, and we shared out of a bowl. She hugged me and I knew she was right. The simplest were the best.”

And just like that, I melted. My insides got all gooey, my mouth did that little cat-smile thing when I found things too cute for words, and my cheeks burned. I practically had stars in my eyes. I didn’t mean to, but damn I was like butter in his hands right then.

We stopped suddenly and it took me a moment to realize he’d deliberately taken me somewhere. I blinked to see that we were standing in front of one of those food cart vendors. I thought for a second he’d gotten a wild hot-dog craving, but then I realized the man with the cart wasn’t selling hot dogs. He was selling ice cream.

“Two, please,” Trent told the man easily, then paid with cash and tipped as the man offered him a bowl.

Trent grabbed two spoons, then waved goodbye to the vendor. He presented the cup to me. “Two scoops, vanilla bean ice cream. Because there is nothing better in this world.” He paused, then smiled. “Except maybe the company.”

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help but grin in return. I scooped up a hearty spoonful, then popped it into my mouth. “It’s good,” I told him.

“Yes, it is.”

We traded bites as we continued our walk. We passed the dancing statues that were dressed with scarves and hats, their wardrobes changing even as the dancers remained the same. The bridge up ahead went up to let a boat pass underneath, and a streetlight flickered off, then back on several times as we passed.

He told me more about his grandmother. I told him that I’d never known mine. We talked about the movie and the stupidity of being wrapped up in a name.

When we were done with the ice cream, he found a trash can to dispose of the remains, then turned to me. “All right. Next on the agenda—”

I stopped him before he could offer up skinny-dipping in the park or something else crazy and fun. “Wait, no. I’m sorry, but the date has to be over now.” I glanced at my watch. It was almost one in the morning. “I need to go home.”

My words weren’t as harsh as they had been at the start of the date, and honestly, I’d warmed to him in the hours we’d spent together.

But was it enough?

“You’re sure?” he asked softly, taking a small step closer to me.

I didn’t back up but nodded. “Yes. It’s late. I need to get home.”

He didn’t say anything, but his hand lifted and I felt his warm fingers brush against my cheek. His eyes didn’t leave mine, riveted. And when he leaned forward… I let him. His lips brushed over the top of mine as my eyes fluttered closed of their own accord.

When his mouth pressed more firmly, I felt something warm coil low in my gut. My hands found their way to his shirt, gripping the fabric there, and his free hand went to my waist.

I didn’t stop him.

My lips parted when his tongue asked for entrance, and I decided I liked the way he tasted. Sweet like ice cream and a little salty with a hint of spice. It was perfect. The perfect night, the perfect kiss, the perfect everything. Heat slipped over my body like silk, and as I clutched his body to mine, I admitted I wanted more.

I wanted the kiss to deepen.

I wanted his hands to find bare skin beneath my clothes.

I wanted him to take me home.

And that was why I had to break the kiss. We were both left breathless, gasping for air with wide, wild eyes. He looked like he wanted to dive back in, and a big part of me wanted to let him.

But I had to remember that a perfect night and a perfect kiss weren’t the same things as a perfect man. He was still Trent Harvey, the player who had lied to me about his identity.

A perfect kiss couldn’t change any of that.

“Courtney?” he asked, hopeful still.

I shook my head. “I’m going home. Don’t call me.”

Then I walked off, heading for my car. I felt his gaze burn into my back, but I didn’t turn around and I didn’t glance over my shoulder back at him. This was the right thing to do.

You couldn’t trust a man like Trent Harvey.

Chapter Six

Courtney

 

 

Monday rolled around and yes, I, Courtney Hughes, was still in my pajamas. It was eleven o’clock in the morning, my hair was not done, curlers still haphazardly wound in my hair, and thank you very much, I was eating donuts. Lots of them. The kind with chocolate frosting and sprinkles and Bavarian filling. The whole nine yards. I was brewing more coffee despite having already had an entire pot to myself, and I was flipping through the horrible TV channels that had absolutely nothing on.

It was glorious.

And horrible.

I stopped my channel surfing on one of the soap opera stations. There was a woman with her identical twin arguing about who was responsible for murdering one or both of their fiancé for cheating with the good and/or evil twin while the other was in a coma.

Seriously, two minutes in and I’d gotten all of that drama. It was a wonder anyone watched, because it was way too hard to keep any of it straight. In fact, it was downright madness.

But it was the only damn thing on, so I left it.

I was debating between another Bavarian donut and one with powdered sugar when my phone buzzed again. It had been doing this all morning.

When I checked it, I saw that I had another text. It was from Marnie. Again. I threw my phone on the cushion beside me and settled back in my jammies.

I’d done the good-person thing and told her that I was taking a sick day today. It was my first one in years of work, so I felt pretty damn justified in cashing it in. Marnie, however, seemed a little freaked-out by it.

Probably because she can’t run her own damn schedule without me, I thought with a snort.

It wasn’t entirely fair. Marnie was an organized, capable person. She just excelled in different things than I did, and God knew that I kept her world in order. But she had to know that even I needed a break.

Was it a coincidence that this break happened after a horribly wonderful date with Harvey, who she was meeting with today to discuss his manuscript? No, it wasn’t. But she didn’t need to know that.

My phone went off again, and I cringed.

Marnie wasn’t the only one barraging my phone with messages. Harvey had been calling and texting a thousand times. He wanted another chance. He wanted to say he was sorry. He wanted into my panties.

Okay, he didn’t text that last one, but he might as well have. I had already made it up in my mind that that was all he wanted.

I was trying to ignore my phone by becoming absorbed with the soap opera.

Twin A was talking about getting out of the country, so I assumed she was the murdering evil one.

Twin B decided this was a stupid plan and that they could just make it look like a mugging, so now I wasn’t sure who the murderer was.

Then the doorbell rang and it was actually the guy they supposedly killed, so maybe neither of them was the murderer.

“Jesus Christ, who can keep up with this crap?” I muttered out loud.

I struggled through several more minutes of ridiculous explanation for how he wasn’t dead—can we say deus ex machina?—before I finally gave in to the undeniable urge to check my phone.

Please, call me. Give me another chance.

I sighed. Yep, it was Harvey again. Apparently, they were out of their meeting today, because I’d received a text from Marnie and Harvey. Somehow, I doubted they were texting me together from her office.

Throwing the phone back on my cushion, I tried to bury myself farther into the couch.

“How pathetic have I become?” I asked the TV. Which pretty much answered my question.

The twins were being blackmailed for killing the guy who wasn’t actually dead, and that was around the time I just gave up on the whole ridiculous show. Who wrote this crap anyway?

I flipped the TV off and went to the fridge. Donuts weren’t doing it. I needed the hard stuff. I pulled out a tub of Ben & Jerry’s, planning on mollifying my patheticness with real ice cream. Unfortunately, it reminded me of Harvey.

“Bastard’s ruining ice cream, too.”

In the end, I ordered a pizza. I debated showering before the delivery guy got here, but vetoed that thought. I was doing the sick day right, damnit.

About thirty minutes later, the doorbell rang. I was starving, despite my donut binge earlier, and I headed eagerly to the door. Except that when I got there, it wasn’t the pizza guy.

“What. The. Hell.”

I winced. “Marnie, what are you doing here?”

“I came to figure out how you could have contracted Ebola, since it’s the only damn thing I can think of to make you miss a day of work!”

Sighing, I opened the door wider and let her in. “I ordered pizza. Want some?”

“Jesus, Court, you don’t even do junk food!”

She stepped into the apartment, and I momentarily felt ashamed of how messy it was. But then I remembered that it was my sick day and she was intruding on it. Besides, the couch and a little slice of the kitchen were the only truly messy things in the place. I was a bit of a neat freak, so my apartment tended to be on the cleaner side of things.

“I just needed a junk food day,” I told her defensively, crossing my arms over my chest. “I’m allowed a junk food day.”

“Your version of junk food is margaritas.”

“They have so many calories!” I whined.

She put her hands on her hips and fixed me with a hard stare. “Seriously, what’s going on? This is definitely not normal-you behavior.”

I pursed my lips together. I did not want to talk about Harvey. At all.

“I just needed a little me time,” I told her, hoping to dodge the truth.

Marnie’s arms shifted until they were crossed over her chest. “Nuh-uh. I don’t buy it. What’s going on?”

I ran through a list of plausible answers, but there were none. She knew me too well. Any lie was going to fly like a lead balloon, and damnit, it meant I was going to have to give her the truth.

Letting out a heavy sigh, I bit the bullet. “Remember I told you I had that date on Friday?”

“Yeah, sure.” She paused. “Wait, is that what this is about?”

I nodded.

“Jesus, did he not show?”

“It’s a little more complicated than that.”

She stood there, waiting, lifting her eyebrows to show her impatience.

“He showed… It’s just… it wasn’t who I was expecting.”

“Was he hideous?” she guessed sympathetically.

“No. He was Trent Harvey.”

She blinked several times, her expression blank for a long moment. Finally, “What? I’m confused. Harvey showed up for his agent’s date?”

I shook my head. “No. There is no Malcom Resner. Trent Harvey doesn’t have an agent.”

Her mouth turned down in a frown, deepening each moment as the truth began to sink in. “Wait. Are you saying… Malcom Resner is Trent Harvey?”

I nodded.

“You’re saying that you’ve been seeing Trent Harvey? My fucking client?”

“What? No! I mean, yes, sort of. I didn’t know it was him, and we weren’t really seeing each other. It was all through text messaging and phone calls.”

She threw up her hands dramatically in true Marnie fashion. “You spoke to him on the fucking phone, and you couldn’t tell it was him? Jesus, are you stupid?”

And just like that, I felt my features harden. Stupid? No, I was a lot of things, but I was not stupid. “Excuse me? I told you I didn’t know. I haven’t exactly had a lot of interaction with Mr. Fucking Harvey.”

“He’s got a pretty distinctive voice, don’t you think?” she threw back at me. “Jesus, you can’t mix business with pleasure like this, Court! Just look at yourself!”

“I’m sorry, are you telling me not to mix business with pleasure? At least I didn’t knowingly sleep with the fucking enemy!”

Marnie’s eyes narrowed and I felt a moment of regret. It was quickly replaced with renewed anger, however, when I remembered that she’d basically called me an idiot. Fuck her and her feelings.

“At least I was smart enough to know who I was sleeping with. I always thought you were the smart one, Court, but now I’m starting to think you don’t know what the fuck you’re doing.”

“Get. Out,” I told her plainly.

Anger rippled through me. I wanted to wring her tiny little neck until her freckles turned purple and her eyes rolled back in her head. She didn’t have the right to say shit like that to me. She was supposed to be supportive, like a good friend. Instead she comes here and personally attacks me.

I wasn’t having it.

When Marnie didn’t move, I stomped over to the door, threw it open, and yelled, “Get the fuck out!”

A second later I realized the pizza delivery guy was standing on the other side of my door, prepared to knock. But it didn’t matter. Marnie marched to my door and left, shoving past the delivery guy and not giving me so much as a backward glare.

There was an awkward moment of silence before the delivery guy asked, “Is this the right place?”

I paid him quickly, then shut the door. Suddenly, I wasn’t so hungry. I threw the pizza on the counter, then stared at the TV. My best friend, I decided, was a complete and utter bitch.

How did my life get this tangled up?

Chapter Seven

Marnie

 

 

I glanced at my wristwatch. It was exactly thirty minutes after eight, and I was resigning myself to the fact that Courtney was not coming in today. After our blowout yesterday, I wasn’t all that surprised.

“Goddamnit,” I muttered to myself.

There were several manuscripts spread out on my desk—none of which belonged to Trent fucking Harvey, which did not help my mood—and I hadn’t done more than glance at any of them. My whole life seemed to be in shambles, a patchwork of poor luck, but I tried to remind myself that a lot of good things had happened recently, too.

I’d made partner at S&W Publishing, which I’d been gunning for for years.

I had a sexy new boyfriend who got my panties in a twist for all the right reasons.

And whenever Harvey got around to giving me his damn manuscript, I’d be editing one of the next bestsellers.

So what if there was a hiccup with the manuscript and Courtney was being a pain in my ass? These were minor bumps on my road to professional success and happiness.

There was a knock on my door, and a moment later it opened. Dorian, my sexy boss, poked his head in. “Hey, Marnie. I hate to interrupt, but there was no one outside to let me know if you were busy.”

I winced. “Uh, yeah. Courtney’s taking another sick day.”

His eyebrows rose high on his usually smooth forehead. “What? Is she okay? I mean, does she have Ebola or something?”

“That’s what I said,” I replied dryly.

“I don’t think she’s taken a sick day since the start of the company!”

I nodded. “She hasn’t. I think she just needs a couple of days.”

Dorian’s eyebrows may have lowered to their normal positions, but his full mouth was carefully tugging downward into a frown. When I didn’t add anything more, he shoved his hands into his trouser pockets and asked, “Is something going on?”

I tried not to wince. “What do you mean?”

“It seems like everyone’s on edge. Like there’s something in the air.” He paused, then asked, “Is there?”

I hesitated. The last thing I wanted to try and explain was what had been going on with Courtney and Harvey—or with myself and Callum. Although Dorian was a good guy and a great boss, I highly doubted he would be okay with me sleeping with his longtime rival, Callum Reid. The two had been at each other’s throats since the development of S&W Publishing. It was as much between S&W and Tarvish Press as it was between Dorian and Reid, but there wasn’t much I could do about any of that. They had different views on how the publishing world was supposed to work, and honestly, I tended to side with Dorian.

But I was sleeping with Callum, meaning I wasn’t exactly impartial about the whole thing.

Ultimately, I said, “I don’t know about everyone, but… well, there’s a little bit of drama going on between myself and Courtney. It’ll all blow over, I’m sure.” I hoped, anyway. “She just needs some time.”

His expression eased slightly. “Is this about a guy?”

This time, I did wince. “Um, yeah. It is.” I didn’t tell him who or how things had come about, because regardless of any arguments we were having now, Courtney was still my best friend, and I wouldn’t throw her under the bus.

Dorian nodded sagely. “I figured. Well, if Courtney needs some time off, she should take it. As much as she needs. God knows she’s saved up enough vacation time to take the next year off.” He grinned at me, then winked. “I’d rather have her well rested and in fighting form than upset and doing a poor job. She’s a great employee.”

I smiled small but nodded. “Yes she is.”

“Send her my best, and let her know if she needs anything, I’m there for her, 100 percent.”

I felt some of the tension in my body ease, and I considered telling him about Callum. It was on the tip of my tongue, but it wouldn’t quite roll off. I caught myself several times and ultimately couldn’t bring myself to disclose the truth: I was screwing the enemy.

“How are things with Trent?”

I froze.

What? Who said anything about Trent? Holy shit, did I just fuck this up?

My mind came up with all of the ways that I’d just cost myself and Courtney our jobs until finally it clicked.

I was Trent’s editor.

It was the damn reason I made partner.

Dorian was asking for a status update.

Strangely enough, despite the fact that I had no damn manuscript, I felt a little better. He didn’t know what was going on with Trent and Courtney—whatever the hell it was—and that meant he definitely didn’t know what was going on with me and Callum.

Everything was fine.

No problems.

I laughed a little. “Trent’s a pain in my ass, but I’m sure it’ll all work out.”

Dorian beamed at me. “That’s what I want to hear. I have faith in you, Marnie McKenna. You’re gonna do great things.”

Chapter Eight

Trent

 

 

I stared at my manuscript, which constituted a blank white page. Again. Everything I attempted to put to paper turned into a load of crap that I ultimately erased. Hell, a couple of times I’d printed that shit out just so that I could crumple it up and toss it into the wastebasket. As a result, I’d filled up my wastebasket and I still had a blank manuscript saved on my computer.

Not exactly encouraging for a writer, much less one with a deadline looming.

I leaned back in my chair and groaned. “I’m screwed. Utterly screwed.”

There was a knock on the door just outside of my little writing corner. My office, studio, whatever you wanted to call it. The place where I created my little worlds.

I glanced over toward the door and saw Sarah leaning in the doorway. She followed the rules dutifully, keeping her entire body officially outside the room, the threshold of the door untouched. Although I loved and adored her like I might a little sister, she wasn’t exempt from the rules of my workspace.

No cell phones.

No TVs.

And no guests.

“What’s up?” I asked, leaning back in my chair.

She shrugged her delicate shoulders. She was a petite thing, kind of willowy, and pretty after you’d been looking at her for a little bit. Sarah was one of those weird girls who was more attractive the longer you saw her. She didn’t grab your attention and drag you into her world. Instead, she invited you in with soft hair that was always pulled up and a long neck that was unadorned, eyes that weren’t outlined by anything but her eyelashes, and lips that were full but almost colorless.

Pretty, but not pretty in the way that you expected a woman to be pretty. Instead, she was subtly beautiful.

I promised myself silently that the next female character I needed, it would be Sarah. I hadn’t used her yet, but it was only a matter of time. Eventually, I would need that perfect character, and she fit the bill.

“I couldn’t help but notice that you were groaning in frustration,” she told me, then sipped at the coffee mug in her hand. I envied her for that damn mug.

“How do you know it was frustration? Maybe it was orgasm. I could have been masturbating for all you knew.”

She raised a single, thick eyebrow at me. “Doubtful. Rules state that you cannot have internet in here, nor can you have videos on your computer that might distract you from your work. I daresay big-titted ladies fucking each other counts as distracting.”

I grinned at her. “Such a dirty mouth. Hardly appropriate for such a pretty lady.”

She snorted. “Please. I don’t do appropriate unless absolutely necessary.”

“I don’t do porn unless absolutely necessary.”

Shaking her head a little, she grinned at me. “Whatever. I just came up here to invite you out on the town.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean a little dancing. Maybe some drinking. Just get out of the house. You’ve been cooped up in here practically banging your own head against the wall in an effort to find some kind of inspiration. I’m beginning to think it’s not all that effective.”

My mouth pulled down in a frown. Normally, I didn’t like going out partying when I had so much work to do. I was a party animal by nature in a lot of respects, and God knew I loved my women, but I was also a hard worker. The manuscript was part of my profession, and the idea of partying when I hadn’t finished it didn’t sit quite right with me.

But I also knew that sitting here cooped up all night staring at a blank screen wasn’t doing me a lot of good.

After mulling it around in my head for a moment, I finally decided to just go for it. “You know what, fuck it. You’re right. I need a break.”

I would like to say that it was only a need to get my mind off the manuscript that swayed my vote, but the truth was that there was something else weighing heavily on my thoughts.

Or someone else.

Courtney hadn’t texted me back. Or returned a single call. Or email. She might as well have just dropped off the face of the planet. I hated that she wasn’t talking to me.

After we’d fucking connected. I knew we did. That date went phenomenally. And the kiss was spectacular. I knew it was. She felt it, too. She had to. And now… now she was just being stubborn. I knew if I could just get her to answer a damn call, she’d melt and give me another chance.

Which was maybe why she wasn’t answering her phone.

“Great!” Sarah’s face lit up, telling me that this wasn’t just a night out for my benefit. Reining in her excitement, she cleared her throat and tried to be casual when she asked, “Do you think Callum might join us tonight?”

I smiled at her sympathetically. Her painfully obvious crush on Callum had been going on for years, and I’d be remiss if I didn’t try to quell it. Not only had it been a guaranteed never going to happen before, but now he was dating Marnie and it was highly unlikely that he’d leave her for Sarah. Especially since he thought of Sarah much the way I did: like a damn sister.

“Honey, I don’t think that’s going to happen.”

She lifted her shoulders like she didn’t care, but I saw her face fall. “Oh, well. That’s fine. Whatever.”

I let out a sigh. “Sarah, I think you should probably just let Callum go at this point, don’t you?”

Her cheeks burned bright red, but she tried to play dumb. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Unless he’s planning on some damn trip, then I really don’t know what you mean.”

I rolled my eyes and stood. I walked over to her, placing my large hands on either of her shoulders. “Really? That’s how we’re going to play this?”

She pursed her lips together.

“And I think planning a trip is possibly the lamest playing ignorant in the history of playing ignorant.”

She spit her tongue out at me and pouted. “I’m not playing anything.”

I lifted my eyebrows at her pointedly. “Really. Could have fooled me.”

“Well, you are easily fooled.”

“Which doesn’t mean you’re doing a good job at fooling anyone.”

“Because I’m not trying to fool anyone!”

I let my hands drop, then shrugged. “Sure. Whatever. Just remember, he’s got a girlfriend now.”

“Oh, so what? Girlfriends come and go all the time. Casual dating is a thing. You of all people should know that.”

“My, aren’t we defensive,” I said cheerily.

She made a frustrated noise in her throat, stomped her foot like a petulant child, then stalked off. “You’re an ass!”

“You love me!” I called after her.

She waved a hand at me in acknowledgment, both to let me know that she still thought I was an ass, but also that she did, in fact, love me.

“Give me ten and we can go!”

From down the hall, her voice came back and said, “I need at least twenty, so keep your damn pants on.”

I grinned and shook my head. She was a sweetheart, and she put up with so much. I could only hope that she’d move past Callum and find someone real in her life. Someone who would treat her like the queen she was.

Until then, I’d just have to do my best to look out for her.

Chapter Nine

Courtney

 

 

It was day two of my lounging when I got another phone call. I say another, because I’d been receiving a fair amount of them in the last day and a half. Marnie. Trent. Elizabeth. Even Dorian had called. It was a little insane. Elizabeth was the only one I’d answered. She told me that I was doing the right thing by taking a stand and resisting temptation, which endeared her further to me. The others I’d let go to voicemail. I now had so many messages that the inbox was full.

I promised that I’d go through the messages later. For now, I was going to enjoy my day.

Except that it was Marnie calling, and I was feeling shitty after the way we’d left things the previous day. Not that I wanted to sing “Kumbaya, My Lord” and all that, but I wouldn’t have minded making up with my absolute best friend.

So I made the mistake of answering the damn phone.

“Hello?”

“I’m surprised you answered,” Marnie said dryly. Based on the bite in her tone, I was willing to bet she was still angry.

Well, two could play at that game. “I was bored. It was an eenie-meanie-miney-moe-type game, and your number was the moe. Guess I lost that one.”

There was a pause, then steel as she spoke again. “I’m calling to inform you that you officially have a nonnegotiable vacation for the next week. Officially, to recoup, but I’m telling you flat out. This is a vacation to get your shit together.”

Shock went through me. Nonnegotiable vacation? Wasn’t that like a sabbatical? Wasn’t it the type of thing that they made crazy professors take when they were on tenure and couldn’t straight-out fire them? Wasn’t that what police officers got when they were obviously guilty of a crime but the department didn’t want to look bad?

Was I seriously being shuffled under the damn rug because they didn’t want to deal with me?

Oh, hell no. “A fucking what?”

“You heard me,” Marnie replied simply. Her tone was still icy, telling me that on some level she was probably enjoying my anger. Bitch. “Mandatory. Vacay. For you. Starting now. I don’t want to see you back in the office for at least a week, understand?”

Understand? No, I sure as hell didn’t. “Are you kidding me? Why in the hell am I being made to take a damn break?”

“Made to? Funny, seems to me you were already taking a break. We’re just making it easier on you.”

“We?” I demanded. “Who is we?”

“Dorian and I. We decided.”

And just like that, I snapped. “Oh, well, that would make fucking sense, wouldn’t it? After all, now you’re in the special partner club. You get the special office and the fancy mugs and the bonuses at Christmastime! Well, you can take your damn partnership and shove it where the sun don’t shine!”

I wasn’t sure entirely where my anger was coming from, just that it was coming out like pus from an infected sore. Fast and nasty.

“Goddamn, Court! You get back in the dating saddle and turn into a real fucking mess, you know it?”

I laughed. “Oh, yeah, I’m the one who went crazy!”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Marnie demanded.

“It means that you’ve been a real jerk ever since you started dating Callum and became partner. Of course, you wouldn’t have become partner if you hadn’t slept with Callum, so I can see how they go hand in hand.”

I knew I’d gone too far before the words had finished escaping my mouth, but I couldn’t seem to stop them. They fell like meteors, huge pieces of burning debris hell-bent on destruction. And what could I do about it? Nothing. Head for the hills and watch as the world burned beneath me.

There was a silence long enough that for a minute, I figured she’d just flat out hung up on me. But that would have probably been a little better. It would have been better about two minutes ago so we could both cool down and I wouldn’t have said some seriously rude, messed-up stuff to my best friend.

But she hadn’t hung up on me. “Get your shit together, or don’t come back to work.” Her voice wasn’t steely this time, wasn’t hard as rock. Instead it was stiff and almost… neutral. I recognized that tone. It was the one she used when she was so angry she could kill someone.

And I’d brought it out in her.

I didn’t get the chance to say anything in response. There was a click on the line, and I knew for sure that she’d hung up on me this time.

I stared at my phone for a long time wondering just how badly I fucked up. My mind went to the idea of calling her back and apologizing, telling her how out of line I was, how much of a dick I’d been. My fingers hovered over the buttons, ready to dial her back, but before I’d mustered up the courage, there was a knock at the door.

It startled me bad enough that I dropped my phone. “Shit!” I scooped it up off the floor and was grateful it had landed on the rug, not the tile. The screen was safe, and it hadn’t even popped the battery out. I felt just a little better about life.

I went to the door and found Elizabeth standing on the other side of it. She smiled broadly and waved at me. “Hey there, stranger. What in the hell are you wearing?” Her greeting turned to horror as her eyes made a quick sweep of my wardrobe.

It constituted a fuzzy cat sweater and pajama pants with clouds on them.

I winced. “Sorry. It’s been a lazy kind of day.”

“Lazy or dead?”

I shrugged. “At this point? A little bit of both.”

She waved a hand through the air as though fanning away an offensive odor. I smelled myself discreetly just to make sure that wasn’t actually what she was doing, then stepped aside to let her in.

“That’s it. Enough moping or whatever this is.” She indicated my sloppy attire. “It’s time to get cleaned up.”

I frowned. “Why? I officially do not have work. Seriously, mandatory vacation coming my way.”

Elizabeth’s eyebrows shot up high on her head. “What? Are you kidding?”

I shook my head. “Nope. Just found out.” I waved my phone to indicate the call I’d just had with Marnie. Guilt churned my stomach, but I shoved it down.

“How is that even possible?” she demanded, then a second later held out a hand, palm flat, toward me. “Never mind. I don’t know and I don’t care. Because that’s not why I’m here. I’m here for an intervention?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Vegging is not healthy. You need out of this house and real human interaction. So get dressed. We’re going shopping.”

 

***

 

Elizabeth was right. There was something about getting out of the house and going shopping that made a girl feel human again. And I was in desperate need of some human in my life. It helped that Liz took me to my favorite vintage-clothing shop.

“Seriously, how did you know?”

Liz grinned. “Simple. I searched the best vintage shops around with the highest-quality stuff and voilà. It’s like magic.”

“You’re magic,” I told her, sighing happily.

She laughed at me but looped her arm through mine as we headed inside. It was a little late to be shopping—already after six in the evening—but the little shop was open late to cater to the working women’s crowd. Namely me. I loved the shop because it had dresses that looked like a mixture of serious working women and sexy 1950s pinup model. And they were practically designed for women like me with the large hips and ample bosom.

Plus, they had really cute shoes.

“We’re going to try on about a thousand dresses, and then we’re going to look at the shoes. Because, oh my God, shoes.”

It was my turn to laugh. Liz was a shoe gal first, and everything else came after.

We split up and agreed to meet back at the dressing room after finding at least three items. It took minutes to meet up again, and we both had a hell of a lot more than three items. I had five dresses, two skirts, a pair of high-waisted hot pants, and two tops that were either going to make great nightclub getups or lingerie. I wasn’t sure which.

Liz was similarly packing, and we grinned at each other when we met at the dressing room. “Three items? What was I thinking?”

“Who knows?”

We basically had the dressing room to ourselves. There were a few other ladies in the store and two employees, but they were spread out. It was one of the reasons I loved this place. People left you alone unless you needed something. They weren’t shoving dresses in your face, they weren’t pressuring you to buy stinky perfumes that you didn’t wear. They just asked if you needed help, then drifted off into the wallpaper. It was awesome.

We picked out dressing rooms across from each another, leaving the mirrors for the very end, like a runway. There were also mirrors inside the rooms, but it wasn’t the same unless you were walking.

I tried on a plumb crazy purple dress first. It was skintight with a peplum skirt. Not quite as vintage as I liked, but it fit well and worked well with my curves. It was going to be a maybe, I was sure.

When I parted the curtain, I saw Liz do the same. She’d picked out a flowy sunflower-yellow color that worked surprisingly well with her golden locks. “What do you think? Too much yellow brick road?”

I cracked up with laughter. “Yellow brick road?”

“Yeah. You know, blonde hair, yellow dress?”

When I’d stopped laughing, I asked half-seriously, “The Elton John song or the Wizard of Oz?”

She shrugged. “I’m thinking Elton John, because this is definitely a goodbye yellow brick road.”

Grinning, I shook my head at her. “You’re crazy. And despite how much yellow it is, I’ll just tell you, it looks pretty awesome on you.”

She batted her lashes at me prettily. “Why, thank you.”

We did our obligatory walk down the catwalk and scrutinized ourselves in the mirror. Ultimately, neither dress looked bad, but they were both misses in the end. They would go to the rehanging pile.

The next dress I tried on was baby blue, and it was awesome. A button-down with a slim waist and a skirt that flared out. As I was putting it on, I called over to Liz. “How have you been doing?”

She answered with a sigh. “Good, but not great.”

“What’s the damage?”

“Ugh. Stepsister from hell.”

I winced. I’d never had the privilege of meeting Liz’s stepsister, but she sounded like a real piece of work. Total brat. “What’s going on with her now?”

I could practically feel Liz rolling her eyes. “You name it. She’s so fragile right now. She just hasn’t found her niche yet. You need to be more supportive. She’s your sister.” Her voice was high-pitched and nasally, clearly imitating someone though I couldn’t say who. “As if. Sister my ass. Dad’s second marriage was a total and complete joke. She was a store-bought trophy wife, 100 percent.”

I had oodles of sympathy for my friend, though I’d never had to deal with something like that before. I was an only child, and while I didn’t talk to my parents as much as I should, they were still together and happy as far as I could tell. They sent me postcards and pictures and were even on the internet, despite having difficulties with all the newfangled technology.

“I’m sorry, that really sucks,” I told her. “You get a sister and she ends up as the sister from hell.”

I heard her snort. Very unladylike. “Yeah, no kidding. It sucks because all I really wanted was a sister, and then I got one. Talk about more than I bargained for.”

We stepped out again and ooh’d and ahh’d over each other’s dresses. Hers was green this time and absolutely perfect on her.

“The worst part?” she continued, ranting about her wicked stepsister. “She’s in town.”

I winced. “Jesus, seriously?”

She nodded solemnly. “No bullshit.”

“Well, then we will just have to avoid her the whole time you’re here.”

Grinning at me, she nodded. “Hell yes. This is why you have always been my favorite. You make so much sense.”

I laughed. “Likewise.”

“Now let’s get these absolutely fabulous dresses and move on to the shoes.”

“Agreed.”

Chapter Ten

Trent

 

 

We ended up taking longer than ten and twenty minutes to get ready. An hour and a half later, Sarah looked like a million bucks in a shimmery liquid-looking silver dress and dangling earrings. Her face was framed by deliberate curls, and her eyes were outlined with dark mascara, while her lids were smeared with a glossy silver that matched her dress. Her heels put her taller than my shoulders, and I swear she even added some glitter across her shoulders.

She was a knockout, and I was proud to take her out for the evening. I was also feeling a little protective, because she was like my little sister and I didn’t like the idea of watching a bunch of bumbling idiots try to drunkenly hit on her.

Still, she was a big girl, and I wanted her to find her happiness—away from Callum—so I reminded myself to tolerate a little flirting.

“Hands stay above the hips!” I shouted at a man who was trying to see how far his fingers would travel down her leg.

Instantly, his hand snapped away from Sarah. He muttered something to her, then shuffled away like a kicked puppy.

Sarah rounded on me and scowled. “Really? You’re fucking killing me, Harvey!”

I waved her off. “Don’t be ridiculous. He was an ass. I was saving you from a boring night with a boring individual who wouldn’t have even remembered your name.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re a pain.”

“You love me.”

“Doesn’t mean you’re not a pain, just that I’m a very patient, good person. Saintly even.”

I laughed. She had a good sense of humor, and I loved her for it. “There was never any questioning your sainthood.”

We headed over to the bar, pushing through the throng of people, to order some drinks. The club was one of those rooftop bars where the lightshow was as impressive as the drinks and the natural outside air helped keep out the smell and the heat. It was the best of everything, and it was one of my favorite places.

Sarah ordered for us, batting her long lashes at the bartender, who laughed a little and pushed a couple of drinks at us. He was a friend of ours mostly in passing and had a soft spot for Sarah. I briefly wondered if that friendship was worth pursuing for her, but didn’t push it. I didn’t want to play matchmaker; I just didn’t want her hung up on Callum.

She handed me one of the drinks, and then the two of us turned so that our backs were to the bar and we could watch the craziness of that many bodies pushing together to dance. It was like watching one huge entity with many moving parts.

Creepy, but kind of cool, too.

Sarah shouted something at me, but I didn’t catch it.

“What?”

“What’s so special about her?” she tried again.

I blinked. It took me a minute to realize who she was talking about, but when it clicked, it clicked fast. Courtney, my sexy secretary. “Nothing!” I shouted back at her.

She made a face at me, then leaned closer so she didn’t have to shout as much. “Don’t be an ass. I’m not an idiot. You’ve never been this hung up on a woman before. Not since…” She winced and looked briefly like she wanted to redirect where she was taking this, but ended up finishing with, “Well, not since high school.”

Instantly, I remembered.

High school. The bullshit that came with it, but also the good parts. My grandmother telling me to take pride. Callum walking into my life like a million bucks. And her.

I couldn’t see myself in the mirror, but I didn’t have to to know that my expression had darkened. I could feel it in the tightness of my shoulders, the hard clench of my jaw, and the way my teeth felt like they were trying to crush rocks.

I would never forget her, and that made me almost as angry as the fact that I’d been so hung up on her in the first place.

I couldn’t change the past, but if I ever got the chance, she would be it.

In a single swallow, I downed my drink, then set it on the counter behind me. Suddenly, the swirling bright lights, the pulsing music, and the undulating crowd of bodies weren’t nearly as entertaining.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Sarah’s expression. Apologetic. Sympathetic. A host of other emotions that I didn’t give a shit about right then.

She opened her mouth to apologize, but I wasn’t interested in hearing it just then. “I don’t want to talk about it,” I told her, cutting her off before she could say anything else.

I threw myself into the crowd, an effort to not just avoid any further conversation, but also an attempt to forget the woman whose face was permanently etched into my eyelids and branded on my brain.

I started dancing with the nearest woman, a pretty thing with wild curly hair and smooth dark skin. She shimmered and danced like nobody’s business, and for a second I stuck with her.

But I couldn’t stay for long.

I was still wrapped up by the woman I’d never quite let go of, and I needed something strong enough to distract me. My eyes began to scan through the crowd as I danced until they landed on a woman with ample curves but a little waist. She had ruby-red lips and hair that fell in deliberate curls around her shoulders and down her back.

In that moment, I decided: I was going to take a woman home tonight. I was going to fuck her like nobody’s business, and then I was going to feel better. More like myself. I’d forget all about the women in my life that were causing me problems. Just like that, I’d be fixed.

My eyes lingered on the sexy, curvy woman across the room. I moved toward her like a predator hunting its prey. Her eyes met mine, and that sexy little smile told me that she was game to be my meal tonight.

I reached her in moments, my hands sliding automatically to her waist. It was little beneath my large hands, and the strategically placed darts in the fabric allowed my skin to brush hers. It was hot and sweaty and spoke of passion.

Just what I needed.

Her breasts bounced as she gyrated to the music. I fell into step with her, pressing us close together until our hips collided. Her lips parted and she batted those long lashes at me. When I saw her pink tongue slip out between those parted lips, I knew she was game for whatever I wanted.

Leaning closer to her, I whispered hot breath in her ear, “Wanna get out of here?”

I felt a giggle roll through her ample chest, which was plastered against my front. The contact and her body was enough to get my arousal going. I felt myself grow in my slacks and knew this would be good. It would be fun and string-free and just what I fucking needed.

“Yes,” she murmured and nodded at me.

I grabbed my phone out of my pocket and texted Sarah. Can you make it home on your own?

In a minute’s time, I received a reply. Way ahead of you. Already in a cab. I don’t feel like puking.

I grinned and shook my head. I didn’t have to worry about Sarah tonight, and that was a relief. Even being annoyed at her, I didn’t want anything bad to happen because I’d had to feed a very specific need.

I glanced at the woman again and nodded at her. “Let’s go, beautiful.”

She giggled again and let me lead her through the crowd. We made it to the elevator before my hand was up her skirt and her tongue was in my mouth. She tasted only slightly of alcohol and a little of sweat. Her skin was hot in my hands, pliant as I massaged her ample rear. She ground herself against my crotch, all but begging for me to take her then and there.

Then the bell dinged and the doors opened. I pulled my hand free from her skirt and led her out the door to the parking garage. She slipped into the passenger seat and spent the whole ride massaging my dick through my pants.

It was a fast ride.

When we got to my place, I all but dragged her up to my bedroom, my clothes coming off as quickly as possible. When the door was closed, she grabbed the hem of her skirt and tugged it up. I watched as she exposed her bare pussy to my eyes. No panties and smooth, pale skin. I watched as her dress was lifted higher and higher, revealing those large tits.

Her nipples were hard, and the underside of her breasts had that perfect curve to them.

I shucked off my slacks, my erection already aching and ready. I reached into the bedside drawer and retrieved a little foil package for the main event. But before I slipped the condom on, my little nightclub sex kitten was on her hands and knees. Her ruby-red lips were full and parted easily over the head of my cock. I sucked in a harsh breath as she slipped me into her mouth, slowly taking me as deep as she could. She didn’t choke but pulled back when I thought I might be halfway down her throat.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” I muttered, laying back on my bed.

Those red fucking lips.

Those perfect fucking hips.

And those tits. Large. Curved perfectly.

I let myself go like that for a minute, indulging in her hot mouth wrapped around my length. My hands found her hair, caressing it and pushing it back from her heart-shaped face.

Her eyes opened and looked up at me, and I froze.

For just a second, it wasn’t the woman from the bar. It was Courtney. The red lips. The perfectly curled hair. The womanly curves mixed with that little waist.

Jesus. I’d taken home a copy of the woman I was having wet dreams about.

She was taking me into her mouth again, and I knew I could let her. I could let her suck me, then slide into her bare pussy without a single complaint. She’d probably tell me to take her faster and harder and I’d bottom out inside of her. All of which was incredibly appealing. But now that Courtney was in my head again, I couldn’t get her out.

I didn’t want this woman’s body wrapped around me. I wanted Courtney’s. And that made this all very, very wrong.

Which was why I lifted her mouth away from my throbbing dick. She pulled away with a pop.

“What? Did I do something wrong?”

She looked so concerned for a moment that I felt really bad.

I shook my head, even as I eased her off the bed. “No, no. You’re great. Awesome. And sexy as hell. I just—”

I broke off, because I had absolutely no idea what to tell her. Gee, I can’t sleep with you because I’m imagining you’re this other woman that I’d rather be with sounded fifteen shades of horrible.

Instead, I said, “I just can’t do this. I thought I could, but I can’t. You’re great, but I need something else tonight.”

Her face pinched together, and she looked angry. “Damnit. You couldn’t have decided that while I was still at the damn bar? Or had my fucking clothes on?”

She wiped her mouth, then went to get her dress. She pulled it on quickly, then scowled at me. “Thanks a lot, jerk.”

I winced. “I’ll call you a cab. On me.”

This mollified her slightly, but just barely. I had the feeling she needed the release tonight as much or more than I had. I felt a little bad for not providing, but I couldn’t help it. It just didn’t feel right.

I pulled on a pair of sweats as she headed out the door. I heard it slam behind her. I called the cab quickly and gave them a credit card, telling the driver to take the woman wherever she asked, on me. She could have technically driven to New York City on my dime, but I didn’t care.

When I hung up, I shuffled down the hall to Sarah’s room. I knocked on the door. Through the wood, I heard an annoyed “What?” come through. She sounded like she was probably buzzed at the least, but I opened the door anyway.

I didn’t say anything initially, prompting Sarah to sigh dramatically from her bed where she’d flopped face-first. “Jesus, what do you want, Trent?”

I hesitated half a second, then just told her the truth. “I think I might be sort of in love with Courtney.”

There was a pause, then a groan. “Christ. Well, I guess you’d probably better tell her, or you’ll never get over it.”

And with those drunken words of wisdom, I realized what I had to do and how much I wasn’t going to like it.

Chapter Eleven

Trent

 

 

It was only a couple of days since our last meeting—mine and Marnie’s—but she was upping how many of them were we having in a rather stupidly desperate attempt to light a fire under my ass and get the manuscript in her lap. Needless to say, it wasn’t exactly working. And, yeah, probably some of Marnie’s bitchiness was coming from the fact that I’d bailed on half a dozen of our meetings and left the others early. She was probably getting back at me for that, but I wasn’t having it.

I didn’t have anything new to offer her as far as the manuscript, so I wasn’t going to parade myself through there like a dog-and-pony show just so she could say that she was trying to do her job.

Besides, I didn’t have a lot of reason to go to Marnie’s office right now. Courtney hadn’t called me in several days, and damnit, she wasn’t at work either. When I’d poked Marnie about it, she’d nearly chewed me into bite-sized Trent bits, so I’d smoothly chosen not to bring it up anymore.

I dialed Marnie’s number and waited as it rang. I could picture her on the other side trying to pull out her red hair and rubbing her face until her freckles came off. It was sort of amusing, though I doubted anyone else would see it that way.

A few more rings, then Marnie answered. “Harvey, whatever it is, I don’t want to hear it.”

“Is that anyway to greet your moneymaker?” I asked innocently.

“Last I checked, you don’t initial off on my salary.”

I shrugged, though she couldn’t see that. “But I sort of do. I bring the company money, and the company pays you.”

She snorted, which was sort of cute because she did this squealing-type thing. “That would imply that you are in fact making my company money. Which I’d like to point out that you are not.”

“But I will.”

“Not if you don’t finish that damn manuscript.” I could hear the heat rising in her voice and imagined her face a blotchy red that matched her hair.

“Don’t worry about the manuscript. I’ll get it to you when I’m ready.” Before she could chew my ass about the fact that it wasn’t yet ready, I pushed through. “In fact, cancel today’s appointment. It’s not done yet, so there’s no point in wasting anyone’s time. I’ll get ahold of you when I’m good to go.”

“Damnit, Harvey!”

That was all Marnie got to get out, because I hung up on her. She would be pissed, but she was already pissed, so I figured that wasn’t anything new. I seemed to press every one of her buttons, and I couldn’t honestly say that it bothered me much to know that.

She called back immediately, but I ignored it. Instead, I dialed Courtney’s number.

She hadn’t talked to me since our date, and it was eating me alive. I wanted another chance, and the fact that she wouldn’t even return a damn text message anymore was depressing me. Whatever writer’s block I’d been having was only amplified by the fact that Courtney was ignoring me.

The phone rang just as the door opened. “Sarah?” I called in question. “I thought you were going to be gone most of the day?”

The phone continued to ring as footsteps came up behind me, but before it could go to voicemail, a large hand snatched my phone out of my hand.

“Hey!” I protested, turning only to find Callum standing there. And he looked pissed.

“Hey your fucking self.” He hung up the phone, though I supposed it didn’t matter. It was pretty clear she wasn’t going to pick up.

Still. “What is your problem?” I demanded, reaching for my cell. But he jerked it away from me, playing keep-away. “I was in the middle of a call.”

Callum ignored me and my attempts to grab my cell. He merely moved the phone a little farther away. “Stop being a fucking jerk to Marnie,” he told me bluntly.

My eyebrows rose in surprise. We were friends and Callum wasn’t afraid to speak his mind when necessary, but that was a little to the point even for him. “What?”

“You heard me. Stop being a dick. Marnie’s really frustrated about you right now, and it’s making her crazy. So knock it off. She doesn’t deserve that.”

I couldn’t help it—I laughed.

Callum’s eyes narrowed and he looked for a moment like he might try to crush my phone in his hands. Of course, that would probably have just ended disastrously, so I could see where he reconsidered at the last moment. Instead, he tossed it onto the couch and took a step toward me. “Seriously? What the fuck are you laughing about?”

I waved him off, composing myself. When I’d caught my breath, I explained. “Sorry, it’s just… you’re so adorable.” This didn’t really help with his temper, so I hurried on. “Getting all protective over Marnie, being her knight in shining armor. It’s cute, that’s all. So sweet.”

Even as I teased him, poking the bear as best I could, there was a tiny part of me nestled in the back of my brain that was jealous. He had something, something real, and it looked good on him. Like a suit tailor-made to fit him, Callum wore affection perfectly. I wasn’t sure if it was love yet, but it was heading that way quickly, and a part of me was really starting to hate him for it.

He’d fought against the idea of being with Marnie, and now here he was, nestled comfortably in her world like he’d always been there.

It wasn’t fair of me, but I couldn’t help it. The woman I wanted wouldn’t even return my calls, but he had his on speed dial.

“You’re an asshole, Trent,” Callum told me, but his shoulders had loosened and he didn’t sound like he wanted my blood spilled on a ceremonial dagger, so that was good.

I shrugged. “What else is new?”

Callum plopped down in the armchair adjacent to the couch while I sat on the couch. “But seriously. You don’t have to be a dick to Marnie, and I really would appreciate it if you’d cut her some slack. She’s just doing her job.”

I sighed. “Yes, I realize that.” I hesitated, then just threw the truth out there. “But fact is, the manuscript isn’t ready. She can push all she wants, but I don’t have anything to give her. So, yeah, I’m a little snarky as a result, and that’s not really fair, but still. She could cut me a little slack, too.”

Callum rubbed at his face like he was just tired of working things out. Actually, now that I took a moment to look at him, I realized that he was looking a little pale. A little drawn. Like maybe he wasn’t sleeping great.

“You feeling okay?” I asked.

He waved me off. “Yeah, just tired. Haven’t been sleeping great. What’s going on with the manuscript?”

I winced. “It’s a pain in my ass,” I offered. “It sits on my hard drive mocking me, taunting me with its blankness.”

Raising an eyebrow at me, he said, “You know you’re overly dramatic about 90 percent of the time, right?”

I shrugged. “That’s what makes me a good writer.”

“There’s probably some truth to that,” he agreed. “So you’ve got writer’s block?”

“Yeah. I hate saying it, because it’s like saying Macbeth when a thespian is rehearsing: a curse upon both your houses and all that.”

“You’re mixing up your Shakespeare.”

“Whatever,” I said, waving off his criticism. “My point is, it’s cursed, so using it as infrequently as possible is better for everyone in the long run.”

“Fine. I’ll avoid the dreaded phrase. Now will you tell me what’s causing it?”

“Other than the fact that you just cursed me in my own house?”

He rolled his eyes. “Jesus, Trent, quit the theatrics. What’s going on?”

I sat back against the cushions of the couch. “Hell, I don’t know. I hit a wall, Callum, and I don’t know what to do about it. Nothing seems right. When I put it on paper, it’s all crap.”

“You’re your own worst critic, you know that,” he pointed out.

And, yes, I knew he was true, but I also knew when what I was writing was total and utter crap. There was just no getting around that little snag. “Yeah, well, if I can’t put something on paper that I don’t hate sometime soon, there isn’t going to be a book.”

Callum fell silent for a minute. Then he leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “This is just a bump in the road. Yeah, it seems like a mountain, but it’s a damn molehill. You just need a break. A breather. It’ll come back to you.”

That was the same thing that Sarah had said. And it was easy enough for them to say. Just keep writing. Keep pushing forward. But they didn’t know what it was like to make your bones writing. People didn’t appreciate late manuscripts and missed deadlines. But they also didn’t appreciate that sometimes what you liked to write and what they wanted to read weren’t the same thing. You had to cater to the masses, while still being true to yourself, otherwise you were a sellout.

Maybe that was my issue. I was trying to figure out how to cater to the masses and deal with my own internal sellout debate.

Or maybe this whole concept was just crap and I should have known better.

I let out a frustrated sigh. “I don’t know. Let’s talk about something else.”

Callum hesitated, then admitted, “I’m falling for Marnie.”

The laugh escaped me before I could even consider holding it in. Callum glared at me, but I didn’t care. “Seriously? Is this supposed to be a revelation?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“That it’s pretty damn obvious to everyone that you’re falling for her,” I said. Okay, no, I didn’t know that he was in love, but he was definitely in puppy love. No question on that.

“Fine, fine. I’m very obvious. Are you finished?”

I let my chuckles die down, but the grin stayed. “Yeah, I guess. You gonna ask her to be your pretty little bride?”

“Don’t be an idiot,” he told me dryly. “We’ve only been dating a few months. I just… I just feel strongly about her. It’s kind of a new thing for me.”

My grin softened into a genuine smile. “Yeah, that’s true. Good for you. I hope things keep moving the direction they have been.”

He cleared his throat. “Thanks.”

There was a pause of what could have been awkward silence. Neither of us felt particularly interested in leaving it there to develop, so I asked, “Where have you been anyway? Have you been busy falling for Marnie or what? You’ve been MIA for a while now.”

Callum froze, like I’d caught him in the act or something. It was only for a second, but it was long enough that I knew something was up when he said, “I’ve just been wrapped up in work. I’ve got this new client who—”

“Cut the crap, Callum,” I said, calling his bullshit immediately. “What’s going on?”

“Really, Trent, leave it.”

But I couldn’t. Because he’d tried this before and I had let it slide, but now I wanted to know the truth. “Callum, what’s going on?” I repeated, my tone serious.

He winced, but then his shoulders sagged and I knew I’d won. He was going to spill the beans. I just didn’t have any idea how unready I was for them until they were already out. “Amelia is in town.”

I felt as though I’d been punched in the gut. I remembered her face so well it hurt, and she was still fresh in my mind from the previous night at the club, leaving the sting of finding out she was here in town even worse.

“Amelia?”

Callum nodded.

“She’s in town?”

He nodded again.

“Right now.”

Callum sighed. “Yeah, she is. I’m sorry, I didn’t want to cause any problems. She’s in town and I couldn’t… not spend time with her, but I knew you wouldn’t be happy about it. So I thought…” He lifted his shoulders in a shrug.

“You thought you’d just lie to me about it?” I asked coolly.

“Hey, that’s not fair,” he shot back. “I was doing this to try to spare your feelings. You were the one that kept pushing.”

I tried to pull myself together. Callum was right. He’d lied to spare my feelings, and if I wasn’t such a fucking baby over her, it wouldn’t have been a damn problem in the first place and he wouldn’t have lied. But I couldn’t deny that it stung. Mostly it stung that she was here in the first place, but a little that Callum was spending time with her, too.

Of course, she was his sister.

“I don’t know why you deal with her,” I couldn’t help but mutter, folding my arms across my chest like a petulant child—which was what I felt like, actually.

Callum lifted his hands as if to say “what can you do?” “I promised my father, you know that. I can’t go back on my word.”

I sighed. “Yeah, well, I still think it’s shitty.”

He nodded in agreement. “Can’t argue with you there.”

“Just… keep her away from me,” I told him stiffly.

“What do you think I’ve been doing?”

And just like that, my appreciation for Callum being my friend and knowing me so well returned threefold.

Chapter Twelve

Marnie

 

 

It was late. I was stuck at the damn office since Courtney was still on her damn vacation. Which meant I had meetings scattered all over, clients that were pissed that I’d missed things that I didn’t even remember scheduling, and Dorian was on me about Trent—who had canceled a meeting outright.

“I guess I should be grateful he didn’t waste my time by showing up,” I grumbled to myself.

All I wanted was some coffee, alcohol, and ice cream. I didn’t care how they were mixed together or served or anything. I’d eat warm ice cream, hot bourbon, and cold coffee if I could just have a little of each.

Which, now that I thought about it, sounded disgusting.

I shuffled papers around my desk until I was cross-eyed. I finally just gave up, threw two dozen into my briefcase, and decided to call it a night. There was just no point in wasting more time.

Time. Shit.

I glanced at my watch, cursing my frazzled schedule and my own forgetfulness. Callum and I had plans. It was only seven, I saw, so I wasn’t late. Yet. I probably would be after I got ready for dinner, but at least I could tell him it was for the sake of beauty, not because I was scatterbrained and short handed.

But before I even made it out the door, I looked up to see Callum leaning against it. He was devilishly handsome with dark thick hair that was kept fashionably short and neat, slicked back with just a hint of gel. He looked like something out of a James Bond film, though his jacket was slung over his shoulder, his shirt was rolled up to the elbows, and his tie was undone, hanging around his neck.

All of which just made him sexier.

My libido responded immediately, telling me that “okay, Callum’s here, let’s forget about everything but sex.” Which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.

“Callum,” I finally got out. I’d been staring at him a while, and the charming grin on his face told me he knew it, too. “What are you doing here? I thought we didn’t have dinner until seven thirty.”

He glanced absently at his watch, then back at me with raised brows. “And you thought you would somehow make seven thirty when you’re only just now leaving?”

I winced, caught. “Sorry. I really thought I’d make it out of here by now,” I admitted. “Guess I lost track of time.”

He pushed off the door and stepped into my office. He deposited his coat on the back of a chair, then walked the rest of the way to me. His hands reached for me, resting on my hips, and easily pulled me flush against his body. I gave no resistance. He leaned forward and captured my mouth in a passionate kiss that I instantly melted into.

I dropped my briefcase so that I could wrap my arms around him, my hands weaving through his thick hair. His body was hard and hot against mine, reminding me just how much I liked our physical encounters.

He broke the kiss only so that he could trail hot kisses down my neck. I leaned back, exposing more skin for him to kiss and lick. I groaned, but somehow my mind still managed to kick in.

“Where’ve you been?” I murmured. “I feel like you haven’t been around much lately.”

His kissing paused and for just a second I worried that there was something wrong. Seriously wrong. Like, he wasn’t around so much because he was rethinking our very new, very fragile relationship. By the time he started kissing me again, I was about ready to pop.

“Callum?” I actually pushed him away from me so that I could look him in the eye.

They were lustful, but were they anything else? Bored? Guilty? No longer invested? I didn’t think so… but maybe I was wrong.

“I’m sorry, I know I’ve been really busy with work,” he apologized, his smile puppyish. “Forgive me?”

I laughed a little, the tension slipping away easily. “Fine.”

He grinned and captured my mouth again. I pushed aside the last little tingle of doubt and let myself fall into his warmth. Sexy. Oh, he was sexy. My hands wrapped around his shoulders while his slid to my rear. He squeezed my ass as I groaned into his mouth.

We backed up until I felt my legs at the edge of my desk. Automatically, I propped one hip up onto the countertop, then the other. Callum’s hands dropped from my hips to travel down my thighs until they found the hem of my pencil skirt. When I felt his fingertips along the hem, I nearly lost it. There was something about a man shoving up my skirt to get to my core that drove me crazy.

He pushed the fabric up as high as he could before the fact that I was sitting on my ass prevented anything more.

Giggling, I let him shove me down onto my back then so that he could lift my hips and the fabric over them. I was wearing panties—because I’d honestly forgotten our date; otherwise I’d have forgone them—but he didn’t seem to care. He let a single finger hook around the elastic and pull it aside, exposing my nether lips to his gaze. I was already wet, but we were well past the part where that might have been embarrassing. He knew how much I wanted him, and I was all about him knowing.

Fucking sexy.

His free hand slipped between my thighs. A finger slid along my entrance, collecting moisture before disappearing between my lips. I felt his finger slide inside me, and I let out a sigh.

“Fucking finally,” I told him.

He laughed, though it was low and throaty. It was too hoarse to be a jovial, light laugh. Instead it was laced with the desire that we both felt. “Impatient?” he cooed.

“How many times do I have to tell you yes?” I growled at him.

He chuckled again, and then we both stopped laughing as he added a second finger. I moaned, arching my back off my desk. “Oh, God, yes. Right there.”

“Your pussy’s so tight, Marnie. I fucking love it.”

He curled his fingers inside me, massaging my walls, and quickly I felt myself getting worked up. “C’mon. Quit fucking around. I need more.”

Instead of giving me the more I needed, he grinned wickedly at me and bent low over me, sliding his head between my thighs until his hot breath was sliding over my wetness.

I shivered.

Okay, not what I’d had in mind, but I wasn’t bitching. I didn’t do oral much, because most guys didn’t know what the hell they were doing down there, but he was a fucking god and I loved his tongue.

It slid over my lips until he found the small bundle of nerves there. As soon as the flat of his tongue slipped over it, I lost my shit. I cried out and begged him to give me more. He laved at it, before fitting his full lips around the nub and suckling.

Sharp, intense pleasure rocked my body. Bolts of lightning flooded my veins, and before I could tell him to stop or give me more, he pushed me over the edge. I toppled like a skydiver without a parachute, and I fucking loved it.

I was coming down from my own ecstasy when he positioned his hard length at my entrance. He’d managed to free it while I was delirious with pleasure, and I once again appreciated his size. He positioned the head at my entrance, and in one hard thrust, he shoved himself completely inside me.

I cried out, prompting him to cover my mouth with his to swallow the sound.

His hands slid over my body as his hips began to move. They found my shirt and undid the buttons, slipping beneath the fabric to grab at my soft orbs. He grunted at the bra I was wearing but managed to peel back the cups to expose my nipples to the cool air.

“You’ve got nice tits,” he murmured, his thrusts causing them to bounce and me to moan.

He fondled my breasts and pinched at my nipples until they were hard. All the while I moaned and begged him to keep going. I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him into me deeper each time he thrusted until we were both groaning.

“Fuck, Marnie!”

I did my best to meet his thrusts. They grew more erratic until I felt him shove in all the way one last time, then shudder above me. Finally, exhausted and spent, he collapsed over me. He just barely managed to keep most of his weight off me, bracing himself on his forearms.

We waited like that for a long while, breathing heavily and trying to find our bones again.

Eventually, he rolled off me and we got cleaned up. We both remained half-undressed as we lounged in the two chairs in front of my desk. My legs were thrown over the arm, and he was slowly massaging one of my feet in his lap.

“You need a couch in here,” he commented absently.

I wiggled my toes. “What kind of message does that send to clients?”

“That this is your office and you fuck in here regularly?” he offered with a pearly toothed smile.

I kicked lightly at him, but he caught my foot easily and laughed.

“What?” he demanded.

I shook my head. “You’re an ass.”

“So? Besides, it’s true. We always end up doing it in your office.”

“Not always,” I countered. “We’ve done it in beds, too, remember?”

Our first time had been in a swanky nightclub where he had keys to a very special set of rooms, complete with a bed. It was insane and a little kinky, but neither of us had expected it to go anywhere. We were just relieving tension.

Now, we seemed to be relieving tension a lot these days.

“True,” he agreed. “But you have to admit that it’s always sexier in the office.”

It was my turn to laugh. “Maybe not always,” I argued. “But yeah sometimes it’s sexier here.”

He smoothed his thumb along the underside of my arch, and I all but purred like a cat. It was almost enough for me to forget everything else—almost. Except that he really hadn’t been around much lately, and I really was a little miffed by it. I may have forgiven him for the sake of sexy times, but that didn’t mean I’d forgotten.

“So where have you been for like, the last week and a half?”

His hands froze for a second, then resumed again. “Work. I’ve been swamped. You know how it is.”

My eyes narrowed as I detected the definite order of bullshit. “Cut the crap, Reid. What’s going on?”

“Nothing, Marnie. I mean it. It’s nothing more than being a billionaire running a company. I had the company before we met, and I still have it now. That hasn’t changed. And sometimes it means that I’m busier than I’d like.” I started to pull my foot away, a little miffed that he was just brushing me aside, but he grabbed my ankle and tugged me back. “It doesn’t mean that I wouldn’t rather be with you every damn chance I get. You know that.”

I wasn’t for sure that I knew that, but I wanted to. And my shoulders did relax a little at his reassurances.

He was owner of Tarvish Press, a rival publishing company, and I knew that being just a partner came with a lot of baggage. I forced myself to relax the rest of the way and stop being a pain the ass.

“Okay.” I paused, then casually swung the conversation an entirely different way. “Have you spoken to Harvey lately?”

Callum fixed me with a chastising stare. “Now, Marnie, honey, you know better. Whatever’s getting kicked around between you and Trent is between you and Trent. My dog in this fight is personal only, meaning I have nothing to do with the professional crap. So you’ll have to work things out between yourselves all on your lonesome.”

I stuck out my lower lip like a child and petulantly crossed my arms over my chest. I didn’t care that I was being a brat; I was about at my wits’ end with Harvey, and it was driving me crazy. He was making life difficult, and it meant I was willing to play dirty—like asking Callum to use his personal friendship to make Harvey comply.

“Don’t pout,” he quipped.

“You and your morals,” I joked.

He laughed. “Morals? Like sleeping with the enemy.”

“My kind of morals.”

He tugged on my leg until I got up and folded myself into his lap. He pulled me down for a kiss, which I eagerly returned. It wasn’t the hot, burning need from earlier, but the passion was there. It always was. When we broke the kiss, I asked, “Are we still on for dinner?”

He hesitated, then said, “I actually came here to tell you I can’t tonight. I’m—”

“Busy, right,” I finished for him, then untangled myself from his body. He looked like he wanted to pull me back, but he didn’t. Instead we both got dressed and promised we’d have dinner another night. He left, and I suddenly didn’t feel so great about things.

Chapter Thirteen

Courtney

 

 

After only a few days of being cooped up in my apartment, I was going stir-crazy. I was also fully disgusted with the lack of cleanliness of the place. Seriously, how did people not clean? It was gross.

So I’d put up my hair in a bandana I Love Lucy—style, threw on a pair of overalls that I rolled up, and put on that song from Mrs. Doubtfire. I then proceeded to clean every inch of my apartment.

I got rid of the junk food containers and wiped down the fridge. The trash went downstairs, and I set the throw pillows out on the porch to dry in the sun after scrubbing them clean.

I did a load of laundry, hand washed all of my dishes, cleaned the kitchen and the bathroom, then spent the rest of the time straightening. I vacuumed only after I’d dusted everything and wiped down the electronics, tables, and blinds.

My apartment practically sparkled like Mr. Clean’s bald head. I felt accomplished and much better about the fact that I was still stuck on mandatory vacation.

At least now while I lounged around like a bum, I’d be able to do it while being clean.

My phone had been off for most of my vacation time, because I was sick of getting calls from people I didn’t want to talk to about things I wasn’t going to discuss. But after my disastrous fight with Marnie, I’d had a little time to cool down and a lot of time to feel badly. So I’d turned my phone back on in the hopes that maybe she’d call. Maybe we could talk about how we were both being such big jerks, and somehow we’d go out and have a drink and be friends again.

So when my phone rang, I practically pounced on it. I was so desperate for it to be Marnie. We would talk for a minute, and then we’d both burst out with apologies, and everything would go back to normal.

But when I answered the phone, a desperate “Hello” escaping my lips, I was sorely disappointed.

It wasn’t Marnie on the other side. It was Trent Harvey.

“Don’t hang up,” he told me first thing. Which, screw him, he couldn’t tell me what to do. I was about to tell him as much right before hanging up the damn phone, but he pushed forward, probably sensing that he was on borrowed time. “Please, Courtney, we need to meet. I need to talk to—”

I hung up.

A second later, I received a text. This, too, was from Harvey.

I think I’m in love with you.

I stared at that text message for what felt like hours. In love with me? Something clutched inside my chest, and I thought it might be my heart. It had been a long time since someone thought they were in love with me. Longer still since someone actually was. And…

And it didn’t mean anything.

At least, that was what I was telling myself. I set my phone down and numbly walked into the kitchen. My brain was still swamped with the idea that he was in love with me. In love. With me.

I opened the refrigerator door and stared at the contents within without seeing anything in there. Then I closed the door and turned around to open the pantry. Nothing there either. I wasn’t looking for anything; I didn’t want anything. My body was just on autopilot as I tried to process that text.

I think I’m in love with you.

What in the hell was I supposed to do with that?

My phone went off again, and I cringed. Jesus Christ, who was it now? I almost didn’t even check the phone, sure that it was a Psych! Just kidding! from Trent. But somewhere I found the courage to look and was slightly relieved and slightly disappointed.

It wasn’t from Trent at all.

Elizabeth had texted me several times.

Jesus, the bitch is here.

In town.

And I can’t avoid her.

Like, I can’t.

She knows where I am!

I watched as they continued to pour in, and if I’d been in a different mood, I would have been amused by all of it. Seriously, she was texting like the stepsister from hell was a stalker hell-bent on her complete and utter annihilation. Which, okay, possible, but highly unlikely.

I ignored any following texts and sent her one back. You can’t avoid her?

I got one back instantly. No. We’re supposed to go out tonight. Please, come with me. I can’t do this alone.

Normally, I would have teased Liz for being such a pansy, but I was still stuck on that single text from Trent and I wasn’t in the mood for teasing. I wasn’t sure what I was in the mood for, but I knew it wasn’t anything in the light-hearted spectrum.

So I replied with a Yeah, I’ll come with you. You don’t have to be stuck alone with her.

Liz sent about twenty different thank-you texts, and I finally just set the phone down. I got into the shower and stood there for the next hour, trying to figure out what the hell was going on in my life.

 

***

 

I got ready and met up with Liz at a nice little restaurant over by the docks. It didn’t look the best necessarily, but it had good food, and once you got inside, it was an awesome place to get a bite to eat. I wasn’t sure if Liz was planning on wigging her stepsister out with the outer appearance of the place or woo her with the great food.

Either way, I was on board.

Liz was waiting for me outside, glancing at her watch impatiently every five seconds. Her hair was piled up on her head save a few loose curls, and her makeup was done perfectly. She looked ready to kill.

Or compete.

I wondered if she was trying to look good just so that her sister would show her up.

“Liz,” I called.

She looked up from her watch to see me and practically sagged with relief. She waved me over. “Thank God,” she told me, then pulled me in for an embrace. “I could not do this without you.”

I laughed but hugged her back. When we parted, I asked, “So where is the She Devil anyway?”

Liz lifted her hands to the sky dramatically as though to ask the gods, “who knows?” “Maybe she’s not even coming.” Liz sounded so hopeful that she was almost gleeful at the prospect.

“Jesus, is she really that bad?”

Liz made a gesture as though to hang herself. “Yes,” she said flatly. “She really, really is just that bad.”

I couldn’t tell how much of that was bullshit or not, but I could easily assume the worst about a stepsibling. Throwing two families together wasn’t exactly the Brady Bunch, though people liked to think it was. “All right, well, let’s hope she got lost and we can just get some food ourselves.”

Liz nodded emphatically in agreement. But a second later, her face fell and her shoulders sagged. “Oh, damn. Here she is.”

I glanced toward the very nice sporty car that had just pulled up. A second later, a beautiful woman with flowing dark hair and perfect skin got out of the car. She had shapely legs and hips but was lacking a little up top. Not that it mattered. She looked like a million bucks, and I wondered if the reason the two sisters didn’t get along had something to do with the both of them being too attractive.

The woman—Amelia, I assumed—leaned back in the car for a second and shared a few words with whoever else was in the car dropping her off.

I wasn’t all that invested and really felt more impatient. I wanted to get food already, plus I was basically set up to hate this woman, so I was fairly certain anything she said or did was going to piss me off.

But as she leaned into the car, the other person leaned toward her just enough that I caught a glimpse of his face.

I froze.

It was Callum Reid.

Amelia kissed the corner of his mouth, then did a little finger waggle wave. My eyes felt like they were the size of saucers.

I did not just see Callum’s other girlfriend… did I?

Chapter Fourteen

Trent

 

 

Sarah leaned against the doorjamb, staring into the kitchen as I made a sandwich. Mayo. Then mustard. Then roast beef and cheese. Tomato, lettuce, onion. A couple of hot peppers—

“You’re disgusting, you know that, right?” Sarah told me mildly with a smile on her face.

I waved her off. “You’re just jealous of my awesome sandwich.”

“Sandwich, heartburn, yeah, it’s definitely one of those things.”

Smashing everything together, I slapped my sandwich on a plate and grabbed chips. I poured those liberally next to the sandwich. I grabbed some milk—because healthy eating was important to me, obviously—and walked my lovely meal toward the dining room.

Sarah followed me.

“Who eats a sandwich for dinner anyway?” she asked mildly.

I ignored her and sat down at the table, settling myself in for the meal. Just because she had no imagination on the obvious pros of eating sandwiches for dinner, didn’t mean I was equally as oblivious to the truth. I took that first, glorious bite. Food was food for the soul, I decided as I munched. But it was hard to eat in peace with Sarah just sitting there watching me.

I attempted to ignore her, because I felt a deep, serious conversation on the horizon, and I didn’t think I was going to like it. So as I chewed, I tried to think of other things.

Like my manuscript, except that was a horrible idea.

The damn thing was nowhere near done. I wasn’t making any progress, and my editor was breathing down my neck. Where was the inspiration supposed to be coming from? Maybe if the deadlines weren’t so close, or if I’d just had some damn time to really do my work… well, then I could work through this block and finally figure out just what it was that my story needed.

Novel concept.

But I doubted I was going to get much more in the way of extensions.

Suddenly, I was regretting thinking of the manuscript. It was making my sandwich taste like ash. Though in the end it was better than thinking of Amelia—or Courtney.

Amelia was in town.

Courtney refused to speak to me.

I tried to force thoughts of both girls from my mind. This was not what I needed to be thinking about right then.

“Have you told Courtney how you feel yet?”

And so much for not thinking about her. I dropped my sandwich down on my plate, because I really wasn’t hungry anymore. Sarah was looking at me with raised eyebrows, waiting for an answer to her question, and for a moment I wanted to strangle her.

Did she have to ask? Really?

I sat back in my chair and folded my arms across my chest, pouting like a petulant child, but I really didn’t care. “Yes,” I told her.

When she lifted a thick eyebrow skeptically, I uncrossed my arms.

“What? I did!”

“Okay.” She carefully pulled out a chair from the table and sat down across from me. She laid her elbows on the table and waited. “And?”

“And nothing,” I muttered.

“What do you mean nothing?”

“I mean nothing. That was what I got as an answer. Nothing. She didn’t even acknowledge it.”

Sarah’s face scrunched up into a frown. She wiggled her nose. “What? How could she not even acknowledge it?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. I never got a text back.”

Her face went blank, and then it shifted to one of annoyance, her lips mashed together and her eyebrows almost straight over her eyes.

“What?” I demanded.

“Are you telling me you texted her that you loved her?”

I hesitated. Although it didn’t sound bad, I had the feeling that there was something bad in her words. I suddenly didn’t want to tell her that that was exactly how I’d done it, but I had a feeling I’d already shot myself in the foot there.

“Um, maybe?”

She groaned. “Jesus, Trent! No wonder she hasn’t gotten back to you!”

“Jesus, what did I do? Girls make no fucking sense.”

She waved me off impatiently, wafting away my words as though they were a bad smell. “You’re an idiot and girls are not complicated. But no one wants to hear that someone loves them through a text message.”

“I text my grandmother that I love her all the time,” I pointed out. “She doesn’t mind.”

“You’re an idiot,” she deadpanned. “Your grandmother doesn’t mind because she already knows you love her. Genius. No girl wants to hear it for the first time via text message. ‘Luv ya, babe’ is not high on any girls’ list of romantic fantasy.”

The corners of my mouth turned down into a frown as a cold feeling formed in the pit of my stomach. Had I fucked this up already? It was sure starting to sound that way.

“What are you saying, then? That I need to tell her in person? ’Cause I’m pretty sure if I showed up at her apartment—which I have no idea where that is—she would freak out and get a restraining order against me for stalking.”

Sighing, Sarah shook her head. “Don’t be an idiot. I’m not telling you to say it in person, but I’m telling you you’re going to have to show her one way or another.”

“And by show, you mean…?” I prompted, motioning with my hand for her to continue.

“I’m saying big gesture it.”

I snorted. “I don’t do big gestures.”

She laughed at me, shaking her head at what she clearly thought was my ignorance. “Jesus, you are an idiot, aren’t you?”

I stuck out my tongue at her, just to prove her wrong.

Ignoring that, she said, “It’s your only hope at winning her over, so you should probably get with the program.”

I was not going to do a big gesture. Fuck that. I didn’t need to do something like that. People were either in love or they weren’t, right? Who needed all the bullshit that came with a grand gesture?

Of course, then I thought about it and realized I probably needed it.

“What kind of gesture?” I finally asked, not caring how much like a pansy I looked.

She grinned at me. “I don’t know. Climb the fire escape with roses.”

“No,” I told her flatly. “This is not Pretty Woman, and I feel like she’d take offense, considering the main girl in that was a prostitute.”

“Okay, fine. Maybe try tickets to her favorite show or, ooh, you could sing to her! A serenade. Chicks dig that.”

I groaned loudly and obnoxiously. “I am not serenading her! Are you crazy?”

“Fine. I really thought that one was good, but okay.” She thought about it for a moment before finally just shrugging. “I don’t know. Maybe you should just write her a book.”

She pushed up out of her chair then and wished me luck, out of ideas. I watched her go, and it wasn’t until she was out of the room that it hit me.

A gesture.

A really big one.

One that was going to take some serious time.

“Sarah!” I called after her, shoving my chair back from the table and standing fast enough that it wobbled.

She came running back, startled. “What? What? What’s wrong?”

I grinned at her. “Go meet with Marnie and tell her that I’ll have the novel done in a month.”

Her mouth dropped open. “Uh, no. As in, no way in hell. I am not—”

But I ignored her protests. I was already halfway up the stairs. Inspiration had finally hit me, and I wasn’t going to waste a drop of it. This was my chance to make things come together, and maybe, it would save whatever was between myself and Courtney.

Chapter Fifteen

Marnie

 

 

I tapped my heel impatiently as I waited for Trent to show up—or to not, as he seemed to prefer these days. He was a thorn in my side, and if I hadn’t been made partner over him, I’d have tossed him to the curb already.

“He’s a best-selling author, Marnie. Get a grip,” I told myself, but it was difficult. I was frazzled more than usual these days. Between Trent’s complete lack of manuscript and Courtney’s… well, everything with Courtney, I was about losing my mind.

I thought of her words from the other day. Horrible. Mean. Deliberately targeted to hurt me. At least, that was what it felt like. And it was so unlike Courtney. We’d been friends since college, and when that friendship had transferred to the workplace, it had been seamless. We didn’t miss a beat.

But I was beginning to wonder if that had been more about a lack of romance in our lives rather than any special bond between us.

Courtney was a certified man hater, and all of a sudden she was moping excessively over some asshole that she knew was a player—not to mention the fact that he was my client.

And I was involved with Callum, a man whom I hated upon first meeting him. He also happened to be the owner of a rival company that my boss absolutely fucking hated.

Where the hell had we gone wrong?

I glanced at my wristwatch, and when I saw that Harvey was already five minutes late, I decided I would call him and wring his neck over the phone.

What a pain in my ass.

But before I’d completed dialing, there was a knock at my door.

I sighed. “Finally. C’mon in, Harvey. Let’s talk about your manuscript, which I still have not seen any of.”

“And you’re not going to.”

I looked up at the sound of a young woman’s voice. It wasn’t Trent Harvey standing in my office, but a young woman who was around my age, maybe a little younger, with thick hair and pale skin. She didn’t do much in the way of makeup, but she was pretty enough. A little plain, but attractive.

“I’m sorry, but this is a private office, and unless you have an appointment…”

She shook her head. “I’m here on behalf of Trent Harvey.”

My eyebrows tugged low over my eyes. Why was I not surprised? He sent some floozy to tell me he wouldn’t be here. How charming. I had half a thought to call Courtney and tell her that some woman was running errands for Harvey, but I didn’t think that was fair. I was out to hurt Courtney right now, emotionally anyway, because I felt slighted. But in a day or so, I might feel differently.

“Who the hell are you?” I asked flatly.

“I’m Sarah, Trent’s friend and unofficial secretary.”

My eyebrows shot up. I hadn’t heard anything about her… had I? Now that I thought about it, I was pretty sure I had heard some mention about a Sarah. From Callum. Something about a young woman the equivalent of a little sister.

My stance relaxed slightly when I considered her in those terms. “Okay, and in that capacity, what are you doing here?”

“I’m just here to let you know that Trent won’t be here for the meeting—”

“You don’t say,” I interjected dryly. I couldn’t say I was even slightly surprised by that, even if I hadn’t expected this Sarah lady.

She continued without pausing to acknowledge my quip. “—but that you’ll have the manuscript next month.”

Now that actually was surprising. My eyebrows shot up high on my head, and I thought they might permanently disappear into my hair somewhere, that was how shocked I was by this.

“I was starting to think I’d never actually get a manuscript,” I told her, half-honestly.

She pursed her lips together, her eyes narrowing at me. Despite having never met the woman, there was no question in her stance or expression that she did not like me. I wasn’t sure why, but she didn’t. “Trent told you you’d have it. You’ll have it. He’s a man of his word.”

I snorted indelicately at that. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

Sarah looked like she was about to puff up and say something about my tone, but before she got the chance, the door opened. Dorian poked his head in, grabbing the attention of both of us.

“Hey, hope I’m not interrupting.” His eyes darted to Sarah and lingered there, his gaze slipping over the whole of her before returning to her face. He stepped farther into the room and offered his hand and a smile to her. “I don’t think we’ve met before. I’m Dorian Leeson.”

Sarah’s sour expression shifted almost instantly, and her voice warmed as she laughed a little. Her hand slipped into his, and they shook as she said, “For just a second I was sure you were going to say Dorian Gray.”

He laughed, too. “No such luck. I’m afraid I’m only mortal.”

“But you could be the model for his portrait,” she cooed, her cheeks reddening.

I rolled my eyes. Seriously? They were flirting in my office. Honest to God, I’m not even here, flirting in my office. Talk about disgusting. Folding my arms across my chest, I tapped the toe of my shoes against the floor as I waited for them to finish their ridiculous flirting and get them both out of my office.

“You flatter me,” he answered her. They were still shaking hands. “And who would want to paint me if they caught even a glimpse of you.”

I wanted to gag. Partially because Dorian was a flirt and this was par for the course as far as he was concerned, but also because, really? Her? She wasn’t ugly, but I wouldn’t go so far as to call her beautiful. Definitely not prettier than Dorian. He’d always been on the beautifully masculine side and everyone knew it. This woman? She was the picture the dictionary used to define Plain Jane.

But the woman ate it up. She laughed and her blush deepened, which actually worked in her favor. I had half an interest in telling her to wear a little blush, it looked so attractive on her, but I held my tongue. Last thing I wanted to do was get mixed up in their silliness.

“I appreciate the compliment, but I highly doubt that’s true,” Sarah said, batting her eyelashes girlishly.

I doubted it also but was smart enough to keep my mouth shut.

“Don’t doubt it for a second,” Dorian told her seriously. And then he actually fucking winked.

I wanted to die. Deciding I’d had enough, I cleared my throat. Both Dorian and Sarah looked startled, as though they’d completely forgotten I was even there. Even though this was my goddamn office. “Thank you for letting me know Mr. Harvey’s revised timeline,” I said diplomatically to Sarah. “I appreciate the effort, but as you can see, I do have other business to attend to.”

Sarah blinked her large eyes at me, a deer caught in the headlights. She coughed awkwardly, then pulled her hand away from Dorian’s. Finally. “Um, it was a pleasure to meet you,” she told him stiffly.

Dorian was unfazed by my interruption and her embarrassment both. “The pleasure, I assure you, was definitely all mine.”

She giggled, then coughed again to try to cover it. She smiled at Dorian and glared at me, then left my office. I’d never been so relieved to see a woman go before.

Dorian watched her until she was most definitely down the hall and in the elevator. He seemed unusually smitten with her.

“Not really your type, is she?” I asked pointedly when he was still staring after her, even when the elevator went down.

He finally turned back to look at me and grinned. “You don’t think so?”

I shrugged mildly. “I always pictured you with someone more high maintenance.”

He laughed. “I’m not sure that’s a vote of confidence for me.”

“We all have our weaknesses,” I told him prettily.

Shaking his head but still smiling, he propped his hip on the edge of my desk. “I have those papers for you. The ones for Odessa.” He offered them to me.

I took them gratefully and flipped idly through them. I’d wait until I was home before taking a closer look at them. “Thanks, I’ve been waiting on these.”

He nodded, pausing. “Was she a new client?” he asked casually.

I didn’t even look up at him from the papers, smirking at the documents. “No, she’s not. She’s Trent Harvey’s secretary.”

“A secretary?” He sounded surprised. “She’s got to be more than a secretary.”

I shook my head. “Secretary. That’s what she told me. Sure she’s still your type?”

He was pouting slightly, an amusing expression on his handsome face. He was older than me by several years—I’d never asked how many—but he looked about nineteen sometimes. Pouting like this? He could have passed for a high schooler.

“Jesus, wipe that pitiful look off your face,” I told him with a laugh. “Maybe she’s got more ambitious dreams.”

He nodded. “Maybe.” Shoving off from my desk, he shoved his hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels. He was such a kid sometimes. “Regardless. Let me know what’s going on with Harvey, and let me know if there are any more issues with the Odessa project.”

I thanked him and he left. I thought I was in the clear, but then I received a call at my desk. So much for getting out of there. I answered it and was surprised to hear the same cool voice of Sarah from earlier. “Sarah?”

“Sorry. I forgot to tell you that Trent or I will give you a firm date for final delivery in the next day or two,” she explained professionally, really sounding like a secretary. She reminded me of Courtney, which hurt a little bit, to be honest. “Other than that, you’re not going to hear from him. He won’t take your calls. He won’t answer emails. And he’s not going to show up for meetings.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“Nope. That’s how he works. He’s finally got his groove back, so don’t fuck it up by trying to get in his business,” she warned me.

“Fine,” I bit out. “Oh, since I have you on the line, you’re friends with Harvey, right?”

There was a pause, then a drawn-out “Yes. Why?”

“I assume you know Callum as well?” What are you doing, Marnie? A little voice in my head asked me. I ignored it. I knew what the hell I was doing.

“Of course.” She sounded stiff.

“Well, do you by any chance know where he is?” I prompted.

“I assume with Amelia. He’s been with her most of the last week.”

I froze.

Amelia? Who the hell was Amelia? And why was he spending the whole week with her when he fucking told me he’d been swamped with work?

I told myself not to freak out and to be calm. Obviously, there was an explanation for this. I’d just ask Sarah who Amelia was and everything would be fine…

“I have to go. I’ll text you the date when I get home.”

Before I had the chance to say another word to her, much less ask who the fuck Amelia was, she’d hung up.

I clutched my phone to my ear for a long time, listening to the dial tone. As I finally hung up, I had to ask myself: was Callum playing me?

Chapter Sixteen

Courtney

 

 

I ended up spending the following evening with Liz and her sister again. We hadn’t had to talk much the previous night as her sister, Amelia, had spent two minutes with us before apologizing and canceling. She cited an important interview as the reason, but I was skeptical.

Who had themselves dropped off at the restaurant to meet people they’d planned to meet with, only to turn around and cancel their evening events, catch a cab, and go to an interview?

It was all highly suspect, and I didn’t buy it. She said her phone had been demolished when she got in the car before dinner, but I had a feeling she was lying.

Or she was really just that ditzy, which was a pretty valid option.

But tonight, I was meeting up with the sisters again, this time at a nice little eatery with awesome outdoor seating. We put our orders in and made casual conversation.

Amelia spent a lot of time in Europe, and then along the East Coast, but she was really thrilled to be here in Washington now.

“Oh, I was going to ask you the other night,” I interjected casually, because whether I was fighting with Marnie or not, I had to know the truth to save my friend from any potential heartache. “Who was the guy that dropped you off?”

“Oh, Callum? He’s awesome,” she said, her face lighting up and her eyes practically sparkling. If she were the Barbie doll she looked like, I’d have thought someone painted those sparkly little diamonds on her eyes. “I mean, really. Absolutely wonderful. I just wouldn’t know what to do without him.”

My stomach dropped. Although I wanted to know, I’d secretly been hoping that I was wrong. That there was a reasonable explanation for who this woman was and what her connection to Callum was.

But this didn’t sound good.

“Yeah, Amelia is actually staying with him for a little while,” Liz added helpfully. She was seriously bored, stirring her drink which was now just ice. She was hitting the hard stuff early, thank you very much.

Amelia nodded. “Yeah. He’s so great. He doesn’t even get mad when I leave my bras hanging all over the place or run around in my pj’s.”

I pictured her scantily clad in lacy underthings and throwing bras all over Callum’s mansion. At least, I assumed it was a mansion. The guy was a fucking billionaire.

“I’ll bet he doesn’t,” I muttered, then plastered on a smile.

She smiled back. “I’m so lucky to have him in my life.”

If she said one more thing about how great Callum was and how lucky she was to be doing him, I was going to lose my shit. So I waved down a waiter and ordered another drink—one for Liz, too. She smiled at me gratefully.

Feeling rude, I turned to Amelia. “Did you want something other than water?” I asked her.

Her smile flickered, but she caught herself and forced it wider. “Oh, yes. An iced tea would be awesome. Virgin, please.”

I shrugged and added, “Also more water.”

The water nodded, then headed to put in our drink orders.

“How long were you planning on staying in the area?” Liz asked her stepsister.

The other woman thought about it for a long moment. “I’m really not sure, but I’ve been thinking about making it permanent.”

I felt like gagging. This woman thought she was going to be a permanent fixture in Callum’s life, and Callum was still sleeping with Marnie!

Hell. No.

I had to tell Marnie. Right now.

“I’m sorry, I know we just got here, but I swear I’ve already got to pee,” I told the others, smiling like I was embarrassed. I pushed back my chair to stand.

“Oh, no worries. We’ll wait on the drinks,” Amelia said with a smile. “We really need to catch up anyway.”

Liz looked at me with wide, pleading eyes. The message was clear: please, for the love of God, don’t take too long. I hurried off to the ladies’ room, feeling a little guilty for leaving Liz in her time of need. But I didn’t need to be. I just needed to make a phone call with a little bit of discretion and privacy.

I dialed Marnie’s number and prayed that she would answer.

“C’mon, c’mon, Marnie, pick up,” I hissed, impatiently pacing as the phone rang.

Just when I thought it was going to go to voicemail, she answered. “What do you want?”

Her tone was harsh and biting, but I ignored it. This was more important than our little tiff. “Liz’s sister is in town, the Stepford from hell? And she was dropped off yesterday by a man. That man was Callum.”

There was a pause, and for a second I thought the call had dropped.

“Hello? Marnie?”

“I’m here. Who was this woman?”

“Liz’s stepsister, I told you,” I said, exasperated. “And I wouldn’t necessarily think anything bad, but when I asked about him, she said she was living with him and he didn’t care if she was prancing around in panties or whatever!”

For a second, all I could hear was Marnie’s breathing, and it didn’t sound like the good kind of breathing. She sounded like she was trying really hard not to panic.

I felt like a real piece of shit to have to tell her this, but someone had to. I wasn’t going to let her get hurt by a player who was lying to her.

Like I was.

“Marnie?” I prompted gently.

“What’s her name?”

“Amelia. Why?”

The next thing I heard was something terrible, something I hadn’t heard from Marnie in years. A sob.

“Oh, shit,” I muttered.

She collected herself enough to speak. “Fuck, Court, I was just in a meeting with this girl, Sarah. Jesus, she’s Harvey’s secretary, and I was stupid enough to ask her about Callum. I asked where he’s been lately. She said that he was with Amelia all week!”

And just like that, it was confirmed. Callum was a lying, cheating son of a bitch.

“Court, do you think Callum’s cheating on me?”

I wanted to be able to tell her that he wasn’t. That everything was fine. That they would be great together forever and live happily ever after. But I knew better. “I don’t know, Marnie, but… but it really looks that way.”

Marnie thanked me and suddenly all the anger between us melted away. We were friends, just like we’d always been, and friends stuck together. I wished I was there to comfort her.

“We’ll get lunch tomorrow,” I promised, and she agreed.

We hung up then. The whole confirmation had done one thing for certain. It had reaffirmed my theory that all men were inherently assholes.

Chapter Seventeen

Marnie

 

 

It was a miracle I didn’t wreck my damn car. Tears streamed down my face for the majority of the drive. My skin was blotchy when I checked it in the rearview mirror, my freckles a deeper shade of red and my pale skin spotted with deep fountains of red. But my makeup was intact.

I’d never been so grateful for waterproof mascara.

Not that it matters. I’m here to tell him off, not woo him with my looks.

The thought tried hard to bring on another bout of tears, but I managed to hold them back. I’d pulled my car to a stop outside of his home, a stylish house with a brick façade and an overgrown fence around the front yard.

The fact that it had a yard alone spoke of money.

I got out of my car and slammed it. I steeled myself for the sparring match that was about to take place, but at least I had all the cards. I’d tell him that I knew about Amelia, that I wasn’t going to be played by any man, and if he thought he could have a little something on the side, he had another thing coming.

I marched up the steps to his front door and knocked. When he didn’t answer immediately, I knocked again. I was about to knock a third time when he finally came to the door.

“Marnie? What are you doing here?” He was dressed in a pair of sweats that were hanging low on his hips and a white tank top that outlined all of those sexy muscles that I loved so much.

But not enough to stay with a cheater.

“Are you a little surprised to see me?” I challenged, working hard to keep the trembling from my voice. “Well, I’ve got news for you, asshole: I know everything. I know what’s going on.”

His eyebrows rose high on his forehead, and there was a genuine look of surprise on his features.

Well, he was in for a real surprise.

“What are you talking about? You know what?”

I crossed my arms over my chest and stood to my full height, straightening my back and lifting my shoulders. “Who the hell is Amelia, and how long have you been fucking her?”

I thought guilt would flash instantly across his face. I thought he’d give himself immediately away, incriminating himself and revealing the truth. That he was cheating on me.

But none of that happened. Instead, surprise remained on his features for several long moments before slipping into confusion. His eyebrows pinched together, and he tilted his head to the side.

“I’m sorry, but what are you talking about?” he repeated with a little more emphasis this time.

“You heard me. I know all about Amelia.”

“Doubtful,” he told me, and his mouth tugged into a smirk as amusement slipped across his features.

“Excuse me? Are you seriously going to stand there and try to deny it?”

“Deny that I’m sleeping with my sister? Absolutely.”

I blinked. “What?”

His smirk turned into a genuine smile. “Amelia. She’s my little sister.”

Sister? Was that… possible?

The anger left me in a rush as the possibility that there really was a reasonable explanation for everything hit me. Sister.

“If she’s your sister, why didn’t you tell me about her?”

He sighed. “Come in.” When I didn’t move, he stepped aside and added, “Please? I’m not going to explain to you while you stand on my front porch. That’s just rude.”

After a moment, I stepped in after him. I wasn’t 100 percent convinced about the whole sister thing, but now that there was a competing theory over who she could be, well, I was willing to be a little more reasonable.

Mostly because it wasn’t until that moment right there that I realized just how much I wanted this woman to be his sister.

I didn’t want Callum to be cheating on me.

I wanted him to love me, even if that was scary as shit.

I stood awkwardly in the foyer for a long moment, not really sure what to do with myself.

Callum looked back over at me and smiled. He gestured toward the couch in the living room. “Have a seat. I’ll get the pictures.”

Pictures?

I went into the living room—the couch was a velvety red-wine color while the drapes were a soft color caught somewhere between midnight blue and purple—and sat in the middle of the couch. Callum had disappeared around the corner to fetch whatever pictures he wanted me to see, and I found myself on edge as I waited.

What if Callum’s proof wasn’t convincing? What if this was all just a bullshit lie? Part of his act?

I hoped it wasn’t, but I had my reservations.

Callum returned after a few minutes with a photo album. “I want you to know, these are bad.”

He set the album on his lap and opened it up, revealing pictures of himself as a child—with a young girl a little younger than him at his side. He pointed at her. “This is Amelia.”

He flipped to several more pages, each one filled with pictures of family events, him standing with that little girl. But it wasn’t until the one of him in high school showed up that I was convinced.

“Jesus, is that Liz?”

“Elizabeth? Yeah, she’s my stepsister.”

My eyes widened into saucers. What were the odds that I met his stepsister in college? Apparently, pretty good, because that sure as hell was her, standing next to Callum and… Amelia. His sister. The stepsister that Liz always bitched about.

“Unbelievable,” I murmured.

He shrugged. “My parents had a nasty divorce when I was younger. Dad was a good man, more or less, but his weakness was women. In general. He couldn’t leave it at just one woman, so he always ended up fucking around. Mom was obviously upset when she found out.”

“Shit, I’m sorry.”

He waved off my apology. “They split, dad remarried Patricia Laney, Elizabeth’s mother. It was kind of a joke, and it definitely didn’t last, but it was enough to make us legally family.”

It was hard to believe that the world was that small, but the evidence of it was staring me right in the face. “I can’t believe it.”

He nodded. “I made a promise to my father to take care of Amelia. So here she is. Once again in need of care.”

Callum took the album from my hands and set it beside him on the cushion. Then he turned to face me. “Don’t ever think I’m not faithful. My dad was an asshole. I’m not. If I don’t want to be with you, you’ll fucking know. No games, no other women.”

I bit my lip, feeling oddly vulnerable after the whole thing. “Promise?”

He nodded, eyes burning. He cupped my cheeks and pulled me to him, his mouth crashing against mine in a demanding kiss that was as much a promise as his words.

It was probably only supposed to be reassuring, but he couldn’t seem to leave it at that. His tongue slipped across the seam of my lips until they parted. He explored my mouth with his tongue while his hands moved from my face down to my shoulders. They continued lower until they found my hips, gripping them and jerking my body toward his.

My breasts crashed against his hard chest, and I moaned. I wrapped my arms around his neck as my leg lifted to settle in his lap.

His hands were tugging at my shirt, pulling it free from the skirt I was wearing. My hands were busy, too. I was dragging one down the front of his chest, letting my fingers trail over those hard abs, until I found the waistband of his sweats. He broke our kiss to suck in a harsh breath when my hand dipped beneath the fabric of his pants to brush against his member.

He was already hard.

“Fuck, Marnie,” he ground out.

I grinned, then started placing kisses along his neck and shoulders as I wrapped my hand around the length of him.

I gave him a good, long stroke, his hips trying to jerk into my hand as a result. He was cursing up a storm as his hands got my blouse free of my skirt. But that wasn’t enough. His hands went to the front of my shirt to start unbuttoning it.

“Damnit, Marnie, I’m getting you a Velcro shirt,” he managed to get out as his fingers fumbled with my buttons.

I giggled but silently agreed with him. Velcro was an excellent idea. I crawled on top of Callum’s lap, causing my skirt to ruck up to my hips. I continued to stroke him, and he groaned in pleasure.

Finally, he managed to get my blouse open, then cursed again. “Velcro and no bras. It’s the newest thing.”

I laughed at him, then gasped as his hands dipped beneath my bra to cup my breasts. A moan escaped my lips when his fingers found my nipples and began to roll them, making them hard.

“I need inside you, Marnie,” he told me bluntly. “Now.”

I nodded in agreement. I released his cock out of necessity only. Standing, I pushed down my skirt, then kicked off my panties. My blouse went next, followed by my bra.

Callum was quicker. All he had to do was shuck off his sweats and jerk his tank up over his head. And just like that he was naked, his full glory there in front of my eyes.

We didn’t spend long staring and admiring each other. We were too worked up, too eager. I laid back on the floor, thankful for the thick, soft throw rug beneath me. Callum followed quickly, his hands caressing my bare body. He let his palm slide up from my thighs, along my waist and ribs, to reach my breast. He fondled me, squeezing the supple flesh there until I was arching up into his palm.

His mouth was equally eager. He kissed my stomach, my ribs, finally my breasts. He popped a single nipple into his mouth, then rolled his tongue over it. Then he caught it between his teeth and worried at it.

I gasped. “Oh, please. More.”

He suckled my breast a moment longer, then returned the favor to the other. Finally, when he was satisfied that he’d played with me enough—for now—he sat up on his haunches so that he could position himself better between my legs.

My body hummed with anticipation, waiting, wanting. When I felt him position his cock at my entrance, I almost sighed with relief. He pressed the head between my lips, and the next movement was a thrust that made him bottom out within me.

I cried out in pleasure, arching my back, and he grunted in agreement.

He didn’t give me a moment to adjust. Instead, he started thrusting immediately, hard, fast and needy. I loved it. My hips rose to meet his, determined to keep up. I clutched at his sweaty body, holding him close to me, riding out our lovemaking.

I felt him shake and tremble, his thrusts becoming erratic. I knew he was close, and I wanted him to topple over the edge.

“Please, Callum, come,” I told him, and he did.

He lost himself inside me, then collapsed on top of me. He rolled over quickly so as not to crush me, but then pulled me to him. He wasn’t ready to let me go yet.

It made me feel better than anything else. Better than the sex, than the promise. Everything. Because he wanted me to be close to him.

We relaxed like that for a long while, before his phone went off.

He groaned when he looked at the screen. “It’s Amelia.”

I was thankful that whole thing was cleared up, otherwise I would have thrown a fit about that statement. “So? Ignore her.”

“It’s not so simple. She’s… it’s complicated. She’s kind of a pain in the ass, and honestly, she’s ruined more than a few things for me in the past.”

“Jesus. Then why the hell are you helping her?”

“I told you. I promised my father.” He shrugged, causing my head to move with his shoulder. “Besides, she swears she’s trying to get her act together. Everyone deserves another chance, right?”

Well, I wasn’t sure about everyone, but I didn’t say that. Instead, I nodded. “Yeah, I guess they do.” I paused, then looked up at him. “You’re sweet, if maybe a little stupid sometimes.”

He laughed. “Yeah, you might be right. But she’s only staying a couple of months. Just until she gets back on her feet.”

I nodded again. “Shit. I should text Courtney.” I needed to let her know that we got our wires crossed and that the whole thing was just a misunderstanding. But before I got to my phone, he was already pulling me back to him.

“Text her later. We’ve got more pressing matters.”

I rolled on top of him this time, ready and eager for round two.

Chapter Eighteen

Marnie

 

 

One month later.

Finally.

Fucking finally.

The manuscript was dropped off at my desk first thing in the morning, bright and early. I’d been waiting on this damn book for several months—and at least a month longer than originally planned—and all I could think was thank God.

I was seriously starting to think Harvey wasn’t going to give me anything, but here it was.

There were a stack of papers sitting on my desk several inches thick. I was excited to get started, and not just because I’d been impatiently waiting for it. Harvey also happened to be an awesome writer, whether I wanted to admit it or not, and getting my hands on the unedited copy first was something of a treat for me.

I was practically salivating over the manuscript, but before getting started, I poked my head out of my office.

“Courtney?”

“Yeah, boss?”

She’d been back for the last three weeks, and she was acting as impervious as ever. Nothing could touch that woman. At least, that was what she was trying to convince everyone of. I was grateful, mostly, to have her back to normal, though I felt badly that she hadn’t gotten her romantic happy ending like I had.

But at least we had worked things out. The mess with Amelia and all the confusion that came with it helped solve some of our personal problems. We got on the same page and resolved our fight. It felt good to know she was back in my life like she was always meant to be.

“Hello? Earth to Marnie?”

I shook myself out of my thoughts. “Yeah, sorry. Um… I got the manuscript today, so make sure I’m not interrupted.” Courtney barely paused at the mention of the manuscript, though she almost certainly knew who had delivered it. She was working hard to be unaffected. “You doing okay?”

She glanced over at me finally and offered a small smile. “Of course. I’m totally fine. And more importantly, I’m completely over Harvey. In fact, it’s a good thing that we broke it off before anything really started.”

She turned back to her desk like that was that.

I frowned. I knew that she was probably still a little sore over the whole thing. Whether they wanted to admit it or not, Courtney had really connected to Trent—she just hadn’t realized it was him at the time.

I felt bad for my friend, but there was nothing for it. I left the wound alone in the hopes that it would heal properly.

“Yeah, okay. Well, I’ll be working on the manuscript.”

She nodded. “I’ll make sure your schedule’s cleared.”

I disappeared back into my office, then settled behind my desk for the best damn book I’d read in a while. I hoped so anyway.

I pulled the papers to me, getting comfortable in my chair, ready and willing to be amazed even as I uncapped my favorite red pen. For the next three hours, I was wrapped up in Harvey’s work. The twists, the turns. He had a few grammatical things that I would have a proofreader fix later on, and I picked up on a couple of plot contradictions, but for the most part, the story flowed like a river. Smooth on the surface, but speeding along beneath.

But as I read, I couldn’t help but notice something. A very specific character. One that almost seemed like maybe she’d been added on about halfway in…

“Jesus fucking Christ.”

I stopped reading immediately and burst out of my office. A second later I was standing in front of Courtney’s desk, slapping the manuscript down in front of her.

She jumped a little, startled. “Whoa, Marnie! What’s going on?”

“You need to read this.”

Her eyebrows rose in question. “What?”

“This. You need to read it. Just trust me.”

She was clearly confused, but the best way to explain it—and to convince her of the truth—was to have her read it for herself. It was the only way she was going to believe it.

“O-kay,” she answered, carefully pulling the manuscript toward her.

For the next few hours, I waited. Waited for her to read what I had. About the queen. The queen of all good women, the changer and stealer of hearts, and the only thing in the world who could reform a man who had lost his way. It was beautiful, poetic, and highly personal. Because it didn’t take a genius to figure out that the main character was Harvey himself.

I’ve only seen a fleeting glimpse of her glory, her wonder, but I will never go a night without seeing her in my dreams. I have been blessed with that much at least. My only regret in life is that I wasn’t able to hold on to that beauty, that magic in real life.

It wasn’t the book I’d been expecting. It was hugely different from his other books. But it was beautiful and poetic, and most importantly, it had been written for Courtney. That much I was sure of.

I knew when Courtney was finished, because there were tears in her eyes. She was working hard to hold them back, but she couldn’t. She set the manuscript down, and I took it gently off her desk.

“You should go. Make it an early day,” I told her softly.

“But…”

I shook my head. “Go. You need to talk to him.”

She didn’t say anything else. She just grabbed her things and headed to the elevator. It wasn’t until the doors were closing on her that she called out a thank-you.

I smiled and hoped that she figured out what kind of happy ending she wanted and whether she could have it with Trent.

Chapter Nineteen

Courtney

 

 

My heart was pounding as I got out of my car. I’d left it parked along the side of the road, not caring about tickets or whose spot I might have filched. I didn’t care. I only had one thing on my mind: Trent Harvey.

I hurried up the sidewalk to his house and pounded on the door. I was so worked up, so excited and nervous and everything else, that my hands were shaking. But I was grateful to be here. All I wanted now was a chance.

It took a moment before the door opened, but when it did, I didn’t waste a beat. “Did you really mean what you wrote?” I blurted ineloquently, the words tumbling out of my mouth in a hurried rush. I wanted the answers now. I needed to know what he was really feeling before I could admit what I was feeling.

For a moment, he was silent. He stared at me as though he were drinking me in, a man who hadn’t seen beauty in years and was suddenly taken to the streets of Paris. I didn’t know that I deserved that kind of reverence, but I loved it just the same.

“Every word of it,” he told me fiercely.

I felt tears prick at my eyes again. I hadn’t been willing to admit how much I really wanted him to say that until he was standing right here in front of me saying it. “Why?”

His full lips pulled up into a small smile. “Because it was what I felt, what I do feel.” He stepped closer to me, actually coming outside so that we were both standing on his stoop. His large hands went to my arms, gripping them gently. “You’re my muse, Courtney. The inspiration I needed to finish the manuscript. I was starved for it, but there you were all along. I just had to find you.”

I felt my mouth begin to pull up into a smile. “Really?”

He nodded, his eyes searching mine. “And I wish… fuck, I wish I hadn’t messed this all up from day one, but I can’t change that. All I can do is spend the rest of my life trying to fix it. If you’ll let me.”

I felt a laugh bubble up in my throat, my mouth splitting into a grin that had to take up my entire face. Before he could be hurt by my laughter, however, I reached for his face, cupping his cheeks between my hands. “Don’t be so dramatic,” I told him. And then I kissed him.

I kissed him like I meant it, like I needed it. Because it really felt like I did.

His lips were full and hot against mine. When our lips parted, he tasted a little like vanilla, just like our first kiss. His hands found their way to my waist, tentative, as though afraid I might change my mind at any moment.

But I wasn’t going to change my mind. This was what I wanted.

I broke the kiss only so I could look up at him and ask, “Wanna go inside?”

He grinned at me, then nodded. I expected to follow him in, but instead I was surprised when he scooped me up into his arms and carried me off.

I squealed and laughed at him as he carried me into the house, kicking the door closed behind him. He carried me up the stairs to the room I had to presume was his. He threw me down on the bed, grinning as he crawled over the bed on top of me. He propped himself up on his elbows, his legs tangled up in mine, and just looked at me.

“You are all I want. I love you, Courtney Hughes. You are the only one for me.”

I grinned cheekily at him even as I blushed profusely. I leaned up and placed my lips against his again, this time in a soft, sweet kiss. Lying back, I said, “I don’t know about all this muse and eternal love stuff, but… but I feel something for you. Something real.”

His smile was blinding. “Does that mean you’ll be sticking around?”

I nodded. “Yeah, for now. Just don’t fuck it up, okay?” I warned him, poking at his chest, which was hard beneath my finger.

He laughed. “Or what?” he challenged, his voice dropping.

“Or there’ll be hell to pay. I am not to be fucked with.”

“Noted. And still definitely worth the risk.”

He kissed me again. And again. And again.

With each kiss I reminded myself to be brave. To give him a chance. He was a good man who had done stupid things in the past. That was everyone in the entire universe.

I was convinced that he meant what he wrote and what he’d said to me. The rest we’d have to work out as we went.