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?”