Ruined With You

by J. Kenner

  I tremble in his arms, warm and content. Last night in the park had been a wonderful, insane treasure. A celebration of being alive. A testament to my freedom, because God knows I’d never been able to take control like that before.

  But this … for the first time in my life I feel cherished. Adored. Respected.

  It’s not everything I need in bed—I know that. But what I crave is something I shouldn’t want. Something that scares me and makes me fear that I’ll never truly get past what happened to me.

  I roll over and stroke his face, rough with beard stubble, then trace his lips, soft and swollen from my kisses.

  “Thank you,” I say, and I sigh as a tiny bit of hope creeps into me. This man is a miracle, and I’ve never been a woman who believes in miracles.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “This bathroom is freaking amazing,” Xena said, her voice drifting to Liam from behind the closed door.

  He grinned; that was a guest’s typical reaction to his master bath, a room that always made him smile. “You’ve met the fish.”

  The door opened, and she stood there in a pair of Universal Studios Hollywood sweat pants and a souvenir Santa Monica T-shirt, her freshly washed hair hanging in damp waves around her face. “Fish?” She cocked her head and crossed her arms. “What fish?”

  “Funny. I’ve invited a comedian into my home for a shower and some lunch. What was I thinking?” They’d arrived back in town with time to spare before the meeting at the SSA, and so Liam had brought her to Malibu for food, fresh clothes, and a change of transportation. As much as he loved his bike, he’d happily switch to a car for the rest of the day.

  “If that was your idea of humor, I feel very sorry for you.” She smiled, and he smiled back, unable to resist the bubble of joy that rose inside him simply from the sight of her looking so comfortable and relaxed.

  “Seriously,” she continued. “That aquarium is amazing. All those incredible colored fish. And all these plants, too.”

  “I travel too much to have a dog or a cat, but I like the feeling of having life in the house. It reminds me of home.” Though the public areas of the Sykes mansion had regular deliveries of flowers and plants from a local nursery, the wing that he shared with his mother had been filled solely with the flowers and greenery that she tended. He’d missed the scent of the dirt, the coolness of the leaves, and the varied colors of the flowers during his time in the Middle East. And during his years traveling for the department store and Deliverance, he’d only managed to keep a cactus and an aloe vera plant growing in his window.

  When he’d started working for the SSA and moved into the condo, he’d made sure that the massive remodel included sufficient windows to provide light for the interior plants. And he’d put enough greenery on the balcony to rival a rain forest.

  “Have you named them?”

  “The plants?”

  “Now you’re just messing with me. The fish. Because in case you hadn’t noticed, they take up an entire wall in that bathroom.”

  “Yeah. I’m aware.”

  “And the shower is glass.”

  “I’m also clued in to that.” He had to fight a smile.

  “I just feel that since every one of those fish was checking me out, we’re kind of intimate now. I should probably know their names.”

  “I’ll get right on that. In the meantime,” he said, moving to stand in front of her and sliding an arm around her waist, “let’s just call them what they are—some very lucky fish.”

  “That’s true,” she said. “After all, you shower in there almost every day.”

  “Sometimes twice a day. It’s my favorite room. That and the patio,” he added, hooking his thumb over his shoulder to indicate the glass doors that led to the balcony—and the stunning view of the Pacific.

  “Oh, really?” Her voice rose with a tease. “Not the bedroom?”

  “To be honest, the bedroom’s not used for much more than sleeping and reading and blowing off steam.”

  “Blowing off steam?” Her brows rose with interest. “That sounds like a euphemism for what we did this morning. And last night.”

  He wanted to say no. To tell her that she was so much more than one of his rare hook-ups. But he honestly didn’t know what she was. All he knew for sure was that he wanted to touch her again.

  And that she couldn’t be his.

  So what he said instead was, “As euphemisms go, that’s probably fair. But not frequent.”

  “A selective man.” The lightness in her voice sounded a bit forced, and her throat moved as she swallowed. “I’m flattered.”

  “Listen, Xena—” He cut himself off. What the hell was he supposed to say? That there wasn’t anything between them? She knew that. That he wanted her in his bed again? She knew that, too. That a fuck didn’t mean a future? Once again, she knew that as well. Moreover, she was already well settled on the no-relationship train.

  “What?”

  He rubbed his temples. “That euphemism is exactly what it sounds like. I don’t do relationships, and there is no woman in my life. But every once in a while, I want what I want.”

  Her mouth twisted. “You don’t have to be coy with me, you know. I mean, hey, I could probably find you an expert call girl at a really reasonable rate.”

  “Christ, Xena, I—”

  “Sorry. I’m sorry.” She ran her fingers through her hair. “I’m tired and I’m hungry and even though we aren’t a thing, it still feels really fucked up for you to be telling me that you don’t do relationships and don’t have a girlfriend. I mean, why lie?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  She pointed to the pants, then the shirt. “These just happened to be in a drawer? A drawer completely filled with girl-stuff, including a vibrator?”

  “A vibrator?” He had to fight a laugh. “Everything in that drawer belongs to Denny.” And it would take all his willpower not to give her shit about the vibrator.

  “That means nothing to me. You know that, right?”

  “She’s a friend, and she’s with the SSA,” he began. “She takes care of my fish and plants when I’m out of town. She stays in the downstairs guest room, but I gave her a drawer up here so she could use the fish shower.” He went on to tell her about Denny’s husband, Mason, and how he’d come back after being lost to her for so long. “I’m guessing the toy was a pre-Mason thing. Either that or she left it in the drawer to embarrass me if I ever poked around in her stuff.”

  That, he thought, would be just like Denny. It also fouled up his plans to give her grief.

  Well, hell.

  “So there’s nothing between you two?”

  “Pretty sure I just made that clear. I told you. I don’t do relationships. And I don’t do friends with benefits, either.”

  “Out of curiosity, what am I?” She leaned against the dresser, studying him openly. “Or are we done, um, blowing off steam?”

  “You’re a damsel in distress,” he said, making her laugh.

  “Yeah, I’m so the damsel. But the distress part is pretty accurate.”

  “Exactly. And in the kind of a stressful situation that you’re in—that we’re both in—blowing off a little steam could be good for both of us.”

  “Agreed. It’s—what’s that word?—pragmatic. Or maybe cathartic.”

  “Could be both.”

  “We just totally justified fucking again, didn’t we?”

  “I think we did.”

  She grinned at him. “Do you know what I want right this very second?”

  He lifted his brows and made an attempt to leer at her. “Lunch?”

  “God, yes,” she said, and he realized that he was having more fun with this woman than he’d had in a very long time.

  “How does lasagna sound?”

  “Fabulous, considering I haven’t had anything since that Snickers we got from the motel vending machine. But I don’t think we have time to go out. Do we?”

  “Who said anything about goin
g out? Come on.” He ushered her out of the bedroom and down the stairs to the kitchen. “I made it the night before I flew to Vegas. It’s still fine,” he said, pulling a casserole dish of lasagna out of the fridge and sliding two generous pieces onto microwavable plates.

  She looked from the lasagna to him and back again. “Seriously?”

  “What? I promise it’s still good.” He popped the first plate into the microwave. “Lasagna will last four, five days as leftovers.”

  “No, no. I’m sure it’s fine,” she said. “I’m just impressed.” She shrugged. “Of course, I’m a natural in the kitchen, too.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Oh, sure. Pasta, even. My ramen could totally give that piddly-ass lasagna a run for its money.”

  “And you said you didn’t get to do the college thing.”

  She smirked, then sat on the bar-height stool on the other side of the kitchen island. “Serious question for you.”

  “Uh-oh.”

  “Why don’t you do relationships?”

  He hesitated, then turned to the microwave when it dinged. “Let’s just say that you and I are more alike than either of us probably imagined.”

  His back was to her when he spoke, and when he turned to pass her the plate and a fork, he could see the questions forming on her face and was grateful when she didn’t ask him to explain.

  He heated up his own serving, and they both dug into the food, her at the bar and him still in the kitchen, eating at the counter. He was going back for a second piece when she mentioned that she’d talked to Ella.

  “She called while I was in the bathroom. They can’t trace me through my phone, can they?”

  “No,” he said automatically, then added, “probably not. We’ll replace it at the office, just in case.” He had no idea how well funded the men after her were, but considering their years of persistence, he assumed there was a large cash pool financing the enterprise. And while the odds were slim, there was at least a theoretical possibility that they could track her when she used her phone. And as far as Liam was concerned, “slim” wasn’t good odds at all.

  “Okay,” she said, and he was grateful she didn’t argue. Then again, unlike most clients he’d been tasked with protecting, for Xena the endgame was real, not hypothetical. She knew they would kill her because she’d witnessed them do that very thing to her father. Most people didn’t really believe it, even when they were running for their lives.

  “—so thank you.”

  Shit. He grimaced. “Sorry. My mind wandered. What did I do to deserve your thanks?”

  “Ella said you sent a guy. Winston? Thanks for watching her back.”

  “That’s what I’m here for. I hope he’s bored out of his mind and has nothing to do, but I want him there since they may believe that she knows where you are. And they may try to convince her to tell them.”

  “She doesn’t know. I didn’t tell her.”

  “Good.” He took a sip of sparkling water. “Winston texted me, too. Told me that Ella’s thrilled he’s there, but Rye seems a little on edge.”

  She took another bite, then swallowed. “I suppose that makes sense. He probably thought with me gone, all would be well.” She shrugged. “He’s a good manager, and he really does love her, but he’s a little overprotective. And I think my sordid past always disturbed him.”

  “I’m sorry about that. You’ve been doing a great job for Ella for years. Any hesitations he had should have been alleviated by now.”

  “And yet, bad guys.” She shrugged. “So maybe he was right.”

  He wanted to argue—to tell her she didn’t deserve Rye’s hesitation or condemnation or whatever the hell it was—but she’d already moved on and was thanking him for the food. “It was delicious,” she said. “You really made it from scratch?”

  “I’m a man of many talents.”

  “You’re an interesting guy, Liam.”

  “Am I?”

  “All these plants thriving. A refrigerator with real food.”

  “Truly, I am amazing.”

  She smirked. “You’ve fed me, clothed me. Fucked me.”

  “Not exactly a hardship.”

  “You’ve taken care of me in every way possible.” She smiled, a little shyly. “I really do appreciate it. I know it’s a job, and I should be scared out of my mind right now, but I’m not.” She indicated the room, the food. “You’ve made me feel normal. Special, even. So thank you.”

  “You’re welcome, but with talk like that, you’re going to completely destroy my reputation as a badass, you know that right?”

  “I could be persuaded to keep your secret.”

  He took both their dishes and slid them into the sink, then leaned back against the refrigerator, facing her. “Could you? And what’s your price?”

  “We still have some time,” she said with a grin. “I thought we could blow off some steam.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  “So, forgive the fan girl thing, but I really do love Ellie Love’s music.”

  “She’s amazing,” I agree, unable to take my eyes off of the stunning woman standing in front of me. She’s tall and ridiculously beautiful, with coal black hair streaked with pink and purple, and a tiny diamond stud in her nose that catches the sunlight streaming in through the windows in the open area of the Stark Security offices.

  But what really draws my focus is the incredible bird tattoo that starts at her shoulder blade and trails down her arm. She’s wearing a sleeveless silk top and skinny jeans, and the colorful plumage was the first thing I noticed when Liam ushered me into the room.

  “What’s it like working for her?”

  “Ellie’s great,” I say honestly, trying to remember this woman’s name. “Really. I don’t have anything bad to say. Except when she’s being a bitch, and then I say it to her face. But honestly, she’s hardly ever a bitch.”

  “You really like her.”

  “I really do.”

  “Glad to hear it. Hanging around with Jackson and Damien, I’ve met a few celebrities. Most are nice, but some are fucking nuts.”

  “True that.” I frown, mentally untangling her words. Damien Stark I’ve heard of, obviously. A billionaire businessman who used to be a pro tennis player, he’s in the news a lot. Plus, his name’s on the door, and Liam told me that Stark founded the SSA after his daughter was kidnapped. “Who’s Jackson?”

  “Stark’s half-brother. Jackson Steele. You know his work,” she adds. “You’re staying with Liam, right? He did the remodel. And this building, too. This whole complex, actually.”

  “Oh! I have heard of him.” The Domino is a high-end business complex in the part of Santa Monica now known as Silicon Beach because it has so many tech companies. There was some controversy about the complex and it was all over the news during construction.

  “He’s great. And his wife Sylvia and I have been besties since the beginning of time.”

  I nod, knowing that I won’t manage to keep any of this straight. “So what do you do here? It’s Cassie, right?” I ask, pleased with myself for finally remembering.

  “Cassidy, actually. Cassidy Cunningham. But everyone calls me Cass. And I don’t do a thing except occasionally pop by to steal Denny for lunch.”

  I look around the room, which is ridiculous since I have no idea what Denny looks like. “I thought she was on vacation. Liam told me a horrible story about her husband and amnesia.” He’s in Ryan Hunter’s office, and he’d left me here with Cass, who’s doing a great job of entertaining me, but I’m definitely a bit overwhelmed.

  “Happy ending, though,” she says, still on Mason and Denny. “And yeah, she’s lazing on a beach somewhere. No, today I’m here with Eliza and Emma. We’re doing happy hour before girls’ night, and I figured I’d come get them.”

  “Which ones are they?”

  “Um, there’s Eliza,” she says, pointing to a woman with chestnut hair talking with a good-looking guy with a lean face and slightly tousled hair. “Eliza!”
she calls. “You ready?”

  Eliza gives her a thumbs-up, then kisses the guy. A polite enough kiss for the semi-public setting, but I can still feel the heat beneath it from here.

  “And that is Quince,” Cass says. “They’re a thing.”

  I laugh. “Figured that out on my own.”

  “Have fun, love,” Quince calls as Eliza approaches us. His voice is deep and rich and deliciously British. “And don’t get wankered.”

  She flashes a flirty smile back over her shoulder to him. “But you like it when I do,” she replies with a wink, and I’m absolutely certain I’m missing something.

  When she turns back around, she smiles at me and holds out a hand. “Hey, you’re Liam’s, right?”

  “Uh.” I take her hand. “Liam’s what?”

  Her eyes crinkle. “His assignment. Or have I been misinformed?”

  “Oh. Right. Yeah. He’s doing a stellar job of keeping me alive.”

  Her head tilts as if she’s studying me, and I wonder if I’ve made some horrible faux pas. Like no gallows humor in the office. But soon enough, her mouth twitches with amusement. “I’m sure he’ll stick close,” she says, and I actually start to blush. Which is something I haven’t done in years.

  “Seriously, he’s great at what he does. Whatever’s going on, he’s got your back.”

  “I know. Do you work with him?”

  “Work? Oh, no. I don’t work here. I’m an actress. Currently out of work, but I have an audition for a small part in Francesca Muratti’s next film,” she adds, mentioning an A-list star I’ve heard of. “So I’m hoping to be gainfully employed again, soon.”

  “Oh.” I frown between her and Cass, neither of whom are actually employed by this place.

  Eliza laughs. “I’m only here right now because I’m Quince’s girlfriend. God, I love saying that.” She shifts her attention to Cass. “We’re taking an Uber, right? Because there are three of us, and I’m not riding on the back of either one of your bikes.”