The Real Thing

by Lexi Aurora

  “You’re sorry?” he parroted, his face both reserved and quizzical at the same time, “What for? Unless I’m very far out of the loop, you aren’t the one in charge of the security here.”

  “No, you’re right. It’s probably a good thing, too,” she laughed hesitantly.

  "Then what do you need to apologize for?" he persisted. She squirmed, rising up on her tiptoes and then back down again compulsively. It was her one really noticeable nervous tick, and she had gotten looks about it her whole life. If Liam noticed it, he didn't let on.

  “I’m the reason Matt didn’t want to let you in here,” she answered haltingly, “I asked him not to.”

  "Explain," he answered. Only one clipped word but it made her insides jump up to her throat. He was thoroughly authoritarian in his delivery and made it almost impossible to do anything but comply.

  “I’ve been feeling weird, just wandering around this house with nothing to do. I talked to Lena-”

  “Who is Lena?” he broke in. His voice sharp and in her humble estimation, frightened.

  “She’s my friend. My best friend.”

  “And you told her about all of this?”

  "I did, but there's no reason to worry. I can promise you, she's not a part of any ring of jewel thieves."

  “You can’t, actually.”

  “Can’t?”

  “Promise that.”

  "I'm more sure that she isn't part of it than I am about you. Is that enough for you?" she asked, starting to get annoyed herself. It didn't happen often, and Liam must have sensed that he was pushing it too far because he held up both hands palms out in a tentative gesture of peace.

  “Fair enough. Tell me what that’s got to do with you giving my security guys directions?”

  “She told me I should find something that made me feel useful and cooking was what made the most sense. I love to cook. I always have, and I’ve never gotten a chance to cook in a kitchen as nice as this.”

  For a minute Liam just stared at her while she stood there squirming, wishing fervently for the power of invisibility. His face betrayed nothing. Then the corners of his mouth started to lift into a smile and Felicity sighed in relief.

  "You could have just said something, you know," he said with a small laugh. Her body flushed, making it feel like the temperature in the room had risen by ten degrees all at once, and she looked at the floor. She felt like an utter fool. There was zero reason for her to insist on all of that secrecy. She had wanted to do something nice for him, make herself useful, but instead had created more disruption in his household than she had already been doing. And oh God, was she going to cry? Her mind insisted that she wouldn't do something that humiliating, but the hot, prickling feeling in her eyes said differently. She bit down hard on the inside of her cheek and probably wouldn't ever have looked up again if Liam hadn't reached out to gently lift her face.

  “Felicity?” he asked softly, no trace of the anger he’d demonstrated towards Matt.

  “Yes?” she squeaked, fighting the temptation to look down again.

  “It’s okay. You don’t have anything to feel bad for. I overreacted. I do that sometimes.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I’m sure. Just show me what you have cooked because I’m starving, and it smells fantastic in here.”

  She grinned at him and as he sat down, she felt really good for the first time since coming to live at Liam's house. She liked feeling his eyes on her while she busied herself setting out the food she had spent hours making. The warmth of the kitchen made her tingle, her skin coming alive with the expectation of what the evening might hold in store. It was a simple enough meal; a roast with roasted potatoes and other assorted vegetables, but the bread was freshly baked, and the flavor profile of everything was complex and deep. While she set the table, Liam excused himself and returned a moment later with a bottle of wine. She was no wine expert, but the bottle looked expensive. She would never ask about the price, she had been raised better than that, but she made a mental note to look it up later. All she knew was that she was glad to finally sit down. More than that, she was glad to sit down across Liam; to feel something akin to a family meal. It didn't hurt that he looked so thoroughly impressed with everything. Judging by his expression, one would think she had laid out a Michelin-star-level meal. He was so impressed that for several minutes there was zero conversation. The two of them ate in silence, and to Felicity's surprise, it wasn't an awkward one. When the two of them made eye contact again, Liam's eyes were shining.

  “Alright, you’ve been holding out on me,” he said with mock seriousness.

  “No! I haven’t been! Not at all!” She laughed, turning bright red.

  “But you have been. I had no idea you could cook like this. You shouldn’t be working in restaurants, Felicity. You should be the head chef.”

  "No way. I'm just a home cook. It's very sweet of you to say, though," she answered demurely. She definitely wasn't used to these kinds of compliments.

  “You’re more than that. Much more, whether you see it or not.”

  "Well, thank you. It's a very sweet thing to say," she answered, hoping that was the end of it. Modest was an understatement when it came to Felicity, and she didn't have the right equipment to handle it. If he kept going with the compliments, she was going to be rendered speechless. Her change of topic was more out of necessity than anything else.

  "Tell me something about yourself," she said abruptly enough that he put down his fork and looked at her intently. She laughed and shoveled more potatoes into her mouth like it was her job. It wasn't the most lady-like thing in the world, but it was the only thing she could think of to do.

  "I don't think anyone's ever asked me anything like that before," he said finally, his eyes narrowing a little in concentration.

  “Sorry. I shouldn’t have. I don’t know what-”

  “No. Don't apologize. I liked it. What kind of something do you want to know?" he asked, settling back into his chair and sipping his wine thoughtfully.

  "Tell me something you haven't told anyone before," she answered quietly, peering at him over her glass of wine. He raised one eyebrow, his entire face one big question. She was tempted to look away, but she held his gaze.

  “You’re really going for the jugular, aren’t you?” he asked, chuckling softly.

  “I don’t know. Am I?”

  “Something I haven’t told anyone before implies something personal,” he answered, his voice mild but strangely chiding at the same time.

  “If it isn’t personal,” she countered, her confidence picking up now, “is it really worth knowing?”

  "Good point." he laughed loudly enough that she jumped in her chair. He took a long, slow sip of his wine and did not speak. He picked up his fork, took a thoughtful bite, and did not speak. She could practically see the wheels turning, and her anticipation was so huge she couldn't breathe. She didn't expect an answer because it was something she had no right to ask and when he finally opened his mouth, she was ready to hear an excuse.

  "I still miss my mom," he answered, his voice sounding somehow smaller than it normally did. Her mouth dropped open, and for a second, she was sure he’d made it up. He watched her reaction intently and, she thought, a little nervously. When she didn't respond, he took another sip of his wine and cleared his throat loudly.

  “Sorry, maybe that wasn’t the kind of answer you were looking for. Too much of a downer?”

  “No! Sorry, not at all. I’m just surprised. I didn’t think you would give me a real answer.”

  "Honestly, I'm not sure why I did. I've never said that out loud before," he answered, looking bemused. It was the expression on his face that drove what she did next. He held that little boy lost look in his eyes, like he had woken up to find himself in a life he was not prepared to navigate. She reached out and took his hand, squeezing it tightly.

  “Thank you,” she answered, her voice catching in her throat. It wasn’t nearly enough, her st
upid thank you, but it was all she could think to say. For the time being, it must have been enough because he lifted her hand, kissed it lightly, and then put it down again without letting her go.

  “She didn’t leave. She died,” he said, his voice low and thick.

  “You don’t have to-”

  "You're right; I don't. I might need to, though. Like I said, I haven't spoken about it before. If you don't mind," he added on the end, almost as an afterthought.

  “I don’t mind,” she whispered.

  "She died. It happened when I was seventeen. She had been sick for a long time, but we didn't know."

  "We?" she asked timidly.

  “My sister Rebecca. She’s two years younger than me. I think our father knew, although he has never been willing to speak about it. As far as Rebecca and I were aware, our mother had a cold one day and a week later she was dead.”

  “I’m so sorry.” There was that stupid word again. The English language needed a word that meant more.

  “It was harder on Rebecca than anyone. I got to go to college and pretend it didn’t happen, but she was still so young.”

  “But what about your dad? Surely it was difficult for him, too?” she half said, half asked.

  “You would think, right?” Liam laughed humorously, “But he was married less than a year later. His new wife was four years older than me when they made it official.”

  “Oh my God, are you serious? She was only twenty-one?” Felicity gasped, more genuinely shocked by this last part than by any of the rest.

  “I’m serious. She was the kind of girl I would have tried to hit on if I’d see her out somewhere.”

  “Liam, I’m-”

  "Do you want to do something with me?" he asked suddenly, changing the topic of conversation so quickly it just about gave her whiplash. It must have shown on her face too, because one look at her set Liam off laughing. It was one of those deep gut laughs, and Felicity couldn't help joining in.

  “Come on now, don’t leave a guy hanging. Do you want to do something with me or don’t you?”

  "Yes," she answered quickly. She answered as fast as she could, fast enough that there was no time for second-guessing. There might be regrets after the fact, but for the time being, his answering grin was all she needed.

  Chapter Nine

  Felicity Reynolds

  She felt as though she was moving through a dream, following Liam through the house. He walked quickly in front of her, so quickly that Felicity had to half run to keep up. It felt a little like racing through some unseen part of the Alice in Wonderland story, moving through such a giant home at such a pace. The whole place was a testament to modern architecture, the lines and decor so clean it was almost austere. The sound of their feet on the polished concrete floor and her excited breath was the only soundtrack to their adventure, and the adrenaline poured into her system in buckets. By the time Liam had them at their destination, she was half convinced she was going to faint. She wasn't drunk, but there was enough wine in her to have her head buzzing pleasantly. The air conditioner poured over her in waves that should have left her chilly but instead her entire body was warm. Liam stopped abruptly in front of her, and she smacked straight into the back of him, driving him into the glass door directly in front of him.

  "Woah!" He laughed, turning his body so that her hands rested on his chest. His heart thumped steadily beneath his expensive button-down shirt and Felicity was tempted to slide her fingers into the gaps in the fabric so that her fingertips could be closer to his skin. Instead, she took a quick step backwards and wrapped her arms tightly around her ribcage.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to. I didn’t realize we were done racing through the halls!”

  “Is that what we were doing?” He laughed easily. He leaned against the door, his own arms crossed in a gesture that seemed somehow casual when he did it, looking at her unapologetically. His eyes moved from her face down the length of her body and then back up again, taking his time. A low sound came from the back of his throat that reminded Felicity of a cat’s purr while he looked. She didn’t think he was aware he was making the noise but that didn’t make it any less thrilling. If anything, the effect was more profound, the idea that he honestly couldn’t help himself.

  “I don’t know. I’m out of breath, aren’t I?” she countered boldly, ignoring the heat blooming in her cheeks.

  “You are, aren’t you? I was kind of hoping that was because of me.”

  “Liam, I-” she started with no earthly idea what she wanted to say.

  “Come on,” he interrupted, “I’ll show you your surprise.”

  He turned and opened the glass door, the only one of its kind she had seen so far in his beautiful house. She swallowed hard, chewing on her bottom lip as she followed him. It was dangerous, whatever game the two of them were playing. It was dangerous, and there was no way for her to deny it. This hadn't been the point of her impromptu meal. She had only wanted to do something nice, be useful for a change and maybe get back some small sense of herself in the world. What it was turning into was something else entirely, and the only smart thing for her to do was walk away. She would look like a stick in the mud, but who cared? At least the lines wouldn't be blurred. Blurred again, she corrected herself, shivering with a burst of pleasure with the memory of the gala night. She needed to make her excuses and go up to her room, try to read a book and go to bed. Her head would be clear in the morning and the moment of danger between the two of them would pass. That was what she should have done. What she did instead was follow after him, her chest tightening with the ludicrous notion that he might disappear if she didn't keep up. It was a stupid idea, but when she first entered this previously unbreached room, she didn't see him anywhere. There was a breathtaking indoor Olympic-size pool, and a ceiling made up of an intricately designed mosaic mural, but nobody there. She took a hesitant step inside the room, letting the door close softly behind her. Where the rest of the house was cold, this room was comfortably humid and smelled distinctly of chlorine.

  "Liam?" she called out uncertainly. The air hummed with the electricity of potential trouble, and still she took another step into the room. The tile beneath her bare feet was cool, while the rest of her felt very, very warm.

  “Liam, where’d you go?” she asked timidly. She caught movement out of the corner of her eye and gasped, spinning to face it head on and almost losing her balance.

  "Shit, don't fall, Felicity. You fall on this tile, and we might have to take you to the hospital. That's not the way I saw this thing going."

  "What are you doing?" she asked stupidly, her cheeks burning hotter than ever. It was a stupid question because she could plainly see what he was doing, or at least what it looked like he was doing. His shoes and socks were already off, his shirt almost unbuttoned. As she watched, he freed the last button, slid his arms out of his sleeves, and let the shirt drop to the floor. That shirt probably cost more than a month's worth of her groceries, probably cost at least double that, and he let it fall onto the already damp tiles like it was nothing at all. God, he was good looking. She wanted to say handsome, although the word struck her as far too old-fashioned. There was something about his looks that reminded her of an old-school movie star, along the lines of Cary Grant. It was in the easy masculinity of his stance, in his strong jaw and sharp eyes. On top of that, his body was insane. She knew that from before, but this time it was different. This was not a rushed encounter in a home that they had no business getting in. Now there was nothing to keep her from drinking in all of his details, and there was a whole lot to look at. His skin was tanned and taut over his lean muscles, which were unlike anything she had ever seen. She didn't know when he went to the gym, but it must’ve been a part of his daily routine. People didn't get eight-pack abs without working for them, even if he was making it look easy. He took a step towards her, his hands moving down to his belt buckle and she gasped, her hand flying up to her mouth like it had a mind of its own. He st
opped, a little half smile on his face, but his hand never left that buckle.

  “What’s the matter, Felicity? Am I still scaring you?” he asked, a growl in his voice that made her skin prickle.

  “No, not exactly. But what exactly are we doing here?” she asked, her voice miraculously level.

  "We're going for a swim," he answered without missing a beat. He sounded so innocent, but there were oceans of meaning underneath it. She could easily assume that she was reading too much into things. It would probably be easier if she just chalked it up to that and went on her merry way except that she couldn't do that. She might have been able to if it weren't for his hand, his hand still on his belt buckle and twitching, like he wanted to keep going.

  “What?!” she balked, going into her protective stance yet again, “We can’t do that!”

  "We can't? Why not? I don't know if you've noticed, but there's a pool right here."

  “I see that, but we can’t. We... we just ate!”

  There were probably stupider things she could have said, but at the moment she couldn't think of any. It made her sound so childish and the amount of self-control Liam used to keep from laughing at her must have been considerable.

  “You’re right,” he said through a grin, “we did. Let’s go swimming anyway. Let’s live a little dangerously. What do you think?”

  "I don't have a bathing suit, though. I'm not sure I even brought one to the house, but I’m definitely not wearing one under my clothes," she stuttered. She was stalling for time, there was no doubt about that. Did he know it? Could he read it on her face, that she had no idea what to do? All the muscles in her body tensed up, caught somewhere between pulling off her clothes or sprinting for the door. Liam's eyes never left her, his body as still as hers was jittery. She had the strangest sense of him being the hunter and her being the prey. It should have freaked her out, but instead, it was exhilarating. For once she felt completely, utterly alive. It was an odd realization that you were going through your life half asleep. It might have made her sad if there had been real time to follow the thought, but there was hardly any time for thinking at all. She was alive, and yes, she wanted to swim with Liam. Yes, she wanted to take off all her clothes and have his eyes stay fixated on the curves of her body just the way they were fixated on her now.