Dirty Little Lies

by James, Clare

  No, I need to stop this right now.

  Max’s hands start to explore, and I start to panic.

  Deep breath in, deep breath out.

  Honestly, this behavior is ridiculous, considering what I was ready to do with a complete stranger not even a week ago. I dig deep and relax into Max’s hold, focusing on Sinatra singing about why the lady is a tramp. Then when Max cups my ass—and my nerves return with a vengeance—an amazing thing happens.

  Free sounds the alarm.

  Seriously. He releases a loud, piercing scream. It sounds just like a fire truck cruising by.

  “What the hell?” Max says, releasing my ass to get to Free’s cage. He knocks over one of the wine glasses and stubs his toe in pursuit.

  “Free, stop it!” Max yells.

  But Free continues his alarm impression with no signs of stopping. I grab a towel to soak up the wine and Max tries to calm him, letting him out of the cage. It’s no use. He seems even more wound up with free reign of the place.

  Max is on the verge of losing his temper, and that’s when the neighbors start knocking on our door. It’s mayhem. Max doles out apologies and ensures we’ll get our pesky bird under control.

  I, conversely, give Free a fist bump. He got me out of one sticky mess—such a good boy.

  Chapter 24

  The next morning, I decide to go straight to Forever Fit headquarters. I want to be there early, before the rest of our team. I’m the lead, and I want that established with my co-workers from the get-go.

  I walk into the sleek building to the elevator, catching a glimpse of myself in the reflection. For once, I don’t cringe. Despite my limited romping with Max, I’ve been happily keeping my sexy on simmer. Gone are my period panties and bandeau bras that I wore for comfort. Now, I’m all about La Perla, Agent Provocateur, and Fox and Rose. And I have the three-figure bank account left over to prove it. Let’s just say my bump in pay couldn’t have come at a better time. Turns out, sexy is expensive.

  Is it wrong I want to feel sexy, but not act on it?

  For the outer packaging of my gorgeous undergarments, I’ve upped my game as well. Looking in the mirror, I smooth my jersey dress and admire the black leather trim—an ensemble that covers enough of my lady bits to be professional, while still skimming my curves enough to fetch a few second looks from the gentle—and not so gentle—men on the Chicago streets. With my patent-leather pumps, I feel extra girly.

  I am ready.

  Once inside the elevator, I check the emails on my phone. Suddenly, a large hand crashes between the doors at the last possible second. As the doors re-open, I can see the hand is attached to a toned olive-skinned arm—which happens to be attached to one of the finest specimens I’ve ever laid eyes on.

  Gabe Shannon.

  “Stevie,” he says in the raspy voice of his.

  “Gabe,” I squeak, completely thrown by his presence. “What are you doing here?”

  “Going to a meeting, actually,” he says with a hint of a smirk, completely unfazed by this chance meeting. “You?”

  Maybe he’s stalking me.

  “Same,” I say, trying to ignore the way my body is lighting up around him.

  Gabe nods before quickly reaching over to stop the elevator.

  Uh-oh.

  He takes a step toward me, and I take a step back, now pressed up against the steel wall.

  “Can we talk about what happened, Stevie?” He reaches out to touch my arm. “You haven’t answered my calls or texts. And the way we left everything at The Club was just …”

  “Fucked up?” I finish for him.

  “Yes, it was,” Gabe agrees, his lips tighten into a straight line.

  “If I knew Max was your ex, I never would’ve brought you to The Club. Maybe I shouldn’t have anyway, but the way you lit up that first time … I don’t know, I just thought I was doing the right thing for you. Isn’t that how you felt? Didn’t you think it was right?”

  “I don’t know, Gabe. It’s still so confusing, and I’m not sure it matters anymore.”

  “What do you mean?” He looks hurt. “Of course it matters. I need to know if you still have feelings for me. We need to talk about this, Stevie.”

  “No,” I tell him, eyes pleading. “Please don’t get me worked up; I can’t do this right now. This meeting is important.”

  “Yes, the fitness account, right? I know how hard you worked for it. How’s it going? Is everyone treating you okay?”

  His concern is so genuine. It feels like old times—if a week ago can be considered old times. I almost feel the way I did back in the hotel, when we’d talk over room service. I blush at the memory.

  “It’s good,” I tell him.

  “Just good?”

  “Great,” I amend.

  “I’m happy for you, Stevie,” Gabe says, and I believe him. “And everything else? Are you okay?”

  “I’m good.” I nod.

  “Well, you look fantastic.” He smiles. “But you seem a little sad.”

  “I’m fine, really.”

  Gabe swallows and I quiver. He takes another step forward and it feels like all the air was just sucked out of the space. His face is pained as he tucks a loose lock of hair behind my ear. My body is ready to combust with his touch. I look up into his eyes and they are warm, inviting—luring me in. Gabe tips his forehead down to mine, and I exhale, finally able to breathe again. He’s like coming home. Safe and sweet. Until my body blazes, wanting more of his touch, his hands, his mouth …

  Our lips hover over the other’s, neither one of us wanting to make the first move. His warm breath tickles my lips, and I immediately remember what his breath feels like on the other parts of my body.

  I’ve missed this. Craved it. Yes, Max is hot as hell now, but I guess there are some things that can’t be taught. Some moves that can’t be learned. Or some bodies that are just made to be together.

  Trouble is, we each have another waiting for us at home. This isn’t fair to them. And really, how long can Gabe and I sustain this heat? It will eventually burn out and then what will we have? After all, it’s Max who knows I like to eat dinner early; and I need a glass of wine after talking to my parents; and Sundays make me melancholy. He’s the one I can count on. It’s true Gabe knows my body so intimately, it scares the bejesus out of me. But Max knows my mind. I have to stop acting like a kid and let go of the fantasy.

  “I still want you, Stevie,” Gabe interrupts the arguments in my head. “Like I’ve never wanted anything.”

  Then, in a bold move, he drags his mouth across my bottom lip before pulling it inside. My hands fist in his hair once we make contact. Instinct takes over as I fall into him, savoring each swipe of his tongue and graze of his fingertips. Gabe groans, deep and rough, pushing me into the wall. Any doubt of his feelings or attraction completely dissipates when his erection strains against my belly. I welcome the contact and push right back, molding my body to his.

  “Can we start over?” he asks, nipping my earlobe.

  I roll his words around my head, trying to make sense of them in the pheromone-filled space. Yes, we can start over, I silently answer his question as I inch myself up his body—aching to feel the pressure of his thick cock between my legs.

  Slowly, my brain kicks in.

  Could we?

  Should we?

  Then, I think of our baggage—the people who love us. Max. Gabe’s wife.

  No, no we can’t.

  “I’ve got Max at home,” I say, struggling out of his hold and pushing the elevator’s start button.

  Gabe’s arms fall to his sides. “You went back to him.”

  “Yes, I did.”

  He lets out a loud breath of air.

  “Yes,” I tell him, really irritated now. “And you have your wife.”

  “Yeah, about that—” Gabe starts, but is interrupted as the door opens to a young woman laughing with two men.

  “Good Morning, Mr. Shannon,” she says, not concealing her
laughter. “We’re grabbing coffee downstairs, do you want something?”

  “Ugh,” he says as we both step out on the same floor. Quickly, he shakes off our elevator moment. I wish I could do the same.

  “What about that damn smoothie machine you had me put in the break room … and the Keurig?” Gabe asks the woman.

  “We’re into dark roast now with real cream.” She frowns. “There was just a new study released on the benefits of regular old coffee and cream and the boost to metabolism.”

  “Great.” He rolls his eyes and the entire group laughs. It’s obvious how much these people like him.

  It all comes together. The missing CEO, his various enterprises, the way I got the account. Mr. Shannon—aka CEO Shannon.

  “Let me guess,” I say after the group leaves in the elevator. “Mr. Shannon, CEO of Forever Fit?”

  “Guilty.” He extends his hand, but I don’t take it.

  “So you’re the reason why I won the account?” I ask, unable to meet his eyes. I should’ve known. I’m not sure I can take any more of these new developments. I can hear Dad’s voice in my head, if it looks like a duck and quacks like a duck …

  Let’s face it, Gabe has a shady lifestyle and can’t be trusted. I guess all of this is the price you pay to play his games.

  “No.” He’s adamant as he meets my eyes. “And don’t even think it, Stevie. I didn’t even realize you were going after the account at first. I really was busy handling another project. When I did find out, I completely left the decision up to my team. I knew you wouldn’t have it any other way. Plus, you told me you were low man on the totem pole with the design firm. How was I to know you’d single-handedly win the account?”

  I drop my head and try to melt into the floor. No amount of fancy panties can make me feel confident after this bit of news.

  “How do you expect me to work for you after everything that’s happened? Now knowing any of this?” I ask.

  “You’re not working for me. You’re working with my team. I will rarely be around. I just wanted to be here as you presented the final designs. And also to see you, Stevie. I meant what I said when we first met. Even after the whole adventure business, I would still like to be your friend.”

  “That didn’t feel friendly in there.” I tip my head to the elevator.

  “I’m sorry. I miss you and I’ll take whatever I can get.”

  I miss you, too, I say in my head because Gabe’s assistant greets him at the door and he’s shuffled off into an office before I can respond.

  GABE

  Well so much for that brilliant plan. Shit! I’m so pathetic, I arranged that chance meeting in the elevator. I waited in the corner of the building, like a fucking stalker, watching for her. I almost missed the elevator because I couldn’t move once I did finally spot her.

  It’s been the longest week of my life, not seeing Stevie. Not touching her. How someone could grow to mean so much in just a few short weeks boggles the mind. But she has.

  And when she came walking in wearing that dress and heels, my heart stopped.

  What the hell am I going to do?

  The only thing that was keeping me going this whole time was knowing that at least she didn’t walk out with Max. After his admission, I thought I was golden, I really did. I thought maybe I would just give her space, let her work through it in her way. And now I come to find out they’re back together?

  And she still thinks I’m married. She obviously didn’t read my texts or listen to my voicemails.

  Fuck!

  The fact that she wouldn’t even hear me out, didn’t care what I had to say, I think that’s what cuts the most. Yet, she still wants me. There’s no faking what happened on the elevator. There’s no faking the way our bodies respond to each other.

  I hope that keeps her up at night. I hope that’s what she thinks about when she sleeps next to Max. There’s nothing more I can do at this point. She’s made that perfectly clear.

  They can have each other for all I care.

  I’m done with it.

  Actually, I think I’m done with all of it.

  Chapter 25

  Gabe holds true to his word. He stays for the reveal of our final identity designs during the morning session and then excuses himself. Even during my meetings with staff throughout the week, there’s no sign of him.

  I glance at his office as I walk from my meeting with Mrs. Grimshaw today, who I now know as Mary. She’s becoming my mentor—always heavy on the praise, but offering pointers here and there. She believes I could have my own design shop someday. And the way she says it makes me believe in the possibility.

  Today, Gabe’s office door is closed and the light is off.

  “He sure isn’t here much, is he?” I ask Mary, tipping my head toward Gabe’s door.

  “More than you’d think considering his schedule.” She talks in awe of him, as does everyone on the team. “He’s off today, though. After his wife’s death—”

  “What?” I blurt, suddenly unable to breathe. “His wife died?” I whisper.

  “It was years ago,” Mary says. “Five to the day. I was going to say, he takes this day off every year to honor her.”

  Oh, he must be remarried. This isn’t making sense.

  “But he’s remarried now?” I ask.

  “Oh, no,” Mary says. “There hasn’t been anyone since. Not anyone he’s introduced us to anyway. And I think he would. He’s pretty much an open book and really close to the staff here. We opened when Anna was still alive, so we all watched him go through a really tough time.”

  “I’m sorry for prying,” I say, unsure she should be telling me all of this since my relationship with Gabe is strictly professional now.

  “It’s fine,” she says. “Gabe is so pleased with your work, he’d consider you part of the family. I’m not speaking out of turn when I tell you this. It’s just how we roll here, Stevie.”

  She gives me a pat on the back before I leave for the day, and I spend the commute trying to understand what this means.

  Chapter 26

  The week proves to be exhausting, and only more difficult now that I discovered Gabe isn’t married. To make matters worse, I just know I’m going to have to find a way to fight Max off when I get home.

  Maybe I could enlist Free’s help again.

  Max has been incredibly patient with me, but I can tell it’s wearing thin, and he’s beginning to suspect something is even more fucked up than he originally thought. Of course, he’s right.

  I keep hoping something will click between us. It’s not at all unpleasant when he kisses me or touches me. My body even hums a little, and the blood coursing through my body picks up the pace. It’s like elevator musak, which may not sound exciting, but it beats static silence, right? However, the same moves with Gabe cause my body to bellow like a twenty-piece orchestra, my blood zipping through my veins like a burst dam.

  And he’s not married.

  I really messed up this time.

  Max orders in Chinese food and we snuggle in for some old black and white flicks. It’s exactly what the doctor ordered. Max hates old movies, so he’s obviously trying to make me happy. Maybe I should try to do the same for him.

  Out of habit, I go into our bedroom to change into my Hello Kitty pjs, when J.T. starts singing in my head about bringing sexy back.

  Hmmm.

  I throw my Hello Kittys in the trash once and for all, opting for a Betsey Johnson babydoll.

  Make him happy, indeed.

  I think it’s time to get this show on the road—rip off the Band-Aid, carpe diem, and any other appropriate cliché we can throw in there. It’s time to push Gabe from my mind, for good. I’ve lost him, there’s no doubt about that now. I’m sure I don’t even deserve him after everything I’ve done.

  It’s time to focus on what I do have. What’s good for me.

  Yes, this evening is about Max, and tonight he will have his Casablanca with a side of T and A. And a few other body p
arts if he’s lucky.

  I prance out to the living room, thoroughly impressed with myself and the way I’m making my intentions known. Once Max takes in my skimpy nightwear, he’s over to me in three strides.

  Yes!

  “Well hello there,” he says. “What’s all this?”

  “Nothing. I’m just making sure I hang onto my new image, and it doesn’t die once we reach the bedroom.”

  “Tell me more,” he says.

  “I’m trying to enjoy all of this more—my time with you. I want to take the lessons I learned while I was away. I want things to be different, Max. I want the excitement, and butterflies, and the fun.”

  “Me too, Stevie. It’s all I ever wanted.”

  He takes my hand and leads me into the bedroom.

  ***

  In the morning, we wake on opposite sides of the bed. Max’s eyes are open when I make my way over to him.

  “Tell me, hon,” he pleads. “What can I do?”

  “I know this sounds lame, Max,” I continue our discussion about the train wreck that was last night. “It’s not you. This is all on me. You are perfect. Hot. Sexy. Your body is amazing, and you definitely know how to use it.”

  “Then why don’t I do it for you?”

  I look up to the ceiling, hoping there’s another answer up there so I don’t have to break this to him.

  “Is there someone else?” he asks, cringing.

  I nod.

  “Gabe?”

  I nod again. “But it’s not just Gabe. We’d be having this discussion without him.”

  “I really screwed this up, didn’t I?” Max asks.

  “I think you went to such drastic measures because neither of us were getting what we needed out of our relationship. I don’t blame you for that. But needing someone else, something else, to help fix us just tells me it wasn’t right in the first place.”

  “Are you moving out then?”

  “I have to, Max. I’m so sorry, but it was a mistake to come back.”