Best Friends, Secret Lovers

by Jessica Lemmon

  Flynn wasn’t sure if he was more disturbed over the idea of his father’s hidden feelings, or the fact that Flynn was here for the sole purpose of checking on his ex-wife.

  Veronica opened the ornate etched glass, cherry-red front door.

  “Sabrina.” The greeting was a jerk of her chin. “I’m sure this is the last thing you wanted to do tonight.”

  Sabrina smiled patiently. “Pour me a glass of wine and I’ll consider the trip worth it.”

  Veronica gestured for them to come in and Flynn followed Sabrina into his mother’s house. The place had the same vibe as when his mother was alive: an improbably homey feel for an unbearably large home. That was his mom’s doing. Everything about her had been approachable and comfortable even in the stuffy multiroomed estate where she’d passed.

  “I’m going to poke around and make sure no one’s hiding in any closets.”

  “Here. Take this.” Veronica opened a drawer and pulled out a flashlight. “Check the closets. And under the beds.”

  Much as he didn’t want to look at the bed Veronica slept in, he gave her a tight nod before consulting his date.

  “You two going to be okay alone? Did you want to come with me?” he asked Sabrina.

  Veronica pulled a bottle of white wine out of the fridge. “I can be amicable, you know.”

  Sabrina gave him a sultry wink that made him wish they were anywhere but here. “I’ll let you battle the bad guys while Veronica and I have some Chardonnay.”

  “Fair enough.” Sabrina could handle herself. She didn’t need him hovering over her. With a nod of affirmation, he started down the first hallway and flipped on the lights.

  Seventeen

  Sabrina accepted a wineglass from Veronica and sipped the golden liquid. It was good. Expensive, she’d guess. Seemed like Veronica to demand only the best.

  The square breakfast bar where Sabrina sat was positioned at the center of a huge kitchen. The stainless steel gas stove had eight burners and a tall decorative hood. There were roughly two million cabinets painted a regal buttercream with carved gold handles.

  “This is a beautiful kitchen.” It was the safest thing to say in this situation.

  “For the amount of cooking done in it, it might as well be a bar.” Veronica’s smile was tolerant.

  Sabrina honestly didn’t mind that they were here, but she wasn’t about to suggest Flynn come alone. Not that she thought anything would happen between him and his ex-wife, but Sabrina felt much better keeping an eye on Veronica.

  “I always knew you liked him,” Veronica said.

  Sabrina had been waiting for the gloves to come off. She didn’t have a snappy comeback prepared, but she was less interested in being witty than being honest.

  “He’s been my best friend for a long time.” Predating you, she wanted to tack on, but didn’t. “We weren’t planning on dating. It just kind of...happened.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “It’s true,” she continued as if Veronica wasn’t growing increasingly peeved about this conversation. “We went out on Valentine’s Day as friends. I was trying to extract him from the office since he’s been so stressed.” No thanks to you. “It was his idea to kiss me on the pier.”

  The look on Veronica’s face was priceless. Sabrina was half tempted to pull out her cell phone and snap a picture for posterity.

  “I was the one who asked him to kiss me again. We didn’t expect it to turn into more. Or at least I didn’t. I was testing a theory.” A theory that had since been proved false. The idea that Sabrina and Flynn could go back to just friends was as dated an idea as Pluto being a planet.

  “I’m not sure there’s anything long-term there for you,” Veronica spat, “but you’re certainly welcome to look.”

  Ouch. Gloves off, claws out.

  “Oh, I’m looking. I don’t want to overlook it. Life is about trying. We never know if things will work out or not until we try. I didn’t expect your approval, and that’s not why we’re here.” Sabrina purposely referred to herself and Flynn as we. “I didn’t want you to spend the evening in fear.”

  Veronica took a healthy gulp of her wine before tipping the bottle and refilling her glass. “How big of you.”

  Sabrina had attempted to be polite, but apparently Veronica wasn’t going to reciprocate. Sabrina refused to sit here and take it.

  “While I totally disagree with you for cheating on Flynn, I don’t begrudge you for following your heart. I do think you should have ended your marriage before you started an affair with your husband’s brother, though.”

  Veronica gaped at her for a full five seconds before she managed, “How is that any of your business?”

  “I’m here tonight at Flynn’s side. That’s how it’s my business.”

  A condescending, but musical laugh bubbled from Veronica’s throat. “Oh, I see. You think this little rebound he’s having with you is going to last.”

  Sabrina couldn’t help flinching. She didn’t like the word rebound. The word itself hinted that their affair was temporary and meaningless. What Sabrina and Flynn had was layered and complex.

  “I disagree.” Not her strongest argument, but there it was.

  Veronica’s brow bent in pity. “I’m sure you’re building castles in the sky about how you two are going to be married, have babies and live a wonderful, long life together, but, Sabrina...” She sighed. “Woman to woman, I’ll level with you. He’s not cut out for it.”

  “I’m not building anything except for one day on top of the last. But I’m not going to waste time worrying and wondering about an expiration date.”

  “He’s not working now, right? I called the office earlier this week to talk to him and Reid said that Flynn was on hiatus. Are you on hiatus with him?”

  Thrown by the line of questioning, it took Sabrina a second to regroup. “I—I took my vacation at the same time as him, yes.”

  “And how long are you two lovebirds off work together?”

  She ignored the sinister smile and answered Veronica straight. “We go back around Saint Patrick’s Day.”

  “A bit of advice—think of this as your honeymoon stage. Right now, you’re with Vacation Flynn. I remember him from Tahiti and that month we spent in Italy.” Her gaze softened as if she was remembering the things they’d done together on those vacations.

  Sabrina tried not to imagine the details, but her stomach tossed.

  “Anyway.” Veronica snapped out of her reverie. “Vacation Flynn is very different from Workaholic Flynn. When your fun, albeit temporary, traipse down romance lane comes to an end, don’t be surprised if it coincides with the day he returns to the office. You’ll see what I mean soon enough. He can’t balance a relationship and a bottom line.”

  Anger bubbled up from the depths. Sabrina hated being talked down to, or having her future predicted for her. Especially by this woman.

  Plus, a part of her begrudgingly admitted, what Veronica was saying felt too close to the truth. Hadn’t Sabrina already witnessed Flynn’s inability to balance their friendship with the demands of Monarch? But a larger part of her didn’t want to believe Veronica was right, and that was the part of her that spoke next.

  “Are you blaming your divorce on Flynn’s work ethic? He had a massive company to run, and his father was terminally ill.” And Veronica had been the one cracking the whip. She was more than happy to let him work his ass off so she could buy more, have more and look like she was more.

  “The erosion of our marriage didn’t start with my affair with Julian,” Veronica said, surprising the hell out of Sabrina by using the word affair. “Our marriage has been falling apart for years.”

  “Had,” Sabrina corrected. Veronica was getting to her. As much as she’d sworn to herself that she was Switzerland when she stepped through these doors, either the wine or Flynn’s ex-wife’s sour
attitude was beginning to loosen her tongue.

  “Had been falling apart,” Veronica amended. “A marriage can’t sustain cheating. But make no mistake, it was Flynn who cheated first. With Monarch.”

  “Oh, give me a break! You can’t come at me with the ‘his job is his mistress’ argument.”

  “Half the company is threatening to leave, and Legal begged you to remove him from the building.”

  An exaggeration, but that wasn’t the point. “How do you know that?”

  “I have friends there, too, Sabrina. I also know that he’s rapidly morphing into Emmons Parker. You knew that man. He was horrible. Death literally could not have come for a better candidate. And when Flynn is at work, mired in numbers and focused on success, he’s exactly like him.”

  Sabrina paused, her brain stuck on how unflinchingly true that assessment was. And if Veronica was right about that, was she also right about Flynn being unable to maintain a relationship?

  No.

  Sabrina refused to believe it. She couldn’t refute the relationship part, but she could argue Veronica’s other point.

  Sabrina pushed to standing. “Flynn is a caring, generous, amazing person. Whatever combination of Emmons and his mother he ended up being, he has the best of both of them.”

  “Honey, you are in for a rude awakening.”

  “No, honey—” the words dripped off Sabrina’s tongue “—I’m already awake.”

  They stared each other down, Sabrina with her heart pounding so hard she was sure Veronica could hear it. Veronica’s smile was evil, as if she began each morning polishing the skulls of her enemies.

  “All clear.” Flynn entered the kitchen, flipped the flashlight end over end and set it on the countertop. “How are things going in here?”

  Sabrina tore her eyes off Flynn’s ex-wife and speared him with a glare.

  “Everything’s peachy, dear,” Veronica cooed. “I was just warning Sabrina about what she can expect if you two attempt to stand the test of time.”

  * * *

  “So, that went well.”

  It was a lame attempt to lighten the stifling air in the car. Flynn had been debating what to say and when to say it since they’d walked out of his mother’s home. He knew better than to let Sabrina drive, especially when he noticed her hands shaking as she pulled on her coat. He’d made the excuse that she’d had a glass of wine and shouldn’t drive, but that wasn’t the real reason he took her keys.

  She’d been sitting in the passenger seat, her arms folded over her waist, watching out the window since he’d reversed out of the estate’s driveway.

  “Sab...”

  “I was trying not to hate her. But I do. I hate her.”

  “You don’t hate anybody.” He leaned back in the seat, settling in for the easy drive home on a virtually traffic-free road. “Veronica is not worth hating. Trust me. I tried for months and my only reward was heartburn.”

  Sabrina said nothing.

  “You wanna tell me what she said that frosted you?”

  “She insinuated that I’ve been in the wings for years waiting for her to screw up so I could swoop in and steal you away!” The words burst from her like soda from a shaken can. Like she’d been wanting to say that for a while. It hurt him that she was hurting, especially because he knew it wasn’t true. What had happened between them since the kiss on Valentine’s Day had been as unexpected as it was incredible.

  “We both know that’s not true.” He lifted her hand to kiss her fingers. When Sabrina spoke again, her voice wasn’t as angry as before.

  “She went on and on about what a horrible person you were. Which is also not true, by the way.” She apologized by squeezing his thigh, which didn’t do much for him in the apology department, but gave him plenty of other ideas. “She wants you back, which I’m sure you figured out since you have the texts to prove it.”

  “I don’t know what she’s doing.” He was suddenly tired. Too damn tired for this conversation. He’d rather have it sometime around, oh, never. Never would be good.

  “Well, I do. Julian’s probably behaving like a total flake and she realizes that he can’t sustain her high-maintenance needs. She’s regretting losing you, her sugar daddy.” Another thigh pat accompanied an apology. “I’m sorry. I’m not trying to insult you. You’re not a horrible person. And I don’t think of you as a sugar daddy.”

  “I know you don’t,” he said on the end of a chuckle. Could she be any cuter trying to protect both his feelings and his ego? “Veronica was trying to ruffle your feathers. From where I sit, they look pretty ruffled.” He took one hand off the steering wheel to run his fingers through her hair. “I like you ruffled. It’s hot.”

  “You cannot be flirting with me right now.”

  “No? You don’t think?” He shot her a lightning-quick smile, pleased when she smiled back. It was the first time he’d seen a real smile since they’d left the comedy club. That was his fault. It was his fault for running off to take care of Veronica when his focus should’ve been on Sabrina. “You planned a great night and I bailed. I should’ve ignored her texts.”

  “No,” she admitted on a breezy sigh, “you shouldn’t have. If you weren’t the kind of guy to run to the aid of a woman in need, I wouldn’t be friends with you. You did the right thing. It’s my fault. I forgot how heinous a person she was when I suggested we go over there.”

  It felt good to laugh off the evening, so he allowed himself another chuckle at her comment. “I promise to make it up to you.”

  “Deal.”

  “Home okay with you?”

  “Home sounds good.”

  Home did sound good. And her coming home with him sounded even better.

  Eighteen

  Sabrina insisted on baking M&M cookies when they returned to his penthouse. While she measured the flour and sugar, Flynn considered how the last week-plus had been a blur of domestic activity.

  He’d checked on the status of her apartment’s plumbing—progress, but no solution yet. She seemed content to stay here with him and he wasn’t in a hurry for her to leave. She’d been painting almost every day in between trying out a few new recipes his stomach was enjoying.

  She’d nibbled at the freshly baked cookies, and he’d wolfed down half a dozen while stretched out on the couch and watching the rain. He finally stopped itching to check his email so he’d kicked back to read a spy novel instead of a business book—something he hadn’t done in ages.

  His entire adult life had been about bettering himself and gaining knowledge of his father’s company. Flynn had assumed Mac, or someone like him, would be put in charge of Monarch if and when the impervious Emmons Parker passed on. Though Flynn had always known it was a possibility the company could fall to him, it seemed unlikely. Now that he had what he’d always wanted, it’d come at a price he wouldn’t have paid—his father’s death. Reconciling grief over a man who was hard to love hadn’t been easy, and unbelievably, inheriting ownership of a company he loved had been harder.

  Being owner/president of Monarch was and wasn’t what he’d expected. Flynn knew that taking over would be hard work, knew that stepping into his father’s shoes would rankle Mac’s back hair, but what Flynn hadn’t counted on was to turn into his father in the process. Before this hiatus, he’d scarcely been able to tell the difference between them.

  Thank God for Sabrina for tirelessly pointing out he was changing—even when he hadn’t wanted to hear it. He’d felt that gratitude for her tenfold tonight, while she’d lain on the couch next to him, her feet propped on one of his thighs, her eyes fastened to a book. That same book now sat on the kitchen counter as she poured a few inches of Sambuca into two glasses. She’d insisted on a nightcap, and he’d agreed. It was rounding midnight, but he wasn’t the least bit tired.

  “Do you have coffee beans?”

  “There.�
� He pointed to a cabinet.

  She dropped three into each snifter, saying for each one, “Health. Wealth. And happiness.”

  She turned around to present his glass of warmed licorice liqueur, but his hands were full at the moment. Of the book she’d been reading.

  “What are you doing?” Her mouth dropped into a stunned O, her voice outlined with worry. “Close that book immediately and take your drink.”

  “Why?” He edged around the long end of the counter, putting them on opposite sides of it. “Something juicy in here?”

  “No.” But her pink cheeks begged to differ.

  He opened to where she’d slotted her bookmark, skimmed a few sentences and hit gold. He grinned at her.

  “Flynn.” It was a plea he ignored.

  “‘His mouth was as intoxicating as any liquor, but a thousand times more potent,’” he read.

  “That’s out of context.” She came around the counter but he walked backward as he continued reading from another section.

  “‘He replied to her complaint by sliding warm fingers over her bare back, and then snicking the zipper of her dress down over her backside.’”

  “Flynn, please.” Her giggle was a nervous one. “Please don’t read that.”

  “Why not? It’s a hell of a lot more interesting than what I was reading earlier.” He let her catch up to him and snatch the book from his hand. She hugged it to her chest, hiding the cover from him. “Anything in there you want to try?”

  He thought she would protest. Her cheeks were rosy as her teeth stabbed her bottom lip in what he assumed was indecision. Hooking a finger in the belt loop of her jeans, he tugged her to him, enjoying the plush softness of her breasts against his chest.