by Devon Hart
“It’s not that simple.”
“Yes, it is,” I counter.
“Not everything is black and white.”
“Never said it was, but in this case, a firm no will work just fine.”
“It’s not just about me, Foster.”
“Goddamnit, Erin. You’re the only one who has to live with Kingsley. So it most assuredly is about you.”
She sighs. “Remember that camping trip we took to the beach?”
Is she screwing with me on purpose? “How could I forget, we slept curled together under the stars.”
“I still have those pictures.”
“So do I.” I keep them in my dresser.
“I look at them often.”
“Are you crying?”
“N-No, just feeling nostalgic for some reason.”
I squeeze my eyes shut. One word from her and I’ll turn this car around and show her why we belong together. “I want you.”
“I know.”
There’s no words to describe how it feels hearing her admit she knows how I feel. Common sense tells me to leave it, to resist interfering with her life. If she can’t figure out how to stand up to her parents, then maybe she deserves what she gets. But I can’t walk away, not now. And not everyone is assertive and independent, especially Erin. She’s so sweet and innocent, just waking up really. I gaze out the window, staring heavenward. It’s a vast universe, and if you feel lonely, it’s even harder to live. “Let me help you.”
Silence.
Her deep breath shudders through me. “I wish you could.”
“I don’t mean to press you so hard.”
“Good night, Foster,” she whispers.
“Good night, baby.”
Tonight sealed the deal. She’s mine.
Foster
“Erin caused quite the stir at the party last night,” Kevin offers as he enters my office, grinning.
“Don’t.” I silence him with a wave of my hand, still furious over last night. Add sleep deprivation into the mix, and I’m close to snapping.
“Did you see her last night?”
“More.”
“You didn’t . . .”
“No.”
“You look like shit, Wagner.”
I raise my head, caring little for his opinion. “And?”
“Let me prescribe a mild sleeping pill, you need to catch up on ZZZ’s.”
“You know better, I hate drugs.”
“Talk to me.” He sits on the black leather chair in front of my desk.
“Are prearranged marriages a Texas thing?” A stupid question.
“Considering it’s not the Dark Ages, I’d venture to say no. But marriages of convenience are.”
“Money?”
“Always.”
I drum my fingers on the edge of my desk, staring at the bid documents I need to finish. “Are Erin’s parents in financial distress?”
“Walter Covington’s assets took a major blow during the recession but he’s far from broke.”
Stressed enough to hand-pick his daughter’s husband. Something I hadn’t taken seriously until last night. What the fuck is a make-believe fiancé? “Finish that background check on Kingsley today. I want anything you can find. Dig deep.”
“Understood.”
“Dinner at the country club?”
Kevin checks his watch. “Seven?”
“I’ll meet you there.”
He stands to leave.
“One more thing,” I say. “Invite Thomas to join us.”
“What?” He looks stunned.
“Arrange it.”
He exits my office, sure to pause in the doorway to let me know he disapproves.
I haven’t laid eyes on Thomas in three years. We ran into each other at a charity function my parents sponsored, did our duty and shook hands for the photographers, then went our separate ways. But I know his type, and old dogs typically don’t learn new tricks, especially ones with money.
Chapter 14
Erin
“You’re playing with fire,” Katie warns.
“More like explosives.” She knows what happened last night.
“But I thought you hated him.”
“Never said that, did I?” I can’t think straight, and my memory has been compromised after the last couple of days. “Maybe I just don’t know any more.”
“I understand. Sometimes emotions blind us from the truth. Now cancel your membership to Lazarus and ride into the sunset with Foster’s ginormous dick. End of story.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“I’m committed to Jeffrey.” I cover my mouth, ashamed I let his name slip.
“Jeffrey?”
“Um . . .”
“Uh-uh.” She wags her finger at me. “Spill.”
Once again I push the limits of my Lazarus contract. But the nondisclosure didn’t specifically mention best friends. “I think he’s the one I’m going to have sex with on Halloween.”
“But what about Foster?”
“Jeffrey could pass for his brother.”
“Really?”
“Maybe even a twin.”
“That’s creepy kinky shit.”
I laugh. “Guess we know what I like.”
“Ditch Jeffrey. At least you know what’s hiding in Foster’s pants.”
I shake my head, then look down at my desk, and see that one of the worksheets Jeffrey gave me is still blank. “Will you ever take me seriously?”
“Once we get past this, I’m sure I will.”
I nod in appreciation. She might talk tough, but underneath, she’s all heart. “Can I get some privacy?” Katie isn’t scheduled to work today, but she’s hanging out.
“I’ll go grab a sandwich. Want anything?”
“No.”
After my door closes, I sag in my chair. Danger lurks in every corner of my mind. If I put my fantasies into words, it breathes life into them, then I can’t forget.
The first section of the worksheet asks for a description of my ideal partner, including sex, physical attributes, education, and personality. Is there a box for genitalia size? My work phone rings and I pick up.
“Erin?”
“Hello, Mom.”
“Where have you been? I’ve called every day.”
Avoiding you for good reason . . . “Lots going on at the store.”
“Do you have plans for Sunday evening?”
I glance at my desk calendar. “Nothing, why?”
“We’re hosting an informal dinner. Bring Katie, we’d love to see her again.”
Informal means fifty people. I chomp on my lower lip, knowing Thomas will be on the guest list. “Great idea, Katie enjoys your cooking.”
Mom chuckles. “You mean our caterer’s.”
“Same difference.”
“Eight o’clock, dear.”
“Love you.”
“I love you too, Erin.”
Now if I can only get her to change her mind about Thomas. I glance down at the paper again and pick up my pen.
Partner preference: Male
Physical description: Six feet tall, dark hair, dark eyes, athletic, and tan.
Personality: Great sense of humor, extrovert, organized, dominate, passionate, and confident.
I review what I’ve written and chew on the pen cap. God I lack creativity. Dominate? Passionate? No shit. I draw a line through those two, then change my mind, and rewrite them.
The second section calls for deeper consideration. What turns you on? A simple enough question at first glance, but when you’ve held back as long as I have, it makes it
harder to envision. Voyeurism, I jot that down without hesitation. I enjoyed watching Catalina. Whips and chains. Duct tape. Butt plugs. Nipple clamps. Maybe I should just adopt scenes from Fifty Shades of Grey as my mantra.
No, I can do this.
If I’m going to play, I need to express myself clearly. Blindfold. I don’t want to see Jeffrey, I just want to feel him, maybe taste that mouth again. Spanking. A few taps on my ass with a riding crop sounds exciting. Chills run up my spine as Foster invades my thoughts. Fingers and tongue, that’s what I want for my first experience.
Before I realize it, I’ve written over two pages.
Where did that all come from? I fold the papers in half and slide them into the folder, locking it in my desk drawer. If Mary got her hands on it, she’d publish it on Amazon.
My phone rings again. “Mary?”
“Mr. Wagner is up front.”
My heart drops into my stomach. After I didn’t get a call this morning, I assumed he was angry. I clear my throat. “Send him back.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
A few seconds later, he knocks.
“Come in.” The door opens. He’s wearing a black, pinstriped suit with a deep blue shirt and tie.
“Erin.”
“I’m surprised to see you again.”
Foster shakes his head and closes the door. “That’s not what I was hoping to hear.”
“Sorry . . .” What am I supposed to do? Admit I was wrong? Or should I just strip and sit on my desk while he licks me crazy again? Oh God, he’s staring at me. “I’m glad you’re here.”
“That’s a start.” He sits in the chair in front of my desk, then loosens his tie. “You’re killing me, Erin.”
“The feeling is mutual.”
“What’s the problem? I’m single, you’re free.”
“I’m not free, Foster. That’s what I’ve been trying to explain. My life is pretty much mapped out for me.”
“Only because you’re letting your parents take advantage of your loyalty. If my old man told me to marry someone I hated, I’d tell him to—”
“I’m not you.”
He blinks, crossing his arms over his beautiful chest. “No, you’re not. Thank God.”
“So where does that leave us?”
“Pissed off.”
“Sorry.” Very sorry for ever letting this get out of hand. “We should have abandoned any hopes of starting a friendship after we kissed at lunch. We were never meant to be casual, Foster.”
“Friends with benefits?”
“No. You want more. And so would I.”
He scrubs his face. “You finally realize it. We belong together.”
“No.”
“Yes.” He walks around my desk, standing beside me. I swivel my chair, meeting a determined face. “I’m not going to lie, Erin. Yes, I want to make love, but . . .” He kneels in front of me and nudges my legs apart. “You’re different.”
Different than what? Should I take it as a compliment? All I can think about are the headlines and pictures in the newspapers, even Texas Monthly Magazine featured Foster’s business accomplishments last year, accompanied by another article in the Cultural section. Texas Playboy sets Austin Music Scene on Fire. Apparently Foster knows how to play more than just the guitar. It’s intimidating.
“Earth to Erin.”
“Would you like to have dinner with my parents on Sunday?”
He relaxes on his heels. “Sure.”
His confidence drives me crazy. My heart flutters at the notion of him sitting at the same table with Thomas. Maybe my mother will see I can do better for myself. Not that I want to marry Foster, but if faced with the choice . . . “It’s not a date.”
“You need to understand where this is heading,” he says. “I’ve made my intentions pretty clear. Friendship is only one of the advantages. You can’t invite me to dine with your parents and then tell me it’s not a date.”
“Thomas will be there.”
He rubs the back of his neck, instantly upset. “Still sticking with the pretend fiancé defense?”
I nod.
“All the more reason for me to go.” He climbs to his feet. “Get rid of him, Erin. Live your own life.”
My gaze darts around my office. “If you haven’t noticed, I’m not rich. I earn my money the old-fashioned way.”
“I’ll take care of you.”
“What?” Typical silver-spoon-fed-little-rich-boy response. Throw money at it and everything will work out.
“Forgive me.” He frowns. “That didn’t come out the right way.”
I know what he meant. Insulting or not, he can’t change what he is, a Texas boy.
“About that night eight years ago . . .”
“No reason to dredge up the past.” I laugh nervously, the wound still fresh. And although some might consider it stupid to dwell on it, our past is exactly what’s haunted me all these years, maybe what’s kept me from committing to anyone.
“It’s important to you.”
“Maybe. Perhaps you can work on that blatant disregard you have for any woman who says no.”
He rolls his eyes. “Stop pretending to be tough. It’s just us here. After last night, I’m more than determined to show you how much I care. That body . . .” He edges forward and cups my cheek. “This face.”
His touch sends a ripple of sensations through me. “I can’t emphasize this enough. Friendship first.”
“Forgot to mention that brilliant mind,” he says.
“You think I’m smart?” I smile, hoping to steer the conversation in a happier direction.
“Smart enough to realize I’m what you’ve been waiting for all your life.”
The real Foster is back. “Keep dreaming.”
“It’s not a fantasy, just a matter of time.” He reaches inside his jacket and pulls out a short-stemmed red rose. “For you.”
I smell it. “Thank you.”
“You deserve fresh flowers every day for the rest of your life.”
I could live with that. “Keep talking.”
“Fur coats and diamond rings.”
“Skip the fur.”
“Silk sheets and caviar.”
“More.”
“Shopping sprees in Paris and London.”
“You’re turning me on.”
“Skiing in Aspen and soaking up rays in Hawaii.”
“I’ll settle for South Padre,” I say.
“South Padre? With all the kids running around? How about a private beach in Maui?”
“Is that an invitation?”
“Baby, you don’t know the half of it.” His eyes are ablaze. “Come here.”
He lifts me off my chair, then embraces me, our foreheads touching. “Don’t make me wait too long, Erin,” he rumbles against my mouth. “Lunch tomorrow?”
“Where?”
“You choose.”
“Whataburger.”
“Fast food?” Dipping his head, he gives me a soft kiss on the lips.
“Avocado bacon burger on Texas toast, French fries, and a strawberry shake.”
He licks his lips. “Done.”
“Meet me outside, I’ll drive.”
Chapter 15
Foster
I reserved a private dining room for dinner tonight. There’s already a round of whiskey sours sitting on the table. Kevin just called to let me know he’s in the parking lot. I take a swig and look up just in time to see the hostess standing in the doorway with Thomas.
“Mr. Wagner, your guest is here.”
“Thanks, Sheila.”
It looks like a flamingo puked out Kingsley. He’s wearing pink. I stand to greet him. “Glad you coul
d make it.”
He approaches the table. We shake hands, and he fails my first test. Limp noodle hand qualifies him as half a man in my eyes. Not to mention his sweaty palm. I wipe my hand on my pants and sit back down. He claims the chair across from me.
“Haven’t seen you in a few years,” he says, looking me over. “How’s your family?”
“Good. And yours?”
“Mom and Dad are in New York and Bristol is touring Europe.”
“Business?”
“With all the new construction, we’re backlogged.”
I stifle a laugh that the image his words conjure. Backlogged shitters. “Glad to hear it.”
Kevin finally arrives, sitting to my left. “Sorry I’m late. Crosstown is jammed.”
We fist bump. “Thomas and I were just catching up.”
Kevin grabs his drink and picks up a menu. “Fucking starving. My staff ordered vegetarian tacos for lunch. Tasted like cardboard.”
Thomas checks his watch, then eyes me. “I have an appointment soon. Why did you invite me to dinner?”
“Funny you should ask.”
Kevin opens his briefcase and slaps an envelope on the table. “Open it.”
Thomas stares at it and his eyes go wide. “Lazarus?”
I lean forward. “You’re familiar with our club?”
“Well-acquainted.” He slides the envelope closer, then picks it up. “Been trying to get approved for a membership for five years.”
Bastard. “Well here’s your chance.”
“Fuck!” He’s beyond excited. “Did you nominate me?” Gratitude laces his voice.
“The board never reveals that kind of information,” Kevin informs him. “Rest assured you’ve been on their radar for quite a long time.”
