Liam’s smile faltered at the possibility of his star client’s prestige dimming.
He’d worked his ass off for years to get to this point. Yes, it was fucking personal.
“It’s business.” The lie twisted his insides around. Spencer made a skeptical face. Had his superior bluffing skills failed him or was she just that good? “That’s on Troy. That’s not me,” he said, even knowing his whole career rested on Troy Duncan’s onward Christian shoulders. “That’s life,” he repeated.
Spencer still wasn’t buying it. But she left it alone, thankfully. “It’s not my life.”
Liam took another drink from his bottle as he jumped at a change of topic. “Tell me about your life.”
Spencer spun an index finger around the rim of her margarita glass, leaving a little grain of salt balancing precariously on the edge. “I’m from Dallas. I grew up here. I attended the University of Texas, majored in history and English. Then I went to Harvard, worked for a few years, and started my firm.”
Liam appreciated brevity in a woman, but this was ridiculous.
“JT said you went to Harvard on scholarship.”
She pushed her knife and fork around on the table. “Partial scholarship,” she admitted.
“Your parents must have been really proud.” His words were cautious, as he was a little confused. Why didn’t she brag a little about Harvard? Most everybody would.
Spencer laughed. “Not really. My father called it ‘elitist and liberal.’ He said it looked bad for me to go.”
“Looked bad? Looked bad to go to Harvard?” Liam had never heard of something so idiotic.
“But no fear,” Spencer announced, bitterness lacing her words. “Since I only received a partial scholarship, I had to work to put my own way through. So that was better. Polling revealed the constituents appreciated that my father had raised such a self-sufficient daughter.”
The waitress presented their dinner plates while Liam processed that.
“Constituents?” Maybe it meant something different in Texas.
Spencer’s head drew back. “You really didn’t Google me. It’s the first thing that comes up when you type my name. The Wikipedia page for my father, Senator Hayes Hightower. My firm generally pops up a few spaces down, sometimes on the second page if it’s an election year. We’ve discussed promoting the webpage, but since we don’t get a lot of business from it anyway, it doesn’t make a lot of financial sense.”
“I see…” Liam remembered what JT had said about her family making people want to escape to Africa. There was a slight bitter tinge of sarcasm when Spencer talked about her father.
He imagined what it must be like for someone as strong and independent as her to constantly be living under the shadow of a powerful father, battling for Google space. Liam really hadn’t had a father, but he’d had a stepfather—a rotten, abusive drunk of a stepfather. Liam didn’t like to talk about him much, either, but at least no one knew about him from Wikipedia.
“Do you have any siblings?” Liam asked, cutting into his perfectly cooked carne asada. The question made her smile.
“Two sisters.”
The conversation proceeded normally from there. One of Spencer’s sisters was doing some sort of charity work in Uganda (which explained JT’s comment about Africa), and her other sister was married and pregnant in Long Island. Liam offered that his sister lived in New York, which led to a long discussion on their favorite cities. Spencer loved New York and knew DC quite well. After four years there, Liam still loved Seattle and could talk about LA if it was about sports or restaurants.
Over coffee spiked with Kahlua and a cake that Spencer insisted had four milks in it, although Liam argued that four types of milk couldn’t exist, Liam realized something that made his heart literally stop beating.
He was having fun with a woman who constantly surprised him. And it was happening in a gas station restaurant. A woman he wanted to spend more time with, but who would likely try to bash his head in on their metaphorical football field.
The hell of it all was he looked forward to it.
…
At the end of the meal, Spencer excused herself from the table and went to the ladies room where she extracted the cell phone from her clutch and dialed Rainey’s number.
When Rainey answered, Spencer wasted no time to get to the point. “Tell me I shouldn’t sleep with him.”
“What? Spence? Who?”
“I’m on a date…”
“With who?” Rainey demanded. “Kenny Rogers? Are you on a date with Kenny Rogers?”
“Yes, I’m on a date with Kenny Rogers,” Spencer hissed. An older woman came into the bathroom and gave her a strange look. “Go ahead,” Spencer whispered, motioning toward the empty stall.
“The sports agent? The jerkwad at OPM? You still went on a date with him? After today?” Rainey shouted.
Spencer flinched at the volume. “Tell me I shouldn’t sleep with him.” She said that to Rainey even though the older woman peeked back at her again.
“I guess it’s going well,” Rainey said.
“He’s really hot, funny, hot, interesting.”
Rainey sighed. “You can’t sleep with him. That’s like sleeping with the enemy, and you know what they say about that!”
“What?” Spencer asked.
“You don’t sleep with the enemy, that’s what! That’s like, Sex 101.”
“No, I think Sex 101 is something different,” Spencer corrected, sparing a silent apology for the older woman now emerging from the bathroom stall. Spencer waved on the next lady in line. “And I thought you of all people would be supportive. You’re always saying that sex is just a biological act.”
“But he’s a football player.”
Spencer’s mind flew to the image of Liam in nothing but swim trunks. Her mouth grew dry in ten seconds flat.
“And your point?” Right now, the fact he’d played football wasn’t exactly a turn off.
“You never give it up on the first date. Plus, he called me an extortionist.”
“Not directly. And you have sex on the first date.” Another woman coming in did a double take at that.
“He’s the enemy, Spence. I know you don’t want to hear it, but just wait for a few days until we get this Dalynn thing taken care of. Then you can rip off his clothes and spend days in the sack with him. It’ll be good for you to do someone like him.”
“What do you mean, someone like him?”
“Someone not your type. Just. Not. Tonight.” Rainey repeated the last words like a threat.
“Okay. Just. Not. Tonight.” Spencer repeated the mantra, ignoring the frown in the mirror from the woman washing her hands. “Thank you.”
Spencer left the ladies room and sent an apologetic smile to Liam, waiting patiently at the table. “Long line,” she explained.
Not tonight. Not tonight. Spencer told herself in the truck. Liam drove toward her area of town.
“So did you get into your house?” Spencer asked.
“Yeah,” Liam said. He ran a hand through his thick hair. Spencer wanted to do that. Tangle her fingers in it while kissing him senseless. Not tonight. “I’d love for you to see it. Give me a woman’s opinion on it.”
“A woman’s opinion is always good,” she confirmed, in a vague, non-committal way, while wondering what exactly he was asking. Was he inviting her over?
He paused. “You’re probably tired tonight.”
“It’s the first date,” she said. Liam’s head turned her direction. She wished he’d keep his eyes on the road.
“I didn’t mean…” He trailed off, looking a little uncomfortable, shifting his attention back on the driving.
“Oh yeah, no, I didn’t think you did. And this isn’t a date, anyway. It’s a business meeting.” Spencer rushed the words, praying he didn’t notice her cover attempt.
Liam was trying not to appear too cocky. “So will there be a second date?”
Her heart thumped against h
er chest. “At the ranch you said your second dates were killer.”
“They are,” he agreed.
“And then the third date…” Spencer’s voice trailed off, a tingle sweeping down the back of her damp neck. Liam parked the truck. Now she had his full attention. The light of the lampposts of the parking lot emphasized the cut of his jaw, the angle of his cheekbones, the slight stubble lining his handsome face. Spencer took a quick breath. “You never said what happens on the third date.”
“Didn’t I?” His question was just above a whisper. She shook her head and his hand reached out, catching her cheek in his palm. She inhaled, shaking at his touch, sending all her inner nervous systems haywire. Nothing worked right.
“I really want to kiss you,” he admitted, a thumb stroking her face.
“I really want to invite you up. But I think we’d better not.”
“Better not,” Liam repeated, still stroking. Damn, that was messing her up. Her whole world seemed to shift on just the gentle touch of his thumb. Another heat wave tore through her, making her toes curl. “Third date?” he asked, his voice more of a soft growl than anything.
Her lips parted to respond. He cut her off, leaning over the seat that separated them, his lips on hers, and she responded in a different, better way. A kissing way.
Somehow she slid across the leather bench for better access to Liam’s lips, warm but demanding. He pulled back from her lips and kissed the side of her mouth, traveled to her jaw, to her throat, the soft scruff of his beard scraping her face as he licked the sensitive skin. His hands cupped her face, his thumb still stroking as soft as a whisper. Spencer remembered his hair and put her hand up, combing it with her fingers and pulling on them until his mouth was on hers again.
Liam deepened the kiss, and Spencer moved her hands to his hard chest, reveling in the way the muscles coasted under her palms even with his shirt on.
Sweetly, desperately, he tore himself away. Leaving her breathless.
She had trouble focusing. Spencer knew where he was, by the heat he was radiating, by the sound of his ragged breathing.
“I’ll walk you up,” Liam offered, and Spencer heard the underlying message. He could stay. He could go. The decision was hers. Rainey’s warning sounded in her head. Sleeping with the enemy. Not her type. After. The first date. Not tonight.
Rainey’s advice wasn’t what her body wanted, but it was the right decision. Wasn’t it? She squeezed Liam’s hand and thanked him for a nice evening but didn’t stop where she should’ve.
“Do you want to come up and get your coat?”
Chapter Ten
“Can I get you a drink?” Spencer asked when they were in her condo. Because. Oh, God. She needed something to do with her hands or they’d be all over him. No. No. She couldn’t do that.
She never blushed, but if she did, it would be over this awkwardness. Her wine bottle, still open, still sat on the cabinet where she’d left it earlier, when she thought she’d have a nice evening watching models claw each other’s eyes out.
So much for plans.
Without waiting for his answer, she retrieved two glasses from the cabinet.
She poured two glasses and resisted the urge to go ahead and guzzle hers. That would be rude. Necessary but rude.
Why was she nervous? She’d kissed a man before. Many times. Then why in the hell did Liam’s kiss have that effect on her? The question distracted her while she carried the glass to him, tall and gorgeous and so freaking polite. He took a sip of wine and watched her. Like he saw right through her. Like he didn’t give a shit where his coat was. Like all he cared about was sliding his arms around her hips and pushing her against the wall and…
First date.
Rainey’s words pierced Spencer’s head, like she sat on her shoulder, shooting an arrow into her skull.
Right. First date.
No, wait. Not a first date, remember? Business?
So that means…
Liam had said something. “I’m sorry.” Spencer pulled herself together. “I was thinking about work.”
Liam drew his head back. “Work?”
Spencer had seen that look on men before. Judgmental, like a woman wasn’t supposed to think about work at dinner. Or at the movies. Or at Thanksgiving dinner with his parents. “I own my own firm.”
“You do,” he replied, in a tone she couldn’t argue with. But she tried anyway.
“It doesn’t run itself.”
“I wouldn’t think so.”
“Don’t you think about work after hours? On the weekends?” Her question was pointed, her meaning obvious. Men did it. They shouldn’t expect her not to.
“Not when I’m with a woman like you.”
Oh.
Well then.
Spencer noticed her hand shook a little when she took the next sip of wine. She was being ridiculous. Of course, Liam thought about work. He was a successful sports agent for goodness’ sakes. Why was she reaching for excuses? Why couldn’t she for once in her life just let go?
Because she had the Hightower last name. And with that came responsibilities.
Then he moved toward her, placing the glass on the counter behind her. Oh.
Then he took her face in his hands.
Well then.
When he kissed her, she kissed back. He tasted like cabernet sauvignon and man. He kissed like a man who wasn’t thinking about work. Liam’s hands dropped to her waist and pulled her against him, igniting a chain reaction of instinct and impulses all over Spencer’s body. Every neuron fired. Every inch of her was aware of the tall man that pressed into her breasts, her thighs, her hips. She wanted him covering her. She just wanted him.
Somehow Spencer managed to reach her hand back to the counter to put her wine glass back before satisfying her impulse to touch him. Her hands went to his shirt, the closest and biggest thing. She clutched handfuls of the soft cotton and pulled him even tighter against her, luxuriating in the way he responded, the way his kiss deepened, the way his thigh nestled between her legs.
Powerful, demanding.
She moved against his muscled thigh, which further ignited the need growing in her core. Liam’s fingers tightened on her waist. With a gentle touch, his hands traveled up over her ribcage stopping just shy of her breast.
His right hand was over the knot that kept her wrap dress together. Untie it, a secret part of her brain said, even as she knew it wasn’t time, yet. Then with a gentle, surprising lift, she was on the kitchen counter. Spencer was a fairly tall woman. It wasn’t like Liam had to double over to kiss her. But now they were even, and there was something more erotic about being equals. Coming at each other on the same level. And, now she didn’t have to worry about keeping her balance in her high heels. Because kissing Liam definitely challenged her balance even while sitting down.
Liam settled himself between her legs. Her dress bunched way up her thighs, a fact that he noticed, too. He dipped his head, kissing her neck while his hand rubbed her leg with gentle strokes, moving higher, higher. Out of instinct, she flexed, trying to close her knees, which was, of course, impossible with a large man between them.
Liam noticed her jump. “What is it?” he asked, pulling back, searching her face for an answer.
She tried to find her smile, to shrug it off, like she always did. “Just an old scar. From when I was a kid.”
Then, of course, he looked. Because she told him about it. She reached down to move her dress over it, but the wrap skirt had opened, because of the solid, unmoving man between her knees and there wasn’t enough fabric to cover the white scar on her thigh.
Two impulses warred within Spencer: push him away so she could cover—literally and figuratively—or pull him towards her, knock his breath out with a kiss, and make him forget about the scar. The two alternatives were equal, and so she did the unlikeliest thing. She did nothing.
Liam’s hand hadn’t moved. His large palm and fingers stretched around her thigh, encompassing nearly all of
the twisted reminder of a dark, wet night and a million shards of glass. He glanced at the scar, and then focused on her face. “No parent should let their kids swim with sharks. It’s really irresponsible.”
Spencer relaxed a little. “I was a dare devil. Between that and the mountain climbing, it was hard to keep me down.”
Liam nodded. “I get that. I was nine the first time I jumped out of a plane.”
Spencer frowned in faux concern. “Nine? I was seven.”
“Bragger.”
She couldn’t stop staring at his lips as they curved into a soft smile. She was fascinated by the dimple that only quirked at her when he was flirting. And his hands, still on her, almost caused her undoing. An emotion she couldn’t name rushed over her, twisting her insides. Part gratitude, part desire, all adrenaline.
Liam leaned down and brushed his lips to hers, so gentle and sweet it caused another rush of that delicate bubble of emotion. It was something terrifying and something fragile. Maybe that’s why he was so gentle with her. She wouldn’t break, scar and all.
But she had to face her fears. Her hands looped around to the back of his neck and urged him closer.
Within seconds, Liam’s lips were on hers, crushing and responding like he hadn’t drank in years.
On a warm summer’s eve. On a train bound for nowhere…
Spencer pulled away.
“Let me just…” She didn’t finish before Liam took a step back, leaving her thighs exposed.
Know when to hold ‘em. Know when to fold ‘em.
With a quick hand, Spencer rearranged her skirt and slid off the counter top, reaching for her phone. She answered it with a curt, “Yes?”
“Just checking on you.”
“Rainey?” Spencer asked. “What’s going on?”
“I was thinking about it, and I was wrong. I mean, if it were me, I would listen to what my instincts were telling me.”
Spencer glanced over at Liam, who was trying very hard to ignore her conversation, the way people do when only one person is on a phone call in the room.
Know When to Hold Him Page 8
