“Is this an emergency?” Spencer asked.
“Oh, God. He’s there. You’re with him? Are you having sex?”
“Not yet.” Spencer regretted the two extra words. Of course, he would know what they were talking about, now.
“Not yet? Why? Because of Dalynn? Because your intuition is telling you it’s a bad idea?”
Spencer snuck another peek at Liam, who had picked up his wine glass. She steadied her voice, nonchalant. “Not at the moment.”
She heard Rainey suck in a breath. “You brought him to your place.”
“How did you…” Spencer cast a quick glance at the window, which was silly. No one could see up this high.
“Like you would go to Kenny Rogers’ house. He could be a serial killer.”
Spencer tried putting on her business voice again. “Okay, great. Thanks for calling. We’ll talk about it tomorrow.”
“You promised to come to yoga in the morning. Marcus is saving us three spots.”
“What time?”
“Seven. Don’t worry about handling Dalynn’s case. Enjoy yourself.”
Spencer switched the phone to silent and placed it on the counter. Then she took a deep breath and drummed up the nerve to look at Liam. She wasn’t sure what to say. “Where were we?” That was awkward.
Did she return to him? Throw her arms around his neck? Did she just go ahead and untie the dress? That would certainly give him the all-clear. Even though it had been a while, she wasn’t that desperate.
They stood there, each avoiding the other’s eyes, trying to play it cool. Spencer realized that she liked him. Really liked him. And not just because his hair kind of stood up adorably when he’d run his fingers through it nervously. And not just because of the vitality in his eyes or the square jaw or the hard body that drove her crazy whenever she was within twelve inches of him. But because he was sweet. And funny. And made her feel like having a disfiguring scar on her right thigh was kind of badass.
Rainey was right. When it came to a one-night stand with Liam Connelly, she needed to listen to her intuition, which was screaming at her to take this slow.
…
After she hung up her phone, it was obvious she had made her decision. His male pride was boosted by the fact that she seemed sad about not sleeping with him. But it wasn’t about pride, not really. Pride was a surface thing, something easily scratched and built upon. His disappointment came from someplace far deeper, darker. Someplace he didn’t really think about that often.
A man—a real man—knew when it was time to back off. But he couldn’t just leave. He couldn’t just leave her.
Bullshit. He left women all the time, ones that promised a lot less trouble than this one. It really wasn’t that hard. He could walk away. Watch him do it.
Liam closed the gap between them, and reached for her hand to say goodbye. She let him have it easily, he noted, and her fingers twisted in his. “I had a good time tonight.”
Spencer nodded. “Me, too.”
Now was the time for the “catch you later” line–casual, cool, but communicating that this had run its course. “So you up for a second date?”
Wait. What?
She pursed her lips and cocked her head thoughtfully. “I seem to recall saying this wasn’t a date.”
Images of her body and his pressed up against each other floated through his memory. The taste of her lips was still fresh on his. Damn. “You did say that.”
The expression in her eyes told him she was remembering the same things. He brushed the back of her hand with his thumb. “Are we still arguing about Troy?”
“About Dalynn?” she asked. She shrugged. “It’s not a good idea for us to get involved personally while we are involved professionally.”
“Why?” The question seemed straightforward to Liam. Sure, he had his misgivings, but this one he didn’t get. He was as professional and dedicated and competitive as they came. But football had taught him how to leave it on the field. Unless it was the Oakland Raiders. With them, he held a grudge.
Her face shuttered. “I take no prisoners, Liam.”
“So?”
“So, most of my opponents have an issue with that.”
He leaned in, bringing his face to her ear. “Bring it,” he whispered. Then kissed her cheek and headed for the front door.
He made it as far as the parking lot, waving to Stuart’s late night replacement when he realized he had not retrieved his coat from Spencer’s condo.
Instead of frustration, Liam felt something a lot like victory. Now he had two reasons to go back to her place.
Chapter Eleven
The yoga studio, in a cute re-zoned bungalow in Oak Lawn, sat between a cupcake shop and a Latin restaurant. At seven in the morning, neither was open, unfortunately for Spencer’s growling stomach.
Ever since Rainey started hooking up with her yoga instructor, she’d recruited Nora and Spencer to attend classes with her. Given Rainey’s aversion to traditional dating, Spencer guessed it had more to do with avoiding awkward one-on-one conversations with the man she was sleeping with than it did with inspiring Spencer and Nora to be flexible and fit.
Still, given their hectic lifestyles and stressful occupation, yoga was probably a good idea. Nora and Rainey even saved her a spot.
Nora’s red hair was pulled back into a perfect ponytail, her tank top and shorts coordinating with the turquoise pedicure on her toes. Rainey also greeted Spencer, but with a little less energy. Her wavy dark hair was piled into a haphazard sort of knot that would look disastrous on 95% of women but on Rainey seemed punky and artistic, showing off the dark purple streaks in her hair.
“She doesn’t look like she got any last night,” Nora said, in her typical sweet yet blunt style.
Rainey gave Spencer a speculative once over. “Nope. Or it was really bad.”
Spencer rolled her eyes. “It wasn’t. And I didn’t. Like you told me,” she pointed out to Rainey.
“How do you know it wasn’t bad if you didn’t get any?” Nora asked. “Was it just one-way, not two-way?”
Spencer and Rainey both stared at Nora. “I think I know what’s she’s saying,” Spencer said.
“You do?” Rainey asked. “Because I’m afraid.”
Nora cocked her head. “Guys. Come on. You know. Did you do him, but he didn’t return the favor?”
Spencer opened and closed her mouth. “I really don’t want to get into this right now,” she muttered as Marcus, the yoga instructor and Rainey’s sometime sort of boyfriend, entered the room and lit incense.
The three women joined the rest of the class on their mats, taking a cross-legged position and waiting for class to begin.
“What happened?” Rainey whispered as the sounds of bells and flutes filled the small studio. “Did you?”
“I didn’t,” Spencer replied. “You called, it ruined the moment, and he left.”
“He left you? Hanging? After you did that to him?” Nora’s voice was higher than a whisper, and it earned the three of them an evil eye from Marcus.
“We were just making out.” Spencer glared at Nora. “And it was great.”
Nora nodded in understanding. “Until Rainey ruined it.”
“I didn’t ruin anything,” Rainey hissed as Marcus told the class to stand and reach for the sky like mighty oak trees. “I called to make sure she didn’t do something she’d regret.”
“That’s the best kind of stuff,” Nora said with a smirk, then stretched her arms toward the ceiling.
Spencer couldn’t help but laugh as she bent into a downward dog pose.
Marcus raised his voice for the next instruction, clearly to cover the giggles coming from Hightower & Associates’ corner of the room.
They managed to focus on the class for a while, moving and stretching as Marcus led the class. They rooted their toes into the earth. They “felt” the universal energy sustain them. They trusted their hearts with their breath. Spencer peered up at Marcus while s
he twisted and lifted her center to the universe’s embrace.
A slight, sinewy figure in a loose tank and pants, Marcus was the kind of man who could wear a long beaded necklace and talk about the truth of the lotus and still be manly, in a very alternative, healing, Whole Foods kind of way.
Marcus turned and Spencer noticed the tattoos under his tank top. A mandala on one shoulder and some exotic letters on the other. She couldn’t help but think of Liam in the pool at the Buchanan ranch, wet and muscled and tattooed.
Shoot. Spencer missed Marcus’ cue to fly like a crow. She hurried to catch up with the class but her mind was distracted, as it had been after Liam had left her place. As it had been all night, after she helped herself to the rest of the bottle of wine and tossed and turned before finally drifting to sleep.
Liam Connelly was a huge distraction. He would be, even if he wasn’t Troy’s agent. As Spencer put her hands at heart’s center and swayed in the metaphysical wind, yoga brought clarity.
She couldn’t see Liam Connelly again.
Sure, he made her laugh; he made her heart race. But it was too much. She was sure to make colossally bad decisions because of him. And Spencer Hightower didn’t do bad decisions. She made lists, weighed outcomes, and chose the safe path, away from death, destruction, and disaster. Seeing Liam Connelly would lead to just that…disaster.
Marcus continued leading the class through stretches and, finally, into corpse pose. They were to lie in their sacred spaces and cherish the time they had been given, give thanks for the universe’s blessings, and be open to the messages from their guiding spirits. As the class received messages, Nora evidently wanted answers. “Are you going to see him again?” Nora whispered.
Spencer cracked an eye open. There was a ding of a cymbal. Spencer suspected it was Marcus, sending a signal from the universe to shut the heck up.
“No,” Spencer breathed. “It’s too complicated.” It was the right answer. It was grown-up and mature and reasonable.
Nora made a noise of frustration. The cymbal chimed again. They were getting in trouble. If they weren’t careful, Marcus would ring a bell or even a gong.
“Do you want to see him again?” Nora asked the question slightly differently.
Spencer couldn’t lie. “Yes.”
“Seriously,” Rainey groused through gritted teeth to Spencer’s left.
“Please respect your fellow travelers as you leave the studio,” Marcus said.
Ah. Message received. Spencer and Nora stood up and grabbed their stuff. Rainey followed them out the door a few moments later.
“I’ve never been thrown out of a yoga class before,” Nora giggled when they were safely outside.
Spencer laughed. They lived a wild and crazy life. “What’s next? Do you want to find a convent to disrupt?”
Rainey made a disgruntled face. “Fine, laugh. I have to put up with Mr. Moody later.”
“Don’t put up with it. According to you, it was just sex, anyway,” Nora tossed back.
“Okay, if I want sex, I have to put up with Mr. Moody,” Rainey said.
Spencer couldn’t resist. “Is that what he calls it?”
That made the three of them laugh, which was probably better for Spencer’s mood than forty-five minutes of stretching out her chakras to the universal source.
Chapter Twelve
On the thirtieth floor overlooking Victory Plaza, Liam Connelly’s new office seemed to have a view clear into Oklahoma. It wasn’t the Pacific Ocean or the mountains surrounding Los Angeles, but there was a simple beauty about the plains of North Texas. So much open space. So much potential.
He’d had his reservations about leaving LA, taking over the Dallas office. But it was the potential that had ultimately made his choice. Especially the potential he saw in Troy Duncan, star quarterback at Dallas State, Heisman finalist, and All-American dream boy entered in the NFL Draft. He was the biggest and brightest star the NFL had seen in years, and Liam had been determined to sign him as a client.
And he had moved to Dallas to make it happen.
He thought of Spencer and the connection they seemed to have. Potential, indeed.
There was a knock on his office door. “Come in,” Liam said, tearing his memory from the image of a slick female body, a wet, white shirt clinging in all the right places.
His intern, Jared Chase, opened the door for the man of the hour himself. Liam reached out and gave Troy Duncan a cool, confident handshake and a slap on the back. “How you doing, man?” Liam asked Troy as he motioned for Jared to shut the door. “So? You ready for the big day?” Liam asked Troy as they took a seat.
“I don’t know, man. I’m just waiting for it to kick in, you know? The NFL Draft, man. It’s unreal.”
“Everything’s going perfect,” Liam assured him. “No need to worry. We’ve done our research, you’ve talked to all the right people, and they all know you and love you.”
Troy fidgeted. “Research? What do you got to research?”
Liam reached over and tapped on a file. “We research the competition. Always. We are always prepared whether we talk to scouts, the press, or Nike.”
“Yeah?” Troy leaned back in his chair like his spine couldn’t be bothered to hold his torso in an upright position. “What competition?” His cocky question made Jared snicker and Liam chuckled along with them, but he wanted to set Troy straight.
“There’s always competition. The pie’s only so big and we want our clients to get the biggest piece, if not the whole damn pie.”
Jared nodded like an enthusiastic puppy. “Competition. And we get the whole pie,” he parroted.
Liam wasn’t usually cocky about work. But with Troy Duncan as his client, he didn’t see why the whole pie was not only possible, but probable. And Troy seemed to agree.
“Whole pie sounds good to me.” Troy’s cockiness slid into something real as the idea of being a professional football player settled into his mind. The light in Troy’s eyes softened, gleaming with possibilities, with hope for the future. It was the most fulfilling part of Liam’s job, when he could be there at the actual moment dreams came true.
“What are you going to do first with your piece of pie, Troy?” Liam always wanted to know. Every dream was different, formed from the dark substance of struggles past.
Troy got a misty expression. “My mama’s been driving the same broken down car for fifteen years. It’s got a busted muffler, the head lights got duct tape on them.”
“What are you going to get her?”
Troy smiled and shook his head, as if he couldn’t believe that this conversation was even happening. “I think she’d look good in a Porsche.”
Liam winked back. “Mama Duncan would look damn good in a Porsche.”
“Hey, now, you interested in my mom?” Troy joked.
“I’m not good enough for Mama Duncan. She needs someone who’ll settle down and treat her right. Not some busted up old ball player like me.”
“Speaking of Mama Duncan, you signed that soup commercial yet? She can’t wait to be on TV.”
Liam shared the good news. He had soup, he had cakes, he had peanut butter, he had every cereal company in the country all clamoring to get Troy Duncan on their labels.
“It doesn’t hurt that you’re a… You know.” That was Jared, inserting his foot into his mouth again.
Troy frowned at the intern. “That I’m a what?”
Jared fumbled and Liam recovered. “Saving yourself for marriage,” he suggested.
Troy’s lip curled. “Yeah. That helps, don’t it?”
Liam had to agree. Troy being a self-proclaimed virgin was definitely helping every family-friendly brand name in America find their way to Liam’s door.
It was almost too good to be true. A twenty-one year old football player who hadn’t fallen into the scavenging hands of groupies and gold diggers? Pretty unlikely. But Liam didn’t require his clients to give him reports on their bedroom activities, and he didn’t look
gift endorsements in the mouth. He’d take the contracts, no matter what thin ice they were written on.
But now that the door had been opened, it was time to bring up the pregnant elephant in the room. Briefly, Liam described the situation. An exgirlfriend. Her request for the DNA test.
“My policy is to say no to these kinds of things,” Liam explained.
Troy flashed his million dollar smile. “Sounds good.”
“Unless we have some idea to believe—“
Troy cut him off. “Like I was just saying. No way it’s mine.”
Fair enough. He had a policy. They were going to stick to it, and Spencer would just have to get used to not getting her way. A few minutes after Liam walked Troy out, there was a distinctive knock at the door. “Come in!” Liam called, happy to see JT strolling through the door.
“Dude,” JT said, “I think I just saw Troy Duncan in the parking garage.” Like any good ol’ Texas boy, JT knew his sports.
“You want to meet him sometime?”
JT couldn’t help grinning back. “Did you see the Sugar Bowl?”
So the answer was yes. The two former roommates spent a few minutes reliving the final play of the championship game.
JT settled into the chair in front of Liam’s desk.
“The movers are coming by in the morning,” Liam said.
“Here it comes.”
“You got anything going on in the morning?”
JT shook his head. “I’m not hearing the magic words.”
“You are a good friend,” Liam replied easily, continuing on when JT waved his hand for him to continue. “Courtside Mavericks tickets? Opening day Rangers?”
“I am getting too old to help friends move,” JT groaned, stretching out his neck and shoulders.
“You mean too fat.”
“Screw you,” JT countered. Then, “I’ll take those Mavs tickets, though.”
Liam chuckled. Another good reason to move to Dallas. He’d missed his buddy.
JT was quiet. Then he asked, “Have you and Spencer seen each other?”
Oh, boy. “A few times.” When JT didn’t respond, Liam elaborated. “We’re…um…kind of working together.”
Know When to Hold Him Page 9
