But then Dr. Greenwald says, "He's up, actually. Speaking, even," and the relief in Alec is palpable. He exhales a long breath, as though maybe he's only been taking shallow ones for a while, and his shoulders lose some of their tension. Without thinking, I wrap my arms around him, feeling little vibrations in his body, the excitement of relief, maybe, and only a moment later do I catch Dr. Greenwald's frown. Which reminds me that this is totally inappropriate.
I apologize, pulling back. "Lost myself for a second. I'm happy for you… For him, I mean."
"Hello. I'm Charles Greenwald." The man shifts his coffee between hands and sticks one out to me.
"Teagan Walker," I respond, taking it.
"And how do you know Alec?" He's not asking unkindly, but there's a wariness in his expression.
"Teagan's my…" Alec trails off, glancing at me.
"I'm his assistant," I finish. Because it's still true. For now, at least.
"Right." Dr. Greenwald's tone is as weary as his face, but thank God the elevator opens right then, and we all step through, the conversation halted.
We walk down a long hallway, my skin feeling tighter and tighter by the second. I don't have good memories of my own hospital visit a few years back.
Obviously, my plan is to wait outside Alec's grandfather's room—no way do I want to interfere with the family. Problem is, I don't realize we're getting close to the right room until the door beside us is opened by an exiting nurse, and Dr. Greenwald pushes me through in his haste to get by.
Fucker.
I keep my back against the wall, trying to keep a pleasant expression, not quite sure how to manage it. The room—bigger than my entire living room at home—smells astringent, and everyone's faces match the scent. Tight. A little sour. Two women—one clearly Alec's mother, the resemblance is spot-on, minus the just-bit-a-lemon twist to her features—and Alec's dad. Plus, his grandfather. In a bed by a huge bay window.
Dr. Greenwald heads straight to the chart at the foot of Alec's grandfather's bed, studying it without comment.
Alec strides by me, but grabs my arm for the briefest of moments, squeezing it. Thanking me, maybe, for sticking around. "Grandfather," he says. "How are you feeling?"
"As though I've been in the hospital all night and am going to rescind every one of my donations if they don't let me out now." He glares at Dr. Greenwald, who seems to be impervious to the sudden chill in the air.
"Glad you finally made it," Mr. Chambers—Philip, Alec's father—says, his voice booming toward Alec. He looks at me for a moment, until recognition replaces his puzzled expression, and then his eyes slide away, much like they would over a piece of furniture.
Alec's grandfather's eyes are dark like his grandson's, but cold, like he's looking straight into me and finding me lacking. "Who are you?"
For someone who just had a stroke, he looks very out of place in a hospital bed. He's too commanding. Thick white hair, square jawline. A set to his mouth that says he owns the world and is not to be fucked with.
I want to cower, and it pisses me the hell off. I stand a little straighter. "I'm Teagan, Alec's assistant."
"Get out." He doesn't even have to snap his words to make me jump. So much for standing tall. "This is a family matter."
"Grandfather," Alec starts, but I shake my head, telling him it's fine.
"I'll be in my car." It really is fine, too. Hospitals make my skin crawl. And no way do I want to spend another second in this room.
So, instead, I spend thirty minutes in my car developing an ulcer.
I should hate Alec. He's engaged. He's a liar.
He's sexy. He's sweet. He's vulnerable right now.
I beat my hand against the dashboard until the radio kicks in.
Of course it's a stupid Gold Rush Standard love song.
I beat the dashboard again until it shuts off.
My thoughts chase each other like crushes on the playground for the next thirty minutes, until I'm actually glad when Alec shows up again, even if they've all been about him.
"Sorry he was such a dick to you," Alec says, sliding into his seat. "I'd say it's a side effect of his stroke, but that's all him."
"It's fine."
"It isn't." He drags a hand over his face.
"Will he be okay?"
"It was a mini-stroke," Alec says. "That's why his speech wasn't slurred or anything—but a few minutes in I swear his face turned gray from the effort of speaking. Naturally, he was even nastier than normal for as long as he could be before falling asleep. Weakness in any form is unacceptable. He has it in his paperwork that next of kin isn't allowed to be notified unless he's dead or unresponsive. He was in there, all night, fighting. But he'd rather struggle alone than let anyone see him defenseless. That's why he was such an ass to you. Because he's depending on other people to live right now."
"I needed a reason to leave anyway."
"Hate hospitals?"
"Nah, but being in one made me feel like my barely there bank account was about to deplete completely."
His brows dip when he looks at me, asking what I mean.
"Not having health insurance costs a whole lot of money if you end up in a hospital. I broke my arm when I was eighteen. I'm still paying it off."
"That's shitty."
"Yup." I back out of the spot. The last time I was at the doctors was…when I broke my arm. Not counting Planned Parenthood for birth control a few months ago, because I swore I would find a way to lose my virginity at some point this year, not that it's gone so well… Which I am not going to think about with Alec sitting next to me. "Anyway. Do you want to talk about your grandfather?"
"No."
"Well, there's not much else I'd like to talk about," I say. Because I don't want to know you any more than I already do… "Mind driving in silence for a bit?"
"If that's what you want," he says. But a after a short stretch of quiet, he speaks again. "Piper's wearing a ring I gave her, but—"
"Nope." Seriously. Nope. Can't go down this road. I'm conflicted enough as it is. "I don't want—"
"But we aren't getting married." He cuts me off, dropping that bomb, letting its explosion eat all of the oxygen in the now quiet air, until I turn to him.
"Explain."
"I'm helping her to keep her family happy. But we have an agreement, and I can still date—privately. And if things get serious, we break off the engagement."
"That…sounds like one of Gran's soap operas," I say, waiting for his words to sink in. They have an agreement? "And it also sounds like bullshit. I need you to clarify."
He sighs, his eyes still closed. "Piper's set to inherit a lot of money, but part of the stipulation is that she marries a…guy her family approves of. She has no interest in that, but to keep her family happy—to keep that inheritance on the line—she plays the role. Hell, she created the role."
His voice gives away how tired he is. How exhausted, how defeated. The anger gripping my spine begins to loosen—but not all the way. "What do you get out of it? Sex without strings?"
"I love her." Now, he opens his eyes, waiting until I meet them. "Like a sister. No sex. We grew up together. I owe her a lot." He flexes his palms, one at a time, in his lap. "And it makes my parents happy—my grandfather, too. He's stuck in the old way of thinking that a pedigreed—which is his word, not mine—coupling is good for business."
"So they can tout you around like dogs at a show?" It comes out sharper than I intend, but God.
"Pretty much." His eyes are closed again. He's resigned.
"Is she hideous?" I ask. "Because looking at you—I don't know why she doesn't go for the real thing."
"She's gorgeous," he says. "But I'm not her type. And I don't feel it for her, either. We tried years ago, ended up laughing the entire thing off."
If she's gorgeous and he's gorgeous, it doesn't make sense that they wouldn't live their perfect little money-filled lives together. Though I should know better than anyone that you can't force s
omeone to love you if they don't. Romantically or parentally… Not grandparentally, either. Ugh. Not going down that particular slip-and-slide right now. But there's no good direction for my thoughts to go, because I'm jealous that this gorgeous Piper had him for real even for a moment. Which is stupid. He's not mine to claim.
But…maybe he could be. For the summer.
If he's really not engaged. Which is the real question. Do I believe him? He's rich. He's cocky. He carries himself like a typical playboy. This feels like something I could regret later.
But…
I'm good at reading liars, and there's nothing in his expression, in his tone, in…him, that feels off about what he's saying.
"I wasn't sleazing on you," he says. "I wasn't cheating on her. I was trying to get to know the girl who sparked my interest from the first word I heard her speak."
"Screen door?"
This earns me a small laugh. "Yeah, but not because you were talking about banging. Something about you stood out to me. Not just the way you look—everything. Your stance. Your voice… I had to know you. And now, you're so fierce in your conviction about how wrong it is to cheat—something I actually agree with one hundred percent… I think I like you even more, if that's possible."
"Why didn't you tell me right away? You could've saved yourself a lot of yelling…"
"This is more Piper's secret than mine. I promised her to keep it, unless I got serious about someone."
"I mean, we've known each other less than a week…" I'm not delusional enough to think he's serious about me. "And most of that time, you didn't really know who I was."
"The thing is, kitten, who you are shines through regardless of what name you gave me. You've got claws and they're hooked under my skin and, for some reason, I don't want you to extract them. I want the chance to know you. I want the chance to see where this could go. So maybe this isn't serious, but it was coming down to telling you or losing you, and you see which one I picked."
He didn't want to lose me.
He picked me. This is a total first. I'm not sure how to respond—but my body feels like it's made of air. Or cotton candy. Or something else sweet and light and totally foreign. "But I've been such a bitch."
"Yep."
"And you haven't deserved at least half of it."
"Nope."
"And you still want—"
"Everything."
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
"EVERYTHING?" I REPEAT Alec's word, my blood beginning to swirl, beginning to long. He wants everything with me. And he's not engaged. Not really, anyway.
And then that big neon sign starts flashing in my mind… Virgin, virgin, virgin.
He doesn't mean that everything. But still…it's out there. "What do you mean, everything?"
"A date, at least," he says, opening his eyes, one corner of his mouth lifting in a lazy smile. "How's Friday?"
"I have plans." The words shoot out of my mouth and I don't know why I'm pushing back.
Wait. Yes, I do know why. Virgin, virgin, virginnnnn.
He blinks. "Plans with your girlfriends again, or plans with someone giving me some competition?"
"Plans with…" I sigh, shaking my head. "You make me nervous and I made it up. I'm free Friday."
He laughs. "I make you nervous? Pretty sure you've got that mixed up."
"I mean, obviously I can demolish you with my well-sharpened bitch. I get it. But you make me nervous, too."
"I wouldn't say demolish."
"How would you define what I was doing this morning in your office after I found out about Piper?" Saying her name brings a sour taste to my mouth. Not toward her specifically, but maybe I'm not all the way over Alec's secret yet.
"Fair point. But you're making my point at the same time. You're the one who makes me nervous." His lazy smile evolves into something cockier. "And pretty girls very rarely make me nervous."
"Right. Because you're God's gift to women?" I stop at a red light, lifting a brow.
"Maybe." He watches my face, his eyes dancing. "I'll take you to dinner on Friday so you can find out for yourself."
"I haven't said yes yet." I'm going to, obviously. But this teasing, this back and forth, it's pushing him out of the shade of sorrow he's been cocooned in since learning about his grandfather. Now that I know the truth about Piper, all I want to do is make him smile.
"Why do I make you nervous?" he asks.
"Oh, that."
"Oh," he deadpans, "that."
"You know things about me," I say, deciding on straight honesty, realizing how freeing it is to have someone who knows my truths. "One thing in particular that makes me a little…unsettled."
"That you've never…" He clears his throat. "That you're a—"
"Yep. That one." No matter how he says it, the virgin status of my vag isn't suddenly going to get sexy. Just awkward. I mean, not that my vag isn't sexy. Just that… God, now I'm even embarrassing myself in my own thoughts. "And, you know… You had morning wood on Saturday and I got a glimpse and… I can't quite compute how all of that will fit in—" Someone behind me honks because the light's green, and the blaring horn jolts me out of my ramble. "Never mind. Forget it."
I throw my hand up to flip off the driver in my rearview. Alec laughs and grabs my hand, tugging it into his lap. "One date on a Friday night won't lead to me asking for more than you're ready to give. One million dates on one million different days won't lead to that either."
Oh God. He's being sweet. And he's rubbing the pad of his thumb over the back of my hand and I'm suddenly super close to either giggling or…I don't know…moaning. "Pretty sure I made clear what I'm ready for. I would've done it if I hadn't passed out."
"Last Friday worked out exactly how it should have," he says, rub, rub, rubbing. I'm not sure how he's able to use his thumb here on my hand to send shivers all the way up my spine. But he does. "Maybe you're ready." Stroke, stroke, stroke. "But maybe I'm not. Maybe I want to take my time. Maybe sex on Friday is off the table."
He flips my hand palm-side up, tracing spiraled circles over the inside of my wrist, making my breath come a little faster, my shivers dance a little lower. "Maybe I want to touch you, tease you…taste you first." He lifts my arm until my wrist is against his mouth and his tongue takes a turn circling my skin and somehow he's taking this conversation and spinning it into a sensual realm I've never visited before.
"Oh…" Yeah, awesome response. But come on. Like I should have to be able to think about anything while he's doing what he's doing… We're lucky I haven't crashed the car.
"And if you're worried about my size," he breaks off, a cocky little chuckle, like he's aware of how worried any girl—virgin or not—might be. Which, fine, I won't even snark about because seriously. "If it gets to that point, I'll be gentle. You, kitten, aren't the only one with a talented tongue. I'll have you ready, wanting, needing." Another dart of his tongue against my pulse point. "Begging."
"Sorry, Charlie. This girl doesn't beg." I pull my hand away, placing it carefully on my steering wheel, before I make a liar of myself. Talented tongue? Yeah. Triple check that column. "And you might want to speak with someone about those self-esteem issues…"
"I'm being honest. Isn't that our thing? Honesty? Unless your name isn't really Teagan and you've got a whole different life you're hiding from me. Because that would be impressive."
A laugh pushes itself out of my mouth, but accidentally, "Trust me. I'd give anything for a different life," slips out behind it. "I'm me, I mean."
He doesn't respond until I stop at the next red light. And he tugs my chin toward him first. "See? Complete honesty. You be you. I'll be me."
"A pessimistic bitch and a guy whose ego almost matches the size of his…"
"Thing?" he says, his eyes laughing the same way they were when Miles was driving us home on Friday night.
"I can say dick." Even if my face bursts into flames when I do it.
"You see yourself much differently than I do."
"The pessimistic bitch thing? Don't worry. You just met me. You'll come around. Everyone always does."
"We'll see," he says in a tone that really says he doesn't believe it.
"Guess we'll see about a few things," I say in a tone that really says hurry up and make me beg like you've promised…
"Why were you fired from the hair salon?" he asks.
"I—wait. Are you asking as my boss or as my…something more personal?"
"This will have zero impact on your job. Though your resume didn't mention that you were fired. Funny, that." He gives me a look sarcastic enough to have my lips curling up. If I tutored him only a little, he could have the whole Teagan impression down in less than a day.
"Well… Mr. Not My Boss…" I glance at him, waiting to continue until he nods, confirming that this is off the record. "I had a client who was a total piece of work. I mean, nasty. Judgmental. Bitchy. Rude—and yes, I know, I'm practically describing myself—but she was on a whole other level. Cruel—and loved it about herself."
Casey Cantrell. I can picture her clearly. Probably will be able to forever. Especially the last time I saw her. "She thought her husband flirted with me when he came in to pick her up. Didn't happen, but she told my boss all these lies. Like that I was texting him, sexting him—never mind that I didn't have his number, even when my boss took my phone to check."
"Your boss took your phone?"
"Yup."
"And fired you even when she found nothing?"
"Not exactly… That wasn't when I got fired." Here's the tricky part. "The client made me keep doing her hair. Weekly blow outs. Monthly dyes. All the while spreading rumor after rumor about me. She did it to make me squirm. But I don't squirm that easily."
"Wanna bet I can change that?"
"Do you want to flirt—or do you want my story?" Oddly, I want to tell him what happened. Another first for me.
"I already told you. I want everything."
Thrills. Up and down my belly. His words—and the sincerity behind them—make me feel light in the middle of a story that usually brings me down.
"She wanted something different the day I got fired. She wanted to go from brunette to platinum blonde. And… I… At the end of the appointment, chunks of her hair were so ruined they crumbled into mush. Burned her scalp, too."
Truth & Temptation Page 12
