by Layla Hagen
I pick up Julie’s wheeled suitcase. She slings her backpack on her shoulders, and then we head out of her room.
Eric is outside the house, chatting with Jamie. The younger girls sit on the hood of the car, eating ice cream and talking loudly. They slide off the car when they see Julie, and she runs to greet them.
“Ready, girls?” Jamie asks.
They all answer with overenthusiastic nods and cries of yes.
“Let’s get going,” my cousin says.
The moment the car is out of sight, we walk back inside the house.
“So,” I tell Eric coyly. “I’m going to change.”
“Why?” he asks, perplexed.
“To prepare for our date, of course.” We deemed today to be date night ever since Julie told him she wants to go to my mom’s.
“You look great. Though I like you naked best.”
I suck in a breath, pressing my palm against his chest and pushing him slightly away. Having him so close makes it hard for me to think straight.
“You’re cheeky,” I murmur. “But I still have to go and change. I’m not even wearing a proper dress.” Since it’s warm outside, I put on a sundress this morning, which, while cute, is not appropriate for date night.
“No idea what your definition of proper is, but I love this one. All I have to do to get you naked is pull on this string.”
“Your mind is in the gutter all of the time. Luckily, mine is not.”
“Then I’m not doing my job right.” With a wicked smile, he drags his thumb over my lips once, eyeing my mouth as if he’s about to do dangerous things to it. “Time for you to be thoroughly kissed. We’re not going anywhere, anyway.”
“We’re not?”
“Nope.” He cups my cheek, his hand sliding down my neck and settling on my chest. “I’m cooking you dinner, so we can start our date right away. I bought all the necessary ingredients for starters and the main course yesterday.”
“What about dessert?” I ask in a panic. “That’s the most important part.”
“You’ll be my dessert.” He gives me a heated look. “I’ll be yours.” Noticing my facial expression, he continues, “You don’t seem impressed by it.”
I chew on the inside of my cheek, wondering if there’s a nice way to let him down. I don’t think there is. “It’s just that dessert is the best part.”
“You prefer dessert to sex with me?”
“I did not say that.”
“You did not not say it, though,” he insists. He gives me a quick kiss on my forehead before adding, “I’ll order chocolate cake but, just so you know, my ego is very hurt.”
“Aww.” I pinch his shoulder playfully. “I’ll scream extra loud during sex to make up for it?”
Eric’s gaze darkens instantly. Hooking an arm around my waist, he pulls me to him. “I’ll make you scream extra loud.”
“Okay,” I say, almost out of breath.
Seemingly satisfied by my answer, he interlaces his fingers with mine and leads me into the house.
“This is date night,” I insist. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
“What’s wrong with me cooking dinner for you?”
It’s homey and sweet, and if I see you cooking, in addition to having seen you with your daughter, my ovaries might explode is what I want to say. But I don’t want to sound like a hormonal wacko, so I say, “Absolutely nothing.”
Once in the kitchen, I watch him pull out all the ingredients from the fridge and lay them out on the counter. He starts chopping vegetables right away.
“What should I do?” I ask, hovering around him.
“Entertain me.”
“And what else?” I insist.
“Nothing.”
“Eric, I can’t do nothing. I’m a doer. I need tasks.”
He puts down his knife, pinning me with his gaze. “Here are your tasks. One: Relax. Two: Smile. Three: Think about all the things I’m gonna do to you after we eat.”
He says this in a serious, commanding tone, which sends a delicious shiver through me.
“Very precise instructions,” I murmur, leaning against the table.
“And I shall be strict in making sure you follow them.”
I perk up at this. “How will you punish me if I don’t?”
“No orgasm for you tonight.”
“The joke’s on you, buddy. I’m perfectly capable of giving one to myself.”
I meant this as a joke, but the air between us changes in an instant. When he speaks next, his voice is low and husky. “I need you to stop any dirty words coming from that pretty mouth of yours, or we won’t have dinner at all.”
I debate pushing him over the edge for a split second, but my rumbling stomach wins. Still, I can turn this cooking session into PG-rated territory in lots of ways. I brainstorm a few options as Eric brings a bottle of red wine and pours me one glass.
“Fine, under one condition.”
“We’re bargaining now?” he asks, disbelief coloring his voice.
“Yes, we are, and we established I have the upper hand.” I cock an eyebrow, swiping my tongue over my lower lip, and Eric’s eyes darken with lust. I don’t know what’s gotten in to me, but I feel greedy and feisty, and I want all of him right now.
“Pun intended?” he asks, and I take immense pleasure in the way his voice wavers.
“All the way.”
“Fine. What is your condition?”
“Lose the pants,” I instruct.
“You want me to cook naked?” he asks.
“Nah, you can keep the shirt.” I grin devilishly. “I’m interested in your booty.”
“My torso feels discriminated against right now,” he says, feigning offense.
“It’ll get over it. Now, strip.”
“Only if you do,” he replies.
“No can do. If I’m naked, we’ll end up starving.”
“You have little faith in me, Pippa Bennett.”
“You have proven to have a weakness for flesh.” My pulse leaps as I wait for his response.
“Only because you’re so fucking irresistible.”
My breath catches as he advances toward me and places his hands on either side of me, trapping me between him and the wall, kissing me feverishly, turning me into a heavy-breathing mess when he lets go of me. “You’re not getting a peekaboo at my ass. I’ll save that for the bedroom.” Seeing me pout, he adds, “You know, I’m becoming suspicious that you’re only using me for my body.”
“You’re so full of yourself. Unbelievable.”
“You mean I shouldn’t pride myself on rock-hard abs, an ass you can’t take your eyes off even when I’m dressed, and a big cock?”
I form an O with my mouth. “You’re shameless.” Dropping my voice to a whisper, I add, “But I can’t contradict you.”
He goes back to chopping ingredients, and watching him is like foreplay.
“You’re cooking Italian food,” I exclaim.
“Yeah. Bruschetta for starters, then spaghetti arrabiata for the main course.”
Right. Hearing him talk about food is a freaking turn-on. I hop on the counter, observing him. Once everything’s cooking, I decide it’s confession time.
“I had my lawyer set up a meeting with Terence next week,” I say. “On Tuesday.”
Eric looks up with a frown from the pan where the arrabiata is cooking. “Why?”
“He thinks it’s to discuss a settlement, but I have a plan.” With a wink, I add, “I’m going to channel my inner shark. I wanted you to know.”
“Thank you for trusting me.” He plants a quick kiss on my forehead. I grip the hem of his shirt with my fingers, unwilling to let him step back.
“Thank you for making me hope again,” I whisper. “For making me fear less.”
Eric stills. “Pippa, are you saying good-bye to me?” His voice is low and uneven.
My heart clenches as I watch his tormented expression. “No, absolutely not. I won’t say good-bye until yo
u board that plane.”
“Good.” He lets out a heavy breath. “Good.”
Eric steps between my thighs. His mouth feels soft on mine as he kisses me tenderly at first, then more intensely until I moan in his arms. His hand moves up my thigh, higher and higher—
The unmistakable sound of sauce overflowing on the stove forces us apart.
“Don’t burn the food, Callahan,” I tease, wanting to lighten the mood as he’s trying to save our dinner. “It’d be bad form to let me starve.”
“It’s bad form to tempt me the way you do,” he volleys back.
“Oh, you want me to stop doing it?” I pretend I want to jump off the counter, but Eric stops me, placing a firm hand on my thigh.
“Don’t move.” His eyes have a dangerous glint to them. “Tempt away, Bennett.”
***
I keep my promise to Eric and tempt him constantly for the next few days, which results in little sleep for both of us. Tuesday arrives after a night of tossing and turning in bed. I wake up covered in a cold sweat. Eric isn’t next to me, but I expected that since he always wakes up before me. I go through the motions of showering and dressing in a somewhat robotic mood, trying to imagine how my meeting with Terence will go.
When I step into the living room, a mix of aromas I love greets me—coffee and muffins.
“Very thoughtful,” I say to Eric, who is sitting at the table with a Cheshire Cat grin.
“I was told it brings luck to start the day by eating your favorite breakfast.”
“Who told you that?”
“My mother.”
“I like her already.” I sit across from him and dig in to my breakfast. My palms become sweatier as the minutes pass by, a fact I try to keep from Eric.
“You don’t have to drive me there.” I grip my coffee cup with both hands, gulping down the last drops of liquid.
“Not negotiable.” Eric’s voice is soft and firm at the same time. I have no idea how he’s doing that. “I’ll wait for you outside the office. I’ll be there in case you need me to cheer you up or punch someone.”
“There will be no punching,” I say in a warning tone.
“Only if needed. I solemnly promise.”
I’m remarkably calm when I enter my lawyer’s office half an hour later. He tells me Terence is already in the meeting room—alone, as I requested. Terence’s lawyer is sitting in the waiting area, eyeing me with curiosity. He’s donned an expensive suit, a watch, and a self-assured smirk to match.
His smirk becomes more pronounced by the second, sickening me. Unwilling to spend more time than necessary here, I walk straight into the meeting room.
Terence is sprawled lazily on one of the chairs, and I sit opposite him. He sports the same self-assured facial expression his lawyer does—clearly assuming I’m going to offer him money for disappearing from my life. Before the divorce was final, I was mostly silent during mediations, letting my lawyer do all the talk, and doing my best not to provoke Terence. I’m no longer that same woman, though. He’s in for a rude awakening.
“Let’s get this over with,” I say by way of greeting. I prop my elbows on the wooden desk, leaning slightly forward. “You’re not getting one cent.”
That wipes the smirk off his face right away. Good.
“Are you joking? Did you call me here for more of the same? My lawyer—”
“Wears a more expensive suit and watch than you do right now. His retainer alone is more than a year’s worth of rent for that crap-hole you live in.”
This gets his attention. He sits up straighter, flaring his nostrils. “Have you had someone look in to my things?”
“Yes.” Logan knows some skilled investigators, and he put me in contact with them. “They found extremely interesting information. You sold the yacht, the car, and your collection of watches so you can pay your lawyer. By my calculations, you can afford to pay him for another five months.”
I can practically see the color draining from his face, and I’m far from done.
“I can afford legal fees for years and years to come,” I say coolly. “Can you?”
“Once I win, I can pay,” he says through gritted teeth. I think he meant that to sound menacing, but it came out desperate.
“You wouldn’t win. That’s a fact. You have no case. What you and your lawyer are aiming for is for me to cave and pay you off so I don’t have to deal with you.”
“You’re bluffing,” Terence replies, a vein pulsing in his temple.
“I looked in to your lawyer too. This is his strategy. Harassing the other party until they give in. Most of them give in quickly. But here’s the hitch.” I cross my fingers over the table, smiling sweetly at him. “Processes can last years. I can make this one last years, and I will if you force my hand. Oliver and I think we can prolong this for at least five years. Expensive suit out there will want his retainer during that time, and you have nothing else to sell.”
“I can find money.”
“Maybe you can, but judging by the look of you, you’re clearly not faring well.” The muscles in my arms quiver and sweat breaks out at the back of my neck as I continue. “You’re betting that I’m willing to do anything so you disappear from my life. I’m here to tell you otherwise. I will drag you through courtrooms until you are broke. I’m not afraid anymore, because you mean nothing to me. I will protect my family’s legacy at whatever cost.”
“You bitch. You fool everyone with your nice-girl act, and—”
“Let’s get one thing straight,” I say loudly. “I can play dirty. I choose not to. Most of the time. I treated you fairly until now, but you don’t deserve it. You have one week to drop this entire act, or I’m going after you until you are literally buried in legal fees.”
Terence doesn’t reply for long minutes, then says viciously, “You think he loves you, don’t you?”
“This is none of your business.”
“You really do believe it. God, you’ve always been an idiot. That’s why you’ll end up alone. That’s what you deserve.”
Bile rises up my throat, but I force myself to remain calm. Standing up, I say, “You have one week to drop this. Then I’m going after you.”
I walk out of the room, nodding at Oliver, who gives me a thumbs-up. Expensive suit looks pale, all traces of self-confidence gone. I guess our less-than-friendly exchanges were loud enough for him to hear. Good.
“Let me know how this pans out,” I tell Oliver.
I almost jog to the park across the office, in need of fresh air. Sweat dots my upper lip as I sit on a bench, close my eyes, and take in deep breaths to calm myself. His words can only hurt me if I allow them to, and I choose not to. I repeat this mantra a few times, already feeling much calmer.
“How did it go?”
I startle in my seat, my eyes flying open. “Eric. I forgot you were here.”
He sits next to me, taking both my hands in his. “You okay?”
“My inner shark kicked ass.”
As if on cue, my phone chimes with a message from Oliver. Terence dropped the lawsuit. He won’t bother you anymore.
Smiling, I show the message to Eric.
“Wow, you must’ve been scary, Ms. Shark,” he remarks. “This demands a celebration. How about we both take the day off?”
A warm, fuzzy feeling takes hold of my chest because I know how much work he has to do before returning to Boston.
“Are you sure?” I ask.
“Positive. What do you want to do?”
I stretch out lazily on the bench, contemplating whether I can tempt Eric with a movie, or some other cozy activity. Without warning, he pulls my feet in his lap.
“Let’s go training,” he suggests.
“I was making a mental list of all the things we could do today. Training wasn’t even on the list.”
By the mischievous smile stretching on his beautiful face, I know he won’t give up easily.
“Working out is good for you. It makes your heart beat fas
ter, and—”
“So do you,” I interrupt before he can enumerate all the benefits. Alice already recited them to me more times than I care to remember. Struck by a genius idea, I crawl closer to him, until I almost sit in his lap. Channeling my inner seductress, I say in a low, inviting voice, “And you do it very well.”
Eric cocks an eyebrow. “You think seducing me will work?”
My shoulders slump. Apparently, my inner seductress sucks. “Yeah,” I admit, and Eric chuckles.
“We had fun last time we were at the gym together.” He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively.
“Are you bribing me with sexy times so you can get my sorry ass to the gym?”
“Of course I am. And don’t insult your ass. It’s my special delight in the mornings.”
“What are you talking about?” I ask, genuinely confused.
Eric trails his fingers up and down my arm, raising goose bumps on my skin.
“I wake up about an hour before you do, take my laptop, and sit on the armchair. Your favorite sleeping position is on one side with your pillow between your thighs. Your night gown usually bunches around your waist, so your ass is bare. I have memorized every inch of it.”
“You watch me when I sleep?” Something about his admission touches me deeply, though I can’t quite explain why.
“Yeah,” he says softly. “You’re sweet and peaceful. I could watch you for hours.” His eyes bore into mine with an intensity that smolders. “So, one hot kiss, and we train for forty-five minutes, two kisses—an hour?”
“Three kisses buy you forty minutes,” I announce. “And then I want us to go restaurant hopping.”
Eric immediately bursts out laughing. “You are a terrible negotiator.”
“I know, but you just admitted I can ask you for favors, or there will be no more early-morning peeking at my butt.”
“Pushing your luck here, but okay. I like this, taking time for us.”
I sigh, remembering there will only be an ‘us’ for another two weeks.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Pippa
My mood grows grimmer over the next few days. I try to enjoy every minute I spend with Eric, but the knowledge that this will all be over soon overshadows my happiness. On top of that, I seem to tear up about random things at work, and I’m exhausted no matter how much I sleep, which is why I’ve decided to spend the rest of the week working from Eric’s house. Either I’m coming down with some terrible flu, or I have the worst case of PMS, or I’m losing it.
