Embrace

by S. Layne

  Contents

  EMBRACE

  Copyright 2015

  Synopsis

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  EMBRACE

  the affair series

  book two

  by Stacey Lynn

  writing as

  S. Layne

  Copyright 2015

  EMBRACE, The Affair Series, book two

  S. Layne

  © 2015 S. Layne

  All Rights Reserved. This book may not be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permissions from the author, except for using small quotes for book review quotations. All characters and storylines are the property of the author. The characters, events and places portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Trademarks: This book identifies product names and services known to be trademarks, registered trademarks, or service marks of their respective holders. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of all products referenced in this work of fiction. The publication and use of these trademarks in not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  Editing provided by: Amy Jackson Editing

  Proofreading provided by: Emily A. Lawrence

  Cover design provided by: Sarah Hanson with Okay Creations

  Photography: Bigstock Photos

  Synopsis

  Embrace, The Affair Series, book 2

  Liam Parker crash landed into Laurie’s life when everything else was crumbling all around her. Her marriage and career were in pieces and her mind was left spinning.

  But one touch from Liam, and Laurie could forget everything else around her.

  She thought she had it all figured out.

  As Laurie lost herself in Liam’s warm caresses and his commanding blue eyes, her husband refused to go quietly into the night. While Laurie fought to move on, it was James who was working his way back into her life, fighting for the marriage they had once held dear.

  Forced to make choices she never imagined having to make, Laurie finally found herself on firm footing, knowing which way she was going to turn.

  But then life threw her another curveball. And when she once again began picking up the pieces, learning how to survive and rebuild after everything exploded, there was only one man still there, one man who remained by her side, showing her that sometimes life isn’t about learning how to survive…

  It’s about learning how to thrive.

  “Call me if you need anything, you promise?”

  “I will.”

  I smile into my phone as we hang up. Talia has been with me all weekend, letting me spill the disaster of last Friday night all over her lap.

  I didn’t think the woman’s eyebrows could rise any higher on her forehead as I filled her in on everything that happened at my parent’s charity event, but they almost disappeared behind her hairline when I told her that Liam had taken over ParaMed for the sole purpose of merging with my father’s company.

  I still can’t wrap my mind around the trickery and deceit that went into their plan. They had to have been planning it for months, if not longer, and the fact that I was in bed with a man while he was plotting to sell a company that I loved dearly—all because of a product I helped create—still makes my stomach churn.

  In just a few months, the Cell, a handheld defibrillator smaller than an iPhone, will hit the medical market and will revolutionize how patients with pacemakers and in danger of cardiac arrest will be able to be treated by any layperson.

  It will save thousands of lives, and up until last weekend, I was never more proud of anything in my entire life. But that has all been shrouded under a heavy black cloak—all because weeks ago I attended a medical conference at the urging of my former boss, Anne Nelson, and I slept with a stranger.

  Liam Parker rolled into my life on a night when I was reeling from an affair my husband had had, and I went willingly into his arms and his bed.

  Or actually…I went willingly to a wall of windows and let him ravage me like a man possessed before we made it to his bed. Had I known that two days later he was going to become my new boss, I never would have touched him.

  Had I known that one month later I would have to witness him on a stage in front of hundreds of people announcing the merger of my company with my father’s, I would have avoided him at all costs.

  Unfortunately, I have never been strong enough—or apparently smart enough—to make decent decisions when it comes to men.

  I married a man who cheated on me with my best friend.

  I began falling in love with another man who took me to his bed, knowing he was lying to me from the very beginning.

  And yet even now, days later and exhausted from crying and screaming and a pity party that included Talia and wine—lots of wine—I can still feel his touch. I can still hear his illicit and dirty words whispered in my ear, tickling my skin and making me crazy for him.

  It’s also why it is now Monday morning and I’ve been avoiding a phone call that needs to be made.

  I know that as soon as I hear Liam’s voice—slightly tinged with a British accent from growing up in England—my brain will become all stupid and mushy, and my knees will begin to tremble.

  He’s had that effect on me from the very beginning.

  Regardless, I can’t just not show up for work—although I doubt Liam would be surprised.

  I haven’t returned any of the messages he’s left—not even the last one that threatened he has given me enough time to sulk, we need to talk, and if I don’t return his call, he’ll show up at my house, not giving me an option.

  I don’t want to see him.

  I don’t want to see his blue eyes that remind me of my one trip to the Caribbean or his slightly crooked nose or his hair that, even though it’s always styled, still looks like he’s run his fingers through it frantically.

  Odd, because I’ve rarely seen Liam fidget.

  No, he commands a room just by walking into it. He inspires loyalty with a whispered promise.

  He made me fall for him, hook, line, and sinker, and I have never felt a larger fool.

  “Just do it,” I mutter to myself, staring at the phone in my hand.

  I’m still in my bed, in my pajamas, and if I were to roll to the side, I could smell Liam’s cologne on the pillow next to me.

  The thought makes my stomach flip. How can I still be so obsessed with a man who would betray me?

  After I found out James had an affair, I bleached the sheets multiple times—using an entire bottle—until I could no longer smell him.

  Making a mental note to pick up more bleach on my next trip to the store, I inhale a deep breath and decide to get this over with.

  With each ring coming through the phone line, my pulse speeds up, thumping against my wrist.

  I can feel it against my cheek and I close my eyes, hoping…praying…that Liam won’t answer. I’m being a chicken even while trying to be strong. I’m counting on him not being in the office.

  My breath falters when his voice comes through the phone line. It takes me a moment of debating whether or not to hang up before I realize luck has finally turned my way: it’s just his recording.

  When the
beep sounds, I do my best to harden my voice into something that sounds no-nonsense instead of heartbroken.

  “Good morning, Mr. Parker, this is Mrs. Baker.” I cringe at the use of my married name, but until my divorce is finalized, I am still technically a Mrs. “I am calling to let you know I will be taking personal time off this week. I expect you to understand the reason. I will return next Monday.”

  …If I return at all. But I don’t say that yet. I’m still unsure as to whether or not I can go back to work for this man ever again. Or if I can stay on board when it merges with my father’s company.

  I hang up the phone, hoping Liam understands that I do not wish to see him or speak to him and that the message has done enough to prevent him from following through on his threat to stop by my house.

  I can’t see him—especially not in a place where we’ve been so intimate and a place that’s still riddled with memories of my husband, James.

  A man who has made it clear he wants our marriage to work, even with our indiscretions.

  With that thrilling thought in my mind, I get ready to shower and start the day.

  I have more phone calls to make.

  More decisions need to be made.

  But none of it has to be done before I have my shower and coffee.

  By the time the sun is beginning to set later in the day, my house has never been so clean. I’ve spent the entire day making appointments, knowing I need to talk to someone to get my act together.

  I have to figure out why I continue to make poor decisions. Mommy-daddy issues stemming from distant parents who have always placed unrealistic expectations on me, maybe? I have no idea. Hopefully my meeting tomorrow can help me sort through the roller coaster my life has taken in the last three months since I found out about James sleeping with my ex-best friend—and his assistant—Becky.

  I turned my phone off earlier in the day, once phone calls were made, and I have spent the rest of day cleaning and baking in an effort to avoid reality.

  There’s no harm in doing it for one more day, I figure.

  With a mouth full of chocolate chunk cookies, I jump when the doorbell chimes.

  Instantly I remember the threat of Liam stopping by if I didn’t return his call. But I did that, I reason with myself, and take in my appearance.

  I’m dressed in faded black yoga pants that are a bit saggy around my ass. My hair has been in a messy bun all day long and I’m not wearing makeup. My shirt is an oversized old T-shirt of James’s that I stole from him five years ago. It’s now my standard cleaning shirt, complete with bleach stains all over and small rips along the hems.

  Essentially, I’m nowhere near decent enough for any visitor.

  A loud thump thump thump pounds against my door, making it shake in the frame, and I jump when I hear Liam’s loud voice on the other side.

  “Laurie! Answer this damn door!”

  The cookie lodges in my throat and my veins begin to pulse with nerves.

  I can’t see him. Not like this.

  Possibly not ever again.

  When the knocking continues, however, I have two choices: wait him out, which makes me feel as foolish as an awkward teenager, or be a grown-up and deal with him.

  Or call the police…but that seems a bit too harsh.

  “Right,” I mutter to myself, swallowing the last of my cookie. “Because being mean to him would be wrong.”

  I shake my head and move toward the front door.

  The constant knocking is giving me a headache. That’s why I’m willing to see him—to tell him to shut up and leave.

  That’s all I’ll do.

  With a fortifying breath, my hand twists the knob and I set my foot out so I can only open the door a few inches.

  “What do you want?” I ask, my eyes glaring over his shoulder when I open the door.

  I can only open it six inches, but even the narrow view of Liam standing in front of me, hand still raised toward the door and his chest heaving, is almost too much for me.

  My resolve to stay away weakens like a butterfly the wind.

  “We need to talk.”

  My hand tightens on the doorknob. It might be to help me stay standing. I’ve always been weak, since I first saw Liam’s blue eyes meet mine. And now is no different.

  I look at him, knowing I shouldn’t, and steel myself for his rebuttal. “I’m taking the week off work. We can discuss anything you’d like when I return on Monday.”

  His hand flies to his hair and I almost smile. He looks completely disheveled, with wild hair and a loosened tie. If I’m not mistaken, his dress shirt—which always looks impeccable—seems a bit ruffled and wrinkled.

  I smile to myself, thinking that maybe he’s had a bad day.

  Good.

  “I want the chance to explain, Laurie. Please, let me in so we can talk.”

  No way. I might be a fool, but I’m not an idiot. He’ll walk through this door, put his hands on me, and I’d probably let him screw me against the wall regardless of how angry and hurt I am.

  My heart thumps a little bit harder at the thought. I bet it’d be incredible…all that anger, all that passion…releasing it. My cheeks flush and I blink when I see Liam standing in front of me, fighting a smirk.

  He knows what I was thinking.

  “Laurie.” His eyebrows pull together and his voice drops. I know that voice.

  “No,” I clip. “I need some time before I can talk to you.”

  My anger is rising along with my lust. Anger that he could hurt me this way after knowing him such a short time, and lust because…well…it’s Liam and it’s self-explanatory. The man just twists me up and turns me into knots in a way no one ever has.

  “You had the weekend.”

  I actually laugh at his confused expression.

  “Right.” I nod. “I should be over this by now. Forty-eight hours is completely enough time to get over the fact that the man I was fucking has been lying to me since the moment he met me.”

  “Not the moment,” Liam says, and his lips pull into a thin line. I can see his own frustration growing by the second. “You need to let me explain.”

  “I don’t have to let you do shit.” My harshness takes me by surprise. Then I mentally high-five myself, because this is good. Standing up for myself is great, and not something I do enough.

  But I also can’t resist. He’s pulled me in, just like he’s wanted to do, and against my better judgment, I ask, “How long were you planning this?”

  His hand reaches out and pushes against the door only to find it stuck. The wood bumps my foot and I smile, knowing he won’t force himself in.

  “I want to talk inside.”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “Why?” He arches a perfectly manicured brow. “Afraid of what will happen? What you’ll feel when I’m close to you?”

  Yes.

  I stay silent and let it speak for itself.

  “Fine,” he huffs, and looks around.

  I don’t know why he bothers. My neighbors across the street are old and retired and completely too boring to bother eavesdropping on my house. And the houses next door can’t be seen through the line of cherry blossom trees on one side and a row of hedges on the other. We like our privacy.

  “I knew after the very first night exactly who you were, and yes, I’ve been planning this takeover for the last year. Happy now?”

  Tears burn my eyes. He’s acting like a dick, like he doesn’t have the faintest idea of how much he was beginning to mean to me, and it hurts. My chest pinches and I squeeze my eyes closed.

  “And when you said you wanted more, Liam? That you were trying? Was that all a load of bullshit just to keep me happy? Did you think that if you screwed me enough, filled me with enough orgasms, that when I realized you were lying to me and hiding all of this that I would simply fall into your arms and thank you for fucking up everything I’ve worked on for the last three years?”

  His head drops and he run
s his hands through his hair. Thick hair that I love touching.

  “I wasn’t lying about that,” he says. And I know what parts he’s referring to, but I can’t give in.

  I simply don’t believe him anymore. And that hurts almost more than what he’s done and what he hid from me.

  Between Liam and James, I’m beginning to wonder if I can ever believe anyone again—if I’ll ever be able to trust someone.

  I shrug as tears fill my eyes. I let him see them, and he flinches when I brush my cheek.

  “The problem…is that I don’t know when you’re lying or being honest.”

  “Laurie.” His eyes look pained. I’ve never seen Liam appear so vulnerable and it almost breaks my resolve.

  I shake my head before I give in, before I open the door and let him in. “I’ll talk to you Monday, Mr. Parker. Good night.”

  I close the door and collapse against it. My heart pounds against my chest and my pulse thumps in my ears.

  With my eyes closed, I let more tears fall before I finally hear the sound of his Land Rover start and I see the reflection of his lights pulling out of my driveway through the window next to my door.

  It’s several minutes after he’s gone before I pull myself off the floor and take my exhausted, bone-aching body to bed.

  “Thank you, again, for squeezing me in.”

  I haven’t stopped fidgeting for the last forty-five minutes. Meeting with a therapist isn’t anything like I imagined it would be—although in honesty, I’ve never given thought to therapy.

  Across from me, sitting in a plush, light blue chair, Elissa Dillon smiles. “Are you ready for this next part?”

  She tilts her head, and her long blond hair swishes to the side and cascades over her shoulder. She’s older than me, maybe thirty-five if I had to guess, but she appears younger. Her light green eyes and gentle features make her seem like someone you can trust.