by Katie Allen
“Danny!” She yanked free of his hold so she could smack his arm. “Why are you always jumping out of nowhere like some lurker, scaring the poo out of me, and dragging me into rooms? All you have to do is tell me you need to speak with me like a normal person, and I’ll talk to you.” Honesty made her pause. “Fine, so I’ll consider talking to you. It’ll probably depend on my mood.”
He waved off her scolding. “What’s going on between you and Uncle James?”
“Why is that any of your business?”
“What? Of course it’s my business. It’s literally my business, since I’m the one paying you to be here.”
“You’re still planning on paying me?” she asked, surprised.
“Well...no. I mean, not now.”
“That’s what I figured. Therefore, what I do with Jamie-Bear is none of your business.” Topher scowled at him. “Not that I expect you to pay me anymore, and I wouldn’t take it if you offered, but what do you mean ‘not now’?”
He glared right back at her. “My mom and Uncle James like you more than they like me now. You’re terrible at being a terrible girlfriend!”
“I was awesome at being a terrible girlfriend,” she argued. “It’s not my fault that you date even terrible-er woman than me.”
“Barb is not terrible-er!” he said, although he didn’t sound convincing.
Topher narrowed her eyes. “You want to break up with her, don’t you?”
“What? No! Of course not. Maybe.” His voice lowered to an urgent whisper. “Kind of, but her dad will literally murder me if I do. You need to help me come up with a way to convince her to dump me.”
“Danny!” She drew out his name into three long, whiny syllables. “This whole mess started because you wanted to keep Barb, and now you don’t want her anymore? Just break up with her!”
“Two words for you, Topher,” he said, widening his eyes dramatically. “Cement. Shoes.”
Making a wordless sound of frustration, Topher clutched two handfuls of her hair and yanked at it. Although Tiny’s goons wouldn’t kill Danny—okay, so they probably wouldn’t kill Danny—they’d still hurt him. As annoying as Danny could be, Topher didn’t want him to be pummeled. “Fine. I’ll try to think of a plan. Jamie’s smart. He’ll come up with some ideas.”
“No!” Danny tried to put his hand over her mouth, but she batted it away. Seriously, he was becoming more of an annoying drama queen than the biggest diva in her college theatre program. “You can’t tell Uncle James! He thinks that you and I are dating.”
“No he doesn’t.” Topher waved a hand, dismissing his concerns. “I told him everything.”
“What?” The word was barely a whisper. “Everything?”
“Yes. Everything.”
“Topher!”
“What?”
He paced the length of the powder room and then back to her. “That’s it. He knows. I’m finished. He’ll cut me off now.”
Cocking her head to the side, Topher mused, “That’ll probably solve your ginger-bitch problem.”
“What do you mean?” he asked, before quickly adding, “Don’t call her that.”
“You were pretty sure she’d break up with you if your uncle quit giving you an allowance and you had to live in an efficiency apartment with a hot plate and a murphy bed.”
He gave a low, pained groan. “Do you think this is funny? Is the destruction of my life a joke to you?”
Topher’s stomach growled, reminding her of how very hungry she was. Baiting Danny lost its appeal. “I doubt he’s going to cut you off, but, if he does, it’s just money. Your life will not be destroyed. Look at me. I paid my own way through college, and now I’m an actress.”
“You’re a barista.”
“I’m getting acting jobs. Working at the coffee shop and cleaning offices is just temporary.”
Danny stared at her. “You clean, too? How many jobs do you have?” Without waiting for her to answer, he clutched his hair and groaned loudly. Topher realized that she’d made the exact same gesture just a few minutes earlier, and she was dismayed by how overly dramatic it appeared. In her defense, however, she was having to deal with Danny on a very, very empty stomach. “No, don’t answer that. I don’t want to know. You need to fix this. Convince my uncle that he shouldn’t cut me off. Say it was your idea, that you wanted a vacation. I know! Say that you convinced me to do this because you wanted to meet him.”
Topher leaned against the bathroom wall. “I’m not going to lie to Jamie to save your spoiled bum, Danny.”
Still clutching handfuls of his hair, he turned in a circle. “Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.”
Topher pushed away from the wall and reached for the doorknob.
“Where are you going?” Danny asked, sounding panicked. “You need to figure out how to save me.”
She gave him a sideways look as she opened the door. “You’ll be fine. In the meantime, why don’t you use this?”
“What? Use what? How?” He followed her out into the hall.
Keeping her voice low, since the house was lousy with people who could come around the corner at any minute, Topher said, “Tell the cranky carrot that you’ve been cut off, and offer to live in love and destitute squalor with her. She’ll dump you in an instant.”
He looked torn between being offended and relieved. “I’ve told you that the money doesn’t matter to her.”
Topher laughed. “It does.”
“But—”
“Try it,” she interrupted, too hungry to continue the discussion any longer. She needed to find Jamie and some food, preferably in that order. “If it doesn’t work, then you’ll know she really, truly loves you.”
Instead of looking reassured, Danny appeared to be panicked by the thought. “But—”
This time, it was the sound of Barb’s voice echoing down the hall that silenced him. Topher took off up the stairs, taking the steps three at a time.
“Topher!” Danny whisper-yelled after her, but she didn’t slow down until she reached the top and was out of sight to the people on the floor below. She speed-walked toward Jamie’s study door and was only a few rooms away when the door swung open. She started to smile in anticipation of seeing Jamie, but then Ben emerged from the study, instead, closing the door behind him.
“Coco,” he said, moving toward her, and Topher forced her smile to stay in place. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to talk to her stepfather, but right now he was just another delay keeping her from seeing Jamie—and from finding food. Her stomach felt as if it was about to start eating all of her other organs if she didn’t put something in it soon. “Where are you headed?”
“To see Jamie.” He tried to usher her along with him as he continued walking toward the stairs, but she sidestepped. Fourteen years of experience had taught her how to dodge that move, or he would’ve still been nudging her in whatever direction he wanted her to go.
When his attempt at sweeping her along with him failed, he stopped and turned toward her. “We’re leaving in fifteen minutes. Meet us in the entry after you change.”
“Leaving?” Her heart leaped with hope. Could her parents really be going so soon? “Where are you going?”
“Your mother and some of the other guests wish to go into Chicago to shop. Golfini and I will most likely do some sightseeing and then have lunch.”
Her excitement fizzled. She’d known that it had been too good to be true, but she was still disappointed they weren’t planning to fly home. “More shopping? No, thank you. We went yesterday.” It had been enough shopping for an entire year—no, an entire decade—and Topher wasn’t about to get roped into another marathon torture session. As much as she hated to abandon Jules to the horrible guests, Topher couldn’t do it again.
“Don’t you have Christmas shopping to f
inish? It’s only three days away,” Ben said. She could tell by the way his mouth tucked in at the corners that he was unhappy she wasn’t falling in with their plans, but that was too bad.
“No. I’m done.” Even as she said it, though, she wished she had something to give to Jamie. It wasn’t a strong enough desire to drive her to join the day’s shopping party, though. She’d just have to make Jamie something. Wicked ideas rose in her mind, but she shoved them back down, not wanting to think dirty thoughts in front of her stepfather. “You should’ve gotten my gifts to you and Mom, since I mailed them to you last week.”
He made a noncommittal humming sound. “I’m sure Felicity put them under the tree.”
“Who is Felicity?”
“The housekeeper.”
“Lena’s gone?” Topher felt a pang of loss. Of all the multitude of housekeepers and gardeners and drivers and cooks her parents had hired and subsequently fired over the years, Lena had been one of her favorites.
The frown lines on Ben’s face deepened. “Yes. Your mother was unhappy with Lena’s...tactlessness. We hired Felicity a month ago.”
“Oh. I hope she’s more...tactful than Lena, then.” Personally, Topher had loved Lena’s balls-out brashness. It had made her laugh until she’d had to pee many times.
“She seems to be.” He abruptly changed the subject. “You should go shopping with your mother. You haven’t seen each other in months. It will be good for you to catch up. Besides, what will you do all day?”
The idea of an entire day trapped with her mother, especially in Cecelia’s current snit, getting lectures about her weight and choice of men, all while the other guests eavesdropped with delight, made Topher gag. She would’ve thrown up a little if there had been anything at all in her stomach. “Jamie promised we’d go riding this morning.”
For some reason, this made Ben frown even harder. “I thought you were no longer interested in horses.”
It was hard not to drop her gaze to the floor. With a huge effort, she kept her eyes on his. The entire conversation with her stepfather was making her feel like she was eight years old again. “It’s just a fun ride. You should see the adorable pony I’ll be riding. His name’s Popcorn, even though he’s black, because he...” Topher’s words faltered under Ben’s disapproving stare, and she finished the explanation in a rush. “Um...because his trot is bouncy.”
“This is the problem, Coco,” he began. “You never take anything seriously. Even though I offered you the best opportunities for school, and for showing, and for your career, you just threw your advantages away. Everything is about fun to you.”
Topher swallowed a sigh at the often-repeated lecture as she darted a glance toward the study door. If only the construction of his doors and walls were a little shoddier, then Jamie might have heard them talking in the hall and could’ve saved her by now. Ben’s words washed over her in a familiar wave of disappointed censure, but she tuned them out as she planned her escape.
It was her mother’s voice coming from down the hall that finally gave her a lifeline. Even as Topher marveled that she was actually happy about her mom’s approach, she seized on the opportunity. “Mom’s ready,” she interrupted Ben’s lecture. “It must be time for you all to leave for Chicago. Have fun! I’ll see you at dinner! Bye!”
Leaning toward him, she gave Ben a quick kiss on the cheek and then lunged for the study door. Without knocking, she flew inside and slammed the door shut even as she checked it frantically for a lock. To her relief, there was a deadlock set in the heavy door right above the knob, and she rushed to turn it. As it fell into place with a thunk, she finally let out a relieved breath and turned to face Jamie.
Phone to his ear, he eyed her over the top of his computer screen. “Christmas afternoon, then?”
Topher mouthed “sorry” as she circled his desk to stand next to him. His mouth quirked up in a half smile as he raised a curious eyebrow. In response to his silent question about—she assumed—what had sent her tearing into his office like a flock of flying monkeys had been chasing her, she gave an exaggerated shrug.
Wheeling his chair away from his desk, he turned to face her. “Ham will be arriving about the same time. Can I send one car for both of you, or are you going to punch him in the face again?”
There was a burst of loud talking from the other end of the call, although Topher couldn’t make out any of the words. It was her turn to give Jamie a what’s-up-with-that look, and his partial smile blossomed into a full one. Dazzled, she could only stare at him as he tugged her down to sit in his lap. She didn’t put up any resistance.
“Okay, fine. I’ll see you then.”
As he ended the call and dropped his phone into his jacket pocket, Topher turned and straddled him. “More people coming for Christmas?” she asked, straightening his collar, which didn’t really need straightening. She just wanted to take advantage of being able to touch him. Her fingers drifted to his neck and then up to his head to gently scratch at his scalp.
His eyes went to half-mast as he leaned into her touch. “Just two.”
“Where are they on the bitchy scale?”
He laughed without moving his head away from her massaging fingers. “Ham’s about a two, but Louis is a seven.” He made a low sound of pleasure in his throat that made Topher’s body temperature rise twenty degrees. “Maybe an eight.”
“Where are you going to put them?” she asked, moving her hands down so she could rub the iron-hard muscles in his neck.
“There are a couple more bedrooms on the second floor we can open up. Marchant’s is free now, too.”
“What? Why?” Her hands had gone still, and he gave her a grumpy look that was closer to a pout than any expression she’d ever seen on him before. When she resumed her massage, his face returned to its former blissful look. “Not that I’m complaining, but he wasn’t here long. Did something happen?”
“Yeah.” His eyes closed completely as she began to knead the muscles connecting his neck to his shoulders.
“Well?” She debated stopping her massage again, since it appeared to be distracting Jamie, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. It was making him look so happy, and he rarely had that expression. “What happened?”
“I kicked him out.”
“What did he do?” she asked in a hushed voice, delighted at this turn of events. If her parents and the Golfinis and Peyton were going to be hanging around, at least Tommy Marchant wouldn’t be leering at her over Christmas dinner. “Wait! Was it something gross? Don’t tell me if it’s gross. No, do tell me. My curiosity will kill me if I don’t know what he did. Just...leave out the grosser details. Oh, shoot. Now I want to know all the details, even the grosser one. I’m just worried that the image will be in my brain forever once you tell me, and I’ll regret asking. No, I won’t regret it. Tell me. Tell me all the grossness.”
His eyes were open again, and he was smiling at her, even though her massage had stopped during her monologue. “He didn’t do anything—well, not now.”
“Before, then?” She widened her eyes, looking at Jamie expectantly. “What was it? Gossip-loving minds need to know.”
He rolled his eye at her, making her laugh. “You already know, Tophie.”
“I do?” She racked her brain, but she couldn’t think of anything Tommy Marchant had done to Jamie. “Except for his general sliminess, I don’t know of anything.”
“That’s not enough?” he grumbled.
“Well, sure.” She started playing with a button on his shirt, twisting it back and forth until it slipped through the buttonhole, opening a gap in the fabric. With that little bit of his chest exposed, she couldn’t stop herself from stroking his skin. “I just thought there might’ve been some catalyst—you know, the bear that tried to crawl into the mitten before it exploded into tiny knitted pieces.”
&nbs
p; “What? What bear? Never mind.” His hands gripped her hips, his fingers sliding underneath the fabric of her shirt. Jamie had dressed her in a flared skirt that morning. Her position straddling his lap had left the skirt puddled around her. Underneath, the fabric of his pants felt silky against her bare thighs. “You told me he hit on you when you were fourteen.”
“I did tell you about that, didn’t I?” Topher grimaced. If she remembered correctly, that revelation had been within an hour of meeting Jamie for the first time. “Wait. You kicked him out for that?”
“Of course.” All signs of relaxation were gone. Jamie was as tense as ever. “You shouldn’t have to see him, much less talk to him or eat with him or watch a fucking movie with him. You should’ve never had to see him again after that happened.”
Topher blinked at him as his words penetrated. “You kicked him out for me?”
“Yes. And so I didn’t give in to the urge to punch him. Repeatedly.”
“You wanted to punch him? For me?”
Starting to look a little uncomfortable, Jamie gave a small, affirmative shrug. “The punching would’ve been more for me, but—”
The rest of what he’d been about to say was muffled when Topher slammed her mouth over his. For about two seconds, she was able to keep control of the kiss, but then Jamie recovered from his surprise. One hand cupped the back of her head, holding her close, as if she’d ever move away of her own volition, and his other pressed against her lower back, bringing her hips flush with his.
With an excited wriggle, she rubbed against him. The hard bulge distending the front of his pants made her whimper low in her throat. The fabric of her panties was thin and quickly soaked by her excitement, and the way he groaned with pleasure made her burn even hotter.
