Selling Seduction (Your Ad Here #1)

by Allyson Lindt

That was abrupt. He asked, Why the sudden departure? Room is paid for through the weekend.

  I need a change of scenery. Sorry for wasting your gift. It was just a text, so he expected short sentences and terse words, but this felt like something more.

  I’m not concerned about the gift. Just you. What’s up?

  I’m fine, she said.

  Is Mercy going with you? He waited for several seconds after the message. No answer. The clock ticked up on five, then ten minutes. Liz?

  No.

  His concern grew at the terse response. Liz?

  Go meet with your client. Talk later.

  He dialed her number and went to voicemail after only one ring. Great. She was screening him. He called Mercy next.

  “Hey.” Her greeting was strained.

  “Are you with Liz?”

  “No.”

  At least they had that in common. “Are you all right?” he asked.

  “I’m fine. Busy with work. You know.”

  He needed to leave soon, to pick up Woodhouse, but the gnawing in his joints insisted he dig deeper on this. “How’s Liz?”

  A pause filtered over the line, and if it weren’t for the faint whisper of her breath against the receiver, he’d wonder if he lost the call. “She’s fine too.”

  “But you’re not with her.”

  “And I haven’t spent every waking moment with her. If you want to know how Liz is, call Liz.” Tone of voice was a lot easier to gauge over the phone than text, and there was little room for misinterpretation in Mercy’s response. “She’s just in the other room.”

  “That’s not what she tells me.”

  Mercy’s sigh rocked his eardrums. “If you already knew the answer, why did you ask? Is this a new kind of game?” she asked.

  “I don’t know. Is it?” He didn’t want to piss her off, but the avoiding questions and giving odd answers from both of them was rubbing him raw. “She texted me to say she was moving to Salt Lake. Tonight. Without you. Now you tell me she’s in the other room.”

  Mercy gave a strangled laugh. “Tonight? Thanks for the info. I have work.”

  “Mercy. Tell me what’s going on.”

  More silence, stretching over the line and buzzing in his ears. She finally said, “We need to talk.”

  And his tension cranked a notch higher. He’d snap a tendon in his neck at this rate. “I don’t like it when you say that.”

  “Me neither. Not over the phone. I can’t. But… Are you free tonight?”

  “I’m taking Woodhouse to dinner.” He seriously considered canceling. The two conversations slid through his veins like razors.

  “Don’t cancel. Can I see you after? I don’t care how late it is.”

  He wasn’t sure he’d make it through dinner, without having his questions answered. This lack of control gnawed at him. It was the best option, though. “Give me a couple of hours. I’ll text you when I’m on my way to you.”

  * * * *

  When Ian finally pulled up in front of the hotel, it was almost ten-thirty. He didn’t know who he was more concerned about, Mercy or Liz.

  Mercy was outside, pacing off to the side of the main entrance. She hopped into the car the moment he pulled up next to her, but she didn’t meet his gaze. Her knee bounced, and she twisted her fingers together in random patterns. “Can we go somewhere that’s not your place?”

  “Where?”

  “I don’t know. For a drive? Is that place still in Heber City?”

  “Yeah.” He twitched with the need for answers. “Are you okay?”

  “I need to sort it out before I can talk. Drive, please?”

  He put the car in park, shifted in his seat, and cupped her cheeks between his palms. Any other time, he’d lean in and kiss her, but the way she darted her gaze everywhere, that desire took a back seat. “Hey.” He kept his tone quiet but firm. “Look at me.”

  She focused on him, drumming her fingers on her knee.

  “Are you all right?” Something invisible gripped his heart and squeezed. He wanted to fix this. Needed to make it better.

  “Physically, yes. Mentally? God. I feel fucked up. Not here?”

  He dragged a thumb across her cheek and searched her eyes one more time for answers they didn’t hold, before letting her go. “We’ll drive. Okay?”

  She nodded.

  “When we get there, we’ll sit in the back corner, in the same booth as always, and we’ll talk. You can tell me whatever you’re comfortable with.”

  The moment overlapped a handful from their past. Except back then, it was always the pressure of her family and church. Now, he couldn’t even begin to guess.

  “Okay.” Her voice was weak, and too much like teenage-her. He wasn’t telling her about the call from Dean.

  He pulled onto the road. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her turn most of her body toward the window. It was as if she’d built a wall between them.

  Twenty minutes later, they turned into the parking lot of a local twenty-four-hour diner. This time of night on a Friday, with nothing else in town open, cars filled almost every available space.

  He found a spot, and Mercy was out of the SUV before he could shut off the engine. A blast of cold spilled over him when he moved to join her. She was pacing again. Watching her feet. Lips moving, but no sound coming out.

  He leaned against the car and waited, ignoring the chill seeping through his coat.

  “I’d tell Liz about this, but I can’t.” Her steps punctuated her words. “And I shouldn’t talk to you. God. You’re the last person I should dump this on, because Liz, your sister— You know? But you’re the guy I’m fucking, so you kind of need to know, and I’m trying to sort this out in my head, and I can’t.”

  He grabbed her fingers, icicles wrapped in flesh, and tugged her to a stop. “You don’t have to sort it out. Spill whatever pops into your head or whatever you need.”

  She shook free. She took fistfuls of his jacket, drew close, and settled her forehead against his chest. She wasn’t crying, as far as he could tell. He settled his hands at the small of her back.

  Her voice was muffled when she spoke. “This is so fucked up. Like the-three-of-us-on-Montel kind of fucked up.”

  It had to be, at least a little, for her to be referencing old daytime talk shows. “What is?”

  She looked up, eyes dry and bloodshot. “Liz kissed me.”

  “As in an, O.M.G. I’m so excited—big hugs kind of kiss?” He knew what she meant, but his brain refused to let him process it.

  “No. As in, I love you, promise me you feel the same.”

  He rested more of his weight against the car. “Fuck me.”

  “Yeah. That might have been a catalyst.” A smile threatened to twitch onto her lips.

  If she was making jokes, this was helping. Not him. He needed to wrap his head around it, but he felt more relief than he expected, to see her relaxing. “Then what?” She was right; this was borderline talk-show dysfunctional.

  “I told her I didn’t feel the same. She said she needed time to think.” Mercy stepped away from him. “She asked if it would send me running into your arms. I guess it did.”

  That soothed him further. “You didn’t technically run.”

  She stuck out her tongue. “This really is a mess.”

  “Come on. We’ll go inside and sit and figure it out.” He led her toward the entrance. It seemed as though pulling her out of her own head made the difference between crawling anxiety and coping.

  Their table was free. Among crowded booths, packed with teenagers, the one at the back remained empty. Mercy looked him over, amusement creeping into her gaze. “You’re a little overdressed.”

  “Luckily for me, there’s no dress code.” The light teasing was nice, but it left room for his questions to flood in. If Liz was gay, that was fine, though he’d never seen any hints. He wasn’t that unobservant. His concern was what this would do to Liz. What it was doing to Mercy. He didn’t want to come between them,
and he definitely didn’t want them to push each other away. Theirs was the kind of bond that shouldn’t be screwed with.

  The hostess let them have their booth, and Mercy slid into the seat facing the door. “There’s nothing to figure out,” she said. “I know the solution; I just don’t like it.”

  “Oh?”

  “Give her time to think, hope she forgives me for not feeling the same, and pray to anyone who’s listening that our friendship survives.”

  What about us? He felt bad for the selfish thought, as soon as it manifested. At least this time he’d kept it to himself. “I didn’t realize Liz was gay.”

  “I don’t think she is.” Mercy fiddled with her straw, poking at ice cubes in the water the waitress brought her. “She probably falls somewhere in the middle. Or I assume so, after today.”

  “Or you just have that effect on people.” He poured the teasing into his words.

  She looked up at him, lips drawn into a thin line. “You think you’re funny. Or reassuring.” Her scowl slipped. “I guess you are.”

  “Not that it matters who she likes. If she’s okay, I’ll let her be. And the two of you will work this out. I’m worried about you. Your state of mind.”

  Her smile returned, reaching her eyes this time. “I’ll be okay.”

  “What can I do?” Wrap her up. Hold her. Chase this away. He wasn’t used to compulsions like this, but it felt right.

  “Distract me.”

  He could do that. He reached across the table, grasped her fingers, and worked some warmth back into them. “You asked about me the other day, and I kept turning things back on you. What do you want to know?”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Mercy wondered if she was being melodramatic. Overreacting to what happened with Liz. She sat outside the coffee shop for hours after they parted ways, trying to make sense of what happened and the jumble in her head. She kept coming back to the same thing. She’d tried so hard to keep her heart safe, and Liz was supposed to be the one person who wouldn’t destroy it.

  Which led to guilt—she was the one who turned Liz away. Which led to rationalization—she couldn’t pretend her love for Liz was romantic. Which led her back to that same conclusion—this sucked.

  When Ian called, she tried to block him out; his concern wasn’t for her. Except she didn’t know if she had the strength, and it added another layer to the mess inside her skull.

  Now he sat across from her and let her lead the conversation, his attention for her alone. It helped. She was finally thinking straight.

  It also ached through every inch of her. She was tired of keeping him out. It took so much effort, and she didn’t know if she wanted to push him away anymore. At the same time, he wasn’t a replacement for Liz, and she couldn’t use him as if he were. How had the lines gotten so fuzzy and fucked up in such a short span of time?

  He was going to distract her, talking about anything else. This was fine. And no sex. It would drill deeper into her thoughts than she could handle right now, and that was the reason she’d stay on her side of the table, instead of sliding in next to him.

  She knelt on her bench seat and loosened his tie. This was about distraction. “Every time I see you, you’re all suited up.” She undid the top button on his shirt. Her fingers remembered. Wanted her to do more. She jerked away as subtly as she could and dropped onto the seat again.

  “I came from work. Some of us have to deal with offices and suits.”

  Faulty logic. She could handle this. “It’s your company. You could change the dress code.”

  “That’s not how it’s done. We have clients in the office on a daily basis.”

  The waitress strode by with two plates of burgers and fries, and Mercy’s stomach growled. It was creeping up on midnight, and that muffin in the hotel was the last thing she ate. A two-second glance at the menu told her it hadn’t changed much over time. Perfect. “Your clients probably don’t wear suits back home either. Except maybe those legacy clients you kind of want to ditch, but that’s not how it’s done.”

  “Exactly.” He laughed.

  “So?”

  He held out his hands in question, palms up. “I don’t know what you’re getting at.”

  “You really have changed.” Keep it about him. Nothing else. Nothing to remind her of Liz. She’d deal with that in a little bit, but this helped her think again. “What happened to that guy who taught me about bucking authority and standing on my own?”

  “I grew up, and the sucky thing is adulthood doesn’t work that way.” His words faded as he spoke, and he frowned.

  “Mine does.”

  “Really?” His tone was flat.

  “It’s true I make concessions. The world has other people in it, and compromise is part of the deal. But I keep my office the way I want, I dress the way I want for work, and I don’t take on the clients I don’t want. One of the compromises of that is I have to be creative, to make ends meet, but for me, the freedom is more important than the money.”

  “And for me, taking care of the people I love is more important than the freedom.”

  “This is about Liz?” As soon as the name slipped past Mercy’s lips, her gut sank. Maybe they couldn’t keep that topic off the table. Would it be a problem, if they found a way to make them work? Might as well finish her thought. “She doesn’t work for you. She has her own inheritance. Fuck, unless she quits”—the word choked off in Mercy’s throat, and she swallowed past the lump it left—“because I know she won’t screw up—I don’t hire fuck ups—she’s got her own job, outside of your firm.”

  “It’s a family business.”

  Mercy turned her hands over and slid her palms under his. The warmth seeped into her, soothing the tiny fissures running through her thoughts. She knew this conversation. They’d had it over a decade ago, but she’d been in his shoes and her faith was in church instead of industry. “Is she the only reason you’re doing things the way you are?”

  “Of course not.”

  She didn’t want him on the defensive. “I’m not trying to convert you. Or maybe I am. I see it when you talk about Thompson Advertising. There’s this shadow of… I don’t know. Regret?”

  “You sound like me back then.”

  So she wasn’t the only one who noticed the similarities. “Where do you think I got it? I just wish I knew why you lost it.”

  “I did what I had to do.”

  “Maybe it’s time to make that decision again.”

  “It’s not that easy anymore.”

  The waitress paused, to ask if they were ready, and Mercy ordered the biggest burger on the menu, with a chocolate shake. Ian only wanted a Coke.

  “You don’t have to starve yourself, to impress me,” Mercy said as soon as the waitress left.

  He relaxed a little. “Clever. Maybe I’m saving room for dessert.” The way he dragged his gaze over her made her pulse race and her heart hammer against her ribs. It wasn’t fair he could do that with a look.

  It didn’t change the situation. She shook her head. “I’m sorry. Not until… I don’t know. I’m not in a good head space tonight.”

  “It’s okay.” There was no hesitation in the assurance. “I might steal some of your fries, though.”

  “Can I ask something in return? It’s not really an equivalent exchange for fries—”

  “You can ask me anything. No trade necessary.”

  She didn’t doubt it for a moment, but she still felt guilt for this specific thing. “I don’t know if I can sleep in that hotel room tonight. You said she won’t be there, and I guess it’s childish of me, but…” Jesus, it was as if she and Liz had broken up. Except this had to be temporary. Please let it be temporary.

  “Stay with me.” Ian stopped her before she could ramble. “That’s not an innuendo-filled suggestion. The place has a billion and one guest rooms. Or a couple, and I promise they’re more comfortable then hotel rooms.”

  * * * *

  Ian needed to get up soon. He wa
s supposed to be at the ski resort in two hours. Mercy’s warm body against him made a convincing case for blowing the whole thing off. She muttered something that sounded like too early and pressed her panty-clad ass back into him.

  And now he was hard. Damn it, this woman fucked with his head. Despite both of them agreeing she’d be happier in a guest room, talking had led them to his bed, and they both wanted her to stay when it got too late to stay awake.

  He brushed her hair off her cheek and resisted the urge to draw his lips along the edge of her ear. He only slept in boxers, and she’d stripped out of her jeans, curled up against him, and passed out. It was so tempting to see if she was in a better mood this morning. To invite her to join him in the shower.

  “I have to get ready. Sleep a little longer.” He kissed her on the cheek and summoned more willpower than he thought he had, to roll away from her. Waking up next to her was comfortable. How could something he’d only done twice be so familiar?

  Conflict raged inside, as he turned the shower on, shed the rest of his clothes, and stepped under the near-scalding spray. She’d shown no indication of changing her mind about her schedule. Not that he blamed her. She didn’t live here, and she wasn’t going to give up a life she earned, because of a whim and a few days of hot sex.

  He knew there was more between them. As many times as one of them tried to pretend otherwise, the connection tugged him toward her. Last night was only one indicator of that. Even when they weren’t doing anything but talking, he wanted her there.

  Though the sex was incredible too. Memories streamed through his head. Vivid images, carried on the sound of her sighs. Her body yielding to his touch. The way her lips felt, wrapped around his cock. His fading erection roared back to life. He wrapped a soaped fist around it. Apparently he hadn’t rid himself of the fantasy from waking up next to her.

  The alternative played out in his thoughts as he stroked. Mercy grinding into him, nothing but a few thin layers of clothing keeping them apart. Him, reaching around her. Gliding a hand under her shirt. Her groans when he pinched her nipples. Slipping his hand between her legs from behind and pushing aside her panties. How wet she’d be.