Lucian takes his wallet from his suit pocket and peels off some bills before tossing them onto the table. Then he levels a serious look my way. “When your back’s against the wall, your judgment can become impaired. It isn’t always easy to determine who’s your savior and who’s your executioner.” And that’s why I called Luc.
“In my experience, they’re often one in the same,” I say solemnly as we part company on the busy sidewalk. I turn toward Falco, and Lucian goes in the opposite direction where Quinn Software is located. I have an uneasy feeling that before this is over, that statement will describe me perfectly to Liza. And I wish to fuck I didn’t care. That I could shut down as easily as I always have. No emotions—no feelings—no regrets. That mantra has never been harder to achieve than it is now.
5
Liza
I’ve almost convinced myself that the sexual undertones from the previous evening were all in my head, but now I’m not so certain. Because for the first time in two years, Lee is perched on the corner of my desk watching me take a sip of the coffee that he’d arrived with this morning. It’s not that he expects me to fetch refreshments for him all day. He usually takes care of that himself. But he’s certainly never stopped at Starbucks—for me. He didn’t even bring a cup for himself. He’s mentioned on more than one occasion that he hates the crowds that tend to hang around at the trendy coffee shop, so there is no way he had his own cup there. I take a cautious sip of the beverage and look at him in surprise. It’s a white chocolate mocha. How does he know that’s my favorite? As if sensing my unspoken question, he quirks a brow at me in amusement. “I’ve read the label on your cup before.”
Of course, he has. I’m not even a little surprised at this revelation. Lee is the type of person who takes in even the smallest of details. I have little doubt that he could tell me the contents of my desktop without looking. He rarely misplaces anything. In fact, I hazard a guess that if he doesn’t have a photographic memory, it’s close. He can skim a legal document in an absurdly short amount of time and answer any questions accurately. He probably has my cycle memorized as well. My lips twitch at the thought. That would explain why he tended to steer clear when I had my period. I always believed it a lucky break, but now I’m not so sure. “Thanks for this.” I smile as I set the cup down.
I fully expect this bizarre encounter to end, but he makes no move to go to his office. He shuffles uncomfortably, then begins twisting one of his cufflinks. This type of fidgeting is so out of character for him that I find myself staring—waiting to see what he’ll do next. Then without looking up, he says quietly, “You look… nice today. I like the purple on you. It makes you look—bright.”
Bright? My mouth is hanging open in surprise, and I close it with a snap. Just when I think things couldn’t possibly get weirder… First the dinner and handholding last night, now a compliment. A strange one—but still. “Er—thank you.” I tug at the snug-fitting sweater uncomfortably, remembering how it outlines every curve of my body. I don’t often wear it because of that, but I was in a hurry this morning, and it hadn’t required ironing. “I know it’s a little tight. I should probably get rid of it.” His eyes zero in on my hands, and I freeze. Way to draw attention to your stomach.
His brows draw together with a look of confusion. “I have no idea what you mean. It fits perfectly. Much better than those sheet-like dresses you seem to prefer. You have a beautiful body. Why do you hide it behind something so shapeless?”
Why didn’t I keep my mouth shut? Lee takes everything entirely too seriously. It’s obvious he considers this a puzzle to solve instead of a woman complaining about the fit of her clothing. I take a breath and decide to go with the truth. If I don’t, he won’t let it go. Surely, at some point he’ll act like all men and run from any discussion that alludes to the age-old question, ‘does this make me look fat?’ “I’m not exactly thin,” I point out. “I have more than my fair share of boobs and backside. I also have a stomach that isn’t flat and hips that are a nightmare. If my pants fit me there, then they gap at the waist. So I end up having almost everything altered. Dresses are easier because they’re more forgiving. They’re not as likely to draw attention to my flaws.”
He appears positively riveted by my explanation as his gaze moves over every inch of my body. Finally, he says, “You look like a real woman, Liza. Or the way one should look. There’s nothing worse to a man than feeling like you’re fucking a scarecrow. A pointy tailbone is a mood killer. Do you have any idea what a turn-on it is to explore all those curves? What you hate, we revere.”
Before thinking better of it, I snort inelegantly. “Give me a break, Lee. I’ve seen some of your supermodel dates in the paper. They look like they only eat on special occasions. So if you prefer fluffy women, then why are you hiding them? Is it that they’re good enough to sleep with, but not to be seen in public with?”
“I wasn’t aware that you followed my social life so closely.” But he doesn’t deny who he’s normally seen with. Hypocrite.
I literally feel the heat rushing into my cheeks as I stumble for something to say. “I—er… don’t. I may have seen a picture once—or twice. Quite by accident,” I add quickly. “I don’t have an alert set up or anything. That’s something a stalker would do.” Shit! “Which I’m not. I was simply pointing out the difference, you know—for your information.” Shut up! Dear God, stop the insanity.
He laughs, he actually laughs, and it’s not a polite gesture to make me feel better. No, it’s a deep sound that fills the office and reverberates from the walls. Even to my ears, it sounds faintly rusty, as if he doesn’t do it very often. “My little bird,” he says almost fondly. “You’re an endless source of amusement. Why has it taken me this long to notice?”
I don’t think he expects an answer as he almost appears to be asking himself the question. “Possibly because you and I rarely discuss anything that isn’t business related. No offense, but your office doesn’t exactly inspire a lot of humor. Terror for some, maybe—but laughter—not so much.”
He stares at me for a moment before nodding slowly. “Then perhaps it’s time to make some changes. This isn’t a prison camp and I don’t want you to feel as if it is. I realize that I become engrossed in work and often block out things around me, but I’ll strive to do better.”
If he drops his pants in front of me, I’ll be more surprised than I am at his declaration. Okay, well maybe a little bit, but still—he’s shocking the hell out of me. Why is he attempting to turn over a new leaf? People generally only did that when— “Oh my God, you’re dying, aren’t you?” I blurt out as I spring to my feet. “Is it cancer? Your heart?” Then I look wildly around the room. “Has someone put one of those hits out on you?” I grab my purse with one hand and his arm with the other. “Come on, we’ll find somewhere to hide.” When he remains seated, giving me an incredulous look, I pull harder. “Lee, get your ass in gear! Do you want to be blown away? There could be a sniper rifle trained on you right now.” A surge of panic shoots through me. “A bomb, of course. They’ll take you and Falco out with one blast.” And he still doesn’t move. He’s clearly in shock, which makes it even worse. If Lee is scared, then it must be bad. I snap my fingers in his face. “Get it together. I can’t carry you.” I motion toward the door, saying slowly, “Come on, we’re wasting too much time.” Wrinkling my nose, I ask, “How in the world did you ever make it as a gangster? Pete must have been the enforcer.”
I’m still muttering complaints under my breath as I once again tug on his arm. “Liza, what in the fuck are you talking about?” he asks, sounding exasperated as he gently shakes me off. He picks up my Starbucks cup and sniffs it. “It will explain so much if they put alcohol in there,” he adds ruefully.
I put my hands on my hips in frustration. “If you’re not dying or anything along those lines, then why are you being so—nice all of the sudden?” I’ll probably regret it later, but while I’m going, I decide to ask the question that has been dr
iving me insane. “You practically blackmailed me to get be back here, and since then, you have made no mention of—well, whatever you think you know.” Eyeing him warily, I ask, “Is this some kind of game? Keep me guessing and kill me with kindness? You’re usually a little more direct than that, so I don’t understand this at all.”
He appears surprised by my jumbled rant. But other than that, his face gives nothing away. He simply shrugs and gets to his feet. “Maybe you need to lay off the caffeine, little bird. It’s making you paranoid. I’m simply attempting to improve the work atmosphere. After all, it was apparently bad enough for you to walk out before. I’d like to avoid that happening again.” Without waiting for a response, he walks into his office and shuts the door behind him.
“That’s such bullshit,” I say to the empty room. He couldn’t care less about my job satisfaction. Something else must be at play here, and I need to remain on guard. I swear if he breaks out a picnic and a blanket at lunch, I may well kill him myself. After spending a lifetime with a father who loved to play mind games, I’ve learned that it pays to be suspicious of unusual displays of kindness. Because men like Lee and my father don’t suddenly change unless it’s with motive, an attempt to get what they want. And I refuse to be a pawn in this particular game. If he doesn’t want to be straight with me, then I’ll push him until he cracks. There are two things Lee absolutely detests… Ha. I’ll give him both and see how long this act of his lasts. Buckle up, Mr. Jacks, it’s going to be a bumpy ride.
LEE
I grin as I close my office door behind me. Why have I never realized just how damn funny Liza is? I swear I almost lost it when she went into a tizzy about protecting me. I had been tempted to play along just to see what she came up with. Although I was a little offended when she insulted my skills as a gangster. If only she knew. As far as romancing her went, that whole scene may be considered a failure. Instead of swooning at my feet, understanding I was coming on to her, she jumped from one conclusion to another. Again, a tad insulting, but she is unlike any other woman I’ve known, so it stands to reason that her reactions are different. I’ll have to adjust my methods and try again. I’ll start by finding excuses to keep her close for the rest of the day. Maybe a little touch here and there and she’ll come around. I walk around my desk and take a seat. I log onto my computer and open my email. Perfect. I’ll have her come in so that we can deal with the replies together. My finger is hovering over the intercom when the door suddenly flies open and slams back against the wall. What the hell?
“Whoops.” Liza giggles as she steps into the room holding her Starbucks cup and a notepad. “My bad. I don’t know my own strength sometimes.” She crosses to a chair in front of me and sets her cup and legal pad on my desk before plopping down into a chair and crossing her legs at the ankles. Then I stare at her incredulously as she smacks her lips frantically before blowing a huge bubble.
“Liza,” I warn, “that’s going to—” Before I can get the words out, the bubble pops and covers her face. I see her eyelids blinking against the pink gunk before she raises a hand and attempts to clean the mess off. I release my breath on a hiss as we both realize that she has some in her hair. “What were you thinking?” I snap in irritation as I stand and move to her side. I spend the next five minutes picking out pieces of the sticky mess from her blond locks while she blinks at me like an owl. “That’s about the best I can do. It’ll probably take a few days and some shampoo to take care of the rest of it.” I know how women are about their hair, so I’m prepared for a freak-out, but as usual, she never does what I expect.
“No biggie.” She waves me off. “It’s not as if I have some big event to attend.” Then she winks at me. “Thanks for the help though, Tony.”
“Tony?” I scowl down at her. “Who in the hell is that?”
She grins, then wiggles her brows. “You know, Tony Soprano. The mob boss from The Sopranos. I’m kinda digging that as a nickname for you. Whatdaya think? Maybe shorten it to Ton?”
“He’s old and dead,” I point out, not liking the comparison at all. Naturally, she has to pick someone unattractive to group me with. Do I look that fucking old? And seriously, the man had a huge gut on him. I glance down, making certain that I do in fact still have the chiseled form I’ve had for so long. I run and work out daily. Partly to stay in shape and I’ve also discovered that it’s a great stress reliever.
Her eyes widen as she asks, “In real life? I hadn’t heard that.”
Rolling my eyes, I say, “I believe Kara told Pete and me at a family function a while back.” At that time, I’d found it amusing because she was calling her father Tony. Somehow, it wasn’t as funny to be on the receiving end of it. She eyes me for a moment, then I see her mouth move. “For fuck’s sake, Liza, you’re still chewing that damned gum after having it on your face and in your hair? Do you know how nasty that is?” I suddenly feel like I’m dealing with a child as I stomp around to pick up my trash can and hold it in front of her. “Spit it out.” She pouts before doing as I ask. Unbelievable. She needs a good spanking. And with that thought, she’s certainly no longer a child in my mind. Time to get things back on track before I completely lose it. So I settle into my chair and open my email program. “I need you to call Mark Isner and schedule a meeting for tomorrow afternoon.” I hear a thump that has me looking up. No way, really? She has her feet on my desk. There are papers crinkled under the heels of her sandals as the pointy soles dig into them. And as bad as that is, it’s not the most alarming part. No, that would be the fact her chair appears to be leaning backward as she hums under her breath.
“You don’t happen to have Mark’s number handy, do ya?” she asks. “That would save me from looking it up. Do you know how much time I waste on crap like that?”
I shake my head. I’m dreaming. This can’t be happening. Liza would never be this unprofessional. Hell, this is worse than the idiots who were filling in for her and that’s saying something. “Please remove your feet before you make a mess,” I say stiffly.
She huffs as if I’ve asked her to change the fucking oil in my car. Just when I think she’s going to ignore my request, she moves one leg before disaster strikes. I watch in horror as she kicks the Starbucks cup and it wobbles in slow motion. My hand shoots out—but it’s too late. The cup turns over onto its side, and naturally, the damn lid pops off and what looks like enough liquid to cure the drought comes rushing out. Within seconds, my desk is covered, and it’s trickling off into my lap. “Oh shit,” I hear muttered as I jump to my feet. My hands clench and release at my sides as I strive to control my temper. I seriously want to lose it, but I’m not even sure where to start.
Somehow, Liza is in front of me mopping at my crotch with one hand while the other plops a stack of paper towels onto the now ruined stacks before me. Then she has the audacity to say, “Look what you made me do.”
“How in the hell is this my fault?” I shout as my control snaps.
The hand that had been wiping my crotch pauses, then resumes with a little too much force so I step back before she rips my dick off next. “Because you startled me. I was doing fine until you demanded that I move. From the tone of your voice, I knew if I didn’t do it quickly you’d spaz out.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose, counting to three under my breath. “You shouldn’t have had your fucking feet there to begin with. This is my office, not your living room.”
She sighs, then points at the mess that was once perfectly dry and organized. “If you chill and stop fussing at me, I can get this cleaned up. After all, it’s probably not a good idea to have liquid under your laptop.”
“For fuck’s sake!” I hiss as I grab the three-thousand-dollar laptop purchased last week. The screen flickers as coffee drips from the underside. This isn’t happening. How has this day gone off the rails so quickly? She’s lost her mind. Un-fucking-believable. Plus, I’ve probably also broken my own personal record for saying or thinking the word “fuck.” I must get out of her
e before I do something I’ll regret. I tensely say, “Either take care of this or find someone who can.” I toss the laptop back onto the carnage and add, “Call IT and have them get me a new computer within the hour.” Then I leave the room at a near sprint. Instead of wanting to fuck her, I’m trying to talk myself out of organizing a hit. There’s no doubt if I were the real Tony Soprano, she’d be swimming with the fishes tonight. And as fucked up as it is, I feel a smile tugging at my lips at that thought. Then it hits me with the force of a sledgehammer. Liza has far more power over me than I ever realized. Because there’s no way I’d let anyone else get away with the shit she just pulled. Not only that, but I’m also grinning like an idiot about it not two minutes later. I’m fucked if she ever discovers how easily she can get to me. And with that thought, I’m once again frowning. This feels far too much like vulnerability, and that could easily be the death of me and everyone that I hold dear—including Liza. Although right now, I have no fucking idea why I’m trying to romance her. What just happened?
6
Liza
I attempt to hide my smirk behind the paper napkin that I use to wipe my mouth. When my sister called to demand I meet her for dinner, I informed her that I was already inside Fuddruckers. I felt like a treat was in order after surviving Lee’s wrath earlier in the day and what better reward than a delicious hamburger from one of my favorite places. I didn’t expect Jacey to meet me here. That could ruin the moment for me if I wasn’t enjoying her attempt at trying not to stare in revulsion as I take big bites of my burger. Naturally, she ordered a salad and had done little more than shift the lettuce from one side of the bowl to the other. “I’m glad you could join me,” I mumble around the bite of food in my mouth. Normally, I have better manners, but I simply can’t resist yanking her chain a few more times. And I realize why I am finding it so easy to rile Lee. I’ve had years of experience pushing buttons. Poor Lee. He never really stood a chance.
Lee Page 8
