Which was why Juliette wound up in the law library, holding a stack of legal research briefs with a perplexed expression on her face. She needed the public setting for their first encounter and the quiet nature of the library practically guaranteed Courtney wouldn’t be able to make a scene.
Juliette clutched the carefully selected papers to her chest as if she were carrying illegal contraband. She moved between the study carrels where Courtney was hard at work and deliberately tripped on the back of her chair leg.
“What the hell?” Courtney snapped as her chair jerked backward and the legal briefs Juliette had been carrying scattered into the air. Juliette clutched the edge of the table to regain her balance. The tips of her fingers brushed the back of Courtney’s hand. Then she let out a pathetic whine as she fell to the floor.
Everyone in the room froze. A few heads poked out of the cubbies to see what all the commotion was about. Courtney glowered down at her. Juliette had seen that expression before. It was a mixture of anger, annoyance, and loathing. She expected Courtney to say something snarky, like, “Walk much?” or, “Maybe if you didn’t buy cheap knock-off shoes, you wouldn’t trip over your own two feet.” But her irritation evaporated the moment she realized the other law students watching them.
“I’m so sorry,” Juliette said. “I don’t know what happened. I was just trying to find all these briefs for Professor Tatum’s class. I don’t know how I’m going to get all this reading done in a single week.”
“Let me guess.” She slipped out of the chair and knelt down to help. “You’re a first-year.”
“Is it that obvious?”
“Yes,” she said and smiled. “But it’s not just you. I can spot a first-year a mile away.”
She held out a hand. “Courtney Anderson.”
Juliette froze, pretending to be surprised. “Oh my God. Your father is Governor Anderson. I saw you at the rally the other day. I didn’t even recognize you.”
Her smile grew even bigger. Note to self. Inflating the ego is a good thing.
“Are you interested in politics?” she asked.
“Oh, God no,” Juliette said. “Living outside of D.C. for the last twelve years is about all the politics I can handle. You can’t throw a stone without hitting some new politician.”
She laughed. “Then why did you go to the rally?”
“I was just trying to earn a little extra credit. Hagney is a sucker for anyone involved in a political campaign. He said he’d give us five extra points for every rally we attended. All we have to do is write a paper reflecting on our experience. I swear, it’s like high school all over again.”
Juliette stacked the last of the briefs onto the pile and lifted them to the table. Courtney stood as well, but didn’t bother to take her seat. Instead she glanced down at the paper on the top of the stack.
“The Keating Five?”
Juliette smiled. “Yeah. We’re studying the legal aspects to some of the great political scandals of the twentieth century. Given the current state of our economy, I thought this would be an interesting one to study.”
Now she had Courtney’s attention.
“I wrote a brief on the mismanagement of the Keating Five investigation but Professor Tatum refused to publish it. She said it was politically motivated.”
“Isn’t everything?”
Courtney smiled. “You should come by the RNC later. I’m working on the Tyler Chase campaign. We could use some more bodies. Plus, I’ll let you take a look at my notes on the Keating Five.”
It was exactly what Juliette had hoped for. Though she would have preferred to avoid the Chase campaign altogether. “I don’t know.” She hesitated, not wanting to act too eager at the invitation. It was important to let Courtney believe working at the campaign was entirely her idea.
“Why not? If you tell Hagney you’re an intern on the campaign, you can probably skip class completely. And everyone knows his class is pointless.”
“Yeah, but I’m sure Senator Chase has other, more qualified people to work on his campaign.”
“Nonsense. He’s relying upon the college vote, which means college volunteers working on his campaign are invaluable. Plus he’s the youngest U.S. Senator in office. The last person to get elected as a U.S. Senator this young went on to become Vice President of the United States. How can you pass up a chance like that?”
Courtney was right about one thing. Juliette couldn’t pass up the opportunity to work for Tyler Chase, not if it meant she got an all access pass to Courtney Anderson.
Chapter 7: The Campaign Stop
For the next two weeks Juliette did an impeccable job of avoiding Senator Chase at all costs. Which wasn’t easy when she worked for the man’s re-election campaign. Then Courtney called her late Saturday night after coming down with a horrendous case of food poisoning, and begged her to accompany Winston and Tyler on their media blitz across the state. Apparently she had lined up six live TV interviews with local anchors in key media markets. Their opponent, Robertson, had already confirmed his interview slots and there was no way the Senator could back out.
“I still don’t understand how that makes me essential?” Juliette moaned. “I’m sure Tyler and Winston can manage just fine without me.”
“No. Tyler gets anxious on camera. He needs someone to calm him down, keep him from getting all worked up.”
“Isn’t that what Winston is for?”
Courtney sighed. “Think of it as good cop, bad cop. Winston has to be the bad cop. He has to be brutally honest with Tyler to ensure he doesn’t do or say anything that will screw up their messaging. I need you to be the good cop. Just cheer him on, lend an ear when he needs to rant about Winston or the biased reporter conducting the interview.”
“I don’t know.” Juliette picked at her chipped fingernail polish. “I barely know him. How am I supposed to be the good cop?”
“He likes you! He’s said as much to me before. I promise this will all work out. I’d go. If I could stand for five seconds without passing out.”
Juliette gave in. But only because not doing so would put her on Courtney’s bad side, and she couldn’t afford that.
Now she was standing in the back of the darkened studio, marveling as Tyler Chase worked his magic. The first three interviews had gone spectacularly. The fourth not so much. The minute the three of them stepped out of the studio lot Tyler and Winston went at it. They barked at each other for ten minutes straight. Then Tyler insisted he needed space. He snatched the keys for the SUV out of Winston’s hand and told him to go rent a car.
Juliette leaned against the car door unsure what she was supposed to do. Tyler stormed around the back of the vehicle and Winston jerked his head to the side. “Go with him,” he muttered. Then he turned and walked back to the studio.
The whole thing was childish. Taking two separate cars seemed a lot of extra trouble just to please the senator. But when she climbed into the SUV she understood why Winston had been so willing to find his own way to the next lot. Tyler rambled on about the interview, cursing the reporter and spouting out inaccurate stats about his stance on gun control.
As if the gods could hear him, the sky opened up and a heavy downpour caused them to slow to a crawl. The only good thing was that Ty had stopped obsessing about his bad interview in order to focus on his driving. Thirty minutes later, when traffic came to a complete stop, his temper made a reappearance.
“We could get off at the next exit,” Juliette suggested. “I can reroute the GPS and see if we can’t find a way around the accident.”
“Sure,” he said as he inched toward the edge of the freeway. They drove along the berm of the road until they came to the next exit and then left the congested traffic behind them. That was Juliette’s first mistake.
Chapter 8: Stuck
Juliette leaned back in the passenger seat and stared out the window as Tyler paced back and forth in the rain. He was desperately trying to get traction under the front tires, but so far wa
s having absolutely no luck. Everywhere she looked there was mud. Sloppy, slimy, slippery mud. Unless Ty transformed into Superman and lifted the whole damn SUV into the air, they were stuck.
After a few long minutes Ty came to the same conclusion and climbed back into the car.
“It looks like we’re stuck here.”
Juliette rolled her eyes. As if she needed Mr. Obvious to relay that very important bit of information.
“What? It’s not my fault the road is flooded.” Ty jammed the keys into the ignition and started the car. He busied himself with the radio dials. Country. Commercial. Country. News. Country.
“Would you cut it out?” Juliette was close to her breaking point. “You’re never going to find anything decent on the radio this far away from civilization.”
Out of spite, Ty stopped on one of the country stations and turned up the volume.
A twangy song came on and he drummed his fingers against the steering wheel.
Juliette stared at him in amazement. “There is no way you like this song.”
“Like it,” he said, “I love it.” And then he began singing the words in his best Keith Urban impersonation.
Juliette couldn’t help laughing. The image of Tyler Chase, soaking wet in his two-thousand-dollar suit, singing car karaoke to a country song was more than she could bear. As the song reached its pivotal climax Ty shook his head like a shaggy wet dog and drops of water sloshed everywhere.
“Gross! You’re getting me all wet.”
She bent over to wipe her face with the bottom of her t-shirt. When she sat up again, Ty had ditched the jacket and was pulling a white t-shirt over his head, revealing that unmistakably perfect set of silky-smooth abs.
Juliette was no longer thinking about country music. She was barely thinking at all. It took every ounce of her concentration to keep from reaching out to him. All she could think about was the heat of his skin pressed against hers. And all she wanted to do was fuck him good and hard.
This realization brought Juliette back to her senses. “What are you doing?” She redirected her gaze to something, anything but Tyler Chase.
“I’m drying off.” Ty rubbed the bunched-up t-shirt over his now bare chest. “I hate wet clothes.”
“I thought you were like a world-class swimmer, or something.”
“That’s different. Speedos are meant for the water. Business attire is not.”
Juliette had a flash of him in a Speedo. Those muscular glutes and tight ass, not to mention a sizable endowment that would strain against the seams of the fabric.
Juliette jerked and her knee banged against the console.
Ty gave her a curious glance. “You okay over there?”
She nodded.
“Because I hear the image of me without clothes can have quite an effect on the opposite sex.”
Do not listen to him, she told herself. Tyler Chase is off the market. Sleeping with him would be wrong. Juliette hadn’t known better the first time. That was on Tyler. But this time—no, there would be no this time.
“Seriously, are you okay?”
“Just put your clothes back on,” Juliette muttered. “All we need is for someone to find us out here on the side of the road half-dressed.”
“We aren’t doing anything wrong.”
“And I don’t intend to,” Juliette added. She jerked open the door and jumped out into the rain. There had to be a way to get out of this stupid situation.
She heard the sound of the car door slamming shut. Ty yelled something, but it was difficult to hear over the noise of the rain. Ty trucked around the front of the SUV and headed straight for her. He added his suit jacket to his ensemble, but his chest was still bare beneath it and his beautifully toned abs were still very visible. And wet.
Her body grew tense at the sight of him. She knew what he was going to say. That she was being ridiculous, that they should get back in the car before they both catch pneumonia.
Instead, Ty grabbed her by the shoulders and shoved her against the side of the door. She had only a moment to watch as those blue eyes drank her in, then he was kissing her, hard. His full lips pressed against hers, parting them quickly so that his tongue could explore deeper places. His hands slid up from her shoulders to her neck and then he buried his fingers in her hair. He moved closer, eliminating all distance between them, and she felt her nipples harden as his bare chest pressed against her. Her hips ground into him, wanting more, needing more. And then her hands dropped lower, cupping his tight ass, and he practically moaned in her mouth.
Suddenly his hands were pulling at her shirt and tracing the top line of her lace panties. He dipped lower to kiss her neck. Juliette gasped for fresh air. Without his lips on hers she began to think clearly. And by the time he undid the snap on her low-rise jeans she dug up enough of her ethics to shove him away.
Ty was not a small guy but he was distracted, and Juliette’s shove caught him off guard. He slid backward in the mud and nearly fell to the ground.
“I’m sorry,” Juliette said before he could question her. “We can’t. Courtney is my friend.” Well, that was kind of a lie, but even if she was her enemy, it didn’t change the fact that sleeping with another woman’s man was wrong.
Dirty, maybe.
Hot, definitely.
But wrong.
So what? the dark side of her purred. You think you’re getting past those pearly gates? You’re an aspiring con artist. Your parents were art thieves and your godparents fence stolen objects to the highest bidder. You’ve already got a first-class ticket to hell. Nothing you do with Ty is going to change that.
Juliette turned away. She opened the passenger door but couldn’t bring herself to get back into the vehicle. Instead, she grabbed her purse and slammed the door shut again. Then she headed for the mud-covered road.
“What are you doing?” Ty jogged after her.
“I’m going to get help. There’s got to be a gas station or farm or something on this road. And who knows, maybe we’ll get cell reception along the way.”
“I’m not letting you go off on your own.”
“I don’t recall asking for your permission.”
Juliette trudged along in the mud, her black and white Converse sneakers sliding along the gunk with each step. Ty reached out to steady her.
“I’m fine.” Juliette pulled her arm away.
He dropped his arm and he walked silently beside her in the pouring rain.
Chapter 9: The Dysfunctional Motel
Juliette and Tyler were beyond drenched by the time they reached the nearest town. If you could call it that. They came to a rundown motel that looked straight out of the seventies.
“Thank God,” Juliette muttered under her breath. Her feet were killing her and her skin was ice-cold. A single bell chimed as Tyler held open the door and Juliette ran inside. The heat was like waking up in the tropics. She could just curl up on the floor and drink in the warmth.
A woman in her late sixties sat behind the counter fiddling with an all-weather radio that was mostly picking up static. She didn’t look up until Tyler cleared his throat.
“Don’t bother asking,” she said. “We ain’t got no power in half the rooms. The other half are already full.”
“There aren’t any cars in the lot,” Ty said.
“I didn’t see you show up in some fancy town car.”
She had a point. Still, Juliette found it hard to believe that more than one couple had walked to this fine establishment.
Juliette strode over to the wall of brochures and newspapers. There was nothing interesting, a few pamphlets about camping and other outdoor stuff she didn’t find appealing. She picked up a flyer on kayaking and laughed at the irony. Maybe if they were lucky a canoe would just float right past them and they could paddle their way back to civilization.
Juliette turned back to the counter, but not before loosening the screws on the leg of the table and nudging it a tad to the right. It leaned precariously forward.
Then she stepped back to join Ty who was still trying to convince the woman that they would take any available room no matter what the condition.
“I’ll pay you double the going rate.”
She shook her head. “It’s against company policy. I’m not losing my job for you two Yankees.”
Juliette started to laugh but realized she was serious. She was so used to being in NYC that she sometimes forgot Virginia was south of the Mason-Dixon Line.
Just as the old woman smacked her palm on the back of the radio the rickety side table collapsed, sending pamphlets and knickknacks flying. Ty and the woman rushed toward the mess. Juliette, on the other hand, tossed the extra pamphlet behind the counter and disappeared on the other side. On her way up she swiped a random key from the board and slipped it into her jeans pocket.
“Damn table,” the woman swore. “I hate this place. I tell you, something is always breaking. Always.”
Juliette grabbed Ty by the elbow and pulled him toward the door. “We should go. It looks like you have your hands full and I’m certain if we get some gas and maybe a bag of sand or salt for traction, we can get our car moving again.”
Ty looked at Juliette as if she had spoken a foreign language. He started to protest but caught the, “we need to get the hell out of here now,” look in her eyes.
They pushed through the door, another set of chimes bid them well, and they were suddenly back in the rain.
“We walked two miles in the rain to get here. I’m not trudging back another two in this rain just so we can spend the night in a cramped SUV. Not when there’s a perfectly dry bed right here.”
“I agree,” Juliette stepped into the darkness, where she was certain the hotel manager could not see her, and fished out the key from her pocket.
Dirty Little Liars Page 3
