Dangerous Exes (Liars, Inc. Book 2)

by Rachel Van Dyken

  His eyes went wide and then he slowly nodded his head.

  She blew him a kiss.

  My balls retracted a bit when she sat and stared in my direction with her dark sunglasses on and a glass of white wine in hand. From the outside she was perfection. Not a hair out of place. Blood-red lipstick against pale skin, honey highlights in her typically frosty blonde hair, and legs for days.

  Anyone would look at her and do a double take.

  All I wanted to do was toss her in the pool and hold her under until she admitted that she was a lying, cheating bitch.

  A tremor of anxiety slammed into my chest when the attendant returned with a bottle of water and a shot of whiskey. She frowned, looked at the whiskey, and then the card next to it.

  Her eyes darted around the pool then locked on to mine.

  It hurt like hell to force that smile, to seem interested when I wanted to puke, when the last time she was with me I felt so emotionally confused, abused, that my worth got lost in the definition of us.

  “Stay calm.” It was Isla’s voice.

  I felt my body relax.

  “There you go,” she said in that same voice. “Remember, this isn’t real, you don’t belong to her—she has no right to even touch you. But you’re going to let her assume she does. You have to make her wonder.”

  “Right,” I said, more to myself than anything. “Did I mention I failed drama class?”

  Isla laughed. It felt good to hear her laugh.

  I relaxed even more just as Vanessa rounded the corner and pulled up a chair so close that when she bent over, my mouth almost touched cleavage. “Hey there, stranger.”

  “Vanessa.” I kept my voice soft, smooth.

  She dropped the card onto the table. “You probably shouldn’t be sending a drink when you’re in such a committed relationship.”

  I leaned back. I knew how to play her game. “And you probably shouldn’t accept a drink from your ex-husband when you’re in such a loving one, right?”

  Her chin lifted a bit. “Wayne is fantastic.”

  Isla gagged in my ear.

  “Oh, I bet he gives you things I never did.” Like sex and at least twenty different STDs.

  Her eyes narrowed. “Why are you here?”

  I leaned back to put some much needed distance between me and her Chanel perfume. “Can’t a man enjoy a drink by the pool?”

  “At the same hotel I’m staying at?”

  I just shrugged.

  “Jessie.” She placed a hand on my thigh, and it took every ounce of strength I had not to react and shove her chair into the pool. “It’s over between us, sweetie.”

  Oh God, I could strangle her for using that voice, the one she reserved for small children and old people.

  I gave her the most humble smile I could, one that looked regretful, possibly . . . sad, and then shrugged. “I know that.”

  Her eyes softened. Had I blinked I would have missed it.

  “There you are!” Isla rounded the corner looking hot as hell in a white bikini top with a white sarong around her hips. All I saw was skin—everywhere—a woman in nothing but a bikini, see-through sarong, and red heels.

  Give a man a warning next time!

  I gaped.

  Vanessa cleared her throat.

  I ignored her, I couldn’t pull my eyes away from Isla.

  Isla leaned down and pressed her left hand, the one with the rock on it, on my cheek, then kissed me full on the mouth, turning only briefly to wink at Vanessa. “Thanks for keeping my man company.”

  “Funny”—Vanessa clenched her hands onto the chair—“since he was my man when you started screwing him.”

  “Now, Vanessa,” Isla said in a soothing voice, “we both know that isn’t true. Besides, wasn’t it Blaire that you threw at your own husband in hopes he would stumble and fall? Proving infidelity?”

  Vanessa gritted her teeth. “Does it really matter?”

  “The truth always does,” Isla said sweetly.

  “You wouldn’t know the truth if it slapped you in the face.” Vanessa shoved past Isla hard enough for Isla to get pushed against me.

  “That went well.” I sighed and ran my hands through my hair.

  “I know!” Isla seemed a little too excited that my ex didn’t confess a thing and that she had seemed more pissed than I’d seen her in a while. “I can’t believe she reacted so quickly!”

  “Were we at the same meeting?” I looked around. “She said it didn’t matter and called us liars.”

  “Nope.” Isla leaned forward and patted my cheek once. “She got a bit vulnerable, and she doubted some choices, it was in her eyes, then I swept in and she got jealous, then pissed off. It’s the perfect combination. She’ll be thinking about nothing else all day, and she’s bound to do something stupid. It will get worse before it gets better, but I know just how to push her off the edge. It’s in the job description, or the contract, then again you never signed one, so . . .”

  “Because you’re the reason I’m here,” I confessed in frustration.

  Isla took a sip of water and then stared me down. “One day, Jessie, I hope one day you’ll stop blaming what you can’t control for why your life is out of control.”

  I jolted at her words as they hit their mark, making my body stiffen with shame and anger. “Maybe one day you’ll stop hiding behind your schedules and highlighters to live life without a plan.”

  Her face fell.

  “Um,” said Blaire, still in my ear. I grabbed the earpiece and tugged it out, throwing it onto the table. Suddenly exhausted.

  “Our rooms are ready,” Isla finally said.

  “Isla—”

  “Always with the apologies.” She smiled sadly. “This one’s on me, though, I’m sorry for being too honest too soon, and I’m sorry it forced you to do the same.”

  I stood and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “I don’t wake up wanting to hurt you.”

  Isla laughed. “Yes you do! You wake up every morning wanting to destroy my business!”

  “No I don’t,” I said honestly. “Lately I’ve been waking up with an aching cock and visions of red, but that’s probably not something we should discuss with you wearing only a patch of clothing on your body.”

  Isla shivered. I felt her body react with desire so poignant the air shifted between us as we walked.

  “Good job, guys.” Blaire said. She and Colin were waiting in the lobby with all our suitcases. “Room keys, our suites are connected, try to keep it down.”

  “Shouldn’t we be saying that to you?” I said.

  Blaire just gave me a knowing smile and waved us off. “Don’t forget dinner tonight, we’ve got reservations next to their table.”

  “Can’t wait,” I said under my breath, my skin still crawling with the need to take a long hot shower.

  I glanced at my room key and froze.

  Isla grabbed her bag before I could grab it for her. “What’s wrong?”

  “Same room?”

  “Engaged.” She held up her finger and then smiled. It wasn’t a real smile, it was a fake one, the one I hated because it meant I’d been a complete dick and caused her to shut down when it came to us.

  It was the last thing I wanted.

  I trusted her even though I didn’t want to.

  I wanted to believe she could fix this.

  I just didn’t know how.

  And it frustrated me that she was right, that my blame was misplaced, but it made me feel better if I could point a finger at someone else rather than look in the mirror in defeat.

  “Let’s go.” She nodded to the elevators.

  I followed her in silence, the elevator music was an instrumental version of “SexyBack,” by Justin Timberlake. Classy stuff. We finally made it to one of the executive suites. Isla immediately went into the bathroom and started a shower.

  Guess I was going to have to wait until she was done.

  It was torture imagining her rubbing soap up and down her body, an
d me pulling the string of her bikini with my teeth while watching water cascade down her belly, streaming between her legs.

  I gripped the edge of the couch just as she rounded the corner. “Shower’s ready for you.”

  “Aren’t you?” I pointed at the shower. “Aren’t you, um, going to wash up?” I could see her nipples through her white top. I didn’t have the power to look away, I really was a dick, wasn’t I?

  She shrugged. “I have some work to do and a bottle of wine calling my name, take your time. Plus you looked uncomfortable.” She whispered the last part. She could probably sense my discomfort at being near Vanessa, my need to wash away the past so desperately that I was itching. The fact that she got me on that level made me feel even worse for my mood swings.

  “Thanks.” It came out so guttural, so low, I almost winced.

  Her smile was sad. “Anytime, Jessie.”

  My name on her lips didn’t sound angry.

  It sounded like it belonged there.

  I rubbed my chest again and coughed. Maybe I was getting sick. Because this tightness refused to go away. I went into the bathroom and jumped in the shower. Perfect temperature.

  I let the water pelt my skin until I was numb.

  And then I turned it hotter.

  I was probably pink from the water abuse, but I didn’t care. I felt a million times better as I stepped out of the shower and rubbed my body with the lush white towel.

  “Listen,” I overheard Isla say in a calm voice. “I’m sure there’s no cause for concern. One of my colleagues, Abby, is great at hacking, and she’s gone into every single file on his computer and found nothing. Next week we’ll start the second phase, but for right now, we really have nothing to go on other than your feelings, Danica.”

  Danica.

  Danica.

  Danica.

  Why did that sound . . .

  Oh shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.

  Shame washed over me again until I almost went to the toilet and puked. What the hell had I been thinking? I hadn’t. I just wanted to destroy.

  Isla ended the call and ran her hands through her hair just as I stepped out of the steam-filled bathroom. “Everything okay?”

  “Yeah.” She frowned at her computer screen. “I just don’t have a good feeling about this client, there isn’t really any evidence that her husband’s cheating.”

  “Drop her,” I said too quickly.

  “You think?” She tilted her head. “I mean we’ve never had to do that before, but something’s not adding up.”

  I shrugged. “I say go with your gut, and if your gut says she’s not being honest, you can terminate your contract.”

  Isla chewed her lower lip. “You’re right. It does say in our contract that within the first thirty days either party can terminate and the client will get half their deposit back.”

  “Deposit?” I asked curiously. “Just how much do you girls charge?”

  Isla’s smile lit up. “Enough.”

  “Isla . . .”

  “Why don’t you take a look at the contract and let me know?”

  I coughed again and rubbed my chest.

  “Are you getting sick?”

  “Men don’t get sick.”

  She rolled her eyes. “That doesn’t surprise me.”

  I rubbed my temples as a pulsing headache started to make itself known. “I’m probably just dehydrated.” I pointed to the computer. “You really don’t mind if I take a look?”

  “All my other files are password protected, so have at it, big strong man who doesn’t get sick.”

  I grinned at that and took her laptop as she stretched her arms overhead and motioned back to the bathroom. “My turn, you use up all the hot water?”

  “On purpose.” I smiled over the computer.

  “What purpose would that be?”

  “To hear you scream,” I said with a smirk.

  “Aw, how cute, is that because it’s the only way you can make me scream?”

  My eyes narrowed. “You do like research, only one way to find out.”

  And there they were again.

  Nipples.

  Two. Ripe for the plucking, begging to be sucked.

  She swallowed slowly and made her way to the bathroom. My headache jumped about a billion times harder in my head, pounding everywhere. It was the stress. “Hey, Isla, do you have any Tylenol?”

  “Purse!” she called.

  “Thanks!” I set the laptop down and grabbed her white Louis Vuitton purse and started rummaging through it only to find a small plastic bag labeled Headache Tea.

  Huh, tea did sound good.

  I went over to the kitchen area and put on a kettle.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  ISLA

  I felt like a new woman after that shower. Not because of the heat or the privacy, but because the shower had been a few desperate minutes that I was able to put my armor on and ignore the way the towel looked like it was ready to fall from Jessie’s waist at any minute.

  I stared at that damn towel more than I stared at his six-pack.

  That’s really saying something.

  Maybe because I knew what the towel was packing.

  And it was magnificent.

  Songs should be written about that man’s package.

  I’d know every word.

  And cheerfully sing it at the top of my lungs.

  I regained my focus.

  My control.

  I thought of my notes.

  I thought about my clients and my appointments for the week, including this weekend with Jessie and his ex.

  Focus.

  Regain control.

  Make a plan.

  I had a plan.

  Stick to the plan, Isla.

  I put on one of the hotel bathrobes and slipped on their fluffy white slippers, then opened the door to see Jessie in a low-slung pair of sweats with my laptop in his lap.

  “You’re brilliant.” He said it without looking up. “Fucking brilliant.”

  I was too stunned to speak. And for some unfortunate reason, my throat closed up so tight I was afraid I was going to burst into tears.

  “The clauses you put in your contract, the way you run your business, there’s no way you guys could ever really be sued, it’s ironclad. If your contracts look like this . . .” He whistled. “God save anyone who tries to take you down.”

  He finally looked up at me, his eyes soft.

  Was it wrong to want to run into his arms and straddle his lap?

  I went with a simple “Thank you. That means a lot.”

  “I mean it,” he said seriously, his eyes locking on to mine.

  The tension swirled, it danced between us, it made my heart beat a bit faster while my body pulsed with awareness.

  “I know you do.”

  He winked and lifted a mug to his lips. “This is really good, by the way.”

  I frowned. “We have tea?”

  “Oh sorry, I hope it’s okay, but I found this headache tea in your bag and thought it sounded better than Tylenol.”

  My lungs seized. “O-oh, that’s . . . just fine!”

  My smile was so fake it was painful. I walked over to my purse and nearly passed out when I noticed almost every single ounce of the tea gone. I picked up the bag but didn’t see a dosage.

  “I, uh . . .” I swiped my phone from the charger. “I’m going to make a quick phone call, my aunt, she’s not . . . well.”

  “Really?” He looked suspicious. “A few days ago she grabbed my ass.”

  “Hah-hah, that’s Goo-Poh, always . . . grabbing things.”

  A puzzled expression crossed his face as he drank more tea. Not good. I rushed into the bathroom, slammed the door, and dialed her number.

  She answered on a yawn. “Isla? Is that you?”

  “He drank the tea!” I hissed into the phone.

  “Your blessing is coming!” She sounded freaking overjoyed.

  “No!” I started sweating. “The blessing needs
to stay . . . inside his body, Goo-Poh!”

  Another yawn. “But if it is his time, why not be accepting of the gifts of our ancestors? Did you know that when your father—”

  “Goo-Poh!”

  “I was going to say he was born very strong from that tea, everyone says so.”

  I rolled my eyes. Yes, I knew the stories. Strong as an ox. Blessed by the universe. Salt would not melt him. I’d heard it all. And yes, he was a tall man, but nothing like Jessie.

  “How much did he drink?” she asked.

  “Well, he took the bag and dumped almost all of it into the damn hot water. How much did you think he drank?”

  She started mumbling.

  “What are you doing? Goo-Poh? Hello?”

  “Praying,” she whispered. “He will be ready for you soon.”

  “I don’t want him ready for me soon!”

  “Oh, Isla.” She laughed so hard I had to pull the phone away from my ear. “You do not have a choice. Even now his body is readying itself to give. You must now ready yourself to accept.” Why did I even call her?

  “Thanks.” For nothing.

  “Oh, you’re so welcome. Now, I know your parents wouldn’t approve, but you must bless the family by being bountiful with children, so you lift those legs, Isla, lift them like you’ve never lifted before.”

  “Lifting.” I sighed. “Love you, Goo-Poh.”

  I hung up the phone to more prayers and chants.

  Great. So she had prayers and chants and tea. There was no way I was leaving this hotel room without getting pregnant, was there?

  I slid the phone into my robe pocket and cracked the door open. Jessie didn’t look any different, in fact he looked . . . relaxed.

  I opened the door wider, my eyes narrowing as I took a few steps toward him. His hands were flying over the computer keyboard like it was his, not mine.

  “Jessie?”

  “Hmm?” He didn’t look up.

  “How’s the, uh, headache?” And penis, how’s that? Hard? Painful? Dying a slow, choking death inside your sweat pants? “You feel any . . . different?”

  “I feel great.” His eyes didn’t meet mine. “Maybe a bit tired, but it’s a relaxed tired. I don’t know what the hell was in that tea but I feel . . . alive.”