Sex, Lies and Designer Shoes

by Kimberly Van Meter

  * * *

  THAT MAN HAD lost his mind if he thought he was going to climb into her bed as if he had a right to. She’d rejected hotter guys than him and he’d best remember that she was a catch! She sat on the closed toilet lid, quietly fuming. He had to be the single most annoying, rude jerk that she’d ever met—and that was saying a lot because she circulated in some pretty elite circles filled with self-important blowhards. At this rate, she was ready to surrender to whoever was threatening her family if it meant that she no longer had to put up with Rian Dalton. Who did he think he was? She had some of the richest, most eligible bachelors on two continents running after her and he had the gall to turn his nose up at her? That man was not only rude but an idiot, as well.

  So what was she going to do, sit in the bathroom all day? No. He was not going to chase her off. She splashed some water on her face and then exited the bathroom with her chin held high. “I find it hard to believe that this is the best that you can find as a safe house. You can’t tell me that you bring politicians and other celebrities here to this awful place.” The slow, lazy smile told her exactly what she needed to know, and she clenched her fists as she howled. “You’re torturing me on purpose!”

  But even as he didn’t rightly deny it, he didn’t admit it, either. “I find it important to adjust accordingly. This was the best place I could find that was suited to the situation,” he said as if she weren’t smarter than that, and she called him on it.

  “Bullshit. You picked this place because it sucks and you don’t like me. Do you think I’m stupid?”

  “Not at all. I think you’re very smart. But you’re also a pain in the ass. Did I pick this place because I thought it might annoy you? Maybe. But my original reasons stand. It’s a safe place. Deal with it.”

  “Deal with it? Deal with what? The fact that there are probably more cockroaches in this place than there are actual people? We are in the middle of nowhere, I’m not sure when these bedsheets were cleaned last and I’m fairly certain people have probably been murdered in their sleep here. Why would I feel safe here?”

  “I doubt anyone has been murdered in this room.”

  “And that’s supposed to make me feel better? I swear to God, if my father wasn’t wholeheartedly convinced that you were the only one who could do this job, I would walk out the door right now and gladly never see you again.”

  “Well, I guess I should be thankful for small favors. One thing, though, are you going to be this screechy the whole time? If so, I will need to invest in earplugs. Your voice is grating.”

  Grating? She sputtered. “You have a lot of nerve. I don’t know if I should be impressed by your decided lack of common sense or if I should feel pity for you because you’re an overwhelming idiot.”

  He snapped his fingers with a smile. “Earplugs it is.”

  She growled. The man was insufferable. “This room is about to lose its murder-free status because I’m going to kill you in your sleep.”

  “Careful, making threats like that is a felony. I’d hate to have to arrest you. Although, you sitting in jail would definitely be a safe place. But I can’t promise that the accommodations are superior to what we have right here.”

  “You wouldn’t dare.”

  “Princess, you’ll find that I dare much. Keep pushing and you’ll find out just how far I’m willing to go.”

  There was something about the way he held her gaze that sent a dangerous thrill arcing through her nerve endings. There was no pushing him around—no bulldozing him. Men crumbled when she pushed. Not Rian. He not only pushed back, he dared her to push harder. There was something electric dancing between them even if neither wanted to admit it. And that stubborn mouth had the most sensual lips she’d ever seen. So he wasn’t hard on the eyes, she grudgingly admitted, finding it hard to pull her gaze away when she realized she’d been staring a little too long. Rian would be the perfect guy to have angry, I-hate-you sex with. If she were into that kind of thing. “So if there’s no room service, how exactly do you plan to feed me?” she finally asked.

  He pulled a brown square package from his backpack and tossed it at her. She caught it in confusion. “What the hell is this?”

  “That, my dear, is a military-issue MRE. I think it’s meat loaf. Not bad but not great, either. I don’t want to oversell it.”

  She dropped the package as if it were made of poison and it landed on the floor with a dull thud. “Are you kidding me? Those things have, like, three thousand calories. I can’t eat that.”

  “They fill the belly. I suppose if you get hungry enough you’ll dig in.”

  “You can’t be serious. We’re not at war. There is no reason why I should have to eat something meant for soldiers in the field. And I don’t believe you eat these, either. If you had a steady diet of MREs, you’d be fat as a tick.”

  He rubbed his belly. “I guess I just have a fast metabolism.”

  There was no winning with this man. She threw her hands up. “I guess I’ll starve. And when you return me to my father, starving and near death because I haven’t had any food or water, something tells me he won’t be hot to write you a check.”

  He sighed dramatically. “You are the biggest pain. Fine, I’ll go get you something to eat, but I’m talking burgers and fries, not some fancy French froufrou stuff. Got it?”

  She supposed that was a victory of some sort. “It’ll do for now. But if that’s how you eat normally, your arteries must be clogged with gunk.”

  “Don’t worry about my arteries—they’re just fine.”

  “Are you always this much of a jerk with all your clients?” she asked. “Because you have terrible manners. I can’t imagine you’re saving all of that just for me.”

  “How about you, princess? Your manners aren’t exactly great, either. I would ask how you have any friends at all but then you’re rich, so that probably helps. People can put up with a lot if they’re getting perks. Do you hand out Coach bags for the ones that hang around the longest?”

  She drew back, stung. “That’s ridiculous. You don’t know me and you certainly don’t know what my friends are like.”

  “Oh, I have a pretty good idea. Don’t you remember I watched you all night last night? I hate to break it to you but I’m willing to bet you don’t have any true friends. All those people were doing was trashing your house—excuse me, it’s not even your house—trashing your mother’s house. Doesn’t that bother you?”

  “They weren’t trashing the house,” she disagreed hotly. “And besides, we have a cleaning company coming in to pick up in the morning. My mom will never know.”

  “That’s not the point. It’s not your place to trash. If you are throwing a raging party at a house—pick your own.”

  She blinked back sudden tears. “Excuse me, I don’t think it’s your job to lecture me. You don’t know my family dynamics so butt out.”

  “You’re right. And I don’t care about your family dynamics. All I know is that someone is out there pretty pissed off at your family and looking to take it out on anyone they can get their hands on. But you have to wonder what is it you guys did to piss someone off that bad.”

  “Who said we pissed anyone off? My father is a very rich, influential man. Sometimes people are just envious of his success.”

  He shrugged. “Perhaps. Or maybe your dad stepped on too many people on his way to the top.”

  “Look, you don’t get to talk about my dad that way. You don’t know him. He is the nicest man you’ll ever meet. He would give you the shirt off his back if you needed it. But he shouldn’t be made to apologize for his success. He worked his ass off to get where he is right now and it’s shady people who think that they’re entitled to what someone else has that has put us in this position.”

  Her heated answer surprised him enough to soften a little. “All right, you’
ve made your point. All I’m saying is that you’re not making anything easier with your bad attitude.”

  “And it’s my job to make your job easier?”

  “Maybe if you weren’t so difficult, people would be more interested in helping you.”

  She cocked her head at him. “And by people, do you mean you? Because I’m not looking for your approval.”

  “Whatever, princess. All I’m saying is... Hell, forget it. You can’t hear anything that you don’t want to hear anyway.” He went to the door. “Stay here. I’m going to get your food. Don’t leave.”

  And then he was gone. For a long moment she just stared at the door, his words banging around in her head. Why did she care what he thought? He was no one. But knowing that he thought so little of her, that all he saw was a spoiled heiress, pinched her hard. She was more than that. And she hadn’t always been this way. Growing up for the first part of her life in rural Italy, she’d been like a lot of other girls. It wasn’t until her parents split up and she had to travel between two different continents that things changed.

  It sounded like more poor rich-girl problems but no one knew what it was like to be raised by nannies, rarely seeing her parents. Her mother was never around, always too busy finding the next man of the hour to bother with a little girl. She lost herself to a moment of self-pity. No one understood—and that included Rian Dalton. Not that it mattered. She didn’t care what he thought.

  5

  STOP WITH THE DEBATES, he chastised himself. It was unhealthy and unprofessional—but he couldn’t seem to keep his mouth shut. She brought out the worst in him. Maybe he ought to call Kane and have him take over. But even as the sensible thought flitted across his mind, he couldn’t actually commit. He didn’t want anyone else handling this case.

  Maybe because giving up would feel like a failure, or maybe it was because of something else, but he just wasn’t ready to let go. And the fact that CoCo was calling him on his bullshit was something that he hadn’t expected. Yeah, she was smart. She’d seen right through the fact that he was deliberately baiting her. Sure, the place was safe—he wouldn’t lie about that—but there were other places he could’ve picked that were just as safe but not as squalid.

  The thing about the bed, though, that’d come as a shock. In the past when he’d used this place, there’d been two full beds. But it’d been a while since he’d come around and the management must’ve decided to spruce things up. He could try to switch rooms but he couldn’t give up the strategic position, and he wasn’t about to take chances with CoCo’s life even if she did irritate the shit out of him.

  He made quick work of finding a burger joint, ordering enough food to last them for the night, and then returned to the hotel. This time, he told himself, he wasn’t going to let her get under his skin. He was a professional and he was going to start acting like one. With a quick look around to make sure that nobody was watching him, he let himself into the room.

  Time to start fresh. “Look, since we have to work together for the next couple of days, how about we call a truce? I won’t needle you and you won’t needle me and we’ll get along just fine.” He handed her a bag of burger and fries.

  She accepted the food offering with a small nod. “I guess that’ll be okay. But this place sucks. Surely we can go somewhere else, somewhere less third-world country.”

  “Not tonight. Maybe tomorrow. Right now we need to hole up and make sure that the place is secure.”

  She made an exasperated sound, wanting to slap him silly right in that too-hot-for-his-own-good face. “Enough with the dire warnings of imminent death. What an enormous wet blanket you are. Do you realize how many times somebody has threatened my dad’s life? People are crazy. But nothing has ever happened to him and we’re going to be fine.”

  “Have you read any of the threats that have come his way?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “My dad doesn’t let me see those things but I know he’s been threatened before. The thing is, when you have a lot of money, you have a lot of enemies. And it’s not because you did anything specific, it’s just because some people with less hate those who have more.”

  “Sometimes,” he agreed. “But sometimes they also have a reason. Do you think there’s any reason why your dad might be targeted?”

  “No. This is the work of someone who’s just crazy. I’m sure of it.”

  But Rian wasn’t so sure. Enzo had to believe this was a credible threat to bring in the big hitters. “I can tell you that the FBI doesn’t get involved unless it’s a real threat. I think your dad is right in keeping you out of harm’s way. You are an easy target. If whoever is threatening him got a hold of you, all the power would be in their hands.”

  Obviously she hadn’t thought of it that way. “But I don’t understand who would hate him so much that they would do this. I don’t understand it at all. My dad makes shoes, for crying out loud. It’s not like he’s trading in state secrets.”

  “How do you know? A shoe business would make a great front.”

  She hit him with a dark look.

  He raised his hands in mock surrender. “I’m not calling your dad anything. I’m just playing devil’s advocate.”

  “Well, stop. My dad is an honorable man.”

  “I apologize. I’m not trying to say anything bad against your dad. I’m just trying to put together the pieces of the puzzle.”

  “It’s not your job to figure out anything. Your job is to keep me safe.”

  She had a point, but did she have to be so bitchy about it? “Yeah, I hear you. Loud and clear.” It was his fault for thinking he and CoCo could engage in a civil conversation. He gestured to her cheeseburger. “Eat your burger. I’m not heading back out just because you let your food go cold.”

  They ate in silence—which surprised him because he didn’t think that CoCo had the ability to remain quiet. Either way it was a welcome respite.

  * * *

  SHE HADN’T MEANT to be rude but his comment about her father rubbed her the wrong way. Maybe because she’d worried herself that her father had done something to bring this trouble on their heads. She didn’t know his business practices but she assumed he was an honorable man because she hated to think of him any other way. The fact that Rian had thrown the question on the table had only served to bring up her own misgivings.

  “How did you get into this line of work?” she asked, needing something to keep her from obsessing about things she couldn’t control. The close quarters were bad enough but being locked in a room with Rian was doing confusing things to her insides. “I mean, it doesn’t seem like something you just fall into on a whim.”

  “Oh, is this story hour? Now are we gonna share about each other’s lives and sing ‘Kumbaya’?”

  She drew back with a bristle. “Look, I’m just trying to make the time pass. If you want to be a jerk about it, fine. We can stare at the walls and watch the cockroaches to pass the time.”

  That seemed to knock some sense into him as he had the decency to look regretful. “Sorry, I’m not used to you being friendly. I didn’t recognize it as a genuine attempt at small talk.”

  “See? That’s what I’m talking about. I try to be nice and then you go and say something mean and then it starts all over again. Can’t we get along for ten minutes?”

  “Yeah, sure. Sorry. Let me switch gears for a minute.” He wiped his mouth and acted as if he was indeed switching a gear in his head. “All right, what do you want to know? How did I get into this business? My brother, Kane, and I started it up when we realized there were plenty of people out there who would pay through the nose for a little protection. We figured we had the skills—former military, special skills training—and we decided to make it work for us. It was either that or spend the rest of our lives in therapy for PTSD issues. This seemed like the better option.”
r />   “You’ve been in open combat?” she asked, surprised and a little impressed. “Do you have any scars?”

  “Mental or physical?”

  She shrugged. “Either.”

  “Both. But like I said, therapy just didn’t seem like it was gonna work out. I like to shoot things. And in our line of work we get the opportunity to do that. And get paid well for it, so it’s a win-win.”

  “So, you and your brother do this together? Is your brother like you?”

  “No.” He paused to grin. “He’s not as nice.”

  At that she laughed. “Wow. Thanksgiving dinner around your table must be pretty fun.”

  “Yeah, well, we’re not big on the holiday scene. Neither of us make a big deal out of that stuff because we never really had it growing up.” A moment passed between them before he pulled himself out of his own thoughts to switch his attention back to her. “What do you do for fun when you’re not out there playing into the stereotype?”

  “And what stereotype would that be?” she asked drily. “And here I thought we were off to a good start. You just don’t know how to be nice, do you?”

  “Sorry, sorry. You’re right. I can’t seem to watch my mouth around you. Tell me what you do for fun.”

  “I do whatever I want to do.” Damn it, now she was the one being defensive. But what could she say? She did love her life. Might as well own it. “I shop. I party.” That’s what he expected her to say, anyway. As if he would believe her if she told him that she actually wanted to design shoes like her father. Besides, that was private. She wasn’t going to share that with Rian and run the risk of being mocked. “This was a stupid idea, to chitchat. We obviously have nothing in common.”

  “Don’t get your panties twisted. We just seem to set each other off for some reason. I’m interested in knowing more about you—the real you. I’m listening if you want to try again.”

  She eyed him with suspicion. “Seriously? You’re not just saying that?”