by Jo Leigh
Liam put his beer down. Rogers was just full of illuminating information tonight. Stick up his ass? For trying to get a modicum of respect from his coworkers? As if he was the one at fault for their juvenile bullying—he stopped that thought right there. “No,” he said as casually as he could. “I just finally realized I had to accept the fact that I work with a bunch of immature pricks.”
The group around him laughed. He relaxed again and picked up his drink, feeling as if he’d made some headway. He wondered if it would make any difference back on the job. Whatever. He wasn’t about to lose sleep over it.
Thankfully, Bigalow sat down, and all the attention went to him. Fifteen minutes later, Liam almost wished he didn’t have to leave. He liked hearing the old man’s stories. He’d been a detective long before the internet or cell phones, and it was a different job back then.
But nothing outside of a case would keep Liam from spending time with Aubrey. He made a quiet exit. The minute he was settled in the taxi he couldn’t help thinking about what Rogers had said, and how easily Liam had taken it in stride. Aubrey just kept on surprising him, but tonight, he’d also surprised himself.
“This is Sanjula,” Aubrey said, shocked she could breathe, let along speak. It was probably too late to turn him around and just leave. She’d had the whole evening planned out. A quick pizza with her friends, which would end with the girls tactfully leaving for an hour and a half. By the time they returned, she and Liam would both be dressed. She’d go to the shop and work, he’d go home. No messy feelings or thinking.
Instead, she was more nervous than Sheldon Cooper giving a speech.
“Nice to meet you,” Liam said as he held out a cake box like he was offering a handshake. “I brought this.”
His awkwardness made Aubrey’s chest ease a little. God, he was so adorable when he had no clue what to do.
“Thank you,” Sanjula said, taking the cake from him. “Caro’s gonna be here any minute. She had to work late. But since the pizza isn’t here yet, that’s not a problem. Can I get you a drink?”
Aubrey made him jump when she went to take off his coat. When he looked at her, though, he smiled and let go of a big breath. “Thanks.” Before she could turn to the coatrack, he leaned in and kissed her. It was a lip-kiss. Not even a hint of tongue.
Behind them, the door swung open so hard it knocked against the wall. Caro grinned at Liam, then Aubrey. “What did I miss?”
Aubrey laughed. “Well, you’re in time for the ritual Hanging of the Coat, but alas, you’re too late for the traditional Giving of the Cake.”
“Cake?”
“He gave,” Aubrey said, nodding at Liam. “We received.”
Caro stuck out her hand. “I’m Caro, and my boss is an asshole, but it’s really nice to meet you.”
“Thanks. Aubrey talks about you guys a lot.”
“Yeah, us, too. I mean, she talks about you. To us.”
Even Liam smiled, although it was kind of crooked. “I don’t want to know,” he said. “Do I?”
“Probably not.” Sanjula joined the threesome. “It’s all been good, though.”
“Glad to hear it.” Liam looked at where Caro was still holding on to his hand.
She let him go with a big wince and a small blush. “Sorry. I’ve had a lot of coffee today.”
Aubrey was vaguely aware of the small talk. Liam seemed pretty comfortable, but if she’d thought she was nervous before, she’d been mistaken. This whole dinner had been mistake. It was as if he were meeting her parents. Shit. Shit. Shit. How had she not seen this? How had Sanjula and Caro not seen this? She’d brought him home to meet the folks! Clearly she’d been too focused on controlling the sex. Because whatever this was, it wasn’t stepping back.
To make things worse, which seemed impossible, she was suddenly desperate for Caro and Sanjula to like him. Des-per-ate. If they didn’t it would hurt her. Deeply.
“Aubrey?”
His hand was on her elbow, his head tilted slightly to the right. “You okay?”
“I’m fine. Great. Fine. I was just thinking about work.”
“Anything I can help with?”
The “don’t freak out” ship had sailed, but she could still pull herself together enough to avoid looking like she was having a nervous breakdown. “You could get me a bottle of wine,” she said, her smile perfectly normal.
“A bottle?” He pressed his lips together for a minute, then nodded. “Just point me to the nearest liquor store, and tell me what to get.”
She blinked as she played back the past few seconds. “Glass,” she said. “I meant glass.” Her laughter sounded mechanical and she felt like she might throw up, but instead she started toward the sink, which was the focal point of the kitchen area. “Just a glass or two of red wine. That’d be great.”
At least Liam was no better at hiding his alarm than she was. That had to count for something.
“Dinner was fun,” Liam said, taking off his shirt. “I like your friends.”
Aubrey laughed. “God, you should have seen your face when they asked you about your intentions.”
“Can you blame me? They were ruthless.”
“They were kidding.”
“Ha, ha.”
“You can put your clothes on the chair. No room for anything fancy in here like a closet or a dresser.”
“Uh-huh,” he said, but she doubted he’d heard her. He was staring at the art she’d put up on the only wall in her room that wasn’t covered with clothes hooks. “These are good.”
“Thank you.” She was undressing, feeling more bashful about his laser-sharp focus on her paintings than her own nudity. There were six pieces altogether—four acrylics, two watercolors and a couple of multimedia experiments. They were different from her window designs, and each one reminded her of a certain time of her life. But they weren’t all that spectacular.
“No, I mean it,” he said, clearly not happy with having to look at the work from such a weird angle. “I knew you were talented, but I didn’t realize—”
“What?’
He turned to her. “You’re gallery good. You should have a showing. I’m just knocked out by your painting. Especially the people.”
He really didn’t sound like he was bullshitting. Her face grew hot. “Okay, Detective Flynn. Thanks and all, but I’m a sure thing.”
The look he gave her flipped her world yet again. He’d meant it. She’d just insulted him. Over paintings she’d done at Pratt. And one from high school. “What’s that about?” he asked. “Did you think I wasn’t being honest?”
Oh, God. This night could not have gone worse. She loved that he thought her stuff was great, but it was strange, too, because no one she’d ever gone out with had said such things. Not without an agenda.
First she brought him here, to her home, to the closest people in her life, and now… She had to do something. Take some kind of action to avoid digging herself into an even deeper hole.
“I was teasing,” she said, hoping her acting was as good as her art. “I want you looking at me. Not at the wall.” She approached him slowly until she was close enough to nip his lower lip. Her hand on his fly, she prevented further discussion with her tongue. His hardening cock told her she had his full attention. Thank God. Sex was her only hope of getting out of this without falling completely in love with him.
Liam dropped his pants and kicked them away, grateful he’d left his shoes in the living room. Now he needed to remove his socks before she got his underwear off.
When she pulled back after his boxers had hit the floor, he noticed she was still wearing her red dress. It was short and cute, but it covered most of his favorite parts. He pulled her into his arms to search for a zipper.
She leaned her head against the bare curve of his neck. “It goes over my head. No zipper, no buttons.”
“Now that’s form and function.” He started lifting the dress and found he wasn’t capable of removing his socks while doing anything else.
Not even kissing her. When he finally had the dress off, she looked up with a curl to her lips and eyes full of trouble. All thoughts of socks flew out the window.
“You are gorgeous,” he said, and started walking her toward the bed. It wasn’t a long journey. But before he let her fall, he had to check out tonight’s lingerie selection.
She wore a white bra, not lacy or anything, and white underwear. Not a thong, just a regular pair of bikini panties. His mouth opened and his cock jerked, leaving a dab of pre-cum on her hip.
“Really?” she asked, looking into his eyes with disbelief.
He swallowed, then shrugged. “You’re sexy. So sue me.”
Aubrey blushed, and took a step back. And then, weirdly, her body stiffened and she looked at the door as if she wanted to make a break for it. When she turned back to him seconds later, she was smiling as she reached back to unhook her bra.
“Did I say something wrong? With your friends?”
“No,” she said. “No. You were great.”
He wanted to believe her, but something was off, and he wasn’t sure this was the best time for him to have a raging hard-on. Aside from the fact that it made it difficult to think, she probably wouldn’t believe him if he said he just wanted to talk.
She hadn’t even dropped her bra. She held it, demurely, against her breasts. “I forgot to bring the condoms from the bathroom,” she said, which would have explained her glance at the door except that she said it in her normal voice instead of the breathy, sexy way she spoke when she was eager and aching.
Confused as hell, he said, “I’ve got three in my wallet.”
“Well, go on,” she said, waving him away with her free hand. “Sanjula said they’d be back in an hour and a half, so if we’re going to make any noise at all, we’d better do it fast.”
“Fast,” he repeated, walking across the room wearing nothing but his black socks, his erection flagging with each step. What the hell had happened? She’d been jumpy all evening. But if anyone had a right to be jumpy, it was Aubrey. Hell, the showdown with her boss was coming up and tonight she’d introduced him to her friends, which had to have been as nerve-racking for her as it was for him.
Although she’d told him more than once that sex relaxed her. Made her subconscious feel free.
Behind him, he heard her moving the covers, the squeak of the bed. So he got the condoms, draped his stuff and her red dress over the chair, then turned off the overhead light.
It didn’t take long for her to flip on the little lamp that sat on a makeshift nightstand by the head of the bed. On her side, naked, head propped up on one hand, she patted the bed next to her. Her smile was all Aubrey. Inviting, sweet and wicked.
When he joined her, she pulled him into a kiss. Thankfully, it was a slow-builder. He needed a little time to get back into the swing of things. To stop thinking so much, and give the lady what she needed.
She ran her hands down his back until he relaxed a bit, and then she moved her leg over his thighs and pushed him down, his head landing on her pillow.
He got hard again quickly; how could he not with that body rubbing against him? She nipped the end of his jaw, licked the hollow between his collarbones, then moved on top of him, straddling his thighs. A moment later, he was sheathed and she was sliding down onto his cock, clenching him so tightly he couldn’t control the bucking of his hips.
Too soon, the heat coiled in his groin, the beginning of the end. “Aubrey,” he whispered, urgently tugging at her shoulders, not wanting to come, not yet.
But she didn’t relent. When he realized her fingers were rubbing her own clit as she rode him, he shot off like a bottle rocket.
When he could see again, and breathe, she was lying next to him, her head on his chest, her leg over his. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice wrecked.
“For what?”
“I don’t even know if you came.”
She squeezed his side, kissed him right where she lay. “I’m fine. I’m great. Just sad that I have to go back to work.”
“Seriously? Wait. What am I saying? Of course you do.” Nothing to argue with there, even though it felt all wrong. “Have time for a quick backrub?” he offered. “Scalp massage?”
Her smile warmed him. “You sure?”
“I’ve been told I’m pretty good. So what’s it going to be?”
She pulled the comforter over both of them, and stretched out on her stomach, facing away from him. “Both?” she asked, her voice muffled.
“For as long as you like.”
They only exchanged a few words as he worked on her. Unfortunately, the quiet was too tempting and he started thinking again. Questioning. What she was hoping for after the window business was finished? What were tonight’s nerves about? Was it all because of her deadline?
He was glad his tenure as Aubrey’s muse would end soon, but then what? It was too soon to think about forever. They’d been on a roller coaster since the night they’d met. What would it be like when the ride ended?
All he knew for certain was that he wanted to find out.
Chapter Ten
Aubrey was at Le Muse by seven the next morning, panicked beyond belief. More sure than ever that her life was completely out of control. Every time she thought about tonight’s meeting with Yvonne, she went into a manic flurry of new ideas, all of which were horrible. To escape the maelstrom she’d think about Liam, and that would send her into a tailspin of sadness.
She wanted so much more from him than she could have. It was all her own doing. She understood now that she’d subconsciously set herself up to fail. The whole night at her apartment had been a farce, and she’d been the central boob in charge. As for her so-called friends, they hadn’t said a word. But then they didn’t get it, not really. They hadn’t seen him talk about his future. His plans. They didn’t know she was only a scenic byway on the road to his lifelong dreams.
That he happened to be an amazing man was some kind of perverse luck. He should have been a total prick. Gorgeous, only just bearable and great in bed. But no. Liam had to be ridiculously close to perfect.
And now it officially, unequivocally was more than just sex. She wanted him. All of him. More than any other man she’d ever been with. She knew without a doubt that as a couple they would be doomed. And yet when she saw him, when she thought of him, she couldn’t help dreaming of an impossible future. It was nothing short of torture.
Nothing would make the breakup easier. But there was a chance that breaking up now would help her focus on the window.
Although she hardly ever cried, she’d been weeping on and off since the moment Liam left her last night. She hadn’t gone to work. She’d barely slept, either. This morning had been spent chugging down her weight in espressos and staring at a blank page in her sketchbook.
With shaking fingers, she pulled out her cell phone. She thought of sending Liam a text, but that would make her the worst person in the history of the world.
She hit speed dial four, holding her breath as tears streaked down her cheeks. She had no idea what to say to him. What if he was in the middle of a case or—It went to voice mail. Just listening to his message made her want to sob. After the beep, she sniffed a couple of times before she could say anything. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. You’ve been the best. Best muse, best friend, best lover, best…everything, but I can’t do you and the window at the same time. I’m sorry.” She sniffed again, balling up a wad of tissues to wipe at her nose.
“It’s sooner than we planned, and I’m sorry for that, but I can’t. There’s no time, and I’m probably going to be fired, anyway, because I can’t do this. I can’t. I thought that maybe, at the last minute, when I still had time, I would be hit by a brilliant idea, but I haven’t. I keep thinking about you. About us. And that’s just ridiculous. I hope you don’t hate me forever. Because I’ll never forget you. Never. I hope all your dreams come true and you find someone perfect. I’m sorry.”
She disconnected and lowered
the cell to her desk. The sketch pad was ruined, just like her career. Which didn’t bother her half as much as the fact that she wouldn’t get to see Liam tonight. Or any night.
Her whole body twisted in a spasm of pain and she sobbed from so deep inside it felt as if her soul had shattered.
By the time her tears had dried up, she could barely see past her swollen eyelids. She’d gone through an entire box of tissues. She could forget about breathing through her nose. She could barely breathe at all.
But the clock kept on ticking, and she had one last chance to turn this nightmare into something that wouldn’t humiliate Yvonne. She forced herself to throw all the garbage away, including her self-pity. She’d wept her last tear over the end of the muse experiment and now it was time to focus. To clear her mind and her heart and leave room for the magic to happen. She’d done it before. Come up with something fabulous at the last minute. She could do it again.
The desk and drawing purge turned out to be useful. She couldn’t pretend she didn’t ache, but putting things in order helped her calm down. The most important things now were her master lists. The first was an inventory of all the supplies she had. Both in the store and in storage.
Over the weeks of sketching she’d figured out the basics of what she’d need, no matter which idea she settled on. Artificial snow was number one, and she’d ordered plenty. The snow machine was also in storage, at the ready. Also, a sheet of Plexiglass large enough to contain the snow, but not have the flakes all over the set pieces and mannequins. Speaking of which, she had mannequins up the wazoo—males, females, two Santas and a couple of fake pets. Before the store had even opened Yvonne had stocked enough wigs to cover the heads of everyone in Manhattan.
The list of props was pretty decent, too, as long as she wanted the most boring Christmas tableau ever. Comfy chairs, a fake fireplace, a naked Christmas tree, two decorated trees, several tiny trees and a metric ton of wrapped empty boxes.
The second set of lists itemized all wardrobe selections. Naughty or nice, she had a large assortment of fantastic new items straight off the runways that she could play with through New Year’s Eve.
