Keep Me Wanting

by Angela Addams

  “You sending someone up to keep an eye on them, right?” Shawn narrows his eyes as he takes a slow drag, sucking in heat so his cheeks puff out slightly.

  “Yeah, I was thinking of sending Michael.”

  Shawn’s eyes go wide, and he blows out the smoke directly into my face. “Cousin Michael? Good choice. He’s ruthless. Won’t let Chandler step foot off the property.”

  I wave the fog of smoke away, my gut clenching at the idea of Michael figuring out Chandler has another daughter. Sweet, irresistible Maggie. “No. Michael’s a complete fuck up. Chandler will suss him out in thirty seconds,” I say as I push myself up from the wall. “I’m going to take the coffee shop girl away for the weekend. You know, to get back into the game.” I cringe at what an asshole I sound like, but this is the only way Shawn’s going to buy into my plan. “It’d be easy enough to take her to that resort the Chandlers are staying at. I’ll keep an eye on the family.”

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” Shawn’s eyes nearly bug right out of his head, and he stabs the air between us with his cigar. “Absolutely fucking not! You’re not going anywhere near that family, bro. You hear me?”

  “I’m going.” I shift toward him, my fists clenched. “You don’t call the shots for me, bro. Never did.”

  Shawn likes to think that he’s fully responsible for me taking the fall for him, but it was a choice I made to spare anyone else in the family from doing time. Implicating Shawn would have led to Ronan in a heartbeat. And I’m not the kind of guy that turns on family.

  “Are you out of your fucking mind?” Shawn is huffing so hard now that it looks like his lungs are going to burst. His face is red, and his cigar is burning almost down to his fingers with ash flying everywhere each time he stabs it toward me. “Detective Chandler wants our balls on a platter and you’re gonna walk right in there and serve them up. You’re worried about Michael blowing cover? Chandler will take one look at you and beeline right back to the city.”

  “Shawn, you’re being overdramatic,” I say, easing back once again to lean casually on the wall. “Think about it. I go to the resort, keep tabs on the detective and his family, make sure he stays out of the city so you can do whatever it is you’re doing.” I raise a hand. “I’ll be taking one for the team. Again.” I sneer. “His family doesn’t even know who I am.”

  “He’ll know,” Shawn grumbles.

  “Yeah, I figure, but I’m guessing this family reunion is a big deal since they’re doing it at such a swanky place, so I don’t think he’ll make a scene. Besides, I did my time. There’s nothing for him to nail on me now. He may not like it, but it’s a free country. And if he sees me there, he’s going to think nothing big is going down in the city, right? He’ll be too busy watching me to focus on whatever you’re doing.”

  There’s no way my brother is dumb enough to fall for shit I’m spewing, but I’m doing it anyway. Maggie’s dad is totally not going to be cool with seeing his daughter on my arm, and he might actually make a scene. He might actually try to knock me on my ass. Not that Shawn knows the connection between the two. But there’s no way I’m going to get all caught up in my brother’s shit this weekend, and color me overprotective, but there’s no way anyone else is watching over that family but me.

  Shawn is nodding like I’m fucking brilliant, his expression flipping from simmering rage to thoughtful consideration. I’m not sure if I should be relieved that he fell for it or disappointed that he’s this big of a tool. He’s going to get everyone killed.

  “Since you’re going to be a pussy about things anyway”—he slides a look at Ronan, who shrugs at me in response—“I guess it’s better for you to be wherever the detective is.” He drops his cigar into Ronan’s water glass, pulls out another from his pocket, and lights it. “Good thinking, bro. I knew I kept you around for something. It sure as shit isn’t for your loyalty.”

  I clench my jaw so tight that my teeth grind, and my fists dent my thighs as I dig them in so I don’t punch the motherfucker in the back of the head. He wants to talk about loyalty? I did time for the bastard. Not once did Shawn come to see me at Ol’ Col. He didn’t acknowledge my existence for four years. The only hint that he even remembered came in the form of a car and driver waiting to pick me up the day I was released.

  “Loyalty has nothing to do with it, bro,” I say. “I think this deal is a fucking stupid idea. You don’t have a clue what you’re doing or who you’re messing with.”

  Shawn’s smirk falls from his face, and he gives me a cold once over. “Is that so? Maybe I shouldn’t trust you with the Chandlers. Maybe you’ll turn snitch while you’re up there.”

  I narrow my eyes. “If I was going to snitch, I would have done it four fucking years ago. I don’t want any part of your plan, Shawn, but I’m not the kind of bastard that sells a brother out.”

  Shawn nods once, a sneer still firmly in place. “We’ll see about that.”

  “Dick,” Ronan mumbles as soon as Shawn clears the room. He picks up his water glass and walks to the bathroom to dump it.

  “Hey, man.” I follow him there. “You know this deal of his is gonna go sideways. I don’t even have to know all the details to feel the holes in his plan.”

  Ronan is busy rinsing his glass out and merely shrugs, looking up at me briefly in the mirror. “I’ve got things covered.”

  “I made some calls, talked to some of my contacts. Shawn’s forged connections with people I would never do business with. There’s no trusting these guys. Ro,” I sigh. “You don’t want to do time, man. Trust me.”

  Ronan shrugs again. “Nothing I can do about it. I’m locked in. Got no choice but see it through.”

  “Something I know for sure, you’ve always got a choice.”

  Chapter Three

  Maggie

  My interview was one of those nightmare marathon group sessions where we’re all split into panels of fifty and then wheedled down to the remaining ten, who would then come back for second interviews at some point in the next week or so. I’ve been in this position twice already, even got to the final two, only to be set aside for the candidate with the graduate degree. How anyone can afford more education, I will never understand.

  I’m stripping out of my interview clothes the second I walk through my front door. All I want to do now is have a shower and then pull on my most comfortable jammies and veg on the couch. It’s been a long day, and everything aches.

  As tired as I am, I’m still feeling the buzz of excitement just at the prospect of making it to this point. Top ten isn’t bad, especially considering all the other candidates who have degrees like mine. Top ten means I can come back with more samples of my work so I can really wow them. Maybe I’ll have time at the reunion to work on my portfolio in between all the family shit I’ll be dragged into this weekend. I mean, it’s not like I’ll be super busy with my boyfriend, right?

  I laugh. The Liam situation still needs to be dealt with. When my sister comes to pick me up bright and early tomorrow morning, I’ll have to break it to her and then later to Mom why my super successful, super hot boyfriend isn’t going to make it. I’m trying to keep my mood light where that’s concerned, but the reality is that I’m feeling the beginning of that tight knot of anxiety that’s always firmly in place when dealing with my mother and sisters.

  I pause. Actually, working on my portfolio might be a perfect excuse. Liam couldn’t make it, but this is a good thing because my interview went really well, and I need to put together something that’ll really impress the company. I pull off my tights. Sounds believable, right? My family might go for that.

  Maybe.

  I could always remind them of my massive school debt rather than making them understand how important finding a job in my field is, but no. They’d just take that as a sign to pester me about changing career paths.

  Sigh.

  Yet another twist in t
he knot that’s sitting in my gut. I unbutton my blouse.

  I could just be honest with them, I guess.

  Ha!

  My sisters and my mom are perfect. Everything they do is perfect. Every challenge they take on goes their way. Doors open. Miracles happen. And here I am, Maggie the failure, making one wrong decision after another and being reminded about it all the time by my mother and my sisters. That’s why I lied about Liam: to spare them the constant disappointment and to uphold this perfect family image that they all so passionately want the world to see.

  The truth is I know their nagging and pestering is how they show their love, and they really do want the best for me. I will always and forever be the baby that they need to look out for even though I’ve managed just fine on my own so far. Well, mostly fine, anyway.

  With my hands on my hips, I survey my small loft. Rent is a steal, mainly because the place leaks in various spots at the slightest threat of rain and doesn’t stay very warm in the winter. It’s got a fireplace, and Dad brings me wood when I need it. I don’t have cable or internet, can’t afford it. My life is lean, which is why I’m not even bothering to hunt through my fridge for something delicious. The menu selection tonight is pasta or grilled cheese.

  I sigh again. At least there will be great food at the reunion. The resort we’re going to is five star, and I got a peek at some of the meal menus. I’m pretty sure I’ve not eaten that well since I moved out of my parents’ house.

  But food’s not what I’m hungry for right now. Liam’s been on my mind all day. How could he not be? That kiss, oh man, that kiss left my lips burning for hours afterward. I’ve never had a kiss like that before. Tender but passionate, firm and soft at the same time. It was a kiss that made me want to believe that Liam really was my boyfriend. It certainly convinced my mom.

  Even thinking about it makes my body zing in all the right ways.

  I’m just hopping out of the shower when there’s a heavy knock on my door. I’ve got my hair wrapped in one towel and another around my body and I’m still dripping wet, but I peek through the peephole on the door anyway.

  And nearly die of shock.

  Liam is standing there, smiling. Kind of.

  Without thinking too much about it, I slide the huge metal pocket door open with one hand on the door handle and one hand on my towel knot. “You’re here!”

  He gives me a slow, lingering once over. “You’re wet.”

  Oh geez! His voice is so gruff that it slides roughly down my body along with his gaze. I squeeze my thighs together because I swear I’m already dripping with lust. He smirks, like he knows exactly what’s going on under my towel.

  “How did you find out where I live?” I should maybe be worried, right? Like some guy I asked to be a pretend boyfriend is standing here, unexpectedly, with bags of… The smell hits me, and my stomach yowls. Mmmm, Indian food.

  “Margaret Chandler, not so common of a name that I couldn’t find you.” He lifts up the bags of food. “I thought you might want to share a meal with me.” He lowers them again and gives me a sheepish look. “I mean, after that kiss…I didn’t want to leave things hanging between us.”

  My cheeks heat up.

  “I’d like to get to know you a bit better.”

  A door opens down the hall. There are three other tenants living on this floor, and I don’t really want them hearing the rest of this conversation.

  “You should come in,” I say.

  He gives me one of those dangerous chuckles of his as he moves into my loft. He pushes past me so that his bicep brushes against my hand. I clutch the towel as if it’s somehow in danger of stripping itself from my body just at his proximity.

  I smell him first, a hit of spicy man that I want to inhale deeply but instead turn my back on so I can slide the door closed and get my shit under control. The food he’s brought is a distraction I desperately need, and my stomach rumbles loudly again.

  “Give me a sec. I’m going to throw on some clothes.”

  I slip into my room to quickly find something to put on, which actually turns out to be harder than it would seem. Liam, fantasy man extraordinaire, is in my actual apartment, moving his gorgeous body all over my place, looking at my stuff, filling the air with his pheromone-laced manliness. Not that a guy in my place has never happened before—I mean, hookups are not foreign to me—but Liam, he’s special. I’ve been lusting over him for months, fueling quite a few dildo marathon sessions.

  Well, now’s your chance. You’ve got him allllll alone!

  A buzz of excitement whips from my toes right to the tips of my hair, and I shiver even though my skin feels hot.

  I toss around my clothes, trying to find the right thing to wear. I did my laundry a few days ago, so everything I own is clean, but I haven’t exactly been planning for a hot man to show up, and my underwear is sorely in need of a sexy overhaul.

  “You got a few leaks going on in here?” I can hear Liam moving around, his voice coming closer to the bedroom as he says that.

  I quickly pluck my sexiest panties—boy shorts that have a smiling cat head strategically placed right on the crotch—from my underwear drawer. “Uh, yeah. It’s cozy, not exactly waterproof.”

  I laugh awkwardly, realizing for the first time how he would likely view a shithole like my place. While I always thought of it as quaint and rustic, someone like Liam with his tailored suits and air of wealth probably won’t see it that way. Suddenly feeling super awkward, I slip my underwear on. “The rent is cheap, and I like the area.”

  “I know the owner. I’ll get him to fix this place up for you. No way you should be dealing with leaks like this, even if the rent is cheap.”

  “Oh really? That would be great, thanks.” My landlord is the kind of guy who says he’ll do things but somehow never gets around to it. My rent directly deposits into his account, so the only time I actually see him is, well, never. He’s a nice man, just maybe a bit too lazy when it comes to the actual maintenance part of his job as a landlord.

  I slip on my only lace bra and then pull on some yoga pants and one of my tunic sweaters that is kinda see through and always makes me feel super sexy. My hands are shaking a bit now because I have to go out there and face him, and the reality of the situation is totally setting in. I may have been watching Liam for months, ogling him when he wasn’t aware, dreaming of him all those lonely nights, but I know nothing about the man.

  “I guess I’m about to find out,” I mumble.

  “I brought wine.” His words are punctuated by the rattling of things in the drawers. “But I can’t find a corkscrew.”

  I cringe. Wine, fuck, didn’t think of that. “Uh…” I poke my head out from the bedroom. “I don’t have one. I mean, it broke, and I haven’t replaced it yet.”

  He’s rolling his sleeves up to his elbows as he comes around the side of the small metal island that’s in my skeletal kitchen. “You got a toolbox?”

  I gulp, nod, and point to the utility closet in the corner then slip back to the mirror so I can do something with my hair. It’s already a damn mess because I left it for too long in the towel and it has decided to do the wild curl look with clumps zigzagging this way and that. I have never quite figured out how to manage it. Straightening never works as well as I hope and is way too much maintenance for my hectic life. Any kind of product I try to use usually makes it go flat and hard. It’s already tangled, so I skip the hairbrush, which will only turn it into complete fuzz ball anyway, and use a bit of conditioner and my fingers to tame the mess. I gather what I can up into a ponytail and leave the rest of the curls that won’t obey to spring out. It’s not a terrible look, I guess.

  When I come out again, he’s positioned himself with the bottle on my wooden table, his forearms flexing in a delicious way as he angles the backend of the hammer over a screw he’s wedged into the cork.

  “That
’s neat!”

  As he leverages it out, I can’t keep my eyes off of his arms flexing so I can see all that definition. It makes me think about his arms wrapping around me, lifting me up, holding me there while he’s pumping me…

  Whoa, girl, slow it down! Who knew forearms could be that sexy?

  “Yeah,” he says on an explosion of breath. “Just takes a bit of muscle but it works in a pinch.”

  The cork pops out

  “You’re a man of many talents.”

  He winks, his lips quirking. “That I am.”

  My body melts under his gaze, and my legs turn all noodley. I stifle a giggle as I move to grab some glasses. “This looks delicious! Thank you for bringing food.”

  He’s laid everything out, and there’s a lot of it, more than I could eat in three days. It smells wonderful, filling my loft with the spicy heat of tandoori chicken, curried rice, roti, and so much more. My mouth is watering.

  “I didn’t know what you liked, so I got a bit of everything.” He pours the wine and hands me a glass. “To first dates.”

  Butterflies go wild in my stomach, doing wonders to erase the knot that was there. I laugh. “To first dates.” And I smile into my glass as I take a big gulp because, as bizarre as this whole situation is, I couldn’t be happier. Liam, in my loft, sharing a meal with me, and calling it a first date. How did this happen?

  “You hungry?” He starts moving around the island, loading a plate up with a little bit of this and a little bit of that.

  I watch him over the lip of my glass. He scoops up some rice and glances at me.

  “You must think this whole situation is really weird.” I put my glass down. “I mean the whole thing with me using your name with my mom and making her think you’re my boyfriend.” I wave my hand around. “I don’t usually do this.” I wince. “I mean, I don’t usually ask random men to pretend to be my boyfriend. Ever, actually.”

  “You don’t?” He cocks an eyebrow, and I can’t tell if he’s joking or not.

  Heat rises to my cheeks. “I didn’t know what to do. My mom—”