Temporary to Tempted

by Jessica Lemmon

  * * *

  Gage stuffed his soiled shirt into the trash can hidden beneath the sink and washed Andy’s wineglass, standing it on end in the dish drainer.

  Then he moved to the kitchen counter, palmed the back of his neck and eyed the untouched bag of food with the receipt stapled to the paper bag.

  He’d done the right thing.

  But he still felt awful about it.

  He finished his wine, surmising that Andy might never forgive him, but she could be free now. That he could continue working and upholding the pact because he believed wholeheartedly that engagement and marriage weren’t for him. That his “feelings” couldn’t be trusted because everyone in his vicinity was drunk on love.

  It sounded like bullshit, even to him, so he couldn’t imagine how badly it’d sounded when Andy was standing in his kitchen dumping her heart out.

  What he’d done was the equivalent of stabbing her in the center of that heart with a dull knife.

  “She’ll get over it.”

  She’d have to. He’d have to. Viruses had to run their course, and the one he’d caught from her was a doozy. The “L” virus. He couldn’t so much as think the four-letter word that hovered in the room like the scent of Thai food. His stomach gave an insistent rumble.

  “Screw it.” He tore open the bag, pulled out his shrimp pad thai and stowed the other container in the fridge for later.

  Things didn’t work out, that’s all. And if the only carnage left behind from their breakup was a bag of Thai food, well, then they’d escaped relatively unscathed.

  But as he dug his fork into his dinner and chewed forlornly, he questioned if he’d escaped unscathed after all.

  The flavor should’ve burst—the shrimp was utter perfection, and the seasoning on point. Instead it was as if he was navigating a mouthful of foam packing peanuts.

  “Virus,” he said around another big bite. Viruses changed the flavor of food and altered a person’s physical being. Which also explained that ache in the center of his shirtless chest.

  He didn’t hear any loud, blaring alarms like he had early on with Andy. There was only a low hum after the fallout. The sense that the worst wasn’t coming, but had already come and gone. The sense that he’d made a giant mistake—one he could never take back.

  He carried his dinner and wine to the couch where his heavy limbs dragged him down. Then he turned on the television and zoned out.

  This, too, would pass.

  Twenty-One

  Gage looked up from his keyboard. Yasmine was typing away on her own laptop, and behind her Flynn’s office was dark. Sabrina’s, too. Flynn and Sabrina had left earlier. Something about meeting with a wedding planner and the only time the woman had available was three o’clock today.

  When Gage glanced in the direction of Reid’s office, he found his British friend wasn’t in his chair, but heading Gage’s way, whistling.

  What the hell is he so happy about?

  “Gagey, Gagey, Gagey.” Reid said as he entered Gage’s office.

  “What?”

  “Let’s bugger off and grab drinks at Afar. It’s dead in here. Everyone else has gone.” He gestured to the empty-save-for-Yasmine floor.

  “Pass.” Gage returned his attention to the computer screen, where literally nothing was happening. He’d opened a blank document to type up a progress report for Flynn...that wasn’t due for another month. He’d been spending a lot of hours in the office since he had nothing better to do than pass the time alone in his apartment.

  The past nine and a half days had been absolute torture.

  The feelings he’d convinced himself were fleeting and temporary hadn’t gone anywhere. He’d given himself a week to recover from breaking things off with Andy, even though his instincts were bucking like a wild bronco. Everything about her leaving his apartment had felt wrong. Three days, five days—hell, nine and a half days later, it still felt wrong.

  “You need to talk to someone and I’m offering my ear. But I’d rather do it over a beer.” Reid unbuttoned his suit jacket and sat in the stuffed chair next to a plant.

  “You and I talked already.”

  “I’m your best friend.”

  “You were.”

  Reid ignored the jab, pulling a hand over his face and muttering a swear word into his palm. “I tried to tell you.”

  Since Gage held Reid mostly responsible for leading him to think he needed to end things with Andy, that arrogant “I tried to tell you” comment sent his anger through the roof. He spun the chair to face his “friend.”

  “What, exactly, did you try to tell me, Reid?”

  “That you had a girlfriend. That you liked being part of a couple. That I, alone, would hold true to the pact.” He put a fist to his heart like a knight taking an oath.

  “I seem to remember you telling me that it was past time to let her down gently.”

  “I never said that. I said I expected you to have let her down gently by then.”

  Gage’s frown intensified; he could literally feel an ache forming between his eyebrows. “You planted a seed of doubt.”

  “You’ve got a whole garden of doubt in there on your own. Don’t pin this on me. I don’t want to see you hurt any more than you do, but I’m under no delusions when it comes to who I am and what I want. You, on the other hand...”

  Reid shrugged and Gage wanted to hit his friend’s perfectly square jaw. Or hit someone. At the moment hitting himself was justified.

  “That night we went to From Afar,” Gage started. “I broke up with Andy under your advice.” When Reid opened his mouth to argue, Gage added, “Encouragement. Whatever. You weren’t rooting for us, so don’t pretend you were.”

  Reid’s turn to frown. Good. Gage liked watching his friend’s smug face slip into an expression that was borderline apologetic.

  “I love her, Reid.” Gage said it like he was announcing that he had only days to live. That was what that epiphany felt like.

  He loved Andrea Payne and she hated him.

  “Does she love you?”

  Gage’s heart suffered another fissure, but he barely felt it. He’d been in so much pain over the last week-plus he’d gotten used to it. “She loved me nine and a half days ago.”

  “Love.” Reid’s tone was as grave as Gage’s. “It is soon.”

  “I don’t need your commentary. You’ve helped enough already.”

  He stood and Reid did, too, stepping in front of Gage to block the path to the door.

  Reid put his hand on Gage’s chest to keep him from walking out. “You can’t blame me for this. I was being myself. Doing what I’ve always done. Which is bust your bollocks. It was your job to tell me to shove it. To stand up for what you and Andy had if it was so bloody important.”

  Gage’s shoulders sagged. “You’re right.”

  His buddy was right.

  Andy had been right.

  “Andy mentioned that Flynn had thrown aside the pact because Sabrina was worth it. He was able to see it. We all were. But that was Sab.” Someone who’d been in Flynn’s life for a long time, not a brand-new relationship with a vulnerable, gorgeous, cautious redhead.

  “First,” Reid started. “Sab is a unicorn. When it came to him tossing aside the pact, we never would’ve stood for it had it been the wrong woman. Second, you’re wrong about Flynn being the white knight. He had his head up his arse until you and I dragged him to the conclusion that he’d always belonged to Sabrina.”

  Gage blinked. Damn. He’d forgotten that day in Flynn’s office, where Reid and Gage had to have a “come to Jesus” talk with their third musketeer.

  “Points to you for realizing you’re in love with Andy before Flynn and I had to come in here and pull it out of you as well.” Reid patted Gage’s chest and dropped his arm to his side.

  “Doesn’
t matter. I’m too late.”

  Reid’s mouth pressed into a line.

  “Andy vanished. She’s back to being the unreachable Andy Payne. She’s a puff of smoke. I tried her assistant after Andy ignored a few of my calls.” Gage shook his head. “Nothing.”

  “Did you text her?”

  Gage nodded. He couldn’t lay his love for her out in writing and watch it be ignored, so he’d settled for one We need to talk and a follow-up At least let me apologize.

  Unsurprisingly, she hadn’t responded.

  He understood her caution. She’d come to him, her bright blue eyes shining with happiness, and told him to his face that she was in love with him. She deserved the same from him and he’d been too chickenshit to admit as much. Then he’d broken up with her, telling her he was sorry. Sorry. Like an apology would undo the hurt.

  He’d never regret anything like he regretted letting her walk out of his apartment that night.

  “Not like you don’t know where she lives,” Reid offered.

  “I don’t, actually. We always met at restaurants, or the airport, or she’d come to my place after she was done with work. She’s impossible to track down.”

  “Nothing’s impossible.” Reid’s eyes twinkled knowingly.

  But it was too late. Andy had moved on. And really, wasn’t it fair to let her move on? To let her go and heal when he’d wadded up her love for him and thrown it in her face?

  “This came for you.” Yasmine interrupted them before Gage could share his thoughts. She handed him an envelope and he blinked at it stupidly. “I’m done for the day, unless either of you need me?”

  “Take care, Yasmine. We’re heading out soon ourselves,” Reid told her.

  She grabbed her purse and left while Gage stood frozen in the doorway of his own office.

  “What is it, then?” Reid asked.

  Gage showed Reid the envelope. The printed return address in professional block lettering read Andy Payne, LLC followed by a PO Box number.

  Monarch had paid the invoice for her services upon her arrival, so what was it? Gage half expected it to be a letter saying, “You’re a dick,” or maybe another invoice with a line item for “breaking my heart” with a dollar amount next to it. Two thousand dollars, maybe.

  He tore open the envelope and pulled out the single item within. A check.

  His guess wasn’t far off. But instead of being billed, he was being paid.

  His eyes locked onto the words Pay to the order of and then snapped to the dollar amount—$2,000.00.

  She’d written him a check for two thousand dollars.

  On the memo line it read Payment in full for business trip.

  There was nothing else in the envelope. No note. No “Fuck you.” It was no less than he deserved—a final middle finger for what had happened in his apartment nearly ten days ago.

  Reid let out a long, low whistle. “Harsh.”

  Then Gage arrived at a conclusion that hit him as hard and fast as a shot. “Except it’s not.”

  “No?”

  “No.” If Andy was mad at him, she never would’ve sent him this check. What better retaliation was there than freezing him out and never speaking to him again? Instead she’d reached out. She might even be as brokenhearted as he was, which could mean she still loved him. Receiving this check meant she cared. About him. About them.

  She wasn’t an Ice Queen.

  They both knew it.

  Gage’s smile found his face without him trying. “She loves me. Still.”

  “You’re insane. That’s a cold move.”

  “I know what it looks like, but trust me when I tell you that this—” he waved the check “—means she’s not over us yet.” He knew it in his heart. A heart that he’d have to serve up on a platter if he had a prayer of earning her back. “I have to tell her that I love her, too. Right now. And in person. Can you find her?”

  Reid’s mouth flinched into a grimace briefly—likely at the prognosis of his friend falling in love. Couldn’t be helped. Gage loved Andy, and distance and time hadn’t done anything to dampen that love. In fact, his feelings for her had only intensified.

  “Please.”

  With a sigh, Reid announced, “I’m a computer-hacker-turned-IT-wizard. Of course I can find her.” He tilted his head toward his office, where no fewer than three large computer screens decorated his desk. “Tell me everything you know about the mysterious Andy Payne.”

  Twenty-Two

  Andy reread the email to her webmaster for the third time, a zing of excitement and nervousness comingling in her belly. It was past time she came out of hiding and let the world, or at least the world wide web, see her for who she truly was.

  Mike, attached you’ll find my headshot. Please update the website to include my photo and an About page. My bio is below. If you have any questions, let me know.

  She’d never had the confidence before to stand on her own merits. She’d made many, many excuses about why she needed to keep her identity a secret from her clients, but since the breakup with Gage she’d taken a long, hard look at her life. She was done hiding. Done trying to live up to the tough-as-nails woman she’d created as a persona. She’d thought it would protect her, but instead she only felt like a coward for hiding behind that persona. It was time to step into her power. A power, ironically, that she wouldn’t have if it wasn’t for Gage.

  He’d undone her completely. He’d peeled back layer after layer and had seen her in her most vulnerable state. He’d wooed her from her shell and defended her honor and made her realize that above all else, she was enough.

  Exactly as she was.

  She closed her eyes and willed back the torrent of emotions that had plagued her since the night they broke up. She couldn’t change what had happened any more than she could keep from still loving him.

  He’d texted. He’d called. She’d ignored both, knowing she couldn’t face him with her tender underbelly showing. She had been desperately trying to rebuild her armor, to rebrick the wall that she’d been hidden safely behind that evening at the bar, when she’d offered Gage two grand in exchange for his accompaniment to Gwen’s wedding.

  Hiding had proved impossible.

  Gage hadn’t only lured her out from behind that wall, but he’d also demolished the way she’d seen the world prior to him.

  Andy knew she was desirable and, unlike Gage, she wasn’t afraid to face her future.

  That didn’t mean her heart didn’t ache, or that she didn’t soak her pillow every night with fresh tears, but it did mean that she wasn’t the Ice Queen Matthew had accused her of being. She was a feeling, sensitive, vulnerable woman. Beautifully vulnerable.

  Being vulnerable sucked.

  She sent the email and shut her laptop, mind on the bottle of white wine chilling in the door of the fridge. It was ten thirty and her eyes were heavy, drooping from the fatigue of both work and personal matters.

  Wine would help.

  Before she’d taken her first sip of crisp, light pinot grigio, her cell phone rang. The jingle made her heart leap to her throat even though she’d silenced Gage’s phone number days ago. She couldn’t bring herself to delete his phone number yet. Soon, though, she’d have to close the door on what they had.

  The screen showed Vanessa’s photo, and Andy took a steeling breath. Rare was the occasion Ness called her, and the news was rarely good.

  “Ness, hi.”

  “Is it too late to call?”

  “No. Just wrapped up work, actually. I poured a glass of wine and was about to have my first sip.”

  “I’ll join you. I have a bottle open.” There was the sound of a cabinet opening and closing, liquid pouring. “Cheers, sis.”

  Andy joined her in a cross-country sip and waited for Ness to say why she’d called. She didn’t have to wait long.

&
nbsp; “Alec and I are separating. Separated. Past tense. He moved out this afternoon.”

  “Ness.” Andy’s heart, which was already crushed, hurt for her sister. “I’m so sorry.”

  “I wanted to tell you personally. A divorce is probably on the horizon, but we’re trying living apart to see how things go.”

  Andy guessed that could go one of two ways. Either absence would make the heart grow fonder, or that other adage—out of sight, out of mind—would make them forget why they’d ever liked each other.

  For Andy, it was option A. She wanted to believe that Gage reaching out meant that he felt the same way, but there was no way to be sure unless she contacted him. She hadn’t been brave enough to do that—and quite possibly never would be brave enough.

  “How’s life?” Ness asked. Caught off guard by her sister’s conversational tone, Andy surprised herself by answering honestly.

  “Horrible. Gage and I...” She swallowed down a lump of sadness. “We broke up.”

  Ness let out a cynical laugh. “You should consider yourself lucky you didn’t invest years in him before things went downhill. What I’m going through isn’t for the faint of heart.”

  An insensitive comment was completely expected from her sister, but Andy didn’t clam up like she used to. The new Andrea Payne didn’t make herself smaller to avoid hurt feelings. She stood up for herself.

  “You know you’re not the only one with problems, Vanessa,” Andy snapped. “Your pain doesn’t eclipse mine or make what I’m going through any less upsetting. I’m a human being with feelings, not the Ice Queen whose heart is frozen into a solid block. I was in love with him. Am in love with him.”

  “Andy—”

  “I told him,” Andy continued, her voice watery. “I told him I loved him, because while I might not be the Ice Queen, I am very, very stupid. I laid everything on the line even though he told me from the beginning he didn’t want to be married. Why didn’t I listen?”

  Her mini rant ended with tears slipping down her cheeks. She went to the couch, wineglass forgotten. It wouldn’t help her to drink it.