The Romance Plan: Cupids: Book 5

by Lila Monroe

  Liam nods. “It’s more than fair,” he admits with a shrug. “It’s weird, being a Sterling but not actually being a Sterling. I feel like I have all this privilege, but not only did I not grow up in that world, I didn’t even do anything to earn it.”

  “Seriously?” Right away, I laugh. “What did Betsy and Bryce do, exactly? I mean, don’t get me wrong, they’re perfectly nice people, but you’re the one busting your ass to try and save your dad’s company. You’re working harder than anyone. You’ve earned it more than anyone.”

  I surprise myself, and I think I surprise Liam too. The expression on his face is the same as the one he wore outside the library on the night of Harry’s memorial event, like maybe he’s not used to people being that nice to him. Noticing him, even. We gaze at each other for a moment, something private and intense passing between us. It’s all I can do not to throw myself at him right here on the deck of this borrowed boat.

  I clear my throat instead. “It’s hot,” I manage. “I’m going to cool off.”

  Liam looks at me strangely. “Did you bring a bathing suit?”

  “Nope,” I announce, whipping my sundress up over my head, grateful I thought to put on matching underwear this morning. “Sure didn’t. Last one in has to do a solo reading of Verity’s pages when we get back!” And with that, I cannonball off the side of the sailboat and into the ocean.

  The water is ice cold, and breaks over me in a splash, but it still feels amazing as I surface, and splash in the waves. When I look up at the boat, Liam’s mouth is gaping. “You are something else, you know that?”

  “So I’ve been told,” I tell him with a grin. I feel like a little kid, brave and free. “Are you jumping in or not?”

  He looks at me for a moment, then shucks his shorts and T-shirt and executes a surprisingly elegant dive, slicing into the waves with barely a ripple. “Hi,” he says once he’s surfaced, his dark hair wet and messy, saltwater clinging to his chest and eyelashes.

  “Hi yourself,” I say.

  We float on our backs for a while with our faces tipped up toward the sun, Otis Redding crooning softly from the sound system on the boat. Every once in awhile the tips of my wet fingers brush Liam’s, the contact sending shivers all the way up my arm that have nothing to do with the chilly water. It feels like we’re circling something, both of us working up our courage and neither one of us wanting to admit it. The anticipation feels like champagne fizzing wildly through my blood.

  Eventually we climb back aboard the sailboat, drying off and lying around on the deck for the rest of the afternoon. We chat and read and listen to music, Otis giving way to Etta James and Sam Cooke. I’m surprised by how easy it is to relax around him, and I can tell Liam feels the same way—the careless, familiar rhythm of our conversation, how contentedly he lays on the lounge chair beside me. I think I might doze off.

  “You’re burning,” Liam says softly.

  My eyes flutter open to find him sitting beside me on the cushion, close enough to touch. “Hm?” I ask, breathing in sharply. Is it that obvious I’m about to combust?

  “Your shoulders,” he explains.

  “Oh.” I sit up a bit to investigate. Sure enough, I’m turning pink. “I think I’ve got some sunscreen in my purse.”

  “Here,” he says, keeping his eyes locked on mine as he holds his hand out. “Let me.”

  So, I let him.

  Liam straddles the lounge chair behind me, his strong hands gentle as he rubs the cool sunscreen over my skin: along the lines of my shoulders and over my rib cage, into the small of my back. It’s hands-down one of the sexiest, most sensual moments of my life, feeling his hands on me like this and I have to swallow hard, balling my hands into fists to avoid reaching for him. His hands wander back up again and then—slowly, slowly—down the front of me, over my throat and clavicle. He trails his fingertips along the rise of my breasts, his tough feather-light, and I gasp.

  “Okay?” he murmurs, softly asking permission. I can feel his breath on the back of my neck. I nod, not trusting my voice, and he dips inside the cups of my bra, circling my nipples. I whimper, my head falling back against his shoulder. “Please,” I murmur.

  “Please what?” he teases, squeezing lightly.

  I gasp, arching, chasing his touch. “Please… that.” I reach up to cup his face with one hand, tuning my head to press my mouth against his. Liam kisses me back hungrily, the taste of saltwater on his lips and tongue. Then, all at once he stands up.

  “What are you doing?” I ask breathlessly, sure I know where this is going—that he’s going to tell me that this was a mistake, that we need to keep things professional between us. That we’re going to sail back to shore in awkward silence. But Liam only shakes his head. “Lie back,” he orders quietly, and there’s no room in his voice for argument.

  I swallow hard and do what he tells me—stretching out on the lounge chair and closing my eyes, then immediately opening them again. Liam tugs my panties off and spreads my legs apart. I feel deliciously exposed, the ocean breeze and his warm breath tickling my skin. “You have no idea how long I’ve been thinking about doing this,” he murmurs, so quietly it’s almost to himself.

  “I bet I can guess,” I manage, my voice breathless. I feel the curve of his smile against my skin.

  He runs his hands up and down my calves as he grazes his mouth along my inner thighs, giving me just the barest hint of his teeth. He takes his time, moving slowly northward with a single-minded focus that has me gasping, my hips arching up off the cushion until finally, finally, he’s right where I need him most.

  He’s good at this, his tongue and his hands working in tandem, a rhythm that drives me half-wild. “Please,” I say again as he works two fingers deep inside me, crooking them like he’s trying to beckon me closer and rubbing up against some magical spot that has me keening out loud. I fist my hands in my hair and come—once, twice.

  Holy crap, three times?!

  “Come up here,” I gasp when it’s over, reaching down and clutching at his warm, bare shoulders, yanking until he laughs and climbs onto the lounge chair beside me. “Wow. I mean. Wow.”

  “Wow yourself,” Liam says, gathering me against his chest and running a hand through my hair, working his fingers through the tangles. I close my eyes for a moment, listening to the steady thump of his heart.

  And I know, I’m in trouble now.

  15

  Eliza

  The sun is setting by the time Liam docks the sailboat back in the harbor. The post-orgasm haze is beginning to fade, the warm buzz in my limbs is wearing off and reality is creeping steadily back in. The last thing I want is for Liam to run cold again, to start talking about what a mistake this was and the importance of keeping things professional between us. I don’t know what that was on the boat, exactly. But I know I want it to happen again.

  And again after that, I think with a shiver. All night long.

  Before I can think better of it, I reach out and put a hand on his arm, stopping him as he makes his way across the wide wooden dock. “Listen, Liam,” I blurt. “I know you and I have had our ups and downs since we met. But what happened today… that wasn’t a mistake for me. And I know that maybe you’re about to tell me that it was unprofessional, or that it will never happen again, but based on our track record…” I break off for a moment, then gather my courage and lift my chin. “I think it will happen again. And more than that, I want it to.” I take a deep breath. “I like you. I like this. And I want to see where it can go.”

  Liam gazes at me for a long moment without answering. I cringe a bit, fully expecting him to brush me off, but then to my surprise he nods instead. “I like this too,” he confesses, and I feel a wave of delighted relief. “I mean, I think that much is obvious, right? I definitely don’t make a habit of… of…” he trails off.

  “Bringing your employees to mind-blowing orgasms on gorgeous borrowed sailboats?” I offer, teasing.

  Liam laughs. “Exactly,” he says
.

  “Maybe you should try it,” I suggest, relaxing. “It might help with overall job satisfaction around the office.”

  Liam smirks. “That’s one way to keep morale up,” he agrees.

  He drives me back to Verity’s place, and we stand there for a moment in the driveway, smiling at each other in the golden, toasted late-afternoon light. He looks handsome and rumpled, tan from being out on the water and his T-shirt creased thanks to our little adventure. “So, what do we do now?” I ask.

  “I’ve got to get back to the city,” he tells me, sounding full of regret. “I’ve got a bunch of meetings first thing tomorrow.”

  “Oh, right,” I say, trying to hide my disappointment. The truth is, I was already imagining us spending a few more days lounging around Verity’s compound, sneaking off to fool around in hidden alcoves and making good use of the massive hot tub. “I should probably stay here and make sure everything stays on track.”

  Liam nods. “Probably,” he agrees, “for a few more days at least.” He clears his throat. “But don’t forget that I also need you back in the office.”

  I raise my eyebrows, intrigued. “You do?”

  “Very much,” he says seriously. “In fact, I don’t know how we’ve been getting by without you for this long. Why don’t you plan to come back in on, say, Thursday?”

  I press my lips together, trying to hide a smile and mostly failing. “Thursday sounds good,” I say.

  “And since you’ll be back in town,” Liam says, “I think it only makes sense for us to get some dinner, too?”

  “Dinner?” I repeat, smiling wider. “Like a date?”

  Liam nods. “Like a date.”

  “I’ll check my calendar,” I say. “Oh look, it’s open.”

  He smiles at that. “Lucky me.” We’ve reached my rental car by now. Liam leans me back against the driver’s side door ducks his head, pressing a soft kiss against my mouth. “Well then,” he says, his lips still brushing mine. “I guess I’ll see you Thursday.”

  “Guess so,” I say, leaning in for one more kiss before he slides behind the wheel and waves goodbye. I stand there, watching, until he drives out of sight, already counting down the days until I can see him again.

  The next few days pass in a blur. Verity is writing like a maniac, thank goodness, disappearing into her study after breakfast and often not emerging until dinnertime, the sound of her fingers clacking wildly against the keyboard echoing down the hallway. She calls me in from time to time to get my opinion on a scene, or to ask me if I think a particular sexual position is too acrobatic for Thad and Leona to realistically accomplish. I do what I can to help her—“Reverse cowgirl on an actual moving horse might be a little bit tricky,” I admit—but the truth is all I can do is think about getting back Manhattan and seeing Liam again. By the time Thursday rolls around, I’m so eager to make it into the city it’s a miracle that I don’t get arrested for reckless driving.

  I return the rental car, and stop by my apartment to get cleaned up before dinner. I take a long shower, then scrutinize the contents of my closet for a good fifteen minutes before finally deciding on a black sundress with tiny decorative cutouts at the midriff and a pair of tall wedge sandals. I slide some delicate gold hoops through my earlobes, slick on some makeup, and grab a cab over to the Sterling offices. A splurge? Yes, but this is way too important of a night to risk a subway-related mishap.

  It’s after seven when I turn up, and the corridors are deserted, all the lights turned off except for Liam’s down the hall. I swallow down my nerves and anticipation, my heart tripping at the sound of his voice. He’s on a call that sounds deadly boring—finance guys in California, I think—and though his door is open, and he doesn’t notice me at first.

  I take the opportunity to ogle him a little, that dark hair and strong jaw. He’s wearing a slightly wrinkled button-down, the sleeves rolled up a bit to reveal his muscular forearms and strong-looking hands. I know it’s only been a few days, but it feels like ages since we last saw each other.

  Once I’ve stared to my heart’s content I knock softly on the open door. Liam’s eyes widen in appreciation. “Hi,” he mouths, dark eyes shining.

  “Hi yourself,” I mouth back.

  He holds up his hand to let me know he’ll be five minutes, so I nod and wander back down to my own office, checking email and dumping a paper cup of water onto the wilting succulent on my windowsill. But five minutes turns into ten, and when ten creeps past twenty I head back toward Liam’s office to see what’s going on.

  “I’m so sorry,” he says, finally putting down the phone. “I was just coming to find you. You look amazing, by the way.”

  “You don’t look half-bad yourself,” I reply, and then after a semi-awkward beat, I lean in to kiss him hello.

  His lips are smooth and cool, and I sink against him. I smooth my hands down his chest, liking the warm, smooth sensation of cotton over muscle. Finally, I pull back, breathless. “Are you ready to get out of here?”

  Liam shakes his head, sagging a little. “That’s what I was coming to talk to you about,” he says, his expression turning miserable. “I’m so sorry. I’m have to be back on this call in five. Harry’s debt situation was even worse than I realized. I’ve got to spend tonight digging out some old files and trying to make heads and tails of it all.”

  “Oh,” I say, trying not to sound too disappointed, not wanting to let on how much I’ve been looking forward to this date all week—and that I bought new underwear for the occasion. “Well, that’s okay,” I lie. “Things come up, and this is way more important. We can reschedule.”

  Liam shakes his head. “I’m so sorry,” he says again. “I feel like a total jackass. I don’t want you to think I wasn’t looking forward to this.” He sighs. “Believe me, it’s basically the only thing I’ve been thinking about all week. But the whole thing is a mess, Eliza. I have no idea where this paperwork is or even how I’m going to make sense of it if I track it down.” He runs a hand through his hair. “Instead of spending tonight with you like I planned, I’m going to have a hot date with the file room and the night janitor.”

  He looks legitimately downcast, and I feel bad for him—I’m bummed too, but I can go home and spend the night with Netflix and takeout. Liam is stuck here. “Okay,” I say, suddenly getting an idea. “Time for a new plan.”

  Liam looks at me quizzically as I kick off my heels and scoop my hair into a get-down-to business knot on top of my head. “First thing first: I’m going to order a pizza. You finish your boring call. And I’ll meet you down in the file room in twenty?”

  “Seriously?” Liam looks like I’ve thrown him a life raft in the moment before he shakes his head. “I can’t ask you to waste your night, too. It’s not fair.”

  “You didn’t ask me,” I remind him. “And I want to.” I pop up onto my toes and press a kiss against his mouth, then swat him on his truly spectacular ass for good measure. “Now get.”

  Turns out the only thing less organized than Harry’s finances was his filing system. Liam and I spend the better part of the evening working our way through a large pizza with everything, and digging through filing cabinet after filing cabinet until finally—punch drunk on pizza and some cheap wine I got from the bodega around the corner—I raise a file folder in the air. “I’ve got it!” I yell, as deeply thrilled as if one of my authors just debuted at #1 on the New York Times bestseller list. “At least, I think I do?”

  Liam takes the folder from my outstretched hand, skimming its contents with a furrowed brow. “You do,” he says softly. “You’re a genius.”

  “I mean, I wouldn’t go that far,” I say with a laugh, “but I certainly won’t stop you if you want to.”

  Liam grins, standing up and stretching before holding his hand out for mine. “Come with me,” he says.

  He leads me back up to his office, where he unearths a bottle of champagne from the depths of Harry’s old mini-fridge. “I didn’t have all the luxurie
s cleared out,” he admits, pouring it into two paper cups and handing me one. “And as much as I like a bottle of three-dollar bodega merlot, I thought this might come in handy at some point.”

  We sit and drink champagne and catch each other up on our respective weeks, Liam regaling me with marketing’s ill-fated attempt to charge a six-hundred-dollar bill from Guy Fieri’s new restaurant to their expense accounts by calling it a working dinner. “Honestly,” he confesses, “if it had been anyone but Guy Fieri I might have let them get away with it.”

  “Duly noted,” I say, taking a sip of my champagne. “Sterling Publishers will no longer be financially responsible for company trips to Flavortown.”

  “Exactly,” Liam says. “Please keep that in mind.”

  We’re quiet for a moment, and I glance out the window of Liam’s office at the empty corridor. “I’ve always liked this place late at night,” I confess. “Back when I first got hired here and I was so anxious about proving myself, I used to work all these crazy hours. I’ve actually had quite a few dates with the night janitor, P.S. His name is Kester and he’s been married for forty-two years.”

  “Sounds lonely,” Liam says, then shakes his head when I look at him quizzically. “Not Kester and his long marriage, that sounds nice. But you being here by yourself so much.”

  Now it’s my turn to shake my head. “Nope,” I say. “I had books to keep me company. That’s what reading has been for me my whole life, you know? Whether it’s the classics or Verity’s latest.”

  Liam nods. “Speaking of Leona and Thad,” he says, raising his eyebrows.

  I raise mine back, playful. “… Yes?”

  He nods at the desk. “Don’t you think we should see if the scene holds up?”

  My stomach flips at the naked intent in his voice, a slow smile spreading across my face. “You know,” I say, pretending to consider it, “I suppose that is part of my responsibility as an editor.”

  “Have I mentioned how much I admire how dedicated you are to your job?”