Charity Case: The Complete Series

by Piper Rayne

  I could strangle Todd. Couldn’t he have left me before he cheated? That way I wouldn’t be feeling like it’s déjà vu with Roarke leaving so unexpectedly. For Todd it was always an emergency at the hospital. That continued to work until he left me at a restaurant and I found him five blocks down on the corner with a woman. He’d assumed I’d take a cab home, but I had decided to walk instead. I ducked behind the corner until he ushered the young redhead into the back of a cab. When I confronted him, he told me that he was sharing a cab with someone. That for some reason he couldn’t get one to stop for him because it was a Saturday night. I naively accepted the answer, but my antenna went up then.

  Because of him, I’m doubting Roarke’s faithfulness.

  “You’re the only woman.” His voice rings through my head. His truthful hazel eyes hadn’t reflected an ounce of deceit yet my stomach still churns wondering why he’s been gone this long.

  I stir awake and immediately register the feel of Roarke’s body pressed to mine. His arm is draped over my body, his chest against my back. Sliding out from under his hold, I glance to the corner to find Lucy and Nickel sound asleep together on her dog bed. They really do get along well.

  Closing the bathroom door, I turn on the shower, needing to get ready for brunch at the club with my parents.

  Under the stream of warm water, my mind clears in the morning light. I cannot put Roarke in the same category as Todd. That’s completely unfair and he’s given me no real reason to doubt him.

  The shower door opens and since Lucy or Nickel don’t have opposable thumbs, I’m not surprised when Roarke’s hands wrap around my waist and his face nuzzles into my neck.

  “Sorry I was late last night,” he whispers, stepping into the waterfall of his shower.

  “You should sleep. What time did you get in?”

  He groans. “Two.”

  A plethora of questions run through my mind. I want to know specifically where he was until two. What kind of client needs him to be out that late? My lawyer billed me triple once when I bothered him on a Friday at six.

  “Everything is okay?” I ask instead.

  I feel his head nod along my neck.

  “You can’t tell me?” I ask, digging a little more, but not too much.

  “I wish I could.” His lips travel down to my shoulder, sweeping my wet hair out of the way to kiss the back of my neck.

  Does he? the devil on my left shoulder asks.

  “I promise to make it up to you.” He twists me around to face him and there’s nothing in his eyes but pure regret for leaving me so long last night.

  I step into his arms and kiss his chest, wanting him to show me that I really am the only woman for him.

  His hands slide down and venture to my ass and his hard erection hits my stomach. When his lips land on mine, my mind hazes and for the moment it’s only us. He pushes me against the glass and pulls one leg up to rest on the bench seat. After arranging the nozzle so the water doesn’t fall right on him, he lowers himself to his knees and proves that not only does he have a wonder cock, but a wonder tongue, too.

  My screams echo against the glass and it’s not because of the hot water that I’m flushed when I finally step out of the shower.

  Roarke stays in after I leave having let me wash myself up first.

  “Thanks to you, I only have a half hour to get ready.” I joke as I wrap myself in a plush towel and head into the bedroom.

  “You’ll be beautiful no matter what,” his voice echoes out from the bathroom.

  “You don’t know my mother.” I pick up my clothes from yesterday, shoving them in my overnight bag and pulling out my bra and panties for today.

  “I can’t wait to meet them.”

  “You won’t think that afterward, I promise.” I see his clothes laying on the chair next to his side of the bed. So unlike him. “Getting sloppy now?”

  “What?” The water shuts off and I hear the towel being taken off the rack.

  “Your clothes from last night.” I pick them up along with my towel to put in the hamper in his closet.

  “I was in a rush to get into bed with you,” he says, his voice still traveling out of the bathroom.

  I head to the closet and throw in my towel, but his clothes are still in my hand.

  Don’t do it.

  Do it.

  You’re looking for excuses.

  You need to protect us.

  The war in my head wages on and I pull the shirt up to my nose. The familiar scent of Roarke’s cologne relieves my worries.

  You’re being stupid.

  Now you feel better, right?

  Dropping the jeans in his hamper, I lift his shirt to my nose and inhale, but this time it’s not only Roarke’s cologne I smell. There’s a faint hint of another fragrance. And since this was a freshly washed shirt when he put it on last night, I know it’s not mine. Am I smelling things? I sniff again, my nose traveling all over the fabric like the insane woman I am, the foreign scent more pronounced around one collar.

  “What do you think about getting you a dresser?” His voice is suddenly close, and I drop the shirt into the hamper.

  He steps into his closet, his eyes on the clothes in the hamper. There’s no suspicion to his gaze, only amazement that I put them in there. “Thanks, baby.” He kisses my cheek and heads to his rows of meticulously arranged clothes.

  All the while my insides are shattering like a sledgehammer to glass.

  Roarke is definitely lying to me.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  I decided not to confront Roarke right away.

  Stupid?

  Maybe.

  I know who I’m dealing with and I want to make sure I have everything in order before I nail him, which means hiring a private investigator to follow him. I want to see with my own eyes and have the proof in hand so he can’t sweet talk me into believing something isn’t going on.

  “Are you allowed to tell me who your clients are?” I ask.

  He glances over as we ease off the I-90 in the north suburbs. My tone is curt and he’s probably wondering what changed from the shower to now. The fact that I confirmed he’s a cheating bastard is what, but he doesn’t need to know that yet.

  “Depends, but I can’t see why you’d care.”

  “Does the name Quinton sound familiar?” I still want to find out if he’s going to screw over my friend or not.

  “Quinton?”

  I blow out an annoyed breath and his eyes shift my way once more with a ‘what the fuck is wrong with you’ expression.

  “Yes, Quinton,” I snap impatiently.

  “Yes. I’m representing a Quinton.”

  Ha. I knew it.

  “David Quinton?”

  Again his gaze lingers on me as we stop at the light to turn left toward the club. “Did I miss something?”

  “What are you talking about?” I cross my legs, then my arms over my chest. My body language is more along the lines of when we left to go to Wisconsin weeks ago. Before I fell in love with this man and well before he disappointed me.

  “I thought your sourness was because you’re nervous for me to meet your parents or the fact you don’t seem very fond of your mother, but this line of questioning as though I’m on the stand has me thinking I must have missed something.”

  “I’m just making conversation. I figure you might screw over some of my friends and I have to say, I don’t know if I’m okay with that.”

  He glances over at me and his eyes narrow. “We’ve been over this, I don’t screw anyone over. I get my clients what the law states they are entitled to.”

  “To you maybe. It’s convenient for you to see it that way.”

  He follows the navigation in his Range Rover since I stopped directing him after we got off the highway. Pulling up toward the club, he stops at the gates.

  A security guard leans forward to look inside the car.

  “Hi, Len.” I wave.

  A smile wraps around the fifty-year-old
man’s mouth. “Hannah? We’ve missed you.” He presses a button. “Have a great brunch.”

  “Thanks, Len. Give Ruth my love.”

  “Always.” He waves and Roarke drives through the open gates.

  “Funny that Len doesn’t get the cold shoulder,” he mumbles but it’s clear he intended for me to hear it.

  Roarke parks in a spot and my hand yanks the door open as soon as the SUV comes to a stop.

  Before I can exit the car, his hand lands on my left one. “Just so you know, David Quinton isn’t my client.”

  I slide out from his grip not sure how to react after my assumptions were wrong. Stepping out of the car, he’s rounding the front before I can smooth my skirt and swing my purse over my shoulder.

  “It’s Scarlett. She’s my client. If you have to know in order for us to go in there like the happy couple we’ve been since we started dating, then I’ll tell you. But please remember you are not to repeat this information.” I nod in agreement. “David tried to hire me. Offered me double what Scarlett was paying me.”

  A heavy weight drops in my stomach.

  I had it wrong?

  “Oh.”

  His hand slides to my back and I have no time to think about how I keep making assumptions that aren’t true about him before his lips are on my neck. The sweet spot he found that stirs butterflies in my stomach.

  “I forgive you,” he whispers, his hand tapping the small of my back to get moving.

  “Oh do you?” I raise both eyebrows, the usual playfulness not on my face.

  Roarke scrutinizes my expression, still in the dark as to why I’m being so bitchy this afternoon.

  “Hannah!” a male voice yells my name from somewhere in the parking lot.

  “It’s my dad,” I murmur and Roarke’s frown instantly tips up, reminding me he’s like a chameleon, able to change with a snap of his fingers into someone else.

  Looking around, I spot my dad at the valet. I wave and we head that way.

  The other valet opens the door for my mom, holding his hand out for her.

  “We’re so happy you could make it today.” My dad smiles and embraces me with a kiss on the cheek. “You look beautiful.” As he steps back his attention moves to Roarke. “Ah, I think our daughter failed to mention something to us, Olive.” He holds his hand out to Roarke who’s steady hand immediately shakes my dad’s.

  “Roarke Baldwin. Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Crowley.” He does this all with one hand wrapped around my waist.

  “Please, it’s Gregory and this is my wife, Olive.”

  My mom walks up to us, her eyes looking Roarke up and down. I can tell she thinks he looks familiar but she’s having a hard time placing him. This is how little she notices what happens in my life.

  “Nice to meet you,” Roarke says. “Hannah’s the spitting image of you.”

  Olive smiles because she doesn’t know who he is—she’d hate to offend someone important.

  My dad slaps Roarke on the back. “I was just telling Hannah the other day how I’d wished we got to you before Todd did.”

  I roll my eyes. Roarke glances my way for a second before returning his attention to my father with a condescending smirk on his face.

  “You’re the lawyer.” My mother says it as though it was a test and she got the right answer. “Todd’s lawyer.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Roarke nods.

  She half smiles which I know means she’s mentally trying to figure out how much money he might be worth. He wasn’t born into money but having money is better than not having it in her world.

  “Please don’t call me ma’am, just Olive.” She smiles fully now, probably figuring that Todd would only hire the best and she’s probably conjured up some memory of hearing one of her elitist friends mention his name.

  She slides her arm through mine. “He’s very handsome,” she whispers and leads us forward through the double doors.

  Roarke and my dad follow behind, their own conversation turning to golf where I hear Roarke admit he started late in life but loves the game. Funny since not once has he told me he was going to play golf and we’re in the middle of summer. Another lie?

  For the next two hours, Roarke charms my parents along with their friends. We eat brunch where my mom criticizes my selection of fruit and pancakes. “Sugar is bad and then you’re adding carbs on top of that. Come on Hannah, you’re only getting older and I’d hate for you to lose that figure.”

  My savior or the one he wants me to believe he is, piles his bunch of grapes onto my plate. Surprisingly my mom quiets down and concentrates on her friend’s conversation about the house for sale on Hillside.

  When Roarke excuses himself to use the bathroom, my mind gears up into overdrive wondering if he’s making a call to his side piece. My dad takes the opportunity of Roarke’s absence to share his opinion.

  “Keeping secrets little girl.” He slides his arm onto the back of my chair, keeping the conversation between the two of us. Not like the other people care, they’re all wrapped up in talking about what the markets are doing.

  “I didn’t think it mattered. I was going to wait until the next event.” I nod in my mom’s direction. “This is probably better anyway.”

  “Definitely better. He seems nice. Like a good man. Is that so?”

  I know why my dad’s asking. After Todd, my dad insisted I do a background on anyone I planned to get serious with, and I didn’t follow through with Roarke. Maybe because everything was going so fast and I felt like I never had time to breathe, let alone check him out.

  “I’ll find out soon,” I assure him.

  He raises his eyebrows. “You should have checked that out before your heart was invested.” His matching brown eyes to mine hold disappointment.

  “Who said I was invested?”

  He chuckles to himself, picking up his coffee mug. “You forget that I know you better than you do yourself. You’ve already fallen.”

  “No I haven’t.”

  My dad looks at me like, prove me wrong.

  “We’ll see what comes back.”

  “I wish you’d looked into him earlier.” My dad’s lips turn down. “He seems like a good guy, but you just never know.”

  His belief that a check by a private investigator seemed like a good idea when I was knee deep in tissues and my self-worth was spiraling. I meant to make the call and have Roarke followed, but he disguised our dating as favors and before I knew it I didn’t want that path for us. I enjoyed discovering things about him and not reading it on a piece of paper. But things have changed and I’m nauseous just thinking about what I’m going to find out later this week.

  “I’m sure it will be fine.” I plaster on a fake smile, knowing that bringing him to brunch was a bad idea. Because once it’s proven that Roarke isn’t the man I thought he was a few short days ago, I’ll have to tell my father that once again my gut was wrong. And everyone knows that half of being a good business person is having great intuition.

  “He makes a hell of a first impression,” my dad says.

  He slides over when Roarke approaches the table, a smile on his face that says he’s about as smitten as I am over the man sitting next to me. So I’ll break both of our hearts. Great.

  “Why don’t you show Roarke the fountain?” My dad points out the French doors to the courtyard.

  Roarke doesn’t miss a beat. He must want me to get out of my parents’ scrutiny.

  The fountain has water shooting from all five points into the one large spout in the middle. It’s nothing like Buckingham but it’s nice.

  “Finally I get you alone.” Roarke sits down on a bench and pulls me into his lap.

  “This isn’t really a crowd who appreciates public displays of affection.” My gaze darts around the surroundings but no one is really around.

  “I don’t much care what this crowd likes because I need your lips on mine now.”

  With his words, his hand slides to the back of my neck and he pulls me down to
his. The slickness of his tongue doesn’t wait to break the seam of my lips. He grows hard underneath my legs as our kiss becomes more than PDA. It’s almost X-rated the way his hand slides up my skirt, his fingers dangerously close to my center.

  All thoughts of the PI, the perfume, and the phone calls disappear from my consciousness because as always, Roarke has the capability to make my mind fuzzy.

  “Ha. Seems like we both walked away winners from my divorce.” Todd’s voice sounds from behind us and I freeze.

  After a second, I break the kiss, standing to my feet. My face is red and my lips are probably swollen. Todd is there with a look of smug satisfaction on his face, his new fiancée standing at his side. My gaze flicks down to their adjoined hands.

  She’s younger than me by at least ten years. She’s cute and I wonder if I’ve ever met her. She doesn’t look familiar.

  “Todd,” Roarke says his name like he’s a child. He swings his arm around me and pulls me to his side. “I guess our secret is out, but then again yours is, too.”

  Todd looks down at their adjoined hands and drops his fiancée’s. Poor girl.

  He looks the same. Tall, thinly built with his khaki pants and button-down shirt, his hair full but shaggy.

  “You’re dating him?” Todd directs his question to me, but points to Roarke with his now free hand.

  “I am.” I lift my chin and push back the thought of word getting around that Hannah Crowley has been deceived once again, if Roarke is still playing the field behind my back.

  “Good luck with that. Not really your type.”

  The fiancée matches his steps toward us in her too short sundress and cork-soled sandals.

  “How do you know my type?” I place my free hand on Roarke’s stomach and my face inches from his neck. I hate myself right now.

  “I was married to you for years. I figured your mom would have had a line of suitable men lined up for you.” His lopsided grin says he’s being sarcastic.

  “Good thing she doesn’t need to do that.” Roarke laughs. One I’ve never heard come out of him before. His lips press to my temple. “I stole her before they had the chance.”