Real Liars

by S. M. West

  “No, I couldn’t.” I glance down at the time and then at my cousin, realizing there’s only one way to shut this down. “But I am going.”

  Morgan quirks a brow and a ding announces the elevator’s arrival. “You are?”

  “Yes. The jet will be back tonight and I’ll be in Montreal tomorrow.” I brush her to the side and step into the elevator. “Have a good day, Morgan.”

  Eighteen

  Paige

  The fresh earthy smells of basil and mushroom waft through the air and if I didn’t know where to find Sam and Mom, I’d follow my nose. Padding barefoot toward the kitchen, I smile happily.

  Mom and Sam are busy laying out small bowls along the countertop filled with toppings for our homemade pizzas, a family tradition started by Sam. It’s been a while since we’ve done this, and I’ve missed it.

  It’s been a little over twenty-four hours since I left Toronto and I’m glad I came. At first, it was a bit bumpy with their many questions about my landlord, my lawyer, and Zach. But once I reassured them that everything was under control and I even added Drew into our conversation via video, they settled down.

  Sharing with them news of my self-defense classes also helped. I never wanted to feel as helpless as I did every time Joel Hummel came into my home. Walker had been the one to tell me of a really good instructor and Morgan was more than willing to come with me.

  All in all, being with my parents and away from billionaires, creepy landlords, and everything else, I’m feeling settled and more like myself.

  “Yes! Pizza. Do you have artichokes?” I pop a black olive into my mouth and savor the salty flavor.

  Leaving Zach the way I did wasn’t my finest moment. I could have handled it better. I like him, and in a short time he has become a friend of sorts and dangerously close to becoming someone I could count on. And that’s why I had to leave.

  “How can you even ask?” Sam feigns mock insult. “Paiges, I’ve got your back.”

  I laugh, loving his pet name for me, and give him a side hug. “Of course you do. Thank you.”

  When I first met Sam, I was sixteen and clueless about the culinary delights of the world. He introduced me to my first artichoke, among many other things. Totally taken with him—my mom’s new and very attractive boyfriend—I pretty much did or tried anything he suggested.

  In fact, that first time we made pizzas, I picked every topping he did whether I’d ever tried it or not. He could have sprinkled the pies with manure and I would have said “yes, please.”

  “I think we have everything.” Mom surveys the array of little bowls brimming with all kinds of toppings.

  I stand in front of one of the three pizza stones, ready. Mom hands me a glass of wine and at the same time there’s a knock at the door.

  “I’ll get it,” Sam says. “You get started. Livvy, you know what I like.”

  Needing no further encouragement, I lick my lips at the white doughy goodness and spread the vibrant sauce in a circular motion. Grabbing a handful of cheese, I sprinkle it onto the tomato-red canvas as Sam enters the kitchen.

  “Look who’s here.”

  Absently, I lift my head, preparing to get back to my task, but freeze at the sight of Zach standing next to Sam. A small leather bag is firmly in one hand and he meets my surprise with a devilishly sexy grin.

  “Hello.” His voice is tender and inviting.

  No surprise, he’s well-dressed and stylish in a custom charcoal suit that he’s probably been in for more than ten hours, but somehow manages to look as if he only just put it on.

  My legs wobble and with a thunk, I drop the metal spoon filled with tomato sauce back into the bowl, hardly comprehending what I’m seeing. “Zach? What are you doing here?”

  “Honey, is that any way to greet him?” Mom wipes her hands on a towel while advancing on Zach. “I’m Olivia, Paige’s mother. It’s so nice to meet you.”

  “Hello, Olivia. I’m Zach and it’s great to finally meet you, too.” He looks from Mom to Sam. “Thank you for having me in your home.”

  “Any time.” Sam pats him on the shoulder and saunters over to a large bowl resting on the counter, covered with a damp cloth.

  Inside, there’s likely a couple more balls of dough and sure enough, he takes one out, dusting the counter with flour, and rolls out another pizza crust for our surprise guest. My would-be boyfriend now stands next to me. He’s going to kiss me. But will it be a peck on the cheek or on the lips?

  The memory of our last kiss slams into my body like a lightning bolt. That kiss was electric and wild.

  Leaning in, he cups my cheeks and plants a soft, warm kiss on my mouth and even with closed mouths, a thrill runs through me, piling on to my already hazy state. I stand speechless while Mom beams, fussing over Zach and making room for him at the counter. All the while, he steals sideways glances at me.

  I’ve got nothing.

  My lips tingle.

  I’m dazed.

  Mom peppers him with questions about what he likes on his pizza, how was the drive from Toronto—only he didn’t drive like us mere mortals, or even take the train, he flew in his private jet. What the hell?—and through it all, I stare dumbly at them, still at a complete loss for words.

  “Paige, why don’t you get Zach a glass of wine?” she asks. “You like chianti, don’t you?”

  “Yes, but I’d like some water right now.” He drops his hand on top of mine. “I’ll get it, just point me in the direction.”

  Ocean-blue eyes bore into me and I struggle to get the synapses of my brain firing again. If only I could form a cohesive sentence. His intimate gaze causes a strange fluttering in my stomach.

  “Here you go.” Sam plunks a bottle of water down beside him.

  “Thanks.” Zach takes a long swig from the bottle and my mom smiles at me, her eyes shimmering in delight. “This looks great. Homemade pizza.”

  “Yes. And here’s yours.” Mom places the stone in front of him. “Hmmm. You can’t fix your pizza in a suit. Do you want to change? Oh, or I could get you an apron.”

  She turns on her heel and he grabs her elbow lightly, halting her crusade for something to save his expensive Savile Row attire.

  “Olivia, don’t go to any trouble. I’m fine in my suit.” His shoulder presses into my arm and he leans in conspiratorially. So close his expensive cologne hits my nostrils. “Or nothing at all.”

  His lips graze the shell of my ear and his warm breath tickles the column of my neck. I shiver and squeeze my thighs together, trying to quell the burning need within.

  What has gotten into him? He’s all Mr. Flirty. It isn’t like Zach can’t be charming and flirtatious. He can—I’ve seen it and even been on the receiving end. But this is blatant.

  And then I get it.

  He’s my boyfriend. For the benefit of my parents he’s playing the part and doing a bang-up job. So much so, my mother is blushing and swooning at our heads only inches apart.

  “Oh, let me get a picture. Stay like that.” Mom snatches her phone from the island. Sam stands behind her making funny faces and Zach takes me in his arms like it’s where I belong.

  The excitement of his arrival finally wanes, and things settle down. He washes his hands, ready to make his pizza, and returns to my side with his shirt sleeves now rolled up to his elbow.

  Strong muscled forearms flex and ripple while he dresses his pie and I stare, licking my lips. I’m unable to swallow with the sudden dryness in my mouth. Until now, I never had a thing for arms. But Zach’s…

  Taut, corded, and veined.

  Arm porn.

  Damn.

  The vision I feast on is jilling off material.

  Biting my lip, I pinch my eyes shut and will myself to look elsewhere when I open again. The struggle is real.

  “Hey, you okay?” Zach asks, his voice almost a whisper. “You need help with your pizza?”

  My gaze snaps to his face, refusing to look down at the counter and his arms. “Um, I usually
do whatever Sam does,” I blurt out, sounding like a child, or worse, a brainless wonder.

  “What?”

  “Ah, what I mean is, I trust Sam’s choices. So I wait to see what he has going on before doing mine.”

  It’s not completely true, only a partial lie. I used to do just that. Now I’ve got my favorites based on years of trying out various combinations. But none of that matters given I haven’t done a good job of explaining myself and he’s looking at me like I’m hopeless.

  “You’ve got a thing for Sam?” His head is cocked to the side and his voice is now barely a whisper.

  Yet Sam must have overheard us because he starts to laugh and we both turn to see Mom and my stepdad, whom I also consider a true friend, watching us with sheer amusement written all over their faces. Great.

  “Boy, does she ever.” Mom shuts the oven door, grinning like the cat who ate the canary. “Well, I should say, she used to. Now I’d say they’re more partners in crime. Thick as thieves.”

  Sam wraps his arms around my mother’s waist, perching his chin on her shoulder and nodding. “We get each other.”

  I blush despite myself, remembering the teenager that I was, crushing on Samson Beaulieu. He’s a good-looking man, so kind and loving, and very much a father figure to me even though I have my own dad. We all got lucky when he came into my mother’s life.

  “That we do,” I finally pipe up, handing Zach’s pizza stone to my mother. “But I no longer crush on him. Those days are over. Now it’s just deep admiration.”

  “I see.” Zach eyes us warily as if trying to figure us out.

  When the pizzas are ready, we gather around the kitchen table to eat, laugh, and carry on as if Zach has always been a part of the family. It’s gratifying and helps ease the prickly edginess poking at me since his arrival. His natural comfort with my family, and theirs with him, is also a little unnerving.

  “So, Zach, if I’m not mistaken, Drew introduced you to Paige, correct?” My mother is playing coy. She knows all this.

  He nods, chewing the last of his pizza. “Yes, Paige needed some legal advice.” He’s measured in his response, perhaps not wanting to bring up my landlord.

  “Yes, with her horrible landlord.” Mom stacks the plates. “But you aren’t a lawyer. You’re in real estate, right?”

  “Uh-huh.” He wipes his mouth with a napkin before resting his forearms on the edge of the table. “But I have lawyers that specialize in real estate and with Drew in New York, he asked me to help out. So I did what I could but if you ask me, I got the better end of this deal.”

  He looks my way with a wistful smile and squeezes my thigh under the table, kick-starting a pulsing need between my legs.

  After dinner, my mother and Sam suddenly have somewhere to be, claiming they’ll be out for the rest of the evening. This is news to me. Last I thought, we had plans to watch a movie after dinner, but this was before Zach arrived.

  Their departure is obvious, but I keep my mouth shut. If I’m being honest, I want to be alone with Zach. I’ve got a lot of questions.

  I walk them to the door, leaving him seated in the living room, and return to find him looking out over the St. Lawrence River.

  “Why are you here?”

  He turns to face me. “I’m your boyfriend, I should be here.”

  “Zach, it’s just you and me now. Talk to me.”

  He strides right up to me, so close I feel the heat of his tall, broad frame and I’m forced to tilt my head back to keep eye contact.

  “What do you want to know?” he asks with a sexy gruffness in the pitch of his voice.

  Damn him.

  “Tell me why you came when I asked you not to?” I let out an exasperated huff.

  “If our time alone is going to be spent with you telling me to leave, I’d rather join Sam and Olivia.” His tone is light, but the corners of his mouth are tight as if smiling hurts and I feel bad for pushing this, but my sanity depends on it.

  “This isn’t real,” I murmur more to myself, knowing he doesn’t want to hear what I have to say.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You and I aren’t real.” I lamely push at his hard chest, hoping he stays right where he is, almost touching me.

  And this is why I needed to get away from him. Move out. And why he shouldn’t be here right now. My mind is muddled, and my body wants things it shouldn’t and can’t have. Namely, Zachary Rothwell.

  “Tell me this doesn’t feel real,” he whispers in a deep, throaty voice, grabbing hold of my shoulders and pinning me to the wall, flush against my aching body.

  His large hands cradle my face and my eyes flutter closed as my fingernails dig into my thighs through the cotton of my dress.

  I like him this close to me…want it even…feeling his presence in private places I shouldn’t. The racing in my chest and his body everywhere makes it a struggle to find words, to say anything that will make us stop and think. But his gaze takes hold of every part of me.

  His lips hover a sliver above mine, flicking his tongue outward to graze the soft, wet underside of my upper lip. His predatory growl mingles with my pleasured whimper and he licks again at my mouth. My name falls from his lips and my control slips beyond my reach. My breasts are heavy and my nipples harden against his chest.

  “Is this real enough for you?” He shifts a bit to the side, wedging his knee between my legs, and my sex throbs. I moan, nodding, and shamelessly grind into him as he rubs my core.

  “Say it.” One hand skims my cheek, down to my breast and waist before bunching my dress in his fingers, exposing most of my thigh.

  My breath hitches at the feel of his fingers brushing my bare skin, skating upward to stop at the edge of my panties. He presses his knee into me and I buck against him, clenching my muscles.

  Anticipating another grind or stroke, my insides burn, ready to rock with him, but he’s gone completely still. I look up at him and find his ravenous ocean eyes transfixed on me, wordlessly commanding me to speak.

  My breath dives low into my belly and my thighs squeeze around his knee. “Yes. This is real.”

  Like a hurricane, he’s unleashed, and his hands are all over me, tearing off my clothes as his lips score every inch of my bare body. I’m swept up in a whirlwind, feeling out of control and overcome. I rip at his shirt and tie, even breaking a nail, unable to get him naked fast enough.

  There’s no way to describe it, no way to make sense of it other than I’m possessed by a desire that knows no bounds. Unlike anything I’ve felt before.

  We’re now standing in the darkened hall, incapable of waiting any longer even if the bedroom is only a few steps away. I want him now.

  His tongue slides against mine, his fingers lift my leg off the ground, and the other hand guides his thick length in between my legs. My hand fists in his hair as the head of his heavy erection pushes at my entrance. With one fast thrust, he’s buried deep in me and he raises one hand above my head, against the wall, and laces our fingers together while he fucks me.

  He fucks me like I’m his reason for being, as if being inside me is the most important thing in the world. Even more critical than his heart, lungs, and the air he breathes. And I know this because I feel it, too.

  Once satiated, our slick bodies find our way to my room where he tucks me in and leaves, promising to hurry back. He somehow still has his wits and gathers up our discarded clothes in the living room, dumping them on the bedroom floor, and falls into bed beside me.

  “Get some rest,” he murmurs into my shoulder, followed by a quick peck.

  “Hmmm. I could sleep forever.” I bury myself further into the mattress.

  “I’m afraid that’s not possible, Sleepy Head. I’ve got plans for you tonight.”

  “Plans?” I ask lazily, barely keeping my eyes open.

  “Yes.” One hand cups my breast and the other glides over my hip and in between my legs. “We’re not done tonight.”

  “I better get some
sleep then.”

  “Yes. Sleep.” I feel his smile against my flesh as one flickers across my lips in response.

  Zach turns his back to me and takes my arms to wrap them around his middle. My smile blooms and I sweetly kiss his warm, bare skin just below his shoulder blade. This is how he finds me most mornings, wrapped around him. He exhales a contented sigh.

  Our hot and daring sex-capade flashes behind my closed eyelids and I try to push back the practical little voice in my mind. The one that dares to ask what if Mom and Sam had come home? What does this do to our deal? What am I even thinking?

  I force myself not to sully the blissful memory even if all those questions are valid. I’m at a loss for how this affects our arrangement, if at all, and now isn’t the time to figure that out.

  We’ve colored so far outside the lines of our deal that I don’t even know what the picture is supposed to look like. But one thing I know for sure, the picture is ours so it’s whatever we want it to be.

  Nineteen

  Zach

  The jet taxis down the runway as I read an incoming text from Tom. He texts me daily with updates on any Hummel sightings. He’s taking his job seriously and so far there has been no activity or sign of Joel at Paige’s place. I’m satisfied with the news, although I do wish the landlord would screw up so we could catch him in the act.

  Slipping my phone into my pocket, I glance to Paige, sitting beside me and peering out the window. We’re on our way to Toronto, alone. I’d invited Olivia and Sam to join us, but they had their car and insisted on driving even when I told them I’d get their car back to Toronto.

  Paige has been quiet since we left them, and I’m not sure if this silence is a precursor to “the talk” she’s itching to have. Our weekend was good. No…that’s not accurate. It was great. But there was also an underlying tension that ebbed and flowed since I woke up with Paige in my arms on Saturday morning. And while she hasn’t said anything, I’ve seen the far-off look hanging like a cloud over her, lurking. And when I ask about it, she always says, “We’ll talk about it later.”