“Your memory’s faulty. You beat the shit out of me that night, because I wanted to talk to your dinner companion, Elizabeth Thompson. How is she?”
“I assume better off not having spent time with you.” Jordan was decibels from yelling, and he couldn’t find the willpower to scale the volume back. “Really, though. How? Did you pay someone to punch you? Someone else got to you before me, because you’re a piece of shit, and you thought you’d blame me instead?”
“What? No. I’m not up for pain, even to drag your ass through the mud. I know a really good make-up artist in L.A. Those pictures? After the fact. I was beat up enough as a kid, by assholes like you, to know exactly which strikes leave bruises and which don’t. I told the police enough of a story to keep you there for questioning until I was ready to drop the charges. They weren’t going to hold you for more than that.” Stew spoke quietly. Calmly. Maddeningly.
Jesus. This guy was pettier and more of psycho than Jordan thought. “And leaking my job offers? That was sticking another knife in?” He was shouting now.
“More or less. Did you like it?”
He desperately wanted to drive his fist into Stew’s face. He’d never struck someone in his life, and this seemed like a good time to find out what it was like.
“Jordan.” Chloe’s soft voice and her hand on his arm chased away enough of the red clouding his vision, to drag him back to reality. When he looked back at her, he realized a crowd had gathered. Several people from the trade show, and almost all of them with their phones out.
“See you around, buddy.” Stew moved out of Jordan’s path and back into the crowds. The moment he was gone, mutters spread through the group.
Jordan sank to the ground with a grunt. “Fuck,” he whispered. If his public image was shot before, this turned it into Swiss cheese. “Fuck.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Chloe snuggled into Jordan, hand on his bare chest, trying to let the beat of his heart soothe her racing thoughts. Neither of them slept much last night. She wouldn’t blame Jordan if he chased Stew down and hit him, just once. Not that either she or Jordan wanted that, but the mental image was comforting.
“You have to get ready for work soon.” His words were flat.
“You’re not going to spend the day stalking news sites, are you?”
“Most likely.”
“It won’t help.”
“It’ll make me feel better,” Jordan said.
“No. It won’t.”
He trailed his fingers through her hair. “I’ll probably stay offline most of the day.” His voice softened. “Try and focus on the positive.”
She bit her tongue, rather than asking if there was a good side to this. “Sounds like a plan.”
“Work.” He nudged her to sit. “I’ll make the coffee extra strong.”
She turned the shower on cold, hoping it would jar her awake. Her teeth were chattering by the time she stepped out of the water and toweled off, but her mind was still a fog. Neither of them dared read any of the headlines last night. There was no way Jordan escaped unscathed, especially at a conference, mixed with people who knew him and fact he’d been shouting, when no one could hear what Stew was saying. Jordan would be crucified.
She pulled on her favorite Nintendo T-shirt, and faded jeans, needing comfort from somewhere. All night, they tossed and turned, but they didn’t speak. Chloe spent the time trying to figure out how to make this right for Jordan. She enjoyed a challenge, but this had her stumped.
She padded into the kitchen, stomach sinking when she saw him scanning his phone. “You’re reading the news.”
He nodded, lips drawn into a thin line.
“And?” She wasn’t sure she wanted details. Or that she’d be able to keep anything down, given the acid churning inside.
His laugh slid into a cackle before he choked it off, and he handed her the device.
She scanned the headlines, and then had to read them a second time, sure she was hallucinating. “Someone caught Stew on audio.”
“Yeah.” Jordan sounded as though he had as hard a time believing it as she did. “The story is everywhere. They’re slaughtering him. Sites he’s worked for are distancing themselves. His credibility is at zero.”
When Jordan's phone buzzed in Chloe's hand, she jumped, and then giggled. She didn't recognize the number. She handed it back. “I assume it's for you.”
He frowned at the screen but answered. “Jordan Iverson... Yes... I have... Are you sure? I mean, of course you are. Thank you. I'll keep an eye out for it.” He disconnected and let his phone clatter to the kitchen counter.
Chloe tried to hold in her curiosity, but as the seconds ticked away and Jordan didn’t speak, she lost the battle. “Well?”
He focused on her, blue eyes clear and bright. “That was Jonathon Woodhouse. He said he misspoke yesterday about my platform. He didn't realize how wide it reached. Especially now. He wants to back me before anyone else gets to me.”
“Holy shit.” Chloe flung her arms around him. “That's amazing. It’s fantastic.”
Jordan buried his face against her neck. “If he thinks other people are going to come forward with offers...”
“No. We’re not fucking around with this.” She pulled back enough to slap him on the arm, then dove back into the hug. This was right. The way it should be.
“No. We’re not. I told him I’d look for the contract. I have to read it over, but as long as it looks like what I expect or has negotiable elements, I’m taking his offer.”
She rested her cheek against his chest. This time, his heartbeat did soothe her. Steady. Right. Peaceful. “We’re calling Liz to celebrate, aren’t we?”
His arms stiffened around her.
“What’s wrong?” She looked him in the eye.
“You tell her. We should celebrate alone, though.”
“No.” Chloe didn’t like his tone. “You can’t do the same thing she is. What’s wrong with both of you?”
He searched her face. “My answer spoils the mood. You don’t want that. Neither do I.”
Because calling Liz as just friends would hurt too much. The realization slammed into Chloe so hard, it left her reeling. How did she not see it sooner? Because she didn’t think it was an option. It was. She saw it in Jordan’s gaze. “I love you dearly and completely,” she said.
“I do.”
“Is it possible”—she swallowed her doubt and pushed through hesitation—“to feel that way about you, but still not be complete?”
“I’d live happily ever after with you and only you.” He brushed his thumb over her cheek.
She knew Jordan almost as well as she did herself, and she was right about this. “But you recognize it too. We’d be happily-ever-after times two if she was with us.”
“Yes. But Liz has to feel the same way.”
“Then we’ll have to convince her we’re serious.” Now that this hung between Chloe and Jordan, she couldn’t shake the idea. “That she’s not this extraneous add-on. That she’s as much a bit of us as we are of each other. Is that weird?”
“Which part? Because it’s all making sense to me.”
“It’s barely been a month, and I think I love her. It’s not what I feel for you; nothing will ever match that. But I think it’s just as strong.”
Jordan settled his hands on her hips and pulled her back to him, holding her gaze. “I knew after a week of working with you. And I get it. I can’t do this reality-living-life thing without you, but Liz is like a missing piece.”
Chloe loved the way he climbed in her head and picked thoughts she couldn’t put words to. There was something similar with Liz. Jordan’s statement Liz might not feel the same pushed doubt into the glow spreading through Chloe. “What if she’s not interested?” she asked.
“No way to find out unless we ask.” He kissed her on the forehead, the nose, and then the lips. “Go to work. I’ll call Liz and ask if she wants to meet for lunch.”
Chloe would
n’t be able to focus on work now, but she didn’t have a choice. “All right.” She pressed her lips to his one more time. “I love you. And thank you.”
JORDAN WASN’T SURPRISED when he got Liz’s voicemail. She probably had a lot of work to do, especially if she left things unattended while she helped him. He left her a simple message—This is Jordan. Call me back—and turned his attention to the contract from Jonathan. The legalese made his eyes glaze over, but he tried to plow through enough of it to decide if it was worth looking at with an attorney.
Every few minutes, his attention drifted to his phone. He hadn’t missed anything, but that didn’t stop him from checking. When did Liz become so important? He couldn’t say, but in the few days she’d been gone, an empty void mocked him. He would have shoved it aside for Chloe but was grateful he didn’t have to.
A text from Chloe buzzed through. Are we on for lunch?
It’s just you and me. No answer yet, he replied.
He tried texting Liz as well, disappointment settling deeper when noon sped in and she didn’t respond. Lunch with Chloe was good. They talked about the offer. Work. Who was fucking whom in the office. For the first time since he was laid off, Jordan didn’t feel bitterness creep in, while he talked about his ex-coworkers.
He sent Chloe back to work, dropped his paperwork off with his lawyer, and then headed back to the condo. As four rolled around, Jordan admitted he might need a different route to Liz. He called the R&T main number and asked for her.
“I’m sorry. Ms. Thompson doesn’t work here anymore. All of her clients should have been notified. I apologize if that didn’t reach you.”
“I’m sure it’s in my email somewhere.” She quit? What the fuck? “May I speak with Mercy Rowe, then?”
“Ms. Rowe has a full schedule today.”
Jordan decided to take a risk and push his luck a little. “Could you tell her—if you can get her on the line, that is—that this is Jordan from Rinslet Enterprises?” Please don’t let this woman be up to date on industry gossip.
“One moment. I’ll check.”
A prerecorded message played over the line, and seconds later, he heard a click. “Hey.” Mercy sounded friendly. “I understand congratulations are in order. Something about a business venture?”
“The news isn’t public yet. How did you know?” Jordan clenched his jaw. It wasn’t out there, was it? He couldn’t handle another let-down like that.
“I know people.” Mercy laughed. “What can I do for you, Mr. Iverson?”
“You’re busy, so I won’t keep you long. I’m looking for Liz, but reception tells me she doesn’t work for you anymore.”
“You haven’t heard.” Mercy sounded surprised.
“Heard what?”
“She gave me your news, and over the weekend gave me her notice. She’s one of Woodhouse’s business partners as of last night.”
“Oh.” The information sank into his head, and so did reality. “Wait. Their offices are in L.A. She’s not moving, is she?”
“Listen, Jordan, I can’t—”
“Please. I need to talk to her, and she’s not taking my calls.”
Silence stretched over the line, and Jordan was about to prod, when Mercy sighed. “I know who you are. Not as in I read the news this morning, or in the way Ian meant when he said it. I have a pretty good idea what you are to Liz.”
“What am I?”
“It’s not my place to tell you. But she did this for me once, so I’m returning the favor with a tiny caveat. Don’t hurt Liz. She’s had enough of that.”
Jordan thought about asking or what, but it didn’t matter. “I swear, that’s the last thing either of us wants.”
“She’s packing up and getting ready to move. So she’s either at her condo or the Park City house, figuring out what to take with her and what to put into storage.” Mercy rattled off the address he didn’t already have.
“Thank you.” Jordan tried to call Liz one more time and went straight to voice mail. It was almost five. Chloe still had to wrap things up at work. He could make the drive up the canyon, but unless she was up there and planning on staying the night, he could miss her. Checking her condo first made the most sense.
Fifteen minutes later, after knocking twice and then ringing her bell, he was sure she either wasn’t home or was determined to ignore him. He wandered back down to the lobby. If he was going to drive to Park City, he’d wait for Chloe to be done with work, but there was no guarantee it would matter. He could stroll across the street, grab a cup of coffee, and stalk Liz’s front door.
That seemed like a great way to scare her off if she wasn’t already done with them.
“Jordan?” Liz’s voice drew him from the questions with no answers.
He whirled, started, then grinned. “Liz. We need to talk.”
She shook her head and brushed past him. “There’s a reason I’m not taking your calls.”
That was one question answered. He sent Chloe a text. At Liz’s, then followed Liz to the elevator. “Because you’re going to leave without saying goodbye?”
“Can we not do this here?” She didn’t look at him.
“Where, then?”
“Upstairs. My condo.”
He could live with that. Seeing Liz again reinforced his reason for being here. Even with the scowl etched on her face, her familiar scent and soft curves teased him. “Liz.”
She held up a finger, silencing him. He fell into step beside her when they reached her floor, and drummed his toes inside his shoes while he waited for her to unlock her door.
The moment they were inside, she turned to him. “What?”
Any preplanned words evaporated. He closed the distance between them, cradled her cheeks between his palms, and kissed her. She parted her lips, and her gasp met his mouth. She dug her fingers into his chest with a groan. Fuck, this was incredible. No wonder Chloe liked it so much.
When they broke apart, Liz traced her fingers over her lips. “What was that?”
“I’m not super experienced in the matter, but I’m going to say it was our first kiss.”
She stepped out of reach. “Not what I meant.”
“I’ve been dying to find out what that was like.”
“What’s your verdict?”
“Intoxicating and addictive.” He reached for her again.
She rested a palm on his chest, her arm locked. “Stop. This is why I’m leaving. Why I wasn’t taking your calls, and why I wasn’t going to say goodbye. I already told you, I’m not your third wheel.”
“You’re anything but.” He probably should have led with that. “I wanted to do this with Chloe here, but you need to hear it. I love you. We love you. We want and need and have to have you in our lives.”
“Wrong. We’re not having this conversation with just you and me, because so help me, my imagination does enough concocting on its own, and unless I hear it from both of you, I can’t—” Her voice cracked.
Making Liz cry was not part of the plan, as poorly thought out as it was. “That’s fine.” He kept his distance, not wanting to push her away when she was so close. “Chloe will be here in the next fifteen minutes, unless traffic is bad. Then will you listen?”
“Chloe’s coming here? Now?”
“I texted her when you got home, and I guarantee she cut out of work the moment she saw that message, if it was an option. You know she’ll drop everything. Even if you pretend you don’t, you have that same synergy with us. We all click. She and I have since we met, and it’s the same with you.”
“I can’t, Jordan. I’m sorry. I’m not sure what you’re doing here, or why you think this is a good idea, but no. Meet her in the lobby and go.”
“Liz, please. I’ll wait until she gets here to say anything more, but you have to hear us out.”
“I don’t. There’s nothing requiring me to do that.”
He racked his brain for another argument, but he didn’t have anything for a flat-out no. “All right.�
� He reached for the door, hating the empty pit growing in his chest. Apparently he’d used up his luck for the day.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Liz couldn’t make sense of the swirl inside. Giddiness. Hurt. Frustration. Desire. It all waged war, until she wanted to scream and weep and stomp her foot and shout it’s not fair.
Jordan faced her again, his hand hovering over the doorknob. “I don’t know what’s making you push us out, but I’m arrogant enough to think I know you, at least a little, so I’m going to take a guess. If you’re making me leave because you don’t feel the same, that’s fine. I’ll still go. You have to say it though.
“I think it’s something else though. You’re terrified because this is something no one does. I get that. I’ve been struggling with the same thought. But so what? I love you. When Chloe gets here she’ll tell you the same thing. If you feel the same, don’t sacrifice us because people say relationships like this don’t work. We’ve done all right so far, and those people aren’t us.”
“Wait.” The word forced itself past her lips.
Jordan moved away from the door, smile teasing his lips.
“You can stay until Chloe gets here. But no promises.” Except that was what she wanted. Promises. Not the lies George told. Not the lives ripped away too young, before she was even twenty. Something long-term. Jordan said love. It wasn’t a playful brush off. He didn’t toss the word around, the way Liz and Mercy did. He said he and Chloe loved her. Both of them. Hope clawed at her throat, daring her to defy what she’d heard.
“That’s all I’m asking for,” Jordan said. “Well, there will be more, but hearing us out is a start.”
She nodded to the couch. “Have a seat.” She couldn’t do the same. She even had memories associated with freaking sofas. She was screwed if this didn’t go well. Why did she let him stay?
Someone knocked, and Jordan called, “It’s open.”
Liz glared at him. He shrugged.
“You always leave your door unlocked?” Chloe strode in and latched the deadbolt behind her.
The Geeks and the Socialite Page 19