Operation: Girl Next Door

by Casey Hagen

  She reared her head back and looked down at her phone then held it up to her ear again. “Who do you know that would have thrown out my name?” An unfamiliar tingling sensation vibrated under her skin as she waited for the answer.

  “Trevor Myers…and you might remember that at one time, he did you a favor.”

  Trevor.

  Her first, middle, and last crush.

  Five years older than her, but the biggest star Clendon High had ever seen, Trevor shined so damn bright, the rest of the world disappeared.

  She’d worshiped him from afar for years. She relished every single word he’d ever spoken to her when he hung out with Rye. She had measured the feeling every man since had given her to the way it felt to have him hold her in his arms at prom.

  Still, at twenty-five, every last man had come up lacking.

  She needed a break.

  He needed a favor.

  She owed him one.

  And maybe after a few days with him, she would find out he was just a mere mortal like the rest of them, and her perspective on men would be restored.

  “How many days?” She couldn’t believe she had said the words.

  “You’ll do it?”

  “If I can fit it in…how many?”

  “You’d leave Friday morning and be back Tuesday night. Trevor will pick you up and you’ll drive to his boss’ place in upsCartwright New York.”

  The damn timing was perfect. “Any idea what I should plan for while I’m there?”

  “Plan for anything.”

  An image of her straddling Trevor, with his hands pinned above his head, on a king-sized, soft bed flashed into her overworked mind.

  Maybe she didn’t need to plan for that.

  So much for seeing her parents or her brother.

  “I’m in. Give him my address and I’ll be ready.”

  Chapter 2

  The sun streamed between the brick apartment buildings on Greenwich Street, casting a golden glow on the russet, eight-story building. Trevor figured the building had to have gone up in the 1950s at the latest, judging by the charm of the weathered brick. The humidity had disappeared, leaving a crispness to the air, a prelude to fall. His favorite season, and most hated season. Yeah, he was a real piece of work.

  He stood in front of the undersCartwrightd, dark-green door to Piper’s apartment in a trendy section of lower Manhattan. Tribeca had a healthy influx of up-and-comers taking up residence. Little Piper Bradley had done fairly well for herself. She’d graduated college five minutes ago, right? How did she afford a place that went for well over a million dollars?

  She’d always been running around with those sketch books and charcoal-stained fingers. It was probably easier to win the lottery than to find success in the art world.

  Did she have to give up her love of art for a more lucrative career?

  A niggling of regret filled him at the thought of her sacrificing a dream she had been so passionate about in favor of the damn rat race the rest of the world ran daily.

  Piper was more than the rest of them. She deserved better than chasing a paycheck.

  She lived and breathed by that sketch pad, it even stayed perched on the dinner table right at her elbow being just as much a part of her as the arm she tucked it in.

  Maybe she’d kept the art and shared the pricey space with a handful of friends?

  Or robbed a bank?

  Maybe she had a man?

  Trevor frowned. Couldn’t be that or she’d never have agreed to join him, right?

  He wondered why the idea of man up there in her bed bothered him. Maybe he didn’t like the idea that he was poaching on another man’s territory. Then again, the Piper he remembered was naïve, but passionate about her whatever she doodled in those books of hers. She’d been a sweet kid with big dreams and didn’t understand the ruthlessness of the world. Looking around the posh area, he worried that maybe his best friend’s baby sister was being taken advantage of by some rich, powerful guy filled with a world of lies and heartache, promising to help her make it big.

  You mean like the way you’re taking advantage of her?

  Where the hell did that come from? He’d never had an inner voice. He sure as hell didn’t need one now.

  He’d never asked Ryden about her after he’d taken her to her prom. They’d gone to the dance, he had filled her punch glass and watched her nervously fiddle with the handle more than she actually drank it, spun her around on the dance floor, and escorted her home, safe and sound. After that, he’d gone to Europe for the summer and returned home just in time to start graduate school, their one date all but forgotten.

  Okay, more like pushed out of his mind.

  Truth was, she had gotten to him that night. He’d been caught off guard by the way she answered the door, covered from head to toe in shimmering gold fitted to curves he hadn’t realized she had. Her sweet laughter throughout the night had reached right into him and held on tight.

  He hadn’t trusted himself to spend more time with her. Before that night, she had just been the girl next door, her best friend’s little sister. But from the moment he laid eyes on her, that comfort and familiarity vanished. The few times he saw her after, he couldn’t look her in the eye. He hoped she hadn’t noticed.

  He hoped she didn’t think she’d done something wrong.

  The best thing for him to do was to run.

  Far and fast.

  She had been just shy of eighteen. He had just finished college, a year late, after his recovery from a broken knee set him a year behind, and eventually robbed him of his dreams of a pro football career.

  His mind still hadn’t been right when he’d graduated college. He had no right to explore anything more with Piper when he hadn’t managed to dispel the simmering anger at having his dream ripped away.

  And she deserved to go and spread her wings.

  Shaking off the memory, he found the windows of the sixth floor. Evidently, she had spread them far and wide, earning a hefty profit.

  He smiled.

  Go Piper.

  Suddenly anxious to see her peaceful smile, he pulled out his cell and called her number.

  “Hello?” She answered after the first ring.

  He remembered that sweet voice. The honey-laced hesitancy that hinted at her shy innocence.

  “Uh,” he cleared his throat. “Hi, Piper. It’s Tr-evor.” Who the hell was stuttering, because it sure as hell better not be him.

  “Hi,” she said.

  “Um, yeah, so, I’m here.”

  “Okay. Give me just a second and I’ll be right down.”

  “Sure, sure.”

  He hung up the phone before he could possibly make more of an ass of himself.

  A part of him had been worried that this whole plan would backfire. He knew what he had to do. He had to sell the story. He’d been selling people on shit for years. It was all just more of the same. Only now, he couldn’t do it alone. He had to rely on a partner.

  A sweet partner.

  A shy partner.

  Someone who likely never lied a day in her life.

  He knew what he was, what he had to do, to be, to make it in his world. The pang in his chest told him just how he felt about letting that hustle touch her.

  In a few minutes, she’d come down in one of those jumpers over her leggings and worn Converse sneakers, her hair knotted on top of her head and pinned with a No. 2 pencil. If they still made No. 2 pencils. Hell if he knew.

  He’d take one look at that fresh, unadorned face of hers, with her light freckles and rosy cheeks, and the guilt would eat him alive, having him call the whole thing off.

  Maybe he could just hire someone. An escort to play the part. No sex involved, just sell the boss on the idea of her being the doting girlfriend with forever prospects.

  The door clicked open and flung wide. If he didn’t know better, he’d think Wonder Woman had just burst out the door. Dark, wavy hair danced in the late summer breeze. Those chocolate strand
s so long that they swung with each step and peeked out from behind the woman’s narrow waist.

  Damn, Piper’s neighbor was a magnificent woman. An hour glass times ten, he hadn’t seen curves like that on a woman in…well, ever.

  She tugged at her suitcase, wrenching it over the threshold and straightened. She easily had to be over six feet tall. Of course, the stilettos hugging her feet added, he’d guess, about four inches, but she’d tower over most women just the same.

  His eyes roamed from her fuck me shoes, up toned calves, to shapely thighs disappearing just a hair short of indecently-exposed under a snug dress that left little to the imagination.

  Maybe Piper, when this was all over, would hook him up with an intro and they could see where it goes.

  Or maybe not since Wonder Woman looked to be heading right his way.

  “Well, hello,” he said, giving her his best smile, but careful to keep his eyes on her face. Blatantly ogling a woman never left a good impression, even if he did have the protection of sunglasses to conceal his interest.

  He offered her a hand. “My name is Trevor.”

  She smirked. “Yes, I know.”

  That voice.

  A hot rush shot through him.

  It couldn’t be. He lifted his shades and his mouth fell open. “Piper?”

  She cocked a hand on her hip and smirked. “Yes.”

  “Piper Bradley?”

  She slid her shades to the top of her head revealing those golden eyes that squinted against the sun. “The one and only. You need to see my license or something?”

  “Where the hell are your leggings, those sneakers, that damn pencil in your hair?”

  She snorted.

  Snorted!

  “You expected the same clothes I wore in high school?”

  Pushing his suit jacket back, he locked both hands on his hips, and gawked. “I expected you to be wearing something in the same zip code as the clothes you wore, yes.”

  She shrugged. “I grew up.”

  Yeah, she did. And blew his whole plan right out of the water. She flared his dick to life too, leaving him volleying between confusion and guilt.

  He’d just eye-fucked his best friend’s little sister. That had to be against some sort of bro-code or something.

  “This won’t work. You can’t go looking like, like…”

  She narrowed her eyes, a funny little V forming between her eyebrows. “Like what?”

  “Like that,” he said with a sweep of his hand in her direction.

  She narrowed her eyes and her lips twitched. “And what is 'that' exactly?”

  He rubbed his forehead and flinched. “Like sex on a damn stick.”

  “Awe, that’s sweet,” she said, straightening and dropping a slim hand to her hip.

  “It’s not sweet. How the hell do I sell you as my fiancé when you look like a damn call girl?”

  Her smile slipped, as did her flirty posture. “Wow, Trevor. I’m kind of surprised you let those words just fall out of your mouth.”

  “Shit, I didn’t mean it like that.”

  “The fuck you didn’t,” she said, jutting her chin in the air.

  “You swear now, too?”

  “Not usually, no, but it’s either swear or knee you in the sperm box.”

  He shook his head and snapped his fingers. “I can fix this. There has to be a Walmart on the way to the cabin. We’ll get you a whole new wardrobe for the trip.”

  She flipped an errant lock of hair over her shoulder. “Pssshhhhh, like hell we will.”

  “High neck clothing. Loose,” he muttered making a mental list.

  “I’m not a doll.”

  “This isn’t the image I gave my boss. This—” he gestured at her from head to toe, “This is exactly what they expect me to be nail—um, dating.”

  “Gee, your assessment of me is so flattering. Despite what you may think, I’m not a cheap whore.”

  “Dammit, I didn’t mean that. Look—”

  “Do you want my help or not? Because from where I’m standing, insinuating that I look like a whore isn’t a good way to start,” she said.

  He blew out a breath and dropped his chin to his chest. Raising his head, he stared her right in the eye. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to do that. I just need to figure out how to get this all back to a place where this plan has a shot.”

  She crossed her arms. “Yeah, well, it doesn’t have a shot with Walmart.”

  “Okay, Target.”

  “That’s not much better.”

  He threw his arms up. “Fine, you have any suggestions?”

  “Saks,” she said with widened-eyes and a smile.

  “Nope. I need the girl next door here. The girl you used to be. Or, at least an updated version of her.”

  “Fine. But at least make it American Eagle or Old Navy. I can work with either of those.”

  “Deal,” he said.

  “I guess I should take my suitcase back up and go through it.”

  He grabbed the handle of her suitcase. “No time, I’ll buy another.”

  Popping the trunk of his Jaguar, he tossed the suitcase in, and then opened the passenger door for her. She folded herself into the vehicle, her dress lifting even higher with the movement.

  He gulped.

  He needed to get those covered. ASAP.

  ***

  Ahh, her lovely brother had failed to mention that Trevor had turned into an empty-headed, horned up, boob of a man. She’d make her brother pay for that. The fact that she still spent so much time with him and had seen no signs of the same in her brother, made her wonder exactly what kind of man her brother had become when no one from the family was looking.

  She was so telling Mom.

  That should buy her some time and privacy from her meddling mother.

  Hell, according to her mother, her brother was long overdue to settle down and give them grandkids. If Piper wasn’t careful, her mom would write her brother off as hopeless and turn her sights on Piper.

  No thanks.

  But if the meddling matriarch of the Bradley family thought that she needed to work extra hard and long to save Rye’s gentlemanly soul, Piper would so use this to her advantage.

  She took a few minutes to let her gaze roam over her first crush while he was occupied navigating the city. Even at thirty, he had those good ol' American football player good looks. Close-cropped dark hair, tan skin, as if he still spent his summer days running drills with the team. His stormy blue eyes, now framed with a few lines, still set her heart to racing.

  His lean quarterback physique had filled out, leaving all vestiges of high school and college football god behind, and in its place rock-hard muscles that strained the confines of his jacket sleeves and a wide chest she’d love to scratch her nails down…at least once.

  Too bad he’d plundered from god to a total player. She didn’t do shallow. At least not anymore.

  She remembered all too well the boy that made sure to pull out chairs for her, the one who smacked the back of her brother’s head when he chewed with his mouth open and said, “Dude, there’s a lady present.”

  She had a brother and a slew of male cousins. No girls. So when Trevor dropped by or spent the night, she cherished those little things he did to treat her like a lady, and for a little while, her brother and cousins towed the line, too.

  He was the first boy to teach her what a man was, well, other than her dad, but that totally didn’t count. And now, well, she didn’t know what happened, but disappointment settled in when she realized that man might well not exist anymore.

  Or he was buried under fake charming smiles and dump trucks full of bullshit.

  Yup, probably that. He just needed a good pressure wash.

  Well, either way, she owed him one for taking her to her prom. He’d made her whole high school career, with every guide of his palm on her lower back that night, and for that, she would follow through.

  Who knows, maybe she’d do woman
kind a favor and see if she could find a flicker of that guy again. He had to be in there somewhere.

  They rolled out of the city, trading the chorus of honking traffic and the scents of local fare tinged with exhaust for clean mountain air. Trevor had stayed silent next to her, and she’d allowed it, on account that he was navigating the city. She thought by now that muscle in his jaw would have stopped jumping, but nope, there it went again.

  She patted his shoulder. “You know, you really need to relax. It’s going to be fine.”

  His hands clenched on the wheel. “Well, at the moment, it doesn’t feel like it.”

  “The longer you sit there and stew in silence, the less time we have to get our story straight.”

  “Shit, that’s right. I put this together for you.” He reached behind her and pulled out a slim binder. “Hopefully it’s everything you need to know about me. I know it’s a lot in a short time.”

  She flipped it open and smiled. “It’s fine. I’m a quick study.”

  She scanned the information. The name of the company, his movement through the ranks, big deals he’d signed, close associates, Zack and Sebastian he counted as friends.

  He’d included pictures of his penthouse, a swanky place in black, white, stainless steel, and marble with two walls of windows. A corner unit, that cost him a pretty little penny. Apparently, ad execs weren’t hurting.

  “How much money do you make, anyway?” she asked

  He grinned and tipped his head toward her as he settled his wrist over the curve of the steering wheel. “Wow, right out with it, huh?”

  She flipped the page and shrugged. “Well, I’m not trying to be nosey for the sake of being nosey, but the car, the penthouse, that’s a lot for a guy who hasn’t actually made partner.”

  “When I brought in Stettler Athletics and Siren Cosmetics, both deals came with hefty bonuses, so I was able to buy the penthouse outright. Now I just treat the maintenance fees like a mortgage.”

  “That’s millions of dollars of bonuses for just two accounts.” She shook her head and laughed. “Man, I’m in the wrong business.”

  “And what business is that, since I noticed you’re not doing so bad yourself?” he asked.

  “I design dancewear. I guess you’ve never heard of it.”