Deceiving The Groom

by Shadow, Lisa

  She blew another deep breath into him then placed her hands over the center of his chest. It rose beneath her fingers and she almost collapsed. She tugged one of his knees up then rolled him onto his side. Hovering beside his lips, his shallow breath brushed her cheek. She shut her eyes and ran her hand over his hair.

  “It’s going to be alright, Liam.”

  She fished in her pocket for her cell phone and called for an ambulance.

  Long after Mrs. Ruiz had taken Lexi home to bed, Claire sat in the narrow chair beside Liam. She’d leave when he woke up, when she’d seen for herself that he was really alright. Her heart seemed gripped in a steel glove. People she cared about had a way of dying on her. Liam wasn’t going to—she wouldn’t let him.

  Claire rubbed her thumb over the top of Liam’s hand, staring at the IV inserted in his arm. The picture was all wrong. Liam’s healthy body in a hospital gown, lying in a bed that could barely contain his huge frame. She couldn’t take it. Wanted to rip out the IV and shake him, tell him he was stronger than this. Tell him he needed to get up, Lexi needed him—she needed him.

  It wasn’t just attraction. It wasn’t just superficial feelings. Seeing Liam this way jerked the curtain right off her emotions. She swiped her eyes with the back of her free hand. The fingers underneath hers shifted and Claire glanced up. Liam watched her, watched her like he had just woken up from a nap and was enjoying the view. She gasped.

  Liam’s hand slipped from hers and gripped her chin. “The face of someone only after sex, hey? Those horny tears?” His voice was raw and husky but still managed to be as devilish as hell.

  The smug SOB. He was enjoying this. While she was slowly being crushed by a stack of busses, he found her anguish completely satisfying. She leaped up and grabbed his shoulders. “You bastard!”

  Liam managed half a chuckle before she cut it off with her lips, smashing her mouth over his and stroking his tongue over hers. His fingers wrapped around the top of her arms and he dragged her closer.

  A throat cleared behind her and Claire sprung back from the hospital bed. Detective Clarke stood behind her. She’d briefly spoken to him earlier but he’d slipped her mind.

  “Glad to see you’re feeling better, Mr. Channing.”

  “What’s happened?” All playfulness slipped away from Liam’s tone.

  The detective approached Liam. “You don’t remember what happened?”

  Liam frowned. “No.”

  “There’s been a fire at your office.” The detective tilted his head towards Claire. “In fact, if hadn’t been for the efforts of your courageous friend here, you would’ve lost both the building and your life.”

  Liam’s gaze snapped to Claire, he sat a little straighter. “Is that right?”

  “Yeah. This lady managed to extinguish the fire, drag you outside, and perform CPR. You’re a lucky man.”

  Claire rubbed her arms and stepped back. Hell, now everyone thought she was some kind of hero.

  “The reason I’m here is to talk to you about how the fire started. The circumstances have been flagged as suspicious.”

  Lines appeared on Liam’s forehead. “Suspicious?”

  “Yes, given the head injury you sustained.”

  Liam touched the top of his bandaged head.

  “What was the last thing you remember?” the detective asked.

  Liam’s brow furrowed. “I looked out the windows of my office and saw Claire in her shop.”

  Warmth flooded Claire to her toes. So she wasn’t the only one pathetically sending longing looks to the person across the street.

  “And then?” Detective Clarke enquired.

  “Nothing.”

  The detective remained silent a moment. “The fire appears to have come from a faulty heating appliance. Do you recall turning it on?”

  Liam shook his head. “Perhaps my receptionist left it on. She’s always complaining about being cold.”

  The detective studied Liam a moment. “There’s always the possibility you sustained the injury tripping in the smoke. If you remember anything unusual, please call me.” He handed Liam a card. “We’ll be doing forensics on the heater.” Detective Clarke turned to Claire. “That goes for you too. If you remember seeing anything out of the ordinary.” He patted Claire’s shoulder. “And good job. You’re a brave lady.”

  “Thank you.” A flush crept over her skin.

  He nodded and left the room. Claire stared after him not wanting to look at Liam.

  “I guess we’re even.”

  “Even?” Claire whispered.

  “Yeah, the lake. Except I didn’t put out any fire, or do any CPR. I think you win.”

  The warmth in Liam’s expression brought a sting of tears to her eyes. Claire held her breath. The lake. Where it all started.

  He deserved to know the truth—the whole truth. “What I said the other day. About just wanting sex. It was only an excuse.” Her lips compressed. “I was too afraid to tell you the truth…”

  She took a shaky breath and met Liam’s gaze. “Liam, I’ve done stupid things. Bad things I didn’t want you to find out.”

  Hot tears spilled onto her cheeks.

  Liam grabbed her hand and tugged her to the edge of the bed. He brushed her wet cheeks with his thumbs. “Love, you couldn’t even fathom some of the stupid, bad things I’ve done.”

  She shook her head. She could, and as much as it was a wound on her soul she still wanted him. Liam moved his thumbs to her lips, silencing her before she could argue.

  “After everything that’s happened today, I don’t want to know. We’ve all made mistakes. I don’t care what you’ve done. Let’s start again—clean slate.”

  The idea was too tempting, but she had to tell him. “You should know.”

  His hand slipped to the back of her neck guiding her closer. “No. Not this time. You and I, we’ve earned a fresh start, histories be damned. We can’t let them control us, we can only control what we do now.”

  He brushed a soft kiss across her lips. Claire rested her nose against his and breathed in his air. His words rippled through her.

  We can only control what we do now. He doesn’t want to know…

  “Tomorrow, I’ll pick you up. We’ll have a new first date.” Liam promised.

  Claire pressed her lips gently to his. Tomorrow was a new day.

  Chapter Ten

  Liam stared at the papers on his desk. All they needed were his signature and the last piece of land he required for his newest housing estate would be his. He twirled the pen in his fingers. Was he doing the right thing? Until recently he’d thought he was, had thought he was being fair. He’d given Mr. Graham a chance before he made his move. But he couldn’t wipe away the look of unspoken judgment he had seen in Claire’s eyes when she’d found out in Vegas.

  Claire. He’d almost let her slip away. He wouldn’t give her reason to push him away again. He put down the pen. Perhaps he owed the man one last chance? God knew he’d made his own share of mistakes, enough that he’d rather not know whatever confession Claire thought she needed to tell him. Fact was—he already knew.

  Liam slid open his desk drawer and picked up the newspaper article. In a low moment right before the fire, he’d Googled the girl who’d dumped him. He’d ignored the slinking guilt. Wasn’t cyber screening part of the dating process these days anyhow? He’d thought Claire’s name sounded familiar when he’d met her, but it wasn’t until he saw the article he remembered. Political scandals didn’t rank highly in his memory bank.

  He held up the article. God-damn tabloids, they didn’t care who they destroyed. He gazed at the young girl in the photo. They’d crucified her in the papers, and she’d been barley eighteen. The paper wrinkled in his fingers. The bastard next to her, now that prick deserved to be destroyed. Part of him wanted to track him down and tear him apart just for thinking he could touch such a young Claire.

  He placed the paper back in his drawer and closed it. He’d seen the shame on her face at
the hospital. Her past was irrelevant, as was his. He wouldn’t let her put herself through the humiliation of explaining something that didn’t matter.

  Clean slate, for both of them.

  Liam shut the folder on his desk. He’d talk to his lawyer and work out a better option for Mr. Graham, one that would at least leave the man with something.

  Tonight he intended to knock Claire right out of her pretty pointed shoes. A big ask for someone who’d never dated. But then he’d never met anyone who was worth taking the risk for till now. He wouldn’t take any chances, he’d make sure this first date put all others she’d ever had to shame. He’d fold the space between them and show Claire what it was like to be his.

  Claire ran her fingers over the plastic sign hanging on the door, and with a light exhale, flipped it over. Open. She was open for business. The novelty was still fresh. Her first appointment of the day had been scheduled, now all she had to do was pray the bride saw something in her designs.

  Her gaze flickered through the glass to the offices opposite. Workmen had already begun arriving to repair the damage from the fire. She spun on the ball of her pump. She wouldn’t think about the office across the road, the man inside it, or what he might be doing… probably sitting at his computer, in front of that big, shiny, desk… She found herself leaning against the door and jumped.

  Claire stalked to the counter in the corner of the storefront and smoothed the ribbon down the centre of her appointment book. Proximity was wreaking havoc on her concentration. She focused on the almost empty pages of the appointment book. Okay, maybe one appointment didn’t constitute much of a grand opening week but at least she was getting calls from the flyers she’d sent out. It just took time, didn’t it?

  The door rattled and Claire glanced up. A slim woman, hair groomed to Stepford perfection, with a designer handbag draped over her arm, walked into the store followed by her older doppelganger.

  Claire rushed forward. “Kelli, thank you so much for coming.” She extended a hand, “It’s a pleasure to meet you in person.”

  Kelli’s brow arched and she raised her wrist limply. Claire shook her hand softly and turned to the older version.

  “This is my mother, Mrs. Ferguson.”

  Claire extended her fingers. “Mrs. Ferguson, thank you for coming.”

  Mrs. Ferguson simply adjusted her jacket and nodded. Claire dropped her hands to her side. “Well, if you’ll take a seat, I’ll be happy to show you the designs I’ve come up with based on our conversations.”

  Claire directed them to the chairs in the showroom, and collected her sketchpad. She presented the designs to Kelli, talking her through all the details.

  “I don’t know, Kelli, these don’t seem very traditional.” Mrs. Ferguson wrinkled her nose like the sketchpad smelled.

  “Mother, if I wanted traditional I would have gone to Mrs. McKinnon’s.”

  Mrs. Ferguson scoffed and patted the side of her hair. “Still, there’s always the City. You don’t have to go with a beginner.”

  Claire sat back. “I assure you Mrs. Ferguson, I’m very qualified. I trained at—”

  “What I want to know is, can you do it in time?” Kelli asked, bringing the sketchpad closer to her face.

  Claire bit her lip. “Design one and two absolutely, number three might have some issues.” Her gaze travelled over Kelli’s frame. “Actually, having met you in person, I’d definitely suggest design one. Not everyone could wear a sheath design so well.”

  Kelli’s chin rose and a smug smile revealed her bleached teeth. Her gaze flittered out the window and the smile just as quickly turned to scowl. Her mother followed her gaze and mirrored her expression.

  Claire glanced out the window. Liam had stepped out of his office and stood in the street talking on his cell phone.

  “Don’t worry about him dear, you’ve done so much better. He may have money but he has nothing else to offer.” Mrs. Ferguson placed a hand on her daughter’s shoulder.

  Claire blinked and looked at Kelli. “You dated Liam?”

  Kelli’s lip curled. “You don’t date Liam Channing, you get screwed by Liam Channing.”

  “Kelli!” Mrs. Ferguson exclaimed, eyes stretching wide.

  “Shush, mother, it’s true and you know it.”

  Claire’s cheeks burned like hot stones.

  “Oh dear, Claire… You haven’t gotten caught in that snare have you?”

  Claire tore her gaze from the window.

  Kelli leaned forward, dull gray eyes meeting hers. “Trust me, woman-to-woman, don’t let the face fool you. The man is a snake.”

  Claire glanced back out the window. A snake? How could a snake look at her, touch her, make her feel the way he did.

  “I’ll remember that.” She turned back to the sketchbook, drawing the conversation back to a comfortable place.

  Once the design was finalized, Kellie paid her deposit and the women left her store. Claire put away the last of her things and straightened, stretching her aching back.

  “I hope flowers are welcome?” Liam’s voice was a kiss to her ears.

  She turned. Liam held a giant bouquet, full of oversized roses in soft pastels. Claire gave a small smile. “Flowers are lovely. Thank you.”

  Liam stepped forward, his arm darting around her waist drawing her against him. Floral scents burst between them. Claire drew back, and took the flowers. “You really didn’t need to.”

  “I wanted to celebrate your opening. So how is business?”

  “Wonderful. I have one client and another coming for an appointment next week.”

  Claire moved to find something to put the flowers in, and paused for a moment. “Actually, I think you may know one of them. Kelli Ferguson?”

  Liam’s throat cleared. “I may have met her a couple of times.”

  Claire turned, eyes flickering over Liam. “Really? I kind of got the impression you might know her intimately. She certainly had a few things to say about you.”

  Liam’s cheeks puffed and he followed her into the front showroom. “Claire, I can’t deny what I was like.”

  “Was like?” Claire plonked the flowers onto the counter and shuffled them.

  Liam rested his hands on her shoulders. The heat of his body beckoned. “Yes, was. Things have changed.”

  “So, you’re really breaking your rules then?”

  Liam’s hands slid from her shoulders and wrapped around her waist. “The rules got re-written the moment I met you.”

  Her skin tingled at his words, her head fell back to rest on his shoulder. His lips brushed her neck. Her breathing sped up. She shut her eyes, letting his mouth kiss the doubts from her mind. It was like swimming in the ocean. Sinking and swimming, sinking and swimming—soon enough she was going to drown.

  Chapter Eleven

  Four hours later, Claire linked her arm through Liam’s as they exited the theatre. “Okay, who are you and what have you done with Liam?”

  Liam glanced down at her. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, I just saw you scarf down a plate of raw fish I could tell wanted to make you hurl, then sit through a two hour chick flick without falling into a coma.”

  They hit the pavement and he placed his hand over hers, quickening their pace. “Well you like sushi, and I heard you tell Lexi last time that you wanted to see that movie.”

  “So you just did everything I want?” Claire looked at him from the corner of her eye. “Now that doesn’t sound like Liam Channing. There’s plenty to do in the city, what about what you want?”

  Liam halted abruptly and smiled—a smile that revealed the devilish symmetry of his teeth. “We’re getting to that.” He leaned in, placing his lips next to her ear. His breath whispered against her hair and she breathed in the tantalizing zest of his cologne. “I wanted you to see I can compromise. Give you what you want—” He paused his voice rippling with a half growl. “—before I get what I want.”

  Her blood trembled all the way down to her womb.
Her breaths quickened and his hand went to the small of her back, guiding her to large glass doors. She barely registered the swank surroundings of the hotel. All she could focus on was the heat of Liam’s hand on her back, the warmth of his body next to her, and the promise of him taking what he wanted—of her giving him everything.

  Liam took a key from the reception and led her to the elevator. An elderly couple stepped inside with them. Claire pressed herself closer against Liam. He pressed the button for the penthouse, and the fingers of his free hand moved against the base of her spine. Wetness spread between her legs, dampening her panties. The smooth fabric of his pants brushed the back of her hand. Her nipples hardened. She stared through the couple in front of them and counted the floors to the top.

  Crap, it was happening again. Hesitations melted as soon as Liam’s hands touched her. It didn’t seem to matter either. Two floors to go. The elevator stopped, and the elderly couple exited. The doors shut and she turned, slamming her body against Liam’s.

  He wrapped his arms around her, but did nothing to ease her torment, just winked down at her. The doors opened and they walked into a foyer. Liam scanned his key and the double doors clicked.

  He swept them open, and she stepped inside. The hotel room was nice—more than nice. Hell, it was a perfect haven for lovemaking. Cream carpet and curtains, shining wood veneer, nothing short of luxurious. But is this what he wanted? The edge fell off her need, just a little. She tugged of her jacket and tossed it onto a sofa. “Another sex pad, Liam? Still scared to take me home?”

  Liam’s gaze flicked but he just shut the door, the lock clicking with a thunk. He turned slowly, dragging off his jacket one sleeve at a time. He tossed it over hers, and stepped towards her. “Believe me, baby, I’m going to take you home. But this place has something I don’t—complete privacy.”

  Claire scrunched her eyebrows, but Liam simply bent and scooped her into his arms. She gasped, the contact with her body zinged along her nerves. He stalked across the room and pushed open a door. A courtyard emerged, enclosed but open to the sky. Greenery hung off the walls, tiny flickering lights draped across the space. At the centre, bubbling away with steam rising like a promise of muscle soothing heat, lay a hot tub.