Ropes of Lies: A Dirty Liars Novel

by Kathy Noumi

  He took the seat across from me. “It’s my baby sister’s birthday next weekend and I’m flying to New York to see her. Wanted to pick something up today since I knew I’d be busy all week.”

  “How thoughtful of you, Mr. Winthrop. I’d say she was lucky to have such a caring brother, but . . . ”

  “Ha ha. You seem to have forgotten what a nice guy I can be. I wasn’t always this way.” He placed the bag on the table in front of us. “But don’t think you’re getting off easy for your little objection back there.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Of course. Why would you ever let me get away with anything?”

  “Sarcasm won’t get you far with me. You’re only making it worse.” The corner of his mouth curved into a half smirk. “Then again, maybe you want to make it worse?”

  I shook my head at him.

  He laughed. In a playful hum, one I remembered too often, he said, “Maybe we need to revisit your likes and dislikes.”

  Preferences? I think my preference is him.

  When I didn’t reply, he furrowed his brow. “I’m kidding. You can relax.”

  I cleared the knot in my throat. “It’s sort of weird I didn’t know you had siblings.”

  “Well, our relationship—it was complicated. And you never asked.”

  I twisted the pearl on my earlobe nervously. “I guess I never did.”

  He licked his lower lip. “Still fiddle with your earrings, I see.”

  “Mmm.” Change the subject. “So, have you decided what to get your sister?”

  He shook his head. “Nope. Any suggestions?”

  “Well, it depends . . .”

  “On?”

  “What does she like? What are her interests? Tell me about her.”

  Jameson smiled. “Amelia is a lot like you: driven and sassy. She owns her own business in New York City.”

  “Impressive. What kind of business?”

  “Cupcakes.”

  “Wait—what’s the name of her shop?”

  “Cups and Cakes.”

  “Holy shit. Seriously?” I squealed.

  Jameson chuckled at my excitement. “Yes. Amelia is an incredible baker.”

  “She makes cakes for famous people,” I informed him like he didn’t already know.

  He beamed, clearly proud. “She loves her job, and it shows.”

  I smiled back. “I’m guessing she’s the favorite child?”

  “Hands down. But Amelia’s the youngest of the three of us, so she has a slight advantage.”

  “Always so humble.” I laughed.

  “I forgot how nice this was,” he said suddenly, then stared at me as though searching for an answer to an unspoken question.

  Did I miss it, too? In the moment, I couldn’t think of anything I missed more.

  My heart skipped a beat. What was wrong with me? We have one nice conversation and I forget everything! A million questions zipped through my mind: Would I have texted him? Did he think I would go to his place or that I would invite him to mine? Is there another way out of this date? Had I made the right choice? What the fuck was I doing? Why was he so hot?

  “Where’d you go?”

  His question yanked me out of my neurotic thoughts. “Yes, uh, sorry.”

  “I wanted to take you somewhere.”

  “Where?”

  Jameson rubbed his palms together. He leaned back in his chair, his posture far too casual for the sly grin he wore. “You lost our bet. Can you at least let me enjoy surprising you?”

  “Have I ever made anything easy for you? Why would I start now?” I fiddled with the pendant on my necklace.

  “Your memory might be a little foggy, but—”

  “I realize you can be a good guy—or at least you could be in the past. But I never agreed to make this easy for you.”

  He played with a sugar packet he found on the table. “No, you didn’t.”

  “Look, let’s agree to put the bickering aside. It’s only one date. We’re older, wiser, and hopefully less naïve. I’m trusting we can be kind of the way we used to be?”

  “So long as you don’t slap me again, I think we can handle it.” Jameson placed his palm over my hand, rubbing the skin at my wrist with his thumb and sending my senses into overdrive before he stood. “Come on, let’s go.”

  “What if I don’t like this place?” I bit my lip.

  “No more questions. What happened to your sense of adventure?”

  “I lost it, oh, about five years ago.”

  “That wasn’t very nice. Tell me you can at least still trust me to make a good choice when it comes to food,” he commanded.

  I glared at him for a long moment. It was only a damn date, so I sucked in a breath and exhaled. “Okay. Lead the way.”

  He cocked a brow. “You still enjoy wine, don’t you?”

  Nodding, I closed my eyes.

  Jameson ushered us toward the door. Millie said her goodbyes when we walked past the front checkout desk. My bag snagged on the door while we exited. It jerked me back before releasing. “Whoa. Care to slow down?”

  “No.”

  We were headed east on the next block when Jameson abruptly stopped in front of the most spectacular vintage car I’d ever laid eyes on. He reached into his pocket and drew out keys.

  “This . . . this is your car?”

  “Yes. Yes, it is.”

  “Who are you? You sure your last name isn’t Bond?” I snickered.

  He laughed, unlocking the passenger-side door and gripping the handle. “Maybe in a former life, but James Bond drives an Aston Martin. This is a 1957 Mercedes-Benz Roadster.”

  “Love how you think I’d know the difference.”

  He opened the door wide. “You should. Now get in.”

  I eased in and he brushed his fingers over my arm. I nearly had a heart attack at the sensation. I’d memorized the soft gentleness in that kind of touch many years ago, and it’d stuck with me the way a person never forgets her name or the feeling of her first kiss. It left me breathless, with an ache between my thighs. My heart was already racing a million miles a minute faster than his fancy old car ever could.

  After he’d climbed behind the wheel, I took him in. He remained a delicious sight, radiating control as he gripped the leather. He was about to whisk me off to God knows where. Taking a deep breath, I let myself put aside all the doubts floating around in my head.

  “Don’t forget your seatbelt, Miss Black.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Jameson

  I gripped the wheel harder, pushing down on the gas pedal. Every time I glanced over, Eden’s sleek black hair was tossing in the wind as her skin soaked in the sun. She’d arched her neck, exposing the satin skin behind her ear, my favorite little spot. It taunted me, and my body responded. I’d dropped the image of the first time I placed a kiss on the spot into a deep cavernous pit in my memory.

  After the race yesterday, Eden was all I could think about. She agreed to a date. A real date. In all that time when we’d snuck off to other cities to be together, she’d never let me take her on a real date.

  While I had meant to back her into a corner, I honestly hadn’t thought she would agree to the bet. Now, as the car engine roared and my need heated to a simmer, I wasn’t sure I could control myself the way I needed to.

  Get a goddamn grip. It’s one fucking date.

  I reached for her, my hand landing on her thigh. She regarded me with a fiery look, licking her lips and biting down on the slick bottom rim of her mouth. My cock strained under my boxer briefs. I pressed on the gas pedal.

  “Where are you taking me, Jameson?”

  I kept my eyes on the road. “A restaurant I own.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I caught her beautiful smile.

  Neither one of us said a word for the rest of the drive. We pulled up to the private gate at JEM, and it opened after a quick wave at the valet. I parked adjacent to the front door. The parking lot remained empty, except for two other cars.
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br />   “You own this place?” Eden said, taking it all in. I’d never doubted she’d be impressed, but her tone ticked me off.

  “Yes, why is it so surprising?”

  “It’s not what I expected.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?” My voice sounded coarser than I anticipated.

  Eden’s face softened. “It’s not a bad thing. Stop being such a grouch.” She gripped my hand then sashayed over to the front door. “Show me around.”

  “Always with that mouth.”

  I pulled at the door handle, positioning my palm at the small of her back to lead her inside. Her beautiful silky black hair bounced as we walked past the hostess stand. I wanted to lean in and smell her, but restrained myself. When we reached the top to bottom stainless steel kitchen, she stopped at the end of a large metal island.

  “Would you like some wine?” I asked.

  Something caught in her throat. She coughed. “Y-yes. Uh, sorry. Yes, thank you, anything would be great.”

  “Nervous?” When she didn’t immediately come back with one of her sarcastic comments, I shifted gears. “You do know we’ve already had sex . . . a lot, right?”

  “Thanks, Captain Obvious. I was there.”

  There she was, the smart-ass woman I loved.

  Loved? No. No love.

  “Had me worried there for minute, being all nice. I’m not used to it,” I said.

  Her brow furrowed a bit. Then she smiled, her playfulness back in full bloom. “Tell me how you managed to close the restaurant today?”

  I grabbed two wineglasses from the glass rack. “Anything for you, Miss Black.”

  She rolled her eyes.

  “Too cheesy?”

  Eden batted her eyelashes, taunting me. “Yes. No need to lay it on so thick there, buddy. As you already mentioned, we’ve had sex. And, FYI, it’s not happening again.”

  She was pushing my buttons, and shamelessly. I raised an eyebrow. “Our bet only included a date. I wouldn’t dream of assuming there would be more.”

  “Sure. Maybe my twenty-year-old self believed your bullshit—”

  “Cross my heart and hope to die,” I said, miming a cross over my heart.

  She smirked. “You won’t need to stick the needle in your eye, though. I’ve got it covered.”

  Suddenly nervous, I blurted out, “I had the chef make your favorite.”

  She glanced at me from beneath her lashes. Her sapphire-blue eyes were breathtaking, even in the dim lighting. There was darkness to her beauty. I hadn’t noticed it before, but now it put me on edge. Eden tested me at every turn. I couldn’t tell if the look on her face was excitement or curiosity.

  I called to the other room, “Cara? Hope? Anyone here?”

  A faint voice shouted back, “Coming, Mr. Winthrop.”

  A figure rounded the corner, and then Hope appeared at the other end of the kitchen. “Would you please set the table for us while I show Miss Black the upstairs? We’ll be back in a few minutes.”

  Taking Eden’s wrist, I whispered in her ear, “The real treat is on the top floor.”

  “Show me.”

  Eden’s pulse throbbed beneath my fingers as I held her hand. We headed up the stairs, her trailing slightly behind me.

  “Close your eyes,” I said as we reached the top.

  When I had confirmed that she’d shut her eyelids without complaint, I guided her directly to the windows that lined the back wall, her shoes echoing on the hardwood floors of the grand room. By the crinkles around her eyes, I could tell she was squeezing them tight.

  I leaned in. “Open your eyes.”

  “Holy shit. Jameson, this is so beautiful. How and when?” Eden clasped her hands over her mouth.

  “A couple years ago. I bought the property and built this place, specifically for this view.” I gestured to the panoramic sight of Lake Michigan.

  Eden shook her head. “I don’t understand how I didn’t know about this place.”

  “I can think of a reason.”

  She turned to face me. “Touché. But credit is due where it’s deserved. The view is stunning. I’m glad you brought me here.”

  I pressed my palm to her cheek. “I’m glad I did, too.”

  “Let’s hope the food is also great.”

  I dropped my hand. Dammit. “We can come back up here for dessert, but lunch is served downstairs. I hope you’re hungry.”

  “Starved.”

  “Good.”

  The waitresses prepared our table. It had a crisp white tablecloth, upon which were lots of small candles and purple hydrangeas in a vase filled with limes. The smell of fresh fettuccini alfredo and garlic bread permeated the room.

  I pulled Eden’s chair out. Her cheeks flushed.

  “I think it’s weird when you’re nice.”

  I chuckled. “Maybe I’ll stop being nice then.”

  Eden rolled her eyes, then sat. “I’m going to need more than one glass of wine to put up with your antics, Winthrop.”

  “Antics, huh?”

  She bobbed her head up and down. “Yes.”

  The tightness in my chest returned in full force. I never stopped being amazed how Eden could evoke this reaction in me with just one glance through her lashes. And then there was her sexy-as-hell sass. She thought I hated it, but in reality, I craved her quick wit more than air. In the half a decade we’d spent avoiding each other, I had never come close to finding someone who triggered a fraction of the emotion Eden provoked.

  When I joined her at the opposite end of the table, she asked, “Is this on the usual menu?”

  Clever girl. “No.”

  “What do you get out of trying so hard?”

  “My intention was a non-hostile lunch.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “I’ll buy it for now.”

  I reached across the table to the basket, lifted the napkin, and retrieved a slice of freshly baked bread. “Let’s make a deal not to talk about work for at least an hour.”

  She tapped her pointer finger over her lips as though feigning thought. “I won’t if you won’t.”

  I rubbed at my chin. “Can I ask why you’re single?”

  Eden pressed her lips into a firm line. “I’ve been focused on work. You know how it is.”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “My turn to ask you something,” she said.

  “Ask away.”

  “Why didn’t you ever tell me you had siblings?”

  “Amelia’s my half-sister, so I don’t talk about her much, I guess. I’m a bit surprised you’re so bothered by my omission.”

  “I find it extremely odd. When we, uh, dated, it never occurred to you to tell me? I mean, okay, I never asked, but . . .”

  “Honestly?” I shrugged. “When we were together I tried not to think about my family.”

  She raised her brows. “It’s not an excuse.”

  “You’re right, it’s not.”

  “So tell me more about your sister.”

  “Amelia. She’s a much better person than . . . well, really anyone in my family. I envy her free spirit and her talents in the kitchen. She pushed me to open this place.”

  Eden’s brow softened as she started fidgeting with her earring again. I craved nothing more than to kiss her, but I had promised no funny business. Did I honestly intend to keep my promise? When her hooded eyes met mine, I reached across the table. Before I could touch her hand, however, my ringer went off, shattering the intimate moment into oblivion.

  Fuck!

  I mouthed the word “sorry” and slid my thumb across the screen.

  “Hello.”

  Nathaniel’s voice crashed through the speaker. I’d know him a lifetime and still called him by his full name. “Are you alone?” he asked.

  I cupped my hand over my mouth. “No.”

  “Get someplace private,” he whispered like someone could hear him.

  Eden stared at me. I glanced up at her, then back at my plate several times, before finally saying, “I need a
few minutes. Enjoy the food. I’ll be right back.”

  As she picked up her fork, I left the table and headed toward the manager’s office at the back of the restaurant. There was no way he’d mind if I used it for a few minutes.

  I closed the door and locked it. “I’m alone. What’s going on?”

  “I had a visit from the FBI today.”

  Instantly, the air in the room vanished, sucked up like the flipping of a switch. I couldn’t breathe, let alone form a thought. “W-what?”

  “They asked me some questions about my relationship with WSquared.”

  I slapped my palm to my forehead. “Fuck. Did they mention anything else?”

  “Can I meet you somewhere?”

  “Now?” I grumbled. “I’m in the middle of something”

  “And I’m at my old man’s place, but how about we meet later tonight?”

  “Dammit, Nathaniel.” I hit the desk with my palm. “We need to get all the paperwork finalized on the auction building. I want those sealed files.”

  “The lawyers have everything almost ready to go. We can sign in a few days.”

  “The sooner the better.” I rubbed my temples. “Let’s meet at DrumBar.”

  “Yes. Let’s say eight.”

  “See you then.”

  I slid the phone into my pocket. Pushing on my temples, I let out a sigh. A meteor the size of a city was about to come crashing down on me. My hands shook, so I clenched my fists. Do not lose your nerve now. How could I finish this date? Eden’s perceptive nature would catch my shift in mood immediately. I couldn’t allow her to know anything about this. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!

  I turned to head downstairs. As I approached, I noticed she’d finished her glass of wine but had only taken a bite of her fettuccini. She gazed up, her sapphire eyes searing into mine. I unclenched my fists at the sight of her.

  “Hey,” she sighed.

  I cleared my throat. “Sorry I took so long.”

  “Work?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is something wrong?”

  I knew she’d be able to sense it. “No.”

  She tilted her head to the side. “Liar, liar, pants on fire.”

  I chuckled, surprised to find that her cute comment erased the dread I held in my gut. My shoulders were no longer tight. The tension on my chest? Gone.