Hard Deal

by Stefanie London

  Her movements appeared stiff—though it was possible that her overly starched white shirt was inhibiting joint mobility. Or maybe it was because her hair was so tightly scraped back that her brain was under a lot of pressure. That was Imogen’s go-to look.

  But not this past weekend.

  “Closed,” he said. “Thanks for coming to see me.”

  “What do you want?” Usually when she asked him that her tone was sharp enough to slice bone. Today, however, her voice was uncertain. Had she been thinking about that kiss all weekend as he had? Was she distracted in her meeting earlier because she couldn’t forget how his hands felt on her body?

  “I want to talk.” He leaned back in his chair and interlocked his fingers behind his head. “How was your weekend?”

  She swallowed, the delicate muscles working in her neck as she stood statue-still by his door. “It was good.”

  Yeah, she was definitely rattled. No way in hell would she have normally given him the time for idle chatter. The last time he’d tried to make small talk she’d walked away midsentence.

  He raised an eyebrow. “Get up to anything interesting?”

  Her face was a kaleidoscope of wariness and confusion as her fingertips danced along the edge of her necklace. “Just the usual.”

  “No hot date?”

  “No.”

  “You didn’t, say...kiss anyone?” Ideally, he would have kept a straight face, but he was enjoying himself far too much. “Say, perhaps...me?”

  Her jaw tightened. “How did you know it was me?”

  “No denial, then? Hmm, interesting.” He pushed up from his chair and came around to the front of his desk. She was skittish as a rabbit caught in the stare of a fox. “I saw your tattoo.”

  “Wait, how...?” She shook her head. “My dress covered it.”

  “When you fell. Apparently, that sticky tape stuff doesn’t withstand everything. Also, you called me a ‘smurfing smurf-face,’ so that was kind of a dead giveaway.”

  She’d looked pale before, but now the colour rose through her, a flush impressing itself on her skin. Behind the stiff white collar of her shirt, her neck was rosy pink. “Wait, you knew it was me from the second you picked up my phone?”

  “Blondie, I’d recognise you anywhere.”

  “Then you tricked me into kissing you,” she spluttered. “I have no idea why I’m surprised. That seems like exactly something you would do.”

  “Let’s get one thing straight. You rushed me, you pushed me to the ground and you kissed me. I simply lay back and enjoyed.” He grinned. “Who knew you were hiding a siren under all those pearls.”

  “You were stringing me along and holding my phone hostage.” She sucked in a breath. “I did what I had to do.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “It’s true.” She sounded far from confident.

  “Then tell me you didn’t enjoy it.” He sauntered closer and she backed up, lining her back against the office door. Silence. “All you have to do is say, ‘Caleb, it was all an act. I didn’t enjoy kissing that disgusting mouth of yours one little bit.’”

  She tipped her nose up at him. “Okay fine, I kissed you. I may have enjoyed it, but that was only because I didn’t know it was you.”

  “Uh-huh. Sure.” He planted a hand next to her head, penning her in. “You know you’re the world’s worst liar, right?”

  “Ugh.” She speared him with a glare. “Fine. You got me. I kissed you and I liked it. Now I need to have a million showers to wash this dirty feeling off me. Happy?”

  He chuckled. “Very.”

  “Now what? Are you going to hold this over me for the rest of my life?”

  Now what, indeed. Caleb had no idea why he’d called her in to have this conversation, other than getting some perverse pleasure from seeing her squirm. “I wanted to hear you say it. But I pity your future brother-in-law. Hell hath no fury like a Hargrove scorned.”

  “Damn straight.”

  “I’ll do you a favour. I won’t even mention it to him or Jase. You can continue your mission in peace.”

  Imogen baulked. “You know him?”

  “Sadly, yes. He’s a friend of Jason’s.”

  “Then you can help me.” Her tense expression melted into one of elation.

  “After you said you’d need ‘a million showers’ from kissing me?” He cocked his head. “Not real great at this manipulation thing, are you?”

  She rolled her eyes and slipped out from between him and the door. “I’m not a master like you, that’s for sure.”

  Caleb scratched his head. “Still not hitting the mark for asking a favour.”

  “You have to help me.” She knotted her hands in front of her. “My sister is the kindest, sweetest, most loving person on the planet.”

  “Your total opposite, then?”

  Irritation flashed across her face. “I think he’s cheating on her and they’re due to get married in two months. I can’t have that.”

  “Does she think he’s cheating?” Caleb asked.

  “Well, no...but I saw something.” A dark cloud filtered over her face. “He goes to Sydney for work a few days each month. But last month when he was away my sister decided to take a trip. Remember that night we were at The Boatbuilders Yard for Pete’s going-away drinks?”

  Caleb nodded. “How could I forget? He got so wasted he made out with the crook of his elbow.”

  “Well, I’d spoken to Penny that afternoon. As far as she knew, Daniel was in Sydney until the following night.” She gritted her teeth. “But he was there, at the bar. And he was with this blonde woman.”

  “Did you tell your sister?”

  Imogen sighed. “I tried to and she accused me of hating him from day one. Which is true, but that’s beside the point. I’ve got this feeling in my gut that he’s cheating on her. I’m sure of it.”

  “All because you saw him at a bar with a woman?”

  “Firstly, they looked like they were flirting. Secondly, he’d lied about where he was. Doesn’t that seem suspicious to you?”

  It did. Though Caleb found it hard enough to believe that Daniel had found one woman to marry him, let alone another with whom to have an affair. But once a person’s mind was made up, the facts couldn’t do much to change it. He knew that better than anyone else.

  “Perhaps he got his dates mixed up and he wanted to go for a drink,” Caleb said. “You know, like a normal person.”

  “I can’t explain it but...” Imogen sighed. “But I know the signs. Trust me.”

  The pain in her voice ricocheted around his chest. Apparently, there was more to Imogen’s standoffish behaviour than met the eye.

  “Okay, you think he’s cheating. How am I supposed to help with that?”

  “By getting the dirt. Don’t guys brag about that kind of stuff?” She shrugged. “Like how much sex you have?”

  Now it was Caleb’s turn to roll his eyes. “I don’t know what cave troll has given you such a poor opinion of men, but we’re not all knuckle-draggers who boast about the women we sleep with.”

  “Women, as in plural?” She raised a brow.

  “I never said I was a saint, but I don’t kiss and tell, either.” He raked a hand through his hair. “I get that you seem to think I’m some unabashed fuckboy, but I’m not.”

  Imogen’s mouth opened and closed as if she wasn’t sure how to respond. She looked like a goldfish—an adorable, blonde goldfish. “I don’t think you’re a...one of those.”

  “Again, you’re a terrible liar,” he said. “And if your future brother-in-law is cheating then why would he tell the whole world about it?”

  “He wouldn’t, but you seem to be able to talk to anyone. Give him a few drinks and see what comes out.” She pressed her hands together and shot him the most deadly puppy-dog face he’d ever seen. “Please
, Caleb. This is my sister. I don’t want her to marry a cheater. It’ll destroy her.”

  He tilted his face to the ceiling. “Fine. But if I go for drinks with Daniel you owe me big-time. Like, the favour to end all favours.”

  “Anything.” The second the word popped out of her mouth she mashed her lips together.

  Colour him interested. “Anything?”

  “Within reason.”

  Reason wasn’t something he hung on to around her. And her promise lodged in his mind, making him spin through the list of all he wanted to do with her. To her.

  “A date,” he said. “In exchange for the pain and torture of getting your future brother-in-law drunk.”

  Her tongue darted out to swipe across her lips, hesitation making her eyes flick back and forth. “Just a date,” she said, eventually. “I’m not sleeping with you for a favour.”

  He stuck his hand out and when she accepted it, he pulled her in close. “Just a date. But if the night ends in my bed I won’t be complaining.”

  “Keep dreaming,” she said, but her voice wavered.

  And that little wager was going to keep him going all week. He wanted Imogen, and now he had the opportunity to show her exactly how much.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  IMOGEN WAS PRETTY sure that every romantic comedy Lainey had forced her to watch featured a scene where the female lead stood in front of a mirror, trying to decide on the perfect dress. Imogen didn’t have that problem. She had a dress. Well, the dress.

  It was her “date” outfit. A simple black shift which finished on the knee and had cute, fluttery sleeves made of sheer black chiffon. It was Breakfast at Tiffany’s meets Rear Window. And since she almost never made it past the first date, she only needed one dress.

  One dress to rule them all. How Tolkien of you.

  But the real issue was what should go under the dress.

  “If he’s not getting up your skirt then why do you need fancy underwear?” Imogen stared at the options sitting on her bed.

  She didn’t own a lot of lingerie, but she kept a few nice pairs “just in case.” Black lace, cream silk with pearl details and, if she was feeling extra confident, va-va-voom red with a cheeky little heart-shaped cut-out at the back. But she wouldn’t be sleeping with Caleb, because his tat-for-tat date would end at midnight. Then poof! Pumpkin time.

  Frilly things weren’t necessary. In fact, a pair of ugly beige knickers might be the insurance she needed to fight temptation. If things got out of control she’d only need to think of how badly Caleb would rib her for wearing Bridget Jones–style granny undies on a date.

  “Good thinking,” she said to her reflection.

  Caleb had insisted on picking her up because, in his words, if they were going on a date then he wanted to do it properly. The sentiment made her smile—it was a little old-fashioned and...unexpected. But now that meant waiting on pins and needles until he arrived. Grabbing her bag, she headed into the living room.

  “Oh la la.” Her roommate and friend, Lainey, grinned. “You’re getting your mileage out of that dress.”

  “This is the only time I know for sure a first date won’t turn into a second.” She sat on the couch, careful to smooth the fabric so it wouldn’t wrinkle.

  “Is that why you won’t let me do your hair?” Lainey pouted. “You won’t be able to take advantage of my skills for much longer.”

  “Ugh, don’t remind me that you’re abandoning us,” she said with a huff. Lainey was about to head to London for her dream job working for a celebrity hair stylist, meaning Imogen would have to find a new roommate soon. “I’m still dark on you for leaving. Even though I hope the move is everything you want and all your dreams still come true.”

  Lainey chuckled. “You can’t even jokingly say something mean to me.”

  “That’s because I use up all my ‘mean’ at work.”

  “And yet you’re going on a date with a colleague.” Lainey tapped a red lacquered nail to her chin. “Interesting.”

  “I’m trading a date for information.” She shot her friend a serious look. “That’s why I’m not doing my hair and I’m not wearing fancy underwear. Because I’ll be coming home nice and early.”

  “Why even bother wearing the date dress at all? Why not wear your work clothes?”

  That was a good point. “I like this dress.”

  “And don’t think I haven’t noticed that you’re wearing my shoes,” Lainey said in a smug tone. “You argued black and blue last time I tried to lend them to you.”

  “They make my legs look good.” Imogen inspected the slender gold stilettos. They were tame by Lainey’s standards, but not by hers. “What’s wrong with wanting to feel confident?”

  “Nothing, but I think it’s less about self-confidence and more that you want him to think you’re hot.”

  Dammit. How did Lainey manage to see through her like that? She’d purposely avoided asking her hairdresser friend for help because she didn’t want to seem like she was putting in too much effort.

  “A pair of nice shoes won’t do that. You should see all the women in his team.” Imogen rolled her eyes. “I’m pretty sure it’s a Victoria’s Secret prescreening zone.”

  “You don’t give yourself enough credit.”

  Before Imogen could respond, the rumbling of a car engine sounded in the driveway. Much to her surprise, Caleb’s ridiculous retina-searing Alfa was right on time. Lainey rushed to the window and peered out, making no move to hide her curiosity.

  “He’s gorgeous.” Lainey gaped at her. “How the hell are you not interested in him?”

  “He’s not my type.” She lifted one shoulder into a shrug. “He’s too...”

  “Chiselled? Stylish? Mouth-wateringly handsome?”

  “He’s too much like Mike.”

  Even now, five years after her marriage had ended, saying his name was like taking a cleaver to her heart. She’d never admitted it aloud before, but the inkling had been there for too long. Caleb had way too much in common with her ex—that magnetic charisma that drew people in, being surrounded by beautiful women all the time, that slick way of getting what he wanted.

  The difference was, Caleb never tried to hide the fact that he dated around. It was part of his persona.

  “Oh, Immie.” Lainey pulled her in for a hug. “Not all men are like Mike, okay? You know that.”

  “Yeah, I do. But I also know when I can objectively see similarities.” She sucked in a breath. “I’m protecting myself.”

  A loud knock on the front door echoed through the apartment, and Imogen squared her shoulders. She was going to enjoy tonight and use it as an opportunity to make sure Caleb was prepared for his side of the deal. Then she would come home, granny undies intact, and forget that it ever happened.

  * * *

  “If you nurse that drink any longer you’ll have to file adoption papers,” Caleb said.

  Imogen sat across the intimate table at Samantha. The restaurant had opened a few weeks ago and boasted a three-month wait list. Not to mention all the hoop-jumping required to even get on the list in the first place. But Caleb had pulled a few strings and secured a reservation. Perks of having the Allbrook name.

  “I’m pacing myself,” she said. “No point chugging a good wine.”

  “Worried you’ll get drunk and become susceptible to my charms?”

  She scoffed. “I’d need to be drunk.”

  “You know, some women do find me charming,” he said, his lip quirked. “I still haven’t figured out why you’re so impervious.”

  “High standards.” This time she couldn’t keep a straight face. “It’s nothing personal, but you’re not my type. And I get the impression you have plenty of choice, so why do you care what I think?”

  That was a bloody good question. Maybe it was because the second Imogen had walked i
nto the Allbrook office he’d been permanently distracted. His attraction to her didn’t stop at the physical. She put him in his place on a regular basis, never sugarcoated her opinions and didn’t treat him any different despite him being related to Gerald. She’d risen up on her own merits, without any of the sucking up or politicking that most people used, and that was genuinely fucking refreshing. Plus, he enjoyed the chase. And Imogen gave it to him in spades.

  “I respect your opinion,” he said.

  Their dessert arrived and Imogen fussed with her napkin. “I didn’t know that.”

  “I also figured you hated all men,” he joked.

  “Why? Because if I don’t fall at your feet I must hate all men? Give me a break.” She spooned some of the cream into her mouth and sighed. “I date. I just don’t date you.”

  “Current circumstances might argue that.”

  “You blackmailed me.”

  “No, I traded my services.” He reached for the bottle of wine and topped her glass up, not caring if it took her another two hours to drink it. For once, he wasn’t itching to get on with the evening. “Totally different.”

  “This isn’t a real date.”

  “No? You’re certainly dressed like it’s a date. No starchy white shirts in sight.” He cracked the top of his crème brûlée with the back of his spoon. “The most important question is, what did you put under the dress?”

  Her cheeks flared a bright shade of pink, making her eyes look even greener by comparison. “None of your business.”

  “Boring beige, then? Interesting.”

  She looked like she wanted to say something, but held her tongue. Instead, she reached for her wine and took a long gulp. Liquid courage, perhaps?

  “We should talk about the information you’re going to extract from Daniel,” she said.

  Ah, change of conversation. An obvious diversion tactic, but he’d let it slide. For now.

  “I need to find out if he’s got someone on the side. What else do you want to know?”

  She thought for a moment. “Who it is or how many women he’s seeing.”

  Caleb raised a brow. “Why does that matter? Isn’t it cheating, regardless of whether it’s with one person or ten?”