Dating the Enemy

by Nicole Williams

  When the same sound echoed in the apartment again, Brooks paused. “Are you expecting anyone?”

  My head shook. “Nope.”

  “Someone’s knocking at your door.”

  “It’s probably one of my neighbor’s doors. Definitely not mine.” My hand rested against his cheek as I made eye contact, hoping he could read that I was literally two finger strokes away from blastoff.

  Then came the voices hollering outside my door, accompanied by the knocking.

  “Still think it’s someone at your neighbor’s door?” Brooks gave me a cocky smirk, knowing exactly what he’d done to me in all of ten seconds.

  “Yes.” I frowned even as I heard my friends shouting my name.

  As he pulled away, my head banged against the back of the sofa a few times before I rose to see why my friends were surprising me with a visit at the most inopportune time possible.

  “Hey. Did you forget I’m here? Shirtless on your couch and still nursing a hard-on?” Brooks’s voice followed me as I marched to the door. “Unless you’re ready to admit to your friends—”

  My eyes went wide when I realized the sticky situation I was in. A half-naked enemy was lurking in my apartment after hours, not a camera in sight. My friends would not rest until they’d dragged the truth from me. “You’ve got to hide!”

  “Where?” Brooks gave me a look as he reached for his shirt. “Under the table? Think they’ll see me.”

  “My bedroom.” I motioned frantically for him to follow as I rushed into my room, spinning in circles as I searched for a hiding spot that would conceal one-hundred-eighty pounds of muscle and bravado. “The closet.” Grabbing his hand the moment he padded into my room, I shoved hangers to the side to make some room for him.

  He broke to a stop when I tried pushing him inside. “I can’t hide in there.”

  “Afraid of the dark?”

  He glanced at the space I was trying to squeeze him into. “My dick wouldn’t fit in there. My flaccid dick.”

  “Aren’t you the optimist?”

  “Realist. Mr. Reality, remember?”

  My eyes rolled as I planted my hands into his chest and shoved him into the closet. My friends’ knocks and shouts were only getting louder. “Just get in there with your giant dick already.”

  He winked as he backed into the warzone that was my closet. “I appreciate your confirmation.”

  “Yeah, yeah, now get in there and be quiet. I don’t need my friends finding out I’ve been clothed-screwing the enemy on the eve of the big finale.”

  “It’s better than naked-screwing.” We both made a face when he said that. “Never mind. Nothing’s better than naked-screwing.”

  My hand went to my hip as I slid the door closed. “Says the man who refuses to get naked with me.”

  “Touché.” His voice was muffled once the sliding door was shut.

  Turning off the bedroom lights and closing the door, I rushed to let my friends in before every one of my neighbors called in a noise complaint.

  “You kept us waiting long enough,” were the first words out of Quinn’s mouth when I threw open the door. “Were you taking a crap or something?”

  I swore I heard a muffled laugh coming from the direction of my bedroom. So much for not making a peep.

  “Sorry. I was in the shower.” I stepped aside to let in the trio of friends.

  “The shower?” Annie gave me a look as she passed by. “Does your hair dry instantly or something?”

  “And you put on a sassy dress right after?” Sybill added.

  My head shook as I reminded myself to edit my answers before verbalizing them. “I was about to get in the shower. Had to throw my clothes back on when I heard you all making a ruckus like it was New Year’s Eve in Times Square.” I shot Quinn a look, knowing she was the volume instigator. I’d heard the level this woman’s voice could achieve at sporting events, and it had to come close to tipping a world record.

  Dean was just coming down the hall as I was about to close the door, the carton of cream tucked stiffly under his arm.

  “Thanks,” I said as he handed it to me. “You’re a lifesaver. Figuratively and literally.”

  My clever remark got nowhere with him. “I told you not to open the door for anyone.”

  “Um, I didn’t. They more like pounded the door down.” I disappeared into my apartment, letting Dean settle into a stance that indicated he was ready to battle The Hulk. “Thanks again for the cream. Have a nice night.”

  My friends burst into laughter once I locked the door.

  “That guy is not your everyday rent-a-cop,” Annie said. “He acts like he’s working security detail for the Queen of England or something.”

  Quinn set down the paper bag she was carrying and unloaded a goldmine of snack foods. “Have you seen Ms. Romance’s online following lately? Pretty sure she’s close to Buckingham Palace status.”

  My nose scrunched up. “Don’t remind me. I just want a few precious hours where I can forget all of that and pretend my life is as mundane and predictable as it used to be before all of this craziness.”

  Quinn ripped open the container of guac and a bag of tortilla chips. “That’s exactly what we’re here for.” She licked a glob of green goop from her thumb. “Moral support, in the form of junk food and chick flicks, on the eve of what is to be one of the highest-viewed, most-talked-about shows in modern history.”

  My stomach spiraled. “Your moral support needs some work.”

  “How’s this for work?” Quinn said as she launched a box of Raisinets at me.

  It hit my stomach and fell to the floor.

  “Sorry. Forgot you couldn’t catch a felt ball if you were covered in Velcro.”

  “Moral. Support,” I grumbled as I picked up the Raisinets, my gaze traveling to my bedroom door. With the amount of snacks these chicas were strapped with, Brooks was in for a long night in the closet.

  When Quinn came toward me, Annie took over the snack unpacking detail, spreading out a cavalcade of every food item I wanted included in my last supper.

  “How’s this for moral support? I agreed to sit through the entire, grueling five hours and twenty-seven minutes of your favorite version of Pride and Prejudice. I’ve even promised not to pepper any snarky commentary throughout.” Quinn slung her arm behind my neck. “And you know I would rather endure the full Brazilian, cat to ass, than sit through Colin Firth P&P silently.”

  “I thought you’ve never done the full one.”

  “I haven’t. The basic bikini wax was enough to convince me I’m good with embracing what nature gave us down there.” Quinn winced as though she was reliving that torturous day two summers ago.

  “And you really think you’d rather endure the full cat to ass instead of watching the best version of Pride and Prejudice?” I shook some Raisinets into my hand as we meandered to the sofa. Which still had the indents of Brooks’ and my bodies smashed into the cushions.

  Quinn bumped her hip against mine. “It’s over quicker.”

  As the other two finished prepping for the snack apocalypse, Quinn selected a familiar DVD from the stack and popped it into the player. Unable to contain the sigh as she did.

  “How are things going with Justin?” My eyebrows bounced at her. “Still glad you took my advice to make the first move?”

  Quinn’s answer came in the form of a reddening face.

  “With the pace you two were going, you might have achieved first-kiss status in eight and a half years.”

  “What’s wrong with taking things slow?” she asked.

  “Nothing. If you’re both intentionally taking it slow. It’s different when you’re going a snail’s pace because two human beings are scaredy-cats and second-guessing the other’s level of interest.”

  “Well excuse me, Ms. Romance, for believing the guy should be the one to make the first move.” Quinn grabbed the remote and plopped down beside me on the couch. “Isn’t that kinda the definition of romance?”

>   “The definition of romance is defined by the two people in the relationship. That’s what romance is.”

  Quinn’s head turned toward me, her mouth open. “That kind of talk sounds more like the ideology of the enemy. What are you gonna tell me next—romance is as romance does?” She huffed as she shook her head. “You’ve been spending way too much time with that douchecanoe. He’s rubbing off on you.”

  I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing at the irony of that sentiment. If only my dear friend knew what he’d been rubbing off on me, on the very place she was seated, minutes ago, she would probably start looking into ways to have me involuntarily committed.

  “Don’t start it until we’re in there!” Annie warned as she wrangled a couple bags of chips and a package of assorted licorice that was big enough to put us all into sugar comas.

  “Don’t worry, we won’t,” Quinn mumbled. “It’s not like you haven’t all seen it so many times you could recite every line in your sleep.”

  Annie dropped the licorice bag in my lap, knowing my weakness, before sprinkling the remaining items around on the coffee table in front of us. Once she and Sybill were settled in their seats, snacks in hand, Quinn punched Play with a dramatic flair.

  Other than our usual spots we ooohed in, and the same spots Quinn usually stuck a finger in her mouth at, we passed the time in silence. At least other than the couple bags of chips we crunched through. When we were an hour in and I had yet to consume a single piece of licorice, Quinn called me out on it and I dutifully nibbled a few pieces.

  I was too stressed to think about food, even my all-time favs. Brooks was one room away, stuffed in my closet, while three of my closest friends were here to provide moral support over the three months of torture I’d been exposed to at the very hand of the man in my closet. If they found out . . . if they knew Brooks was more to me than some annoying obstacle in the path of my dream job . . . what would they say? What would they do?

  Would they stand by me, supporting me as they had through it all? Or would they label me a hypocrite, as I guessed the rest of the world would if they found out I’d fallen for the very man whose whole objective was getting me to fall for him?

  When it was time to put in the second disc, I lifted my arms above my head and let out an overdone yawn. “I have to get some rest. We’ll finish the second half the next time we get together. Thank you all so much for doing this. It was exactly what I needed tonight.” When the three of them started to clean up the snack mess, I waved them off. “Don’t worry about that. I’ll take care of it. You’ve all done more than enough, and it’s way past all of our bedtimes.”

  Quinn wasn’t the only one to give me a suspicious look. She knew something was going on, that I was keeping something from her, but lord knew even her most unlikely guesses weren’t half as bad as what it really was.

  “You sure?” Annie asked.

  “So sure,” I answered, smiling at her as I started toward the door.

  They took a minute to grab their bags and slip on their shoes, all meeting me at the door with expressions that suggested they were visiting me in an ICU.

  “You’ve got this, Hannah.” Sybill pulled me into a hug, holding me a couple beats longer than was standard. “We’re all rooting for you.”

  “That department head title is going to look oh so fine below your name.” Annie stepped in next, another embrace that hinted at goodbye. The eternal kind.

  Quinn elected for a different kind of farewell. Clamping her hands over my shoulders, she dropped her face in front of mine. “Twenty-four hours, and this is all over. You never have to see that piece of camel dung ever again.” Her fingers kneaded my shoulder muscles like she was sending me into the ring for round seven. “Tomorrow night, you show the world what you’ve been telling them for the past eight years.”

  I worked up the most convincing smile I had in my arsenal as I swung open the door. “I’ve got the best friends a girl could ever ask for.”

  “Eh, yeah.” Annie waved at me as they passed through the doorway. “Obviously.”

  Sybill jumped when she passed Dean, her hand moving to her chest. “I forgot he was here. He’s like a ninja with a high-and-tight.”

  Of course that would be the one comment that would garner an amused reaction from my stonewall of a bodyguard.

  “You’re going to be out of a job with Hannah here soon.” Sybill wagged a finger at Dean. “Whose door will you stand guard at next?”

  Was that an actual facial expression? A brow lifting, a maybe twinkle in his eyes?

  “Maybe yours, Miss Sybill.”

  She looked as surprised as I was that he’d responded, in words and everything. It took her a moment to realize he’d called her by her name. “How do you know my name?”

  Dean’s hands clasped in front of him seemed to relax. “I make it my business to know the names of people who come within two feet of my client.”

  “So when Hannah is no longer your client, I’ll be back to another no-name face?” Sybill’s head tipped as she waited for his answer.

  Dean had no problem holding eye contact. Unblinking, penetrating fixation. “When Hannah’s no longer my client, I’ll call you Sybill.”

  “Why?”

  One side of his mouth crept higher. “Because I also make it my business to call a beautiful woman by her name.”

  Once Sybill realized what he was getting at, her eyes went wide. Beside her, Quinn and Annie fought smiles as they wound their arms through hers to steer her down the hall.

  “She’s single, you know.” I clucked my tongue at Dean as I watched them round the corner.

  “Of course I know.” Dean morphed back into high-and-tight ninja.

  “That’s right. It’s your business to know.” I lightly tapped his arm before stepping into the apartment. “Have a good night.”

  “You too.”

  My fingers flinched on the lock. It was the first time he’d ever said anything to me when I offered a good night or a goodbye or hello. We were making progress—on one of our last nights together.

  I couldn’t help thinking of how that sentiment applied to another man tucked away inside my apartment. We’d made so much progress, but now we were at the end. And progress, without a resolution or goal in mind, was nothing but wasted effort.

  Charging into my room, I threw open the closet door, having no idea what kind of mood I’d find Brooks in.

  He was standing in practically the same position I’d left him, the look on his face more playful than anything.

  “Sorry about that,” I breathed, stepping aside so he could break free of the two-by-six cell I’d jailed him in the past few hours.

  Instead of coming out, his arms crossed and his brows raised. “You. Owe. Me.”

  “I know.”

  “Like, really owe me.” If it wasn’t the way he said it, his expression had me picking up right where we’d left off earlier.

  “Did you have anything in mind particularly?” My hand dropped to his belt, encouraging him closer. “I never like to be in anyone’s debt for long.”

  Brooks let me pull him from the closet, his smile making my chest tight. “I have something in mind.”

  “Care to share that something with me?”

  A gleam flashed in his eyes as his hands wound behind my elbows. “I’d try explaining it, but I think I’d get my point across better with a live demonstration.”

  When my calves bumped into the edge of my bed, my throat ran dry. Maybe I should have tried locking him up in a closet weeks ago.

  Before I knew it, Brooks had me on my back, his mouth covering mine as his body pressed me into the swells of my comforter. “How’s this?”

  My legs braided around his, my bare feet dragging down his pants. “I love live demonstrations.”

  “Too steep a price to ask for a few hours hiding in a closet?” Even as he asked it, his hand sank into my backside, lifting it until my hips locked against his.

  An uneven breath es
caped us both at the same time.

  “Ask for more,” I panted, letting my body find a rhythm that suggested we were making love had it not been for the folds of material keeping us apart.

  Brooks’s hand in mine balled into a fist as my hips rose and fell against his, his face indicating he was being tormented in the best kind of way.

  “If you say . . .” His voice was so deep, it rattled my chest. “After being locked in a small cell with heaps of clothes, I’ve got a bit of an aversion to them now.” His mouth dropped to my collarbone, sucking at the tender flesh as his fingers slipped beneath the shoulder of my cardigan.

  Finally. Sweet baby Buddha. After all of this waiting and heavy making out, we were going to have sex. Never in a hundred million years would I have guessed the one guy I’d shared a one-night stand with would turn out to be such a pussy-tease the second time around.

  When my fingers worked the top buttons of my dress undone, Brooks stiffened. One of his hands enveloped both of mine, tying them above my head as he stared at me. “Just the sweater for now.”

  As he worked the cardigan down my arms, I stared at the ceiling with confusion. Once he’d tossed it aside, before he got back to kissing me, I interrupted him.

  “Next?” I slipped my dress straps off my shoulders, giving him the chance to take care of the rest.

  He exhaled. “Hannah . . .”

  My head fell back. “Seriously, Brooks. What is going on?” I didn’t pause long enough for him to respond because I needed a good, long rant. “We’ve been dating for weeks now, and the farthest we’ve gone is one shirt and now one sweater removed. I mean, damn, I might understand the hold up if we hadn’t already had sex, but we have.” My eyes had to close in order for me to concentrate on what I was saying, instead of getting distracted by what I was feeling. “I guess I just don’t get this whole reverse order thing. I’m ready—I’ve been ready for a while now. And you’re not exactly the guy who’s waiting for his wedding night, so can you help me understand what it is I’m missing? What part of this I’m not realizing?”

  Brooks was quiet, waiting for me to spew whatever else I needed to get out. But for now, I was good.