Dirty Stranger (The Dirty Suburbs Book 3)

by Cassie-Ann L. Miller

  Sammie twists back and forth on her swivelling stool, keeping time with the catchy electro-pop music filtering through the room. "I still don't see what the big deal is. You were screwing him long before you became business partners. Why stop now? He's still just as hot."

  Sammie and Faith just don't get it.

  This investment is my chance to finally get my life in order. The bills are paid, my creditors have stopped calling and I'm finally taking a salary again. Renovations are about to start. It turns out that Reuben's consortium is the mysterious buyer who purchased the building from my slumlord. Now, we're knocking down the wall between Herbivore and the studio, turning the building into a healthy-living oasis where people can take a relaxing yoga class and then grab a nourishing meal, or vice versa. Once that's done, I'll be able to focus on clearing my personal debts.

  Basically, things are improving and I don't need the non-business shit going on between Reuben and me to muck up our business relationship.

  Gracie sighs. "I think that you should follow your gut. If carrying on with Reuben makes you uncomfortable, don't do it."

  Sammie scoffs. "And let her vagina wilt up and die a cold, lonely death? No fucking way! I say have your cake and bone him, too."

  Gracie throws up her arms in exasperation. "Sebastian - you've got two drunken sailors for aunts."

  The baby looks at his mother with a toothy grin and Sammie slaps her hand to her mouth. "Oops!"

  "Sorry, Mr. Pooh." Faith leans over and kisses the little boy on his head.

  I sigh. "I wish that things weren't so complicated." I pick the knife off the counter and resume slicing the tomatoes. I’m on salad duty tonight.

  Sammie groans. "Isla, you're making things complicated." She slaps her palms to the table. "When you didn't know how rich he was and you thought he was a college kid working part-time at the coffee shop, you were beating yourself up for wanting him. Now that you know he's a bazillionaire and he's rescuing your business from ruin, you're beating yourself up for wanting him. Jeez, give my best friend a break. Let her have some fun. Let her get laid."

  I pause to consider Sammie's words. Right as I'm weighing them in my mind, I hear a man's voice ring out behind me. "Good evening, ladies."

  The pot spoon slips from Gracie's hand as her estranged husband steps into the kitchen, tall, dark and handsome, wearing a business suit and a guarded expression on his face.

  "Hi Daniel," I whisper, my eyes darting between the husband and wife. The strain between the two is visible as they stand, holding each other's glares.

  "How ya doing, Daniel?" Faith asks, faking a jovial tone. She's obviously trying to lighten the tension sucking all the air out of the room.

  "I'm here for my son," he announces dryly, tearing his venomous stare away from his wife and turning to the baby. His keys jingle as he shoves them into his pocket.

  "You should have rang the doorbell," Gracie shoots at him, her lips pressed into a flat line, her arms folded across her chest.

  Daniel doesn't bother looking at her as he ruffles his son's head of white-blond curls. "I tried. You couldn't hear me over this loud garbage you call music."

  Gracie's eyes narrow. "Plus, you should have been here an hour ago," she adds.

  "I was preparing documents for court. And you should have answered your phone," he shoots back, "but you were busy letting Sebastian play with it even though I've told you a million times not to let him do that." He snatches the phone from the baby and slams it down on the kitchen table before lifting the now-crying child out of the highchair.

  Tears rise to Gracie’s eyes. "Well, you know me," she whispers in a cracking voice, "I'm just a bad mother. Can't do anything right."

  "Don't play the fucking victim card, Grace –"

  That’s when she cracks, rage spilling over. “Stop swearing in front of my baby!”

  "Stop deflecting. Accept responsibility for –"

  Sammie rises out of her seat. "Daniel!" she hisses. "Stop it!” Faith hurries over and puts an arm around Gracie’s trembling shoulders.

  Daniel says nothing to reassure his wife and he certainly doesn't apologize. Instead he gives Sammie a cutting glare before he turns his attention to Faith. "Got a rag to wipe him up?" He nods at the boy's banana-covered face and hands. Faith hands him a small, damp towel, and he proceeds to clean the sticky baby up.

  "Come. I'll help you pack his diaper bag," Sammie offers, putting a hand on her brother's shoulder and leading him toward Sebastian's nursery.

  The mood in the kitchen is thick with Gracie's rage and hurt and embarrassment. She and Daniel started having problems a while back but never have they put on such an explosive performance in front of us. Yes, they'd sneak off into a corner and bicker or they'd leave an event early to go home and fight, but never have they just laid it all bare on the kitchen floor. And it was awkward as fuck.

  "Are you okay?" I ask.

  Faith is chasing tears from her sister’s flustered cheeks.

  "No, I'm not okay," Grace sniffles. She stares at me pointedly. "I love that man with all my heart. And this is what it looks like. This is what falling in love gets you."

  My heart clenches protectively at the cryptic warning.

  Chapter 21

  Isla

  I have to walk to work this morning since Betty has officially (and permanently) conked out on me.

  Typically, I don’t mind walking – I’m in great shape physically and my apartment is just far enough from the studio to get my blood pumping without overexerting myself – but it’s only eighteen degrees today. And I’m not a fan of the cold.

  By the time I cross the park, I'm ready to submit to the frostbite nibbling at my toes and give up the ghost right there on a park bench. The only thing propelling me forward is the knowledge that Reuben had one of those fancy-pants espresso machines installed in the break room at the yoga studio yesterday. Now, I can have as many soy hazelnut lattes as my heart desires.

  Yes, the man installed a three-thousand-dollar, commercial-grade espresso machine just so I can have my favorite coffee every morning.

  I’ve got to admit that having him as a business partner hasn’t been that bad. He listens to my ideas and we have constructive debates before choosing any given course of action. And he’s all about action. He's not all talk. He gets shit done. I really couldn’t have imagined a better business partner.

  It’s just that, the way he looks at me sometimes…it makes me want to get in trouble. With him. It makes me want to drop my guard. And sometimes when he’s speaking, I don’t even hear what he’s saying. I just sit there, reminiscing about the way his lips feel on my body. The sensation is permanently imprinted in my cellular memory.

  Plus, he’s so damn thoughtful. He’d make one hell of a boyfriend.

  I wish I could just give in, let go, allowing him to have his way with me. But I’m only just starting to get my life in order. I can’t let my feelings for him become a distraction and I can’t continue to mix business with pleasure. Thank god he hasn’t tried to make a move on me since we had sex in the massage room the other day because although logically I know I should remain professional with him, my past behavior has shown that I'm just not able to resist him.

  As I trudge past Herbivore and up the walkway to the studio, I notice a car parked in my carport yet again. A cute little Mini Cooper wearing a glimmering teal paintjob and not a fleck of snow on it, like it was airlifted and plopped right into my parking spot to torment me. If I wasn’t so annoyed right now, I’d be in admiration of the little beauty.

  I slip my key into the lock and shove the studio door open, stomping the snow off of my boots on the welcome mat. As I’m hunched over unzipping them, Reuben steps out of the office, nearly giving me a heart attack.

  “Holy shit!” I pant, clasping a hand over my chest. “You scared me!”

  He smiles. A wide, happy smile that lights his eyes up from the inside. “Sorry about that.”

  He comes right up to where
I am, his large body casting an ominous but seductive shadow over me. I briefly consider just dropping to my knees, pulling down his pants and having a taste of his thick and delicious cock. Instead, I straighten up to my full height and watch him.

  Man, he looks good.

  That black button-down shirt really emphasizes the width of those shoulders and his dark wash jeans hug his muscular legs in all the right places. We haven’t been alone since we had sex the other day and I can already feel electricity shooting through the nerves in my stomach.

  “How are you doing this morning, Isla?” The smoky tone of his voice instantly ignites me. The desire shining through his eyes causes every inch of me to ache. God, he needs to stop looking at me like that.

  “I’m cold,” I say moving past him to adjust the settings of the thermostat on the wall. “And I’m pissed.” I slip out of my coat and hang it on the rack.

  He folds his arms across his chest and hitches a brow. “Why’s that?”

  “Somebody parked their car in my damn spot again,” I say as I lean over Blakely’s desk and fire up her computer to check the day’s massage schedule. She’ll be late today because she has a term paper due. That means I have to keep track of my own schedule. “It's true that I don’t have a car right now, but parking in a reserved spot is rude. Just rude.”

  Smugness inhabits Reuben’s features and he smirks at me. “You mean that Mini Cooper out there?” He points his thumb over his shoulder.

  “Yup. That’s the one.”

  “Maybe that car is yours.”

  My head snaps up and my eyes narrow. “What do you mean, maybe that car is mine?”

  “Maybe I bought it for you.”

  I shake my head, confused. “Reuben, what are you talking about?”

  He shrugs nonchalantly as he drop into one of the chairs in the waiting area opposite the reception desk. “You’re my general manager, Isla, and you had no mode of transportation. I had to remedy that situation.”

  “Reuben—” I begin.

  He cuts me off. “Look, it’s nothing personal. You need a car for business purposes. It’s a question of efficiency, okay?” But the mischievous glint in his eye tells me it is personal. He continues his reasoning. “And besides, it’s a company car. A tax write-off.”

  He’s bullshitting me. We both know it. But we also both know that if he’d offered me a vehicle as a personal gift, I would have turned it down. And to be frank, after the year I’ve had, it feels nice to have someone in my life who wants to do nice things for me.

  I'm not sure if that makes me weak. All I know is that it’s getting tiring, trying to fight him off especially since I’m starting to lose sight of why I’m fighting him off to begin with.

  He's a good guy. He's sweet and he's reliable...And he’s so very good with his tongue.

  Huh? Where did that come from?

  Anyway, it's starting to feel like he's the type of guy I should let my walls down for.

  “Okay…” I say in a small voice.

  “Okay?” He can’t mask his surprise. I think he expected more of a fight from me.

  I nod. “Okay. Thank you. For the car. And for everything else.”

  A smile spreads slowly across his face. “You’re welcome.”

  Our eyes hook for a long moment and I just let myself feel all the things that I feel for him. I ignore the protests in my mind, and I just...feel.

  “I have to go set up for the guided visualization workshop,” I say softly. "Starts in a few minutes."

  His eyes stay on me as I walk away down the hall.

  Chapter 22

  Reuben

  "Nobody showed up." She's sitting cross-legged at the front of the room on her thick orange yoga mat. Even from this distance and in the dim candlelight, I can read the disappointment on Isla’s face.

  I step into the room and flip out my yoga mat in front of her. I lower myself into a seated position and smile. "I came."

  I'm gifted with a small giggle from her. It lights up her face, giving her an almost girlish appearance. "Very glad you're here but we actually need paying customers to make this business venture profitable."

  I flick a hand dismissively. "Don't worry about it. People don't come out in bad weather. As soon as spring officially rolls in and our renovations are done and our advertising campaign kicks in, people will be beating down the front door."

  "You're very optimistic," she says with sad eyes as she pushes to her feet, taking her mat with her.

  “What can I say? I believe in my business partner.”

  She stops and stares at me. From her expression, I can tell that it means a lot to hear me say that. My mind wanders to her ex-husband and I silently question whether he ever took the time to appreciate her. Only a fool would overlook what a gem she is.

  She sighs. "Well, since this is a bust, I might as well get some admin work done." She moves busily around the room, rolling up her mat and turning off the soft music.

  "Wait!" I walk over to her and take her by the wrist. Her skin is so warm and soft. I never want to let her go. I lean close to her and whisper, "Teach me."

  She hikes a brow and quickly resumes her busywork. "Um...I don't think that's a good idea," she says as she plunges a burning stick of incense into a tiny pot of sand.

  "Why's that?" I press although I already know what her answer will be.

  She exhales heavily. "Because the last time we were alone together for more than ten minutes..." Her eyes drop to my mouth as her voice trails off. My lips tingle at the mere thought of being pressed against some part of her body. My tongue darts out to lick the tingles away.

  "I won't start anything. I promise."

  I watch her slender, elegant throat as she swallows. "I can't promise that I won't."

  Fuck, that's what I'm counting on.

  I turn the music back on then take the mat that's tucked under her arm and shake it out, laying it on the floor. "Come on, Isla...Teach me."

  Realizing that I'm not about to back off, she sighs. "Fine."

  Reluctantly, she lowers herself to her mat. I sit, too, mimicking her posture. She closes her eyes and takes a few centering breaths. My entire body is hyperaware of her. I make a serious effort to refrain from just climbing on top of her and claiming her, right here, right now.

  "Okay...welcome to the guided visualization workshop,” she says. “Let’s start in corpse pose. Assume your position on your mat."

  I follow her lead, laying on the floor and stretching my arms and legs out comfortably.

  Her serene voice filters through the quiet room. "We'll begin by bringing our focus to our chakras, those seven spinning wheels of light, the true power centers of our beings…Blockages in our chakras are the causes of all illness and unhappiness in our lives…Today, we'll work on clearing those channels to allow greater health and fulfillment to flow."

  She instructs me to bring my attention to my root chakra, the vortex of energy located at the base of the spine which she claims is responsible for survival issues such as financial wellbeing and basic needs. We concentrate on unwinding any negativity there before moving on to the sacral chakra.

  "The sacral chakra is located in the lower abdomen, just below the navel," she explains in a thick, drowsy voice that's sexy as hell. "This chakra governs your sexuality, your pleasure and your ability to connect to others…An out-of-balance sacral chakra can result in sexual repression, emotional disconnection and a host of other problems…In order to balance our sacral chakras, we're going to imagine an orange ball of fire glowing low in our bellies." I already feel fire licking low in my stomach and desire stirring in my cock. "Now, as this fire burns through you, focus on releasing any guilt, tension or negative emotions that you’re holding on to regarding your sexuality…" I try to do as I'm told and let go but instead, I feel something building. A raw carnal energy pulsing all over. The sultry sound of her voice and knowing that we're alone together is becoming too much.

  Her words have trailed off
and she's been silent for a while now. For a moment, I wonder if she's fallen asleep. But when my eyes blink open, I find her lying on her side, watching me. I recognize the desire burning in her eyes. I feel it, too.

  I roll over and now we're facing each other, looking at each other straight on. So much crackles in the air between us. I promised I wouldn't make a move but, god, I want to kiss her right now.

  Without a word, she stands and moves in that lithe, graceful way of hers toward the door. Crushing disappointment wells up in me but I've resolved to exercise self-restraint this time. She wants to keep this professional. I'll just have to respect that and wait for her to come around. She will eventually because no sane person can ignore a connection this intense.