by Lila Monroe
I laugh. “I’m doing great.” I glance at the dingy clock on the wall, a gift from a former tenant. “I’m actually leaving shortly to go do a job.”
“An Oddjob?”
I let out a groan. “Get some new material, sister. No, some investigating work.”
“Maybe you can investigate the Bigfoot across the hall.”
“What did the lumberjack do now?” I smile.
“You mean who did the lumberjack do now! And the answer is almost everyone!” she wails. “He’s just gross. And slutty. Just . . . ugh. So gross.”
I laugh. “None of that is illegal, Gemma.”
“Whatever,” she huffs. “I’ve got the girls coming over later for Chick Flick Night, but I have some time to talk to my favorite sister. Tell me about you.”
“I’d love to. And I wish I could be there for movie night, too,” I say, because it’s the truth. “But I need to get going. Call you tomorrow, ’kay? Promise.”
After I get off the phone, I save my files and lock up my laptop. Then, I use the microscopic bathroom to get ready.
This is my first real P.I. field job. Not counting when I was undercover with Nick, of course.
But the same thrill runs through my veins as I put on one of my hot femme fatale outfits, a tight black dress with some very sexy strategic cutouts. I complete the look with a blonde wig.
I smile at myself in the mirror as I fix my makeup. Because I look H-O-T.
I just hope the client thinks so, too. Actually, the client’s cheating husband. Apparently, he likes to hang out in the Blue Bar of the iconic Algonquin Hotel. He’s partial to blondes, hence the wig.
His wife is convinced he’s cheating and wants to nail him in the divorce. I’m supposed to hit on him and see if I can bait him into propositioning me. Of course, I’ll be recording the whole thing with both my phone and the spy-cam brooch I’m wearing. How cool that I get to shop at a spy store for legit business purchases?
I feel so badass right now. I wink at myself in the mirror. Double check my gear. Rehearse a few flirty pickup lines.
Then, with a deep breath, I grab my bag and head out to hail a cab.
After a stop in at the hotel lobby bathroom to touch up, I walk into the Blue Bar, trying to ooze confidence. Eighty percent of it is real. The 20 percent I’m faking is new experience jitters and nerves over the unknown. Which is all to be expected, I remind myself. But tonight should be straightforward: we’re in a well-lit, public place, and all I need to do is flirt a little.
I take a seat at the bar. When the bartender approaches, I order a soda water that will double as a vodka tonic to the casual observer.
Then, I wait. I pull out my phone to double check the description of the man I’m to look for: thirties, dark hair, blue eyes, black business suit, gold tie. Most of the men in here are sporting red power ties, so while the description isn’t as good as a photo, it does narrow things down.
I take a sip of my fake, watery drink and sweep my eyes over the crowd again when I feel a tap on my shoulder.
“Is that you, Gina?”
Everything inside me clenches.
That voice. The fake name. The subtle scent of him that takes me back to that time in Mrs. Janssen’s closet. All the other times I was wrapped around him.
Nick.
27
Alice
I gulp. Damn, he looks good. And just like that, all the feelings I’ve been trying to ignore come rushing back.
“What are you doing here?” I demand, trying to stay cool. “I don’t have time to talk. I’m working.”
Then I notice the gold tie. And the hopeful smile.
“Wait . . .” I narrow my eyes. “What’s going on here?”
Nick looks sheepish. “I’m sorry, I set this whole thing up. I didn’t think you’d meet me if I called directly.”
“You were right.” I grab my purse before sliding off the stool. It hurts just to look at him. “Goodbye, Nick.”
“Wait,” he says, his hand circling my wrist. I’m about to shake him off when he says a soft, “Please, Alice.”
Damn. His tone gets me. And the sincere look in his eyes.
Despite everything, I nod. “You have five minutes.”
“I only need one,” Nick says plainly. “I fucked up. I’m sorry.”
And while I’m reeling from that admission, he continues.
“You were right all along. Lainey was using us both to get into CandyShack. She’s in bed—literally—with an investor trying to crush Janssen and do a hostile takeover of the company.”
“Oh.” I feel vindicated, but I try not to act like I care. “Thanks for the update.”
I move to leave.
“Wait. That’s not why I’m here.”
My heart twists. “Why are you here, Nick?”
“I’m sorry.”
“You already said that.”
Don’t give in, I order myself. Don’t fall into his arms. He hurt you. he didn’t trust you.
But Nick looks plaintively at me, his eyes full of emotion. “I know you must hate me. I was stupid to let Lainey put ideas in my head. You never gave me any reason not to trust you, and I let you down. I guess I’m not used to trusting anyone, but that’s no excuse. I just hope that you can give me another chance.”
I gulp. Wait a minute. Does that mean . . . ?
“I love you,” Nick says, staring straight into my eyes. “I love you, and I miss you, more than anything. And maybe I don’t deserve you, not yet, but I swear, I’ll try. Every fucking day, to be the kind of man you can believe in.”
My legs go weak, and all my vows to stay cool fly right out the window. Because this man—this man—is telling me he loves me. And he can’t live without me.
How am I supposed to resist him now?
“Say something.” Nick looks nervous. “I promise, I won’t keep hanging around if it’s too late for us, but if you think you could forgive me, even a little—”
I kiss him. Hard.
Nick stumbles back in surprise, but then his arms wrap around me, and he’s pulling me tight against him, our mouths making up for lost time as the kiss deepens, blotting out the whole world.
This is where I belong. With him. Right here.
I come up for air, reeling. Nick presses a kiss to my forehead, still holding me tight. “Does this mean . . .” His expression is still vulnerable, naked and raw.
“I love you too.”
His face spreads into the biggest smile. “Even though I’m a dumbass?”
“Especially because you’re a dumbass.” I hug him close, feeling on top of the world. “You make me a better me,” I say simply, suddenly blinking back tears.
“You make me a better me, too,” he echoes in a whisper, and then kisses me again. I sink into it, luxuriating in the taste of him, and just how damn good it feels to be back in his arms.
“Get a room,” someone behind us grumbles, and we break apart, laughing.
“Working on it, bro,” Nick replies.
I smack him lightly.
“What do you say?” he asks. “I do actually have a room here.”
Yes! I smirk. “Presumptuous much?”
“I figured it was time I tried being an optimist, for a change.”
We barely get to the room before he’s kissing me against the door, hot and hard, and God, I’ve missed him so much.
My hands slide over his body and Nick groans against my mouth. But I have to pause, struck with a sudden thought.
“Nick . . .”
He pulls back far enough to look at me, his hands moving to gently cup my cheeks.
“If we’re doing this, I need it to be real between us,” I say urgently. “Not the fake engaged Nick and Alice, not Gina and Rex. Just us, for real.”
Nick smiles. “Then this won’t do.”
I have a moment of panic. But then he tugs my wig off, the one I’d forgotten I was even wearing. Then he smiles. “There’s my Alice.”
His Alic
e.
I melt.
Without another word, he starts undressing me. Slowly. His eyes are on me as he slips my dress off my shoulders and kisses his way down my body. “Fucking hell, Alice,” he groans as he kneels on the carpet, pressing a kiss to the small of my back above my thong.
One arm snakes around my belly and the other glides over my ass. I turn in his arms and look down at him. “Will you help me with my stockings?” I ask, flirty.
He just grins back, devilishly hot. “Leave them on. The shoes, too.”
He stands up and unclasps my bra. I throw my head back and arch into him as he kneads and kisses my breasts, saying my name over and over.
The ache gets to be too much. “Nick,” I beg breathlessly.
He lays me down on the bed, his strong hands running down my body, making me arch into him. Then his hands are there, peeling my panties away. His fingers tease my clit and circle my entrance.
“Please,” I beg, thrusting against him, and he must need me just as much, because he doesn’t hold back. He quickly retrieves a condom from his wallet, and then joins me on the bed, the blunt tip of his cock right where I need it to be. I reach for his ass and try to guide him home, framing his hips with my legs.
I glance up at him and he’s looking at me, holding my gaze as he slides in, both of us moaning in pleasure as he seats himself completely. A moment later he begins to move, and I lose my mind. We find a rhythm, perfect and wild. The headboard bangs hard against the wall with each of Nick’s deep, hard thrusts, then suddenly, he grabs my ankles and wraps his big hands around them, my stilettos against his shoulders as he slams his cock into me over and over until I’m screaming his name.
“Come for me, baby,” he groans. “Fuck, Alice, come right now.”
I shudder at the animal look in his eyes, and the way I feel just as out of control. I arch against him, feeling him deep inside, and fuck, I come apart, shattering in his arms as he explodes against me.
And I know, this is only the beginning.
28
Alice
Two months later . . .
I slide onto a bar stool and make a show of sipping my drink, doing little more than wetting my lips—I am on the job, after all. Funny how so many of these assignments end up in bars.
“How you doin’ there, honeybunny?” a masculine voice purrs in my ear.
I resist the urge to smile since I’m sitting by myself. Nick is on the other side of the tavern, speaking into his phone, his voice coming through my earpiece. I hold the glass up in front of my mouth. “Just fine, shmoopycakes.”
“You are sure looking fine,” he says. “I can’t wait to get you home. I have a little something for you.”
“Oh really?” I ask. “I didn’t think it was so little.”
He laughs. “That, too.”
“Hmm,” I grin, “I’m intrigued.”
“You should be,” he drawls. Suddenly he’s all business. “Okay, here comes your mark. Gray suit coming your way. You ready?”
“Very,” I say, putting down the drink and casually digging in my purse. I palm the GPS transmitter and then pull out some bills, tossing them onto the bar. Sliding off my stool, I look around for my target.
My heart is thumping with its usual adrenaline rush. Even though we’ve pulled three of these jobs before, I still get a kick out of the secret agent shenanigans.
I am about to walk past the mark but slip a little on my sky-high heels and fall into him. “Oops!” I say as his hands come to my arms, steadying me. I make an exaggerated wince.
“You okay?” he asks, looking concerned.
I nod. “I turned my ankle a little.”
“Here.” He guides me over to a bar stool. “Take the weight off.”
This is almost too easy.
I tilt my head and pretend to recognize him for the first time. “Wait a minute. Are you . . .”
The tech CEO looks smug. “I am. Can I buy you a drink while you give your ankle a minute?”
“That would be lovely,” I say as I fiddle with my earring, the signal to Nick that I’ve dropped the transmitter into the target’s pocket.
“Fucking hell, Alice,” Nick whispers in my ear. “I didn’t even see it happen and I was waiting for it. You are amazing. Hurry up and let’s get out of here.”
I love the growl in his voice and know what he has in store for me. I spend a few more minutes pretending to be interested in the man beside me, made even harder by knowing Nick is waiting for me.
After what I figure is the minimum amount of time to avoid looking suspicious, I thank the man for the drink and slip out. I approach the black car that’s already waiting at the curb and slip in the backseat.
“I’m out,” I report back in to Nick.
“Good job. I’ll grab some takeout and meet you at your place,” Nick says in my ear.
“Thanks, babe,” I grin at the compliment.
“Where to, miss?”
I look up at the driver and laugh. “Hey, Jackson. Welcome to New York. Not much of a vacation if you’re working.”
He grins in the rearview mirror. “Nick’ll make it worth my while, probably by losing to me at high-stakes poker. How did it go?”
“Perfectly. Mission accomplished. Home please, Jeeves.”
He grins back at me in the mirror. “You got it,” he says as he tips his hat.
Back at my place, I say goodbye to Jackson—who, of course, has a hot date lined up—and go change out of one sexy outfit and into another: my pjs and bunny slippers. For some reason, they drive Nick wild, but hey, I’m not complaining to get off my feet and snuggle, it’s been a long day. I submitted four client reports to Olivia, met with a new client of my own, and then tonight the field work. My agency is growing fast: I’ve got more work than I know what to do with, and I’ve even carved out a special niche screening potential boyfriends for women. Because who doesn’t want to check their beloved isn’t really hiding a wife and two kids in Queens before they say I do? Plus, I can’t resist a quick google to check up on Lainey and co. Just as Nick planned, she’s currently knee-deep in audit hell, and her finance boyfriend is facing six different charges for securities fraud and insider trading.
Sweet justice.
My phone buzzes. Gemma. “They killed Dr. Casanova!” she wails. It takes me a minute to realize she’s talking about Heartbreak Hospital.
“Gems!” I protest. “Spoilers!”
“You haven’t watched yet?”
“I was working! But wait, are you serious?” I demand.
“Yup. He rescued a school bus of kids from the edge of a ravine, and then he fell off a cliff, and the helicopter crashed right on top of him.”
“Wow. It’s probably because of all the behind-the-scenes drama. I read he threw a stethoscope at Avery’s head.”
“I saw she had to get a restraining order,” Gemma agrees. “Why are the hot ones always so terrible?”
“Almost all of them,” I grin.
“Yeah, yeah, you’re happy with your hot, rich, client, don’t need to rub it in.”
I giggle. “Sorry!”
“No, you’re not, but I still love you.”
I hear the door. “Speaking of, he just got home. Talk soon!”
I rush to greet Nick.
“Is the big welcome for me or the food?” he teases, as I grab the big bag of Chinese takeout.
“Hmm, that depends. Did you get extra spring rolls?”
Nick gives me a mock scowl. “I’d be jealous if I wasn’t so hungry.” He follows me into the kitchen, and I set out plates and chopsticks, my progress hampered by the arms around me. And the lingering kisses to my neck.
“Eat first,” I say. That earns me a nibble. I arch my neck, but then my empty stomach protests. “Food, I mean.”
Nick chuckles and backs off. “As you command.” He reaches for the food and helps me unpack.
We eat dinner sitting on the couch, chatting about my cases and what’s to come. Nick ended his
lease in San Francisco and is now renting a place here in New York. I figured it was smart to take things slow, but we spend most nights together at one of our places.
“So . . .” Nick teases, when we’re finished washing the dishes. “Don’t you want your present?”
I lean back against the counter and look down at his pants pointedly. “Here? All right,” I grin, hopping up on the counter.
He steps close, between my spread legs, and grabs my thighs, pulling me to the edge of the counter so he can press into me. “This isn’t exactly what I had in mind . . .”
“Oh?” I arch an eyebrow and move closer, rubbing against him. Nick laughs.
“You know how after that whole thing with Lainey went down, I went to Janssen?”
I nod.
“Well, he was pretty thankful that we didn’t just save his business from Lainey and her cronies, but that we stopped the launch. If that contaminated chocolate had gone out, it would have been a disaster.”
“No doubt.”
“He wanted to thank us.”
I lift my eyebrows. He pulls something out of his pants pocket.
It’s a ring box.
I gasp. Look up at his eyes. Watch them crinkle as he smiles. “You really did have something in your pants,” I breathe.
“Open it.”
I do. And shriek in laughter. In the little slot where a ring should be is a piece of wrapped chocolate. A CandyShack chocolate.
I give him a look. “Seriously?”
“It’s the first of the new batch,” he says. “There’s more, but that’s all I could fit into the box. Go ahead.” He nods toward the candy.
“Have you tried it?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “Nope, I left that pleasure for you.”
I unwrap the chocolate. Even though it’s tiny—barely a bite—I break it in half. I put one piece on my tongue and the other against Nick’s lips. He opens and takes it from my fingers.
“Oh God,” I moan a moment later, as the chocolate melts in my mouth. “That is so good. It’s like . . . spicy cherries or something.”