“I would love that, Donna. Thank you. My lunch is usually a drive-thru between service calls, so something home-cooked would be a real treat.”
Courtney turns off the stove and peeks into the oven. “Bacon should be done too.” She pulls it out as Mom throws bread into the four-slice toaster.
“Boys, you sit down. We’ll get this all ready,” Mom directs, and Earl and I sit across the table from one another in this Twilight Zone universe where Mom and I are suddenly on a double-date.
“Courtney, dear, as I was telling you . . . Kaede is such a catch. Did you know he’s been working on that water heater for years? He kept that thing running long after it should’ve died. He’s handy like that. And smart? Whoo, I quit being able to help him with his school work in middle school, and he’s the brains behind that business of his.” Mom doesn’t stop there, even though she basically just insulted Courtney’s brother. “He’s so good with money and people—”
“Mom!” I yell. “Seriously? I don’t need you to sell me to Courtney like I’m a used car.”
She at least has the decency to blush. “Well, I just wanted to make sure she knows because you’re so quiet sometimes that she might miss what’s right in front of her.”
I look to the ceiling as Courtney and Earl both giggle. Yeah, the blue collar repairman is giggling at me too.
“It’s fine, Kaede,” Courtney tries to say, though her lips are still twitching as she fights another laugh.
“On that note, I think we’ll head out before you drag out my baby books and football tapes.” I’m shaking my head, more settled and good-natured about this whole thing but still embarrassed beyond measure.
“What? Oh, honey, don’t be silly. Sit down and have lunch,” Mom argues. But I see her eyes tick to Earl.
Shit. I think she wants a chance to have lunch with Earl without me as much as I want to get Courtney out of here. At least I know, by Mom’s overzealous selling of me to Courtney, that she likes Courtney for me. And that was the question I wanted answered.
I get up, kissing her temple. “It’s fine, Mom. Have a good lunch,” I say pointedly with a small smile of approval.
Her returning smile speaks volumes. For so long, it was the two of us against the world. I can virtually read her mind, and she can read mine. She needs this, a chance to feel like herself, not a mom or a nurse but a woman on a date with a man who finds her attractive. As hard as that is for me to think about, I do want her to be happy.
“Let me pack these up, at least.” She throws eggs and bacon onto the toast with a slice of cheddar and wraps them in foil. “Eat them quickly or the bread will go soggy.”
I give her a hug. “Thanks, Mom.” To Earl, I offer a handshake. “I’ll see you tomorrow for the install.” Not a question, but he nods in agreement, man to man.
Courtney is grinning like the cat that got the cream and gives her a friendly girl-hug. “It was so good to see you again, Ms. McWarren.”
“Donna or Mom will work just fine, young lady.”
With a groan, I show Courtney out the door. I swear I hear Mom and Earl laughing inside. As I open the car door for Court, I say, “Well, that’s my mom.”
And she laughs too as she gets in. “What’s wrong? Wanted to miss your nomination for sainthood? I was looking forward to the ceremony. Figured it came with the toast.”
“Whatever.” I’m cringing hard, but secretly, I’m glad that Mom and Courtney were getting along, even if it was at my expense a bit.
I’m too embarrassed to say much as I run Courtney back to her apartment. “Come on up,” she says when I pull up.
I should say no. Going upstairs is a dangerous proposition. But if we were dating for real, I wouldn’t give it a second thought, and that wars inside me. “Okay,” I say before I talk myself out of it.
Courtney’s apartment isn’t on the top floor, which is a little surprising, but when she opens the door, I have to be impressed. It’s almost entirely white, but instead of looking sterile, it’s cozy with lots of texture. And she wasn’t lying. I can see at least six pillows on the couch and three blankets just from here. Something about the idea of her curled up on the couch in a nest is ridiculously adorable.
What does surprise me is the amount of house plants. “Wow. These ferns are nice. And this cactus is huge.”
“Thanks,” Courtney calls out as she heads toward the kitchen. “It’s around twenty years old. Most of them were gifts from Abi, and I enjoy babying them because I’m too busy to have a dog or a cat. They listen when I need someone to talk to.”
I don’t like that, really, Courtney talking to plants. It sounds too lonely.
“You want a beer? It’s not what I would usually serve with breakfast sandwiches, but I’m out of orange juice.” She holds up two bottles and I take one.
We eat standing up, each leaning against a counter and facing one another. “So, tell me about your mom,” Courtney demands, shoving a piece of bacon into her mouth.
I give her the basics, how amazing she is and how she taught me so much. “It was different than how you grew up, I know that. But it was good. Hell, it was great.”
“I don’t think it sounds that different. I mean, obviously, there’s a money difference, but my mom and dad are pretty great too. Though I might be biased since I’m the baby.” She grins and her eyes twinkle.
“Well, at least you’re not the golden child,” I tease, knowing that she’s well aware of her big brother’s reputation. “I could never compete with that asshole.” I say it lightly, but there’s a kernel of truth in the joke. There always is.
Courtney stills, then swallows the last bite of her sandwich. Mine is long gone, along with my beer.
“It was never a competition. Not to Ross, anyway. I wasn’t aware of stuff like that when you two were younger, but at Andrews . . . I never thought you were equal.” She says it so casually, as if her words didn’t just cut down to my very core, the dark pit where all my doubts and insecurities fester beneath a façade of cockiness.
My head falls and I wince. But I’m not going out like that. I clench my jaw and bite out, “Ouch.”
“That’s not what I meant. Look, I know my brother, obviously. Ross is a good guy with the smarts to back it up. I’m not taking that away from him. But you were the one making all his passes look good, you were the one preparing all those presentations at the office and doing the research behind the scenes. He’s the arrow, but you’re the bow. He’d be nowhere near what he is without you behind him, helping him. You two are a team, but I know it’s . . .”
I’m staring at her mouth, watching the words form one by one and memorizing them as they pass her lips. I don’t know why it’s so important to hear that she understands me. I’ve worked relentlessly for years to be invisible, to stay in the shadows, but I don’t want that with her. I want her to see me.
“It’s what, Court?” I growl, needing her next words like I need oxygen. Like I need her.
“I . . . I . . . I know it’s you. You’re more than you give yourself credit for.”
She looks at me, eyes burning with fierce heat, daring me to disagree. I’m across the small kitchen in two steps, pinning her to the counter. “Say it again,” I order.
Courtney’s lip trembles, her body arching to press against mine more fully. “Kaede, you’re more. You’re . . . everything. Mysterious, brilliant, and bold. Sexy. I—”
I cut off her words with a kiss, cradling her jaw to angle her the way I want so I can plunder her mouth. She tastes like bacon, beer, and truth, which is a heady combination. Her arms go around my neck, and I push my knee between hers, spreading her legs for me.
I trace my hands down her sides, finding her hips, where I squeeze the flesh that drives me so fucking crazy. She moans, her head falling back, and I take advantage of the opening to taste her neck. Her skin is tangy with sweat, earthy and natural, a scent that is pure Courtney, and I can’t get enough.
She shudders, from her heated core, which is
resting against my thigh, out to her limbs. As her hands roam, working their way under my shirt, I push and pull her against my leg. “That’s it, honey. Use me, ride me and get yourself off.”
“Fuck, Kaede . . . fuck!” She pants as I slide a hand up her shirt and yank her sports bra down. I find her hard nipple and pinch it. She cries out, kissing me hard. We grope each other blindly, falling further into pleasure and desire and each other.
“Fuckin’ beautiful,” I moan into the hollow of her throat. “You’ve had me so damn wound up.”
“I . . . I’ve wanted this for years,” Courtney moans. The admission fuels me, and I slip my hand down into her shorts and between her warm thighs to find the hot, wet slit of her pussy. Her clit’s a tiny nub, a pearl that I find and slip my fingers over, rubbing her with circular strokes that quickly have her humping my hand, desperate for release.
“Kaede!” Courtney cries out as she shatters, a hot gush of liquid covering my hand. Her fingers claw at my back, and she arches her neck, and I’m stunned by how gorgeous Courtney is when she lets go.
“Yes, fuck, Court,” I manage to strangle out, on the edge myself as I slowly tease out every bit of pleasure with feather-light swipes across her clit that make her convulse spasmodically.
She’s weak, her knees threatening to give out, and I prop her up as she catches her breath. Her eyes beg me—to do that to her again? To never do that again?
“Holy shit, Kaede. I never . . . that was . . .” She blinks slowly, like the fog in her mind is also clouding her vision. But with that blink, her eyes clear, and she looks down my body, licking her lips. “My turn.”
She goes for my shorts, her gaze locked on the thickness that’s been grinding up against her, and I have never wanted anything more. Which makes it a damn fucking inconvenient time for my conscience to speak up. “We . . . we can’t, shouldn’t . . . Ross.”
Courtney stops, her eyes filled with hunger, desire, and now pain. “I don’t want to talk about my brother when you have my orgasm on your fingers.”
I shudder at her words, slipping the fingers into my mouth and groaning at the taste of her. “Court.” Even the one word takes all my strength to force out.
Her eyes move slowly up my body to meet mine, and I lean forward, pressing my forehead to hers. I tell her the truth, even though I hate myself for it. “I want you so fucking badly. I do. But I can’t. I’m sorry.”
Weak as I am, I kiss the shocked O of her mouth before stepping back.
“I should go.”
Chapter 14
Courtney
Mondays are usually my favorite day, a chance to get back to work and do all the things I enjoy—number crunching, planning and strategizing, business contract review, and negotiation.
Today, I mostly just wanted to slam my fist down on my alarm and hide under my pillow for a little longer.
I’m still flustered by what happened in my kitchen with Kaede. I never imagined it could be like that.
I wanted him.
I was damn near begging for more, if not with words, with my eyes and actions. I’d been ready to drop to my knees for him.
He was hard as a rock in his shorts and felt so fucking good pressing me into the cabinet. When I opened my eyes after shattering from that mind-blowing orgasm, I’d expected him to be cocky, maybe say something about his magic fingers, but that hadn’t been his thoughts at all. He’d obviously been enthralled . . . by me.
And yet somehow, I got cockblocked by my brother.
Who wasn’t even there!
Replaying the earlier part of that interaction has my blood rushing south, making me want him again, even if I’m disappointed and pissy about the eventual outcome.
Walking into the office, I’m a bit more stompy and twitchy than my usual confident stride. Okay, that might be putting it nicely. In truth, I’m afraid I look like I have ants in my pants.
That thought is confirmed when Jillian’s penciled-in eyebrows lift sharply. “Hey, Boss, was the dick that good?”
I want to growl, I want to snap at her, but that’s probably the horniness talking. And maybe I need a Snickers? Instead, I tug on my skirt and adjust my purse. “No, I went running yesterday.”
“Is that what the kids are calling it these days?” she asks. Her smirk is damn near overflowing with ‘sure, whatever you say.’
“Kids? I’m definitely no kid. Too close to thirty for that.”
Jillian leans back, propping her feet up on the little trashcan next to her desk and looking totally unconvinced. “You’re all kids to me. I’m just glad you got some.”
I wonder what she’d think if she knew I didn’t actually get dick . . . and that Kaede turned me down after rocking me to my core with just his thigh and his fingers.
Nah, even I wouldn’t believe that if I told it to me. And I’d be way too embarrassed to admit it. Nope, going to tuck that humiliation down deep and pretend that little scenario ended with my coming, not getting rejected. Turning, I half walk, half stomp into the office and try to slam the door, only to be foiled by the hydraulic arm at the top.
The worst part is, I should be pissed at Kaede. Instead, I’m just pissed at my brother.
I get to work, my headphones in with my ‘energy’ mega mix of Bon Jovi, Van Halen, Joan Jett, and Pat Benatar, among others, driving me on.
It’s a distraction, at least, helped along by the detail-oriented work I’m doing on the proposal I’m reviewing. This is my favorite type of work, mixing business and finances and projections. It’s not for AgroStar, since I blew that shot, but maybe I’ll eventually get another one.
By the time Jillian knocks on my door to tell me she’s going to lunch, I’m in a much better mood. “Hey, Courtney? You want me to grab you anything from downstairs?”
“I’m good, Jill. Thanks.”
“Okay . . . and I just wanted to say again, I’m sorry about the flowers issue.”
I wave her in, popping my earbuds out and giving her my full attention. “Jillian, it’s fine. We’re going to make mistakes. The important thing is to learn from them and not repeat them. The lesson I’m taking away from this, and that I want you to take too, is that if we pride ourselves on providing individualized, customized attention to our clients, we need to do it with the utmost care and attention. We’ve done well in providing that personal touch, but not well enough. Next time, we’ll do better with every detail, checking and rechecking.”
She’s quiet, letting that sink in. It’s near verbatim what Dad told me, with my own little touch on it.
“Thank you, Courtney.”
Her phone rings, and Jillian steps out to pick it up with a bigger smile, so I think the pep talk worked. Thanks for another one, Dad.
A moment later, she sticks her head back in. “Mr. Andrews wants to see you. Lunch meeting, I hope?”
“Why are you so worried about my caloric intake?” I ask, pausing my music and getting up.
“As your assistant, it’s my job to keep you healthy and just right. I happen to think I’m doing a damn good job. Do you disagree?” She looks me up and down, evaluating. “Maybe I’ll grab you a snack either way. Something to keep you charged up for some action tonight.” Before I can argue, she’s gone.
I head upstairs, where I find Dad’s laid out his office conference table for a ‘working lunch’. He’s even got my favorite sandwich, pastrami and bacon on whole wheat from the deli down the street. Best of all, his suit coat’s off and his sleeves are rolled up, always a good sign with him. “Come in, honey. What’s up in Courtlandia?”
I’m not sure when that nickname started, but somewhere around my teens, when I would disappear into books, it became a sort of joke. I would spend hours lost in their pages, coming out of this entirely different world each time. And Dad would ask me that question as an invitation to tell him about what I’d been reading. No matter whether it was fiction or nonfiction, something he was interested in or not, he’d listen to me tell him about the books, dissectin
g plots and characters and expanding my own knowledge along with his. When I got older, it became a way to ask about my life instead of books so he could stay in touch with what was happening with me.
“Nothing much,” I tell him, skipping the whole deal with Kaede. The fewer people involved with this deception, the better. Kaede and I agreed on that, for sure. “How about you?”
“I’ve got good news,” Dad says. “Talked with Ms. Crabtree . . . and she loves your proposal.”
I'm so surprised that I squeeze my sandwich and a blob of horseradish squirts out onto my hand. “What?” I say, shocked. I grab a napkin, wiping my hand off. “I figured AgroStar was in the rearview mirror and we’d have to move onto the next one. How’d you work that miracle?”
“I had nothing to do with it. You did. I might not be her biggest fan, but Jane’s a businesswoman in the end,” Dad says simply. “Court, I told you that mistakes happen. I taught you better than to wallow in the bad, and I get the feeling you’re still beating yourself up?” He tilts his head, giving me that Dad look that says he already knows the answer to his question.
I hold up my thumb and finger an inch apart. “A little. I just wanted to do well, and I thought I was going to knock it out of the park. I’m disappointed in myself. No, I’ve moved past that to angry.”
Dad sets his sandwich, a three-layered club that we have an unspoken agreement to never mention to Mom, down with a sigh. “You’re better than this. Now, eat your sandwich, give me the pickle you’re not going to eat, and remember that you can do it. Crabtree even insisted that her assistant, that Secret Service looking man she totes around with her, keep quoting figures from the presentation when they went to the doctor as a precaution. She told me that herself. Learn from that. Never stop. She likes the plan. Your plan. Now, what’s your next step?”
I take a bite of my sandwich, thinking. Not so much about the next steps—I’ve had those game planned from even before my first presentation—but about my fifth-grade science fair project.
My Big Fat Fake Engagement Page 17