T: OMFG! When did I become the one telling you off? Who even am I anymore?
A: Hahaha!
T: It’s not funny! This whole thing was your idea! And I’m the one having damn heart attacks on an airboat!!!
A: It won’t happen again. I promise. We switch back in a few days anyway. Am I forgiven?
T: Yes. Fine. Whatever. I can’t stay mad at someone with such a pretty face.
A: Did you just compliment yourself?
T: And you.
A: Fair enough. We do have a pretty face . . . and a bangin’ body.
T: Bangin’? When did you start saying bangin’?
A: What were you guys doing out there anyway? Oren doesn’t strike me as the airboat type.
T: He’s not. You should’ve seen how hard I had to work to convince him. But I needed to get away from the house and your nosy cousin.
A: Good thinking!
Nineteen
Toni
The smaller airboat zoomed past for the third fucking time. I wanted to launch myself into their boat and throttle them both. They were grinning like idiots, having way too much fun at my expense while I had a damn heart attack every time they whizzed past.
What if Oren noticed? I was the one who’d have to explain why there was another woman with my face flying around the bayou like a maniac.
As they disappeared around a bend, I let my shoulders relax and made sure to keep a smile on my face. We were supposed to be having fun—hiding and having fun.
Oren gripped my knee and grinned at me. His sunglasses reflected my face as his auburn waves flew about in the wind. I couldn’t help smiling back, and this one was genuine. Now that he’d relaxed into it, he seemed to be having a great time.
I’d practically had to drag him out there that morning.
The sun hadn’t fully risen when he’d stirred in the bed next to me, but it was definitely lighter than when I usually heard him start the shower.
“You slept in,” I murmured against his back, my voice husky from sleep.
“Mmhmm.” His wordless agreement reverberated through his back. I pressed my cheek to the warm skin between his shoulder blades and held him.
The sun kept rising, its light drawing me further from sleep and into the stark reality of what I’d done.
I shouldn’t have slept with him.
My heart rate sped up, and I released him, rolling onto my back.
He rolled over too, turning to face me, and placed a hand on my belly. “You made me miss my workout.” I could hear the lazy smile in his voice, but I was doing all I could not to look at him. If I caught sight of those warm hazel eyes, I’d forget why I was supposed to resist him. “But I need a shower before I get to work.”
He yawned into the pillow and nuzzled my cheek with his nose. As he sat up, I reacted without thinking.
“No.” My hands shot out and tugged his arm until he fell back down beside me, chuckling.
I looked into his eyes. I wasn’t ready to push him away. Not yet.
“Let’s do something.” I smiled.
“What did you have in mind?” His voice dropped into a suggestive tone as he lifted himself onto an elbow and wedged his knee between my legs.
“Not that.” I slapped him on the chest—but dragged the hand up over his neck and into the soft locks at the back of his head. My hips rocked against his of their own volition, his morning wood digging into my hip. “OK, maybe that.”
He groaned and dropped his head to my shoulder. “Damn you, woman. We can’t start this now. I really need to get moving.”
“No. Please.” I hooked my free leg around his hip and wrapped my arms around his neck, holding him against me. “Don’t leave . . .” I stopped just before I said me.
He frowned, his gaze searching, the playfulness gone. “Alex? What’s going on?”
He caressed my cheek as I swallowed around the lump in my throat. “I just . . . there’s so much pressure . . . I hate the lying. I’m so stressed out about my cousin being here, and the wedding is so close, and I’ve barely left this property since I got here. I just want to be with you. Alone. Without any pressure. Let’s just go out and have some fun and ignore our responsibilities.”
“I know.” He sighed. “But I have meetings . . .”
He chewed his delectable lip. He wanted to be with me. I could tell that much. But anyone who spent even an hour with Oren Winthrop the third could tell he was the kind of guy who had to line his pencils up on the desk before he could concentrate. Changing plans at the last minute would not be easy for him.
“Please, Oren.” I let the desperation show in my gaze.
He regarded me for a long moment, his eyes tightening with worry. “All right. I’ll get my assistant to move my appointments.”
I pulled him down into a tight hug, and he laughed softly against my neck. “But we’d better hurry,” he added. “If we bump into anyone, our getaway plans will be foiled. Our best bet is to get out before they’re up.”
“I can be ready in five.” I shoved him back and kicked the covers off like a toddler refusing to go to bed. I was down the hall before he could blink.
We rushed through getting ready, narrowly avoided bumping into George in the kitchen, and snuck out a side door, then flew out of the gate like a couple of teenagers who’d stolen their parents’ car, laughing hysterically. At the end of the road, Oren slowed his BMW down and indicated as if to head into the city, but I made him turn in the opposite direction.
Getting him to the touristy airboat place out in the sticks was no easy feat. I was trying to be spontaneous, but the less he knew, the more he got worked up. He kept trying to plan the day out, asking me where I wanted to have lunch, offering to make a reservation, all between demanding to know where we were going.
When I finally caved and told him what I had in mind, he had a million and one questions.
“Where is this place? Is there anywhere to eat nearby? What if they’re booked out? Maybe we should call ahead? Maybe we should just do this another day? What if we’re not dressed appropriately?”
“Would you fucking relax?” I chuckled to take the sting off the harsh words and hoped he didn’t notice my casual use of the curse word. It was too easy to forget I was pretending to be someone else when it was just me and him. “If they’re booked out, we’ll go do something else. The point isn’t to do this particular thing. The point is to just be spontaneous.”
“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I don’t do spontaneous. My life is scheduled and planned out almost to the minute for the next six months. How do you even know where this place is?”
I was starting to realize what a miracle it was I’d convinced him to ditch all his responsibilities and hang out with me. We’d even left our cell phones behind, after Oren called his assistant.
I couldn’t avoid his question, so I said something about having researched things to do in the New Orleans area and seeing it on the Internet.
We pulled into the parking area behind a bus full of Japanese tourists and managed to snag a spot on one of the smaller boats, which were more expensive. But hey, I was with a billionaire, and it was like spare change to him. I had no qualms about letting him pay and jumping into the airboat as though the giant propeller could whisk me away from all my problems.
Oren had been tense and unsure for the first ten minutes, grumbling about having to wear earmuffs, questioning the safety, and even trying to convince me to cancel and go do something else. But after a while, a grin pulled at his lips, and his shoulders relaxed. The first half of the tour was fun and carefree as the guide told us about the native wildlife in the bayou, stopping here and there to speak to us and answer questions.
And now I was hardly paying attention to anything, constantly on the lookout for my infuriating body double and my boss/landlord/supposed friend, who were whizzing around on their own damn airboat and making my life a living nightmare.
Just my fucking luck—I’d managed to run away from
one problem only to go hurtling, propelled by a giant fan, straight into another.
Thankfully, they disappeared before it was time for us to head back, and I didn’t catch sight of them again.
After the airboat tour, we drove to a nearby dive bar and had greasy burgers for lunch, then chased them down with beer and played several games of pool. Other than a handful of haggard-looking drunks and the bar staff, we were the only ones in there, laughing and carrying on like teenagers while I kicked his ass and he shook his head in disbelief. He kept asking where I’d learned to play so well, and I kept dodging his questions by being coy. I just couldn’t find it in me to think up another lie when what I really wanted to do was tell him I’d learned to play pool working in bars because that’s what my life was, and that I wasn’t her.
But I just as badly wanted to enjoy this moment, this perfect day with him. So I shoved that urge to be honest deep down and committed his easy smile, his ruffled hair, his lean build to memory—searing them into my brain so I would never forget this moment as he leaned on the pool cue and grinned at me, his eyes wide with wonder as I sunk another ball into the corner pocket.
We got home just before dinner, only to find that Preston had gone out for a business meeting and Oren’s parents were on their way out to attend a charity dinner.
Before rushing out the door, Oren senior took a moment to scold his son for being so irresponsible for an entire day.
His mother just looked between us and gave us a broad smile. “I’m glad you two had some fun. You both deserve it.” She rushed off after her husband, closing the door behind her.
Oren wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me close. I fiddled with the hair at the nape of his neck.
“I really did have fun today. Thank you for convincing me. But I do need to do just a little bit of work. Maybe we could watch a movie or something after?” His cheeky grin and the way his eyes darted to my lips told me he was thinking about the last time we watched a movie together. I remembered too, my body already responding to his, pressing against him, leaning up to kiss him.
He returned the kiss, taking his time as his lips explored mine. Eventually he pulled away, gave me a kiss on the forehead, and went into his study.
After a quick shower and a sandwich for dinner, I pulled out one of my two remaining cigarettes. I hadn’t had one all day, but with the lighter halfway to the smoke, I paused and lifted my thumb, letting the flame die. I kind of wanted it, but I also kind of didn’t. Every second I’d spent here, the need to light up had been in the back of my mind, the stress and worry only making the craving worse. But as I sat at the open window, an unlit cigarette hanging from my lips, I realized I hadn’t thought about it once all day.
I pulled the cigarette out of my mouth and put it away.
Instead, I made myself comfortable on the bed and cracked open my book, but before I knew it, a knock at my door startled me midchapter. I grinned and dropped the book on the pillow before bouncing to the door and pulling it open.
My smile fell.
It wasn’t Oren on the other side; it was George, one eyebrow cocked.
“Don’t start with me, George.” I crossed my arms and mirrored his disapproving gaze.
“Toni, what are you doing?” He kept his voice low, and even though it was reproachful, it was also tinged with worry.
“Look, I’m not going to destroy Alex’s one chance to save her family legacy, OK?” I dropped my arms, my shoulders slouching in defeat. “I just . . . I don’t know. I thought he was an arrogant, spoiled rich boy. But then I started to get to know him . . . He’s just a really decent fucking guy, you know? I don’t meet a lot of those. I’m not used to it, and he defends me and protects me and . . . I don’t know, man.” I ran my hands through my hair in exasperation, the weight of the situation yet again tumbling over me with the force of a waterfall. “This is just a really weird situation, OK? I spend a lot of time with him, and now I’m pretty sure I’m gonna fucking miss him when this is over. I don’t know what to do with that.” Even I heard the hint of hysteria in my voice.
George sighed and stepped into the room, pulling me into another one of his hugs. It was brief but comforting, the simple gesture convincing me it wasn’t just Alex’s interests and well-being he was worried about.
“Toni, are you in love with him?” George fixed me with a stare. It wasn’t judgmental or accusatory—it wasn’t really anything other than questioning.
I opened my mouth to answer, no idea what the fuck would come tumbling out and hoping beyond hope George would actually know how to fix it. But before I could say anything, another knock sounded at the door.
Oren didn’t wait to be let in—he simply opened the door. “Hey, Alex . . . Oh, hey, George. You guys catching up too? I guess you would’ve missed a full day’s work as well.” He rubbed the back of his neck.
“Nothing that couldn’t wait.” The easy smile on George’s face didn’t give anything away. “Sounds like the two of you had a fun day.”
George and Oren spent five minutes chatting about our excursion and joking around. It was just enough time for me to pull myself together, beat back the tears stinging the backs of my eyes.
Oren invited George to join us for a drink, treating him like a friend and not a member of staff—the same way Alex treated him.
George declined, cracking a joke about how hard he’d had to work in our absence, and excused himself to his own room.
“He’s a good man.” Oren wrapped his arms around my waist. “I really like him. But I’m kind of glad he said no to that drink. I want you all to myself.” He punctuated his statement by pressing a gentle kiss to the side of my neck.
The next thing I knew, we were in his room, peeling each other’s clothes off and stepping into the steamy shower. We lathered each other’s bodies, exploring every bump and crevice in a slow, sensual way. Oren’s strong arms held me up as the water sluiced over our bodies, and we made love in the shower. Then we dried off and made love again in his bed.
For the second night in a row, I fell asleep in the arms of another woman’s fiancé, and I wondered when in the hell I’d started referring to sex as “making love” and not “fucking.”
Twenty
Alex
I’d never seen the Cottonmouth Inn this busy. It was a Saturday night, and the Thousand Lies were playing, Ren rocking the stage as if it were Madison Square Garden and not a tiny stage in a dingy bar.
The place was at capacity; the bouncers were turning people away at the door. Four of us worked the bar while Dennis ran around like crazy collecting dirties, and no one had more than a five-minute break to go to the toilet.
“Behind you!” Dennis yelled as he shuffled past me, a tray of clean glasses in his arms. They were gone within ten minutes.
Andre had closed the kitchen at eleven and called last orders, but Loretta was only just pulling the servery window down at a quarter past midnight. She gave us a wave as she disappeared out the back door.
“Runnin’ out back to get more beer. Fuck me, those college kids can drink.” Andre rushed off without waiting for an answer.
“What can I get ya?” I pointed to the nearest customer, a guy in a red trucker hat, as a trickle of sweat ran down my spine.
“Four Budweisers.”
I popped the tops on the beers with speed and precision I didn’t have just two weeks ago, took his money, and turned to the next customer.
The rowdy group with trucker hats were celebrating some sports win—baseball? NASCAR? I really had no idea—while the college crowd was celebrating the end of finals. They only added to the bigger crowd Ren and his band drew every time they played.
It had also been a stinking hot day, the temperature hovering around a hundred, and people were thirsty. Instead of hydrating with water like they should, they were downing cold beers and frozen margaritas.
My back ached. My romper was sticking to my sweaty skin. My feet burned in the boots. But I retied my hair an
d turned to take the next order, pointing at a blonde.
She smiled and her lips moved, but the song reached a crescendo, and I didn’t catch what she wanted. I frowned and leaned forward.
She leaned in too and opened her mouth to shout her order again.
Fast movement to my left caught my attention, and I whipped my head around.
There was a commotion at the entrance, several drunk men trying to muscle their way past the bouncer. A second security man shouldered through the crowd to help, leaving only one bouncer at the other side of the room to keep an eye on the dance floor.
“Hey!” A scowling man slapped the bar in front of me. “My woman’s trying to order.”
“Sorry,” I shouted over the noise. “I couldn’t hear you. What can I get you?”
The blonde pushed her ass into the guy’s groin as she leaned over the bar with a smug look. “Can I get a pitcher of—”
Shattering glass drew my attention to the right, just in time to see a fist flying near the door to the back corridor. I wasn’t sure what had smashed, but judging by Andre’s empty arms, I had a feeling it was the case of beer he’d been bringing out.
A fight broke out right in front of him, some of the college guys throwing sloppy punches at each other. Andre got between them, trying to break it up, but there were already several people involved.
Dread made the bottom of my stomach feel hollow, but I had to trust that Andre and the bouncers knew what they were doing.
I glanced at the stage and met Ren’s worried gaze. The band continued playing, like pros, but the lead singer kept darting his eyes between the mess Andre was trying to stop and me.
Just Be Her Page 21