Dirty Sexy Player

by Laurelin Paige

  “I’m good, I’m good. How are you, though? Did you get my latest check?” I hated always bringing it back to the money, but it was the reason I was calling. The reason I always called.

  “Yes. Thank you. I did. I can’t tell you enough how much I appreciate it.”

  I ran a hand through my hair. “Good. I’m glad. I wish I could do more. And how are the twins?”

  “Well, some days are better than others. Eva is trying a job outside the home now with this great program that works with autistic kids. Zach, though…” She trailed off, and I understood. Zach would probably never be able to work in the traditional sense. His outbursts and tantrums hadn’t been managed, and his speaking skills were still at an elementary school level.

  “I understand. You’re still getting good home help though, right? Because if you’re not, I will—”

  She cut me off. “Our help is fine. The money you send is perfect. It covers everything we need. It really is more than enough, Weston.”

  “Good.” I sounded like a broken record, I’d said that over and over again. Good. Good. What else was there to say?

  A beat went by.

  Then I asked the question I hated asking the most. “And how’s Daniel?”

  She sighed, but when she spoke she sounded bright. “He only has thirteen more months on his sentence. And the lawyer says he might be able to get parole soon. So we’re looking forward to that.”

  My door opened, and I looked up with a scowl. I’d had it closed for a reason. Nate walked in, and he didn’t know anything about this phone call, which meant I needed to wrap it up. “Well, that’s great. I hope that goes well. Just let me know if you need anything on that front. I’m happy to help out.”

  “I will.”

  “Great, then. I’ll be talking to you later. Have a great night.” With my vocabulary of adjectives reduced to the word great, I got off the line so fast I barely heard her say goodbye. Which made me feel guilty—more guilty than I already felt—but I wasn’t about to entertain questions from Nathan, and if I’d stayed on the phone with her much longer I was certain to face interrogation.

  As it was, Nate was eying me. He’d slumped in the seat opposite my desk, an ankle crossed over the other leg at the knee, and laced his hands behind his head. I waited a few nervous seconds while he stared at me then remembered that I had a bone to pick with him.

  “You’re the one who started the kiss chant at the party on Saturday night, aren’t you.” I didn’t put a question into my accusation.

  His grin gave him away. “And that was some solid entertainment. Thank you, Weston.”

  “You’re a giant fuckwaffle.”

  “Damn,” Nate said in awe. “Fuckwaffle is usually reserved for people who really offend you. I’m surprised. If the tables had been turned, you would have been catcalling me to kiss Elizabeth.”

  I frowned for a number of reasons, not the least of which was that the tables never would have been turned, because Nate had absolutely refused to put himself in this position. Also, the idea of him kissing Elizabeth made me want to vomit and punch him all at once.

  But he was right—under different circumstances, I would have been the guy in the crowd stirring the shit.

  Just.

  That kiss.

  “It wasn’t cool,” I said. “You know the circumstances. A lot is riding on this, and it was bullshit to put us on the spot like that. This isn’t a fucking game.”

  Nate barely blinked. “You’re in a foul mood. What broomstick is up your ass?”

  The broomstick of a very feisty red-headed witch, that was what.

  I stood up from my seat, walked over to my printer to get the Opportunity Analysis I’d printed earlier, and forced myself to pull my shit together. There was an opportunity here, somewhere, I had to remember that. Had to hold onto it. With that in mind, I took a deep breath that did nothing to calm me down, walked back over to my desk, and threw the document down without sitting myself. “I’m under a lot of pressure, okay?”

  “Or, rather, you’re filled with a lot of pressure. You need to get laid.”

  I leaned a palm on the desk and glared at him. “What makes you think that I haven’t?” Fuck him for even thinking he knew anything about it. Even if he was right, he was only guessing. “I know you guys have a pool and everything, but how are you going to know if you win?”

  “Oh, we’ll know,” Nate said, laughing. “But seriously, what’s your damage?”

  I rolled my eyes and sat back down in my chair. “Your vernacular is dating you.” Sometimes it was hard to remember that Nate was fourteen years older than me. He was just so cool most of the time. Then he went and said something like that, something that came right out of the eighties.

  But while he was here, and since he was so cool, I actually would be dumb not to take him up on some advice.

  I placed my other palm on the desk so I was leaning evenly on both hands. “You want to know what my deal is? Here’s my deal. I’m engaged to a woman I don’t like. Can’t even be in the same room with her without getting into an argument. And what’s more, I’m stuck with her for the next several months. But the worst part, the abso-fucking-lutely worst part, is that despite how much I can barely stand her, and how much she’s taking up all my time with this wedding planning and this fiancé shit, and how much she’s messing with my head, and getting into my business, I still want to rip off her clothes and give her the best orgasms of her life. Like how can she be so insanely attractive and a total bitch all at once? I can’t even figure it out.”

  Nate nodded, taking everything in. “That doesn’t really sound like a bad problem to have.”

  “What the fuck are you talking about? It’s the worst problem of my life!” Okay, I’d lived a privileged life. “Even with the help of porn, I have blue balls every single minute of the day. How the hell am I supposed to get her out of my head?”

  Nate put his hands out in the air like the answer was obvious. “Simple. You fuck her and get it over with.”

  I threw my head back. “Did you miss the part where I said I hate her?”

  “So hate-fuck her. Your cock will be happy.”

  I shook my head. Nate obviously didn’t understand, which was weird, because he was a god with these things. Didn’t he have the answer to every sexual problem? “I can’t fuck her.”

  “Why?”

  “Because—” I trailed off, not quite remembering why I couldn’t, besides my personal feelings toward her. “Because Donovan said I couldn’t.”

  Nate laughed. “Oh, well then. If Daddy said you can’t.”

  “Shut up.” But now I was really wondering… Why couldn’t I fuck her?

  Oh yeah. The part that came after. “Because I still have to be engaged to her for several months. See the problem?”

  Nate raised an eyebrow. “Have you never seen a girl again after you slept with her?”

  “Of course I have.” I couldn’t think of a single one that I’d seen on purpose, but whatever. Then I straightened and pointed at him excitedly. “Sabrina! I’ve seen Sabrina! I even work with her.”

  “So what’s the problem? And you’re so confused about why you’d want to give a qualified woman that you slept with a job, that you’ve decided you must want to have some sort of relationship with her in the future. Have you ever banged a woman and not been weird about it after? Do you not know how to do casual sex?”

  “Never mind,” I growled. “Forget I brought it up. What did you come in here for, anyway?”

  “There’s a showing tonight at a gallery I used to deal with. Want to come? I know women are off-limits to touch, but you could always...watch.”

  Shit. Watching Nate in action was a dream come true.

  Strangely, I wasn’t as disappointed as I thought I might be to have to turn him down. “Wish I could, man.” I checked the clock on my computer. I had to get going. “But Elizabeth wants to have dinner to discuss our current living arrangements.”

  Nate�
�s eyes rolled. “Sounds like a fun time. Sad I’ll miss it.”

  “You should take Donovan. Or—better yet—Sabrina, who I am not confused about, asswipe. She’s new here. Someone should entertain her.” She’d only been in town a week, and I knew I should feel guilty for throwing her into the city without being available to guide her around.

  “I can’t ask either of them,” Nate said as we stood up together. “They’re having dinner.”

  “Ah,” I said, only half listening. We headed out of my office where I paused to hit the lights and lock the door behind me. “Wait. They’re having dinner together?”

  “It seems so.”

  “Huh.” I took off toward the elevators, wondering if I should be jealous. Though Nate couldn’t understand, Sabrina was the girl I was planning to actually have a relationship with later, after all. Probably. Maybe.

  But of course I shouldn’t be jealous. Donovan knew my plans, and he’d known Sabrina from Harvard as well. He was likely being a good friend to both of us by taking her out when I couldn’t.

  Besides, I couldn’t really muster up any animosity toward Donovan. I was too plagued with animosity toward Elizabeth. Just like how I couldn’t muster lustful thoughts for Sabrina lately because I was too consumed by lust for my fiancée.

  I’d let Elizabeth think otherwise at the engagement party, of course. Just to piss her off. Sometimes it was too easy.

  Unfortunately, where Elizabeth Dyson was concerned, I was beginning to find that I was even easier.

  * * *

  “Nope. No way. Not happening.” I was trying to make it clear that there was no way in hell I was moving out of my apartment.

  Elizabeth’s eyelid twitched. “It’s only for the rest of our engagement. I’m not asking you to give it up permanently.”

  “I don’t care. I’m not moving my stuff. I’m not living in your West Side overpriced snobby-ass apartment. I’m not doing it.”

  “What do you have against the West Side?” she hissed in a quieter voice as a waiter walked by, in case somebody might overhear us.

  “Well, for one thing, it’s twice as far from the office as my place. That’s a lot of time I would waste every morning on unnecessary travel. You don’t work, so you don’t understand. That’s not something you have to worry about.”

  “But that’s not the Upper West Side’s fault. And don’t say that I don’t work with that snide tone of yours.” The corners of her mouth turned down like she was offended, hurt even. “It’s not like I do nothing with my days. I’m studying. Working on all the information you give me to learn.”

  “And you can learn just as easily in my place.” Not that I wanted a woman living in my apartment either. Though the idea of having her there, in my space, somehow didn’t bother me as much as I thought it might. She’d take the extra bedroom, of course, but just having her close by…

  “Your place is probably a pigsty.” She raised her voice just enough, causing a nearby patron to look over at us.

  “No, it’s not.” For the record, it’s really not. Totally not a pigsty. I just didn’t spend the money on those fancy maids like Miss Moneybags did. I cleaned the old-fashioned way—with my own two hands. When I got around to it, that was.

  “I don’t know why you thought we would ever agree on any of this.” I took a swig of my beer. “We couldn’t even agree on what appetizers to order.”

  She shook her head and chewed her lip. I’d watched many other women do that in my day—come on, it was one of the sexiest things women could do. But the way Elizabeth chewed on her lip was unique. She pulled her bottom lip to the side so it puckered out, like a sideways fish-face. It was actually kind of funny-looking, and not exactly attractive, and yet whenever she did it, my dick leapt like a dog at a bone. I wanted to bite her lip for her. Wanted to tug her into my lap and gnaw on her like a puppy.

  She was a witch, I tell you. A witch.

  “I was afraid of this, so I came prepared. We’re going to have to make a schedule, and that’s all there is to it.” She reached into her purse and pulled out a notepad and a pen. It was somehow charming that she had both in this day and age of electronics. She’d clearly carried them since way before we started our lessons at The Sky Launch, and I knew it, but I never failed to be charmed by it.

  “What do you mean when you say schedule?” I asked suspiciously, rubbing the back of my neck with my hand. I didn’t like schedules. I barely liked the schedule that I kept for myself.

  “Look,” she said, meeting my eyes, and I had to take a moment to catch my breath. Every time I met her startling blues, I found they had that effect on me. “Darrell was very serious when he told me that he’s going to do everything he can to rip us apart. We have to make it look like we’re a real couple. In real life, a modern couple would be living together in some shape or form at this point in time in their engagement. If we’re not going to agree to live in one place, we’ve got to be sharing both of our apartments. Going back and forth. You know, make it look like we’re spending time together. Like we’re…”

  “Like we’re fucking each other on a regular basis,” I said and immediately regretted it. Just letting my mind go there for even half a second gave me a semi.

  “Yes, that.”

  I was beginning to see her plan. “So you’re saying we need to start sleeping at each other’s houses. All right. I got it now.” I thought about it for a minute. That couldn’t be so bad, could it? Move a few essentials over to her place, make sure to only be there on the weekends so the travel wasn’t too far to work. Have her near me so much more of the time than I already do… Have that much more temptation...

  Yeah, what could go wrong?

  “Fine. I want to be at my place as much as possible during the week. I’ll clear out the guest room for you and give you a key. I’m guessing you’ll do the same for me?”

  “I’ll email you a schedule then. Don’t bring over too much at once or it will look obvious.” She jotted down the notes that I’d given her. I watched her pretty cursive handwriting. His place on weekdays. Exchange keys. Clear out guestroom. Hire him a maid.

  “Hey, you don’t need to be hiring me—”

  “If I have to live there, there is going to be a maid.”

  I leaned forward. “The thing is, sweetheart, you don’t have to live there. So there will not be a maid.” I held her stare, but I realized now that she was bent forward too, and that it would only take just a little bit more movement on either of our parts for our lips to meet, and suddenly all I was thinking about was that damn fucking kiss again.

  Shit, she was in my head. She was under my skin. She was about to be in my apartment. The one place she wasn’t was in my pants, and I was beginning to really wish otherwise.

  The stare-off was some sort of game of chicken, and I should have been the one to lose because of the way she was making me feel—all twisted inside—but somehow she was the one who backed down.

  “Fine.” She crossed hire him a maid off her notepad.

  When she looked up again, she didn’t look quite at me, but straight past. Her eyes narrowed and then widened in surprise.

  “Clarence?” she asked after a minute.

  I frowned in confusion and then followed her gaze to find she was looking at some guy behind me.

  She stood up out of her chair and said it again. “Clarence. It is you!”

  One of the guys at the next table got up and came over to us. “Elizabeth Dyson. How are you? You look great.”

  He hugged her and my entire body went stiff. Who was this freaking dude? My eyes darted from him to her with eager curiosity. The funny thing was, the Clarence dude looked familiar, but I couldn’t quite place him.

  Their embrace ended, and he stood back, but not back far enough for my taste. Only far enough so that he could look her over again. Slowly, this time.

  I recognized that look. The one that was already eating her up, undressing her with his eyes, mentally dragging her off to the bedroom—<
br />
  I stood up so quickly that my chair shook and almost toppled over. “Hi,” I said, my hand outstretched so he was forced to shake it, making him move away from Elizabeth. “I’m Weston. Have we met?”

  The Clarence guy looked quizzically at Elizabeth—my fiancée—then back to me. “I don’t think so. Clarence Sheridan.” He shook my hand, but there still wasn’t enough distance between him and my girl for my comfort.

  My fake girl, I reminded myself, but my inner caveman didn’t hear any distinction.

  When I was done shaking Clarence’s hand, I put my arm around Elizabeth, drawing her next to me. She gasped quietly as I did, but her body was pliable, and she melted into the curve of my arm easily enough.

  “Sheridan,” I asked. “Any relation to Theodore?” I’d gone to school with a Theodore. That was who this guy looked like.

  “He’s my older brother. How do you know him?” he asked, almost suspiciously.

  “We went to Harvard together. Small world.” I turned to Elizabeth. “Honey, have you told me about Clarence? I don’t remember you mentioning him. At all.” God, I was such a dick.

  “It was so long ago, Weston. Clarence and I went to high school together. We haven’t seen each other in years.” She looked flustered.

  Suddenly, all I could think about was whether or not she’d fucked him.

  “You’re going to invite him, aren’t you, honey?” I poured on the honey, extra thick, and pulled her closer to me, possessively. “To the wedding?” Yeah, I emphasized the word wedding. Because she was mine, not his.

  Well, she wasn’t his.

  Her cheeks burned.

  “Wedding?” Clarence said, catching on. “You two are getting married. That’s great! Congratulations.”

  “Yes! Married. That’s right,” she said, as though she’d just remembered, and by God I wanted to spank her so she’d never forget again. Or kiss her. Or both.