by Nicole Lane
Cover
Title Page
Playing All the Angles
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Nicole Lane
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Omnific Publishing
Los Angeles
Copyright Information
Playing All the Angles, Copyright © 2014 by Nicole Lane
All Rights Reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without prior written permission of the publisher.
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Omnific Publishing
1901 Avenue of the Stars, 2nd Floor
Los Angeles, California 90067
www.omnificpublishing.com
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First Omnific eBook edition, June 2014
First Omnific trade paperback edition, June 2014
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The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
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Library of Congress Cataloguing-in-Publication Data
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Lane, Nicole.
Playing All the Angles / Nicole Lane – 1st ed
ISBN: 978-1-623421-14-4
1. Contemporary Romance—Fiction. 2. Family—Fiction. 3. Sisters—Fiction. 4. Infidelity—Fiction. I. Title
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Cover Design by Micha Stone and Amy Brokaw
Interior Book Design by Coreen Montagna
Dedication
For my friends at TTP and the Collective,
most especially Irene Ferris, Darice Moore, and Nicole Vlachos.
You’ve made me a better writer,
and without you, there is no Nicole Lane.
And for my grandmother, Elese Young,
without whom, there would have been no romance.
Chapter 1
LOVED UP. THE PHRASE kept ringing around in Isabelle’s head like wedding bells, though it might just have been the bells of Notre Dame marking every hour she’d spent in boutiques along the Seine in the past two days. Whatever it was—love, shopping, or Paris itself—she didn’t think it was possible to be happier.
She hadn’t stopped grinning since her eldest sister, Alora, and their mother had sprung the trip on her. They had surprised her by whisking her away from their homeland in England for a Parisian weekend of shopping, eating, and spending far too much money on the possibility that Dominic, her boyfriend of two years, would be proposing soon.
“He will,” her mother sang, dismissing any doubt as she pulled Isabelle into another little shop, hoping to add to her growing trousseau. “He’s got that look about him.”
“What look?” Isabelle asked.
“The look of a man who came asking your father for his blessing last week.”
“Mother!”
She clucked at Isabelle’s cry of despair. “I’m not spoiling anything. You still don’t know how or when.”
“But now you know to be ready,” Alora agreed.
Isabelle gave up with a fond shrug. “I suppose I will.”
“And speaking of ready, look at this,” Alora said, shaking a negligee at her. “White with blue trim is perfect for a honeymoon. This will look fantastic on the floor of the bridal suite.”
“Lora!”
“What? You don’t expect to get to wear any of this, do you? When Doyle and I got married, I don’t think I wore a stitch for days.”
“I don’t need to know that.”
“It’s where babies come from, Issie. And you want babies, don’t you?”
“For heaven’s sake, let the man propose first!”
The three of them laughed together, making their way through the rest of the boutique and leaving with arms full of bags.
In the late afternoon, as they sat in the shadow of the Eiffel Tower, sipping coffees and sharing chocolate éclairs, Isabelle sighed happily. The only thing missing was her middle sister. “I just wish Eve could have made it. She knows all the best places, and she can get into them too.”
Alora let out a puff of air. “She’d have ruined it. She’d have made it all about her, as always. This weekend is all about you!” She tweaked her sister’s nose.
“You mean me and the hope that Dominic Phillips marries into the family?” Isabelle grinned.
“You will make gorgeous babies. After he proposes, of course.” Alora nodded at her raven-haired sister.
“He is handsome, isn’t he? The genetics are certainly there.” Isabelle giggled. Dominic was tall and broad shouldered, a well-muscled mass of blue-eyed, blond-haired, chisel-featured man. A professional motocross racer, he stayed trim and fit and was like something marble they’d seen earlier in the Louvre.
“As handsome as you are beautiful, darling,” their mother added with a smile.
“Here’s hoping he’s half as good a man as Doyle.” Alora lifted her mug.
“Cheers,” Isabelle agreed.
Their mother raised hers into the mix, and they chattered and chuckled into the evening.
Staring out the window of their hotel suite, watching the city lights twinkle like little stars, Isabelle was sure the only thing that could have made the surprise trip better would have been Eve. But Eve worked in fashion, and fashion’s pace was grueling. That meant she missed a lot of events—not that she bothered to show up to most of the ones she could make. If Isabelle was the golden girl, the favored baby, and Alora was the model of domestic perfection, Eve was the rebellious trouble-maker and the stereotypical middle child.
Isabelle fell back onto the bed and said, “I don’t think she’d have ruined it. I’m sorry Eve couldn’t come.”
“Well, who knows if she could have.” Alora shrugged, changing into her nightgown. “We didn’t actually invite her. Mother thought it would be more fun with just us.”
“Oh! That’s horrible,” Isabelle cried.
“It is not. It’s true. It is more fun just us. Anyway, Eve’s probably off doing something ridiculous anyway.”
Isabelle hummed in reply. “Well, whatever it is, I hope she’s enjoying herself.”
Eve whipped her body upright at the waist, long hair flying in damp, ropey strands to slap against her back and shoulders as it fell. Her skin was damp too, still a little wet from the shower but also covered with a fine sheen of sweat. If nothing else, he made her sweat, and that’s what she wanted. She closed her eyes against the expression on his face, concentrating on the burn in her muscles where his fingertips were digging into her thighs hard enough to bruise, and the swollen ache between her legs, where the pounding she’d just taken was now her rhythm to control.
She rode his hips, teeth bared, until he groaned loudly, gripping her waist to force a stop to the motion as he came in waves. She dropped forward onto her hands, watching as her hair swung with her, this time falling into his face, and then she dismounted to roll onto her back.
When she could breathe again, she said, “You need to go home now.”
“Gimme a minute,” he panted.
Eve sat up and felt around for her T-shirt, pulling it on in the dark, then found her yoga pants and did the same. “Come on, Dominic. Get up. You’ll fall asleep, and you can’t sleep here. Go home.”
“Why can’t I sleep here?” he asked, covering a yawn.
She gave him a narrow look and hissed out a breath. “You know why.”
“She’s out. Won’t be home until tomorrow afternoon.”
“It doesn’t matter. You know the deal.”
“Right,” he grumbled, finally sitting up. “Just the sex and nothing more.”
“It’s better that way. Less complicated.”
“And the fact that I’m living with your sister doesn’t complicate things at all.”
Eve sighed in the darkness. “Dominic…go home.”
“Have you got someone else coming over?”
“What if I do?”
“Do you?”
“Go home, Dominic. We had our fuck; now go home.”
Instead of complying, he simply settled back more comfortably, rooting around until he could use his feet to pull the sheet up over his body as he shifted onto his side. “I’m at least having a nap. You can’t deny me that.”
“Fine.” She stalked out of the room, slamming the door behind her. As usual, she felt dirty and disgusted with herself, but not so dirty or disgusted that she’d even try to lie that it would be the last time.
Her sister Isabelle seemed clueless to the reality of it, but Eve had done all she could to make sure the fling didn’t become more than that. It was just very hot sex; she got what she wanted and then sent him home. She always sent him home.
Now she felt restless, guilty, wishing she’d not told him to come round when he’d messaged her earlier. At least when he left right away, she was able to put their coupling behind her. It was done, and she didn’t have to think about it again…until the next time.
There was always a next time.
She poured herself a glass of water and drank it, standing beside the kitchen sink. Instead of leaving, he was now stretched out in her bed like a cat in cream, and that thought made her start to tingle pleasantly again. Rather than rejoining him, though, she put on her shoes, threw a sweater on over her clothes, scraped her hair back into a knot, and walked outside.
It was cool enough that her dampness made her shiver, but she wasn’t really cold. She lived in a small complex inside a shopping square, in one of the sought-after corner units. Her entry opened into a courtyard, and she strolled out through it, a pack of cigarettes and lighter in hand, and sat down at one of the stone tables to smoke. She’d just taken her first drag when a neighbor’s door opened and a tall, thin man appeared, dragging his garbage behind him.
She watched him as he went, blowing out an approving lungful of air. He was stunning, with a choppy fringe of dark hair falling across his eyes. The rest was carelessly layered, curling at his square jaw and kicking out over the collar on his polo shirt. He was ridiculously handsome, so much so that Eve laughed. No man had a right to be that pretty.
The man turned toward the sound.
She gave a little wave. “Hello.”
“Hello.” He waved back, taking the few steps required to reach her. “I’m Tad.” He wiped his hands on his legs, then offered her one. “Just moved in.”
“Eve.” She shook his hand, using her chin to indicate her home. “I’m in the corner here. Welcome to the neighborhood.”
“Thanks. Good to meet you,” he said, grinning. The expression made his face even more angelic than she’d originally thought. She hoped he hadn’t heard the hiccup of a gasp she’d given at the sight. Although, she seemed to be having the same effect on him. Even fresh from sex, wearing what amounted to pajamas, Eve was aware that she could turn any head. It was something she’d grown used to, if never fully comfortable with, and something she’d learned to use to her advantage.
All the D’Amico girls drew attention. Their height alone made them stand out in a crowd. She and her sisters were tall and slim, with the creamy complexions, long, curly lashes, and full red lips of their Irish mother and the strong, beautiful features and thick, rich hair of their Italian father. Isabelle and Alora favored him, with sleek, raven hair and blue eyes. Eve looked most like their black-eyed mother, with a mass of auburn curls and the temper to match.
“That’s a nice flat too,” she said, indicating his door to break the spell they’d cast on one another. “I knew the previous tenants. It’s a good space.”
He nodded. “I like it,” he agreed, glancing around before letting his eyes find her face again. “It seems pretty quiet here as well.”
“Not too bad. A few lager louts during the footie season, but nothing serious.”
“Good. You lived here long?”
“Three years.”
“Oh, so you know the neighborhood, then.” His smile grew a bit wider. “I just moved down from Birmingham.”
“Oh yeah? Culture shock, then? I know the area pretty well.” She smiled back. “Want to sit?”
“Thanks.” He slid a chair out and folded his long legs under the seat beside her. “Bum a smoke?”
“Help yourself.” She tapped the pack, pushing the lighter over with it. “What brings you here?”
“Work. I’m a graphic artist, and I got offered the job of a lifetime, so I came. You? You from here?”
“No. I’m from all over. My father’s in restaurants, and my mother’s in the entertainment industry—well, was, until she had children. So we’ve lived just about everywhere. I just landed here somehow. Suits me, I guess. Here and Paris.”
Tad exhaled a stream of smoke and laughed. “I was supposed to be quitting these. I’d been three weeks without.”
“Aw! Well, no one likes a quitter, I say. Quitters never win.”
He laughed again. It was a nice sound, and she was surprised to find she wanted to hear it again.
“You live alone?” he asked a moment later.
“Yeah. Save for the random squatter. I’ve got my sister’s boyfriend in there just now. She’s away, and he’s miserable. Last week, it was a cousin from out of town. That’s the trouble with having an empty bedroom. People assume you want it filled. You?”
“All by myself.”
“Poor thing. No girlfriend?” She cocked her head to the side. “I’m fishing, by the way. I’m on the prowl.”
“Oh yeah? All right, I’ll play along. I haven’t had one for a while. Losing the last one hit me hard, so I’ve been focusing on work since then. Got a lot of good paintings out of it, but not much else.”
Eve nodded, letting smoke escape from the corner of her mouth. “Bad romance makes great art.”
“True,” he agreed. “So, how about you? Boyfriend? Girlfriend?”
“Mmm, not today,” Eve hummed, appraising him openly. “Maybe in a week or so. Like I said, I’m on the prowl.”
Tad laughed. “A week? That seems an awfully long time to wait. What if we—”
Whatever he’d started to ask disappeared at the sound of her door and footsteps coming up the walk.
She turned to see Dominic, fully dressed but rumpled, coming toward them.
“I was wondering where you disappeared to, Evie love. I woke up, and you were gone,” he said, bending to give her a quick kiss on the cheek before turning to Tad and offering his hand. “Hiya, I’m Dominic.”
“Tad.”
“You nicked my smokes,” he accused, picking up the pack to tap out a cigarette for himself.
As he was lighting it, Eve sighed. “Are you going home now?”
“I thought I’d take you for a curry. I know you’re starved.”
“Then will you go home?”
“Yeah. After a meal.” He winked at Tad. “So, you new here?”
“Just moved in.” Tad stubbed out his own cigarette.
Dominic nodded, taking a drag and blowing smoke.
Eve looked between the two men, then said, “You could come with us to get a curry. You must be hungry after unpacking. It’s just down the road.”
Tad smiled and seemed to consider it for a second, then shook his head and stood up. “Thanks, but I’ve still got a lot to do in there,” he said, gesturing toward his door. “I should get back to it. Good to meet you both. See you round.”
Once he was gone, Eve said with no particular heat, “You’re such a bastard. He was falling in love with me.”
“What?” Dominic asked innocently. “Like you need another bloke following you around. Come on, I’ll feed you.”
“I don’t want to date you, Dominic.” She rose, stretching up to her full he
ight, just a handful of inches shorter than he. “I just want to shag you now and then and pretend it never happens. Why can’t you stick to the plan?”
“Because you’re really hot when you’re angry?” he said with a shrug.
“You’re not funny.” She snorted, walking ahead of him through the courtyard and out the gate to the street.
“You don’t shag me because I’m funny.”
“I don’t know why I do it,” she mused as he caught up with her. That was number one on her list for the therapist. It wasn’t as if she didn’t have any other options. All she needed to do was say yes to any of the men who were asking for an hour of her time. Why she told them she was too busy, and why she let this one come around whenever he felt like it was the mystery to solve. At that moment, she had a feeling that if she’d put just an ounce of effort into it, she would have her answer, but fear stopped her. Maybe she didn’t want an answer.
“I do.” Dominic chuckled, putting an arm around her and interrupting her thoughts.
She shrugged him off. “You think so?”
“Yeah, because the sex is good, and you don’t have to put any work into the relationship. Same reasons I do it…except I think you also get a thrill out of getting one over on your sister.”
“It isn’t a relationship, you prick. And don’t talk about my sister.”
He smiled, wrapping the same arm around her waist and pulling her up close. “It’s the best kind of relationship. No strings. And you know we’ve got a dinner with your parents coming up. It’s their thirtieth anniversary party, so you’ll have to be there.”
“I’m aware.”
“You bringing a date?”
Eve let out a breath. He was incorrigible. “Honestly? I was thinking of bringing Dalia and letting everyone think we were together. Mum’s getting bitchy about me being single, so I’ve been toying with letting her think I’m gay. But knowing my luck, she’d just use it to her social advantage, pretend to be all excited to have a gay child and throw herself into the idea. Next thing I’d know, I’d be having a big gay wedding.”
Dominic laughed aloud. “That would be worth the price of admission.”