#1 Rival ~ T. Gephart

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#1 Rival ~ T. Gephart Page 8

by Gephart, T


  While I waited for the food to arrive, I scanned my bursting-at-the-seems inbox and voice mail, both of which I had ignored since I left the office.

  Roman—AKA public enemy number one—had called, texted and emailed, covering all forms of communication just short of sending a raven.

  Too bad none of them would be getting a response.

  Instead, I checked on Charlotte—she was better but out of action for a few more days, Daniel—he assured me everything was under control and not to come back until I was no longer contagious, and Jana Cane—who I felt needed an apology for my previous lack of response.

  Morgan had just gotten out of the shower when the delivery guy from Gino’s knocked at the door, my stomach rumbling at the thought of the impeding feast.

  “What. The. Hell.” My eyes bulged as I opened the door. Roman—the asshole—Pierce standing on my threshold. And worse than his unwelcomed presence, he was not holding any bags of food from Gino’s.

  “Are you stalking me now?” My hands planted themselves on my hips, my sleep shorts and old T-shirt not doing me any favors as I tried to be intimidating.

  “Yes, I’m stalking you,” he deadpanned. “Because I have nothing better to do when I’m swamped on a case than to lurk on someone’s doorstep. I delivered the Lieberman files two months ago, I know where you live.”

  Oh, now with the sarcasm. He really did have his head up his ass.

  “Then what are you doing here?” I kept my body braced in the doorway, there was no way he was coming inside, not when he hadn’t told me what he was doing here and what his intentions were.

  He rolled his eyes, looking bored. “I offered to check in on you. See how you’re doing since the sudden onset of this mysterious stomach flu.”

  “Lo?” Morgan came up beside me, her hair still damp from her shower.

  “It’s fine, Morgan,” I answered her, keeping my eyes on him. I didn’t trust him for a second, and I knew exactly what he was capable of when I was distracted. I wouldn’t be making that mistake a second time.

  “Hey, I have an order here for Lauren.” The Gino’s delivery guy appeared behind Roman. “One of you Lauren?” He looked around to the posse of people assembled at the front door.

  “That’s me.” I raised my hand, taking a step outside the safety of my apartment to grab the food.

  Shit.

  And double shit.

  I’d left the money for the food inside on the coffee table. So, I either called out to Morgan to get the cash while I guarded the door like a Doberman. Or I backed myself slowly into the apartment while keeping my eyes on him like he was a leprechaun trying to steal my Lucky Charms.

  Both of those options had me looking like I belonged in a straightjacket.

  “Here.” Roman took out a money clip from the inside pocket of his suit jacket and handed the Gino’s guy a fifty. “That cover it?”

  “I can pay for my own dinner.” I stopped short of stomping my foot as I called out over my shoulder, “Morgan, grab the cash from the coffee table.”

  Standing guard at the door like a Doberman it was.

  “Just take the money,” he said to the bewildered delivery guy, grabbing the food from him before Morgan had a chance to return. He turned to me and smiled. “She gets cranky when she hasn’t eaten.”

  Oh, I was going to kill him.

  “You.” I lunged forward, Roman using the arm that wasn’t holding the food to grab me around the waist. “I hate you so much.” I breathed into his face.

  Meanwhile, the delivery guy had grabbed the money Roman had given him and was already down the other end of the hall. The unmistakable, “I don’t get paid enough for this shit,” heard before he disappeared.

  “Just calm down.” Roman laughed as he wrestled me in his arms. “You’re going to hurt yourself.”

  “Then let me go, asshole.” I wriggled, trying to find purchase as my feet dangled in the air. “You’re not welcome here.”

  “What the hell is going on out there?” Morgan’s voice boomed from the doorway. “Both of you need to calm down. And Roman, put my sister down.”

  She didn’t need a formal introduction. I’d fed her enough information to deduce that the good-looking jerk at the door was the same good-looking jerk I worked with and hated.

  “Are you going to be civil?” He didn’t let go, clinching me closer to his body.

  “Are you going to stop acting like a dick?” I fired back, unconcerned that I was wearing next to nothing, pressed up against the firm and toned body of Roman Pierce. Ironically, that included his dick.

  In another time or place, it might have been enjoyable, not so much now.

  “Okay, both of you, stop.” Morgan grabbed the food from Roman’s hand, the one that wasn’t currently wrapped around me. “Someone is going to end up calling the cops, most likely, me.”

  “I’m going to let you go, slowly,” he whispered in my ear. “Then we’re going to talk.”

  “Fine.”

  He may have thought I was agreeing, but I was doing anything but submitting. No, I was just pacifying him, luring him into a false sense of complaisance because wriggling out of his bear hug had proven too difficult. I was out-muscled by his weight and his size in a physical confrontation, but mentally, I was still boss.

  The tension around my body started to ease with my feet finally feeling the floor under them. He seemed hesitant but when he saw I didn’t lash out, he unwrapped his arms. “Can we do this inside?”

  The last thing I wanted was Roman polluting the sanctity of my home. I was going to have to hit whatever room he entered with a heavy dose of Febreze and Lysol. Even then I would probably have to sage the place and get a blessing from the Pope just to be sure.

  But my options were limited and the sooner we got this over with the sooner I could self medicate with pasta and garlic bread.

  “Fine.” I stepped aside, giving him room to enter my apartment.

  His huge body strode in with confidence, and if he was worried about me staking him through the heart—I’ll admit, it crossed my mind—he didn’t seem concerned.

  “Hi, we haven’t properly met.” He grinned, sticking out his hand trying to bewitch my sister. “I’m Roman.”

  She smiled back—traitor—accepting his hand while juggling our food. “I’m Morgan.”

  “Morgan, I need you to give me a minute alone with Roman.” I closed the door behind me, wanting to expedite the process.

  “Thank you, I appreciate that.” He had the nerve to smile at me.

  “Don’t thank me, asshole,” I snapped, wanting to smack the smug right out of him as I narrowed my eyes. “She’s a nurse, so legally bound to save your sorry jerk ass if I try to kill you. Trust me, I’m not doing you a favor.”

  He looked mildly amused, his lips twitching at the edges but had the sense not to laugh. “I’ll take my chances then.”

  “I’m going into the kitchen.” Morgan side-eyed Roman before turning to me. “Lo, don’t mess up the rug, I just had it steam cleaned.” She gave me a chin tip before disappearing.

  I didn’t waste time, facing him head on. “What is it that you want?”

  “Why did you leave today?” He ignored my question, remaining standing considering I hadn’t invited him to sit. “And don’t tell me it was the stomach flu, I know you’re not sick.”

  “You made me sick, you and your lies.”

  “I told you, I never lied to you.” He kept his voice controlled. “Look, I get you’re pissed. Fine, be pissed.” He moved closer. “But you can’t tell me that with the new evidence that my way wasn’t the right way to go. Take your ego out of it. You know the best thing for our client was to settle the divorce.”

  The nerve of him.

  Suggesting I was only arguing with him to be right? Ha! He must be confusing me with himself.

  “Take your ego out of it.” My finger pointed with accusation. “If you were so convinced that it was the best way, why didn’t you just tell me ou
tright? Or give me a chance to argue my point?”

  You know, handle it like partners, I didn’t add. He could say whatever he wanted, but he wouldn’t convince me that his intentions hadn’t been deceitful.

  His brow lifted, taunting me. “What did I tell you last night?”

  “I’m sorry, when?” I leaned in, waving my arms around. “When you were bullshitting about your thirty-five brothers? Or when you pretended to be a person with feelings? I’m not sure what part of the conversation you want me to focus on.”

  “At the car, Harper.” His eyes connected with mine.

  He had to remind me that last night hadn’t just been talking, didn’t he? Like it wasn’t bad enough I couldn’t eradicate the thoughts from my mind using self-hypnosis, I needed to get a refresher from the only other person who had been there

  I hated him.

  Really, really hated him.

  “You listen to me.” My skin heated as I jabbed a finger into his stupid firm chest. “I allowed myself to believe that the person I was having dinner with was a true representation of himself, and because of that, I reciprocated, behaving in a manner I usually wouldn’t, with you. This is not a character flaw, it’s called humanity, and I will not allow you or anyone else to make me feel bad about that.”

  Fire burned through my veins as I spewed out exactly what I was thinking.

  The corner of his mouth twitched, broadening into a smile. “You want to regret it, but you can’t, can you?”

  Oh. No. He. Did. Not.

  “Did you hear anything I said, you big moronic jerk?”

  “I told you to go home and text me, Lauren.” It was the first time he’d ever said my first name, stunning me into silence. “I made you promise to pick up your goddamn phone, and send me a message.”

  “So you want a Nobel Peace Prize because you cared about me getting home safe?” My voice was quieter than it had been, but no less venomous. “Just an FYI, the big knife in my back kind of negates the kind gesture.”

  “No.” He breathed, his shoulders squaring off as his body completely dominated the space, overwhelming me. “I assumed you’d check your fucking emails like you always do. Yes, I went behind your back. And yes, I didn’t tell you about it because I knew you would fight me for the sake of fucking fighting. Because you get off on it, the same as I do. But we needed to settle, it is a good deal for the client, and if Daniel had brought this to the table you would have agreed.”

  I couldn’t speak, the words getting lost in my throat as he stalked closer.

  “But I told you to message me because I assumed you would see the email.” He didn’t shout. Didn’t need to. Each word cracked like a whip, demanding my full attention. “And then you would call me and we’d fight about it. But ultimately you would decide I was right.”

  I shook my head, not willing to admit he might be right. “You don’t know that.”

  “Yes, I do. Like I know I’m right about this.”

  His mouth was on mine before I had a chance to work out what was happening, his tongue parting my lips as hands found their way onto my ass.

  His hands.

  On my ass.

  While he was kissing me.

  And I wasn’t stopping him.

  A moan escaped my lips as he pressed against me and it felt so, so good. Last night had been no fluke as my skin felt like it was lit on fire, losing myself in the kiss, in his scent, in . . .

  Oh. My. God. I needed to stop him.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Common sense decided to show up and I pushed him away. “Have you lost your damn mind?”

  “No. I’m thinking very clearly.” His hands were still on my ass, and I hadn’t asked him to move them.

  I should probably do that.

  Now, Lauren! Tell him to move his hands.

  “You said . . . Last night . . . You.” What the hell was I trying to say? Crap, his hands. That’s right. “And take your hands off my ass.”

  Oh, thank you, God.

  His hands lifted, bringing them where I could see them as he held them up but didn’t move. “Tell me I’m wrong. Tell me I’m wrong about the case and tell me I’m wrong about this.” He dared me, his mouth hovering dangerously close to mine.

  Conflict flared in me as my body and mind warred with itself. Our lips were so close; all I had to do was reach up and kiss him like I was dying to do. But I also wanted to grab a kitchen knife and find out for real if the large intestine was five feet long. He was tall, so maybe his would be longer.

  Although, Morgan had said not to mess up the rug.

  Shit, none of this was helping.

  “Get out of my apartment.” I took a step back, moving out of the way of temptation and hopefully back to sanity. “You need to go.”

  “I’ll go if that’s what you want, Harper.” He was back to using my last name as he smirked. “Enjoy your dinner, we’ll discuss this tomorrow.”

  I narrowed my eyes as I leered at him. “We’re not discussing shit. And here,” I added, grabbing the money from the coffee table, “I don’t want you paying for my dinner.”

  He looked down at my hand but made no move to accept it. “Tell me, Harper. Is it the paying for dinner or the kiss that you have the problem with? Because you didn’t seem to have an issue with either last night.” The jerk had the nerve to smile.

  “Get out.” The words morphed into growl as I pointed to the door. “Get out of my apartment.”

  “See you in the morning.” He laughed, straightening his tie. “Say goodbye to your sister for me. And by the way,” his eyes dropped down to my breasts. “That T-shirt leaves little to the imagination. Not that I’m complaining, they are even more spectacular than I imagined.”

  My hands fisted at my sides and my fingernails dug into my palms. He wanted me to argue, to yell, to fight. So I didn’t. I was too worked up to be embarrassed, not caring about what he could and couldn’t see through the thin fabric of my T-shirt. Instead, I summoned all my will to keep my mouth shut, subliminally promising him that while he might be able to see my boobs, he’d never touch them again. Mentally, I had killed him three times by the time he’d reached the door.

  He looked over his shoulder, giving me one last look at his smug, ever-present grin. Then he left, closing the door with a forceful pull.

  “Well.” Morgan walked back in, forking her spaghetti and meatballs out of the foil takeaway container. “Here I was thinking I would eat dinner and maybe watch some cable. Who knew I’d be walking into my very own Telenovela at home.”

  I rolled my eyes, my body still jangling with irritation even though he’d left. “Oh, stop. He is just infuriating and I hate him.”

  “Yeah, it was hard to tell from the kitchen.” She took another mouthful of dinner, chewing thoroughly before adding, “I think kissing him back was probably not the way to go. A slap would have been more authentic. Maybe a knee to the groin?”

  My head shook, breathing out a slow regretful breath. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I can’t stand him, I can see literally no redeeming features and yet when he kisses me, I can’t seem to stop.”

  I wanted to be disgusted. To tell Morgan—and myself—that I’d hated the kiss and the way he’d touched me, but I couldn’t.

  There was something wrong with me.

  “I must have contracted some horrible infection that is eating away at the rational part of my brain.” There had to be a logical explanation, because letting my libido be in control was too stupid for words.

  “Or you’re just attracted to him,” she tried to reason, lowering the foil takeaway container to the coffee table and forgetting about her dinner. “He’s extremely good looking. Very tall, blond and hot. And he’s not intimidated by you.” She waved her fork around, continuing her diagnosis. “Isn’t that the reason why you claim it’s hard to find a date?”

  I scoffed, wondering if my sister hadn’t contracted the brain-eating disease as well. “I know you aren’t suggesting I date him.
Because there isn’t a chance in hell.”

  “Who said anything about dating him?” She laughed. “You said it yourself, you’re not interested in dates and having a boyfriend. You’d have to spend too much time with them.” She mimicked my previous relationship discussion. “I’m just saying I get the attraction. And I think him pushing your buttons is part of the appeal.”

  “Well, I still think I’m sick.” I held onto the last shred of denial I could. The alternative was too horrible to even contemplate.

  “Yes, you could be sick.” She gave me a sympathetic nod. “We can get some blood drawn if it makes you feel better. Or you can admit that he is the first guy in a long time that has challenged you, and you find it sexy. And he is sexy. So of course you want to have sex with him.”

  Those were not words I wanted to hear, especially not from my smart and rational sister.

  “Maybe. I don’t know.” I shrugged, feeling exposed. And it had nothing to do with my lack of clothing. “He’s just so horrible.”

  “Yeah.” She agreed, grabbing my hand. “But at least you know what you’re getting.”

  “Ugh.” I groaned, closing my eyes even more confused than ever. “Let’s go eat dinner. I need to go over the case.”

  “So you’re going back tomorrow?”

  “Yes, I might be swinging wildly, alternating between hating him and being attracted to him.” I still couldn’t believe I was saying it out loud. “But he’s not going to stop me from doing my job. Besides, leaving him unchecked is dangerous. I have an obligation to my boss and the firm.”

  “Good for you.” Morgan gave me a gentle punch in the arm. “Now, let’s go eat our free dinner.”

  I HAD STUMBLED ON THE definition of a true paradox.

  I hated Roman Pierce.

  I wanted to destroy Roman Pierce.

  But unfortunately, I wanted to sleep with him as well.

  It could only be explained because maybe desire and hostility were so closely related emotions that the mind got confused. I mean, I didn’t study psychology, but I was almost positive they resided in the same part of the brain. Or at least that is what I told myself, and it made me feel better.

 

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