Courting Trouble (Reality Romance Book 5) (15 page)

Chapter Twenty-Four

“Cassie?” Adam tried to sound authoritative and firm—not like a teenage boy caught necking with his girlfriend by his parents. He was a grown man. Elena was a consenting adult. They were allowed to have sex in his kitchen, damn it.

Except it had never felt like his kitchen. It felt like Sandy’s. And Sandy’s daughter had just walked in on them and was now staring at Elena like she was the Antichrist.

“Adam,” Elena said with a forced smile. “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend?”

“I know who you are.”

The words were coated in acid and Adam felt his hackles rise. “Elena is my guest.”

Cassie finally looked at him then, something unreadable in her huge brown eyes. “I needed to talk to you.”

“I’ll just get some fresh air. Let you two—”

Elena made to move past Cassie out of the kitchen, but Adam caught her elbow. “No. You’re fine.”

Cassie shot him a look redolent with betrayal, but something about Cassie’s appearance was unsettling him. He hadn’t been trained to notice details for nothing. The clothes. The heels. The make-up. She was trying to look older. And succeeding. He didn’t know what she was up to, but he had a feeling being alone with her was a very bad idea.

But since he evidently wasn’t going to get her out of here until she’d had a private word with him…

“Why don’t we talk in the living room?”

It was open to the kitchen, private without being private. Elena wouldn’t be able to hear every word—but she would be close enough to be a viable chaperone.

Cassie sulked, but descended into the living room without a verbal protest. Elena arched her brows at him—trying to convey some message he couldn’t read. He shrugged and followed the teenager. When he got to the base of the steps, she was facing him, not sitting, her back to the windows with her arms wrapped around herself as she glared toward the kitchen.

“Cassie?”

Her gaze swiveled to lock on him. “My mother told me you won’t be doing any more security for us.”

“That’s right.”

“She said you care too much about me to be impartial.”

The way she said it. The way she looked at him, steady and hopeful.

Fuck
. She thought he was refusing to work for her because he was fighting an attraction. She’d gotten all dressed up and come over here—

He stopped that thought right there. He did
not
want to consider what she had hoped would happen.

“Cassie…” he said, low and careful, and just the tone of his voice made her expression tighten. “You’re very special—”

“Are you fucking her?” She flung the sentence like a projectile.

He froze. “Excuse me?”

“I’m not an idiot. You were fucking her when I walked in, weren’t you?”

He fought to keep hold of his temper. She was a kid. She was hurting. “That’s none of your business.”

“That’s what you like? You’d rather be with some trashy slut from a reality TV show—”

“
Cassie
. You can’t come here and insult my guest.”

Her eyes were bright, glistening with anger. “Everyone has had her. You have to know that.
Everyone
knows that.”

“Cassandra, stop.”

“Why? Because she can hear me? Let her. She’s just some skank—”

“
Cassandra!
”

Her mouth snapped shut with a click at his roar.

He swallowed, forcibly reining in his temper. “Get out.”

Betrayal flashed in her eyes. Then her chin quivered and she hissed in a rush, “She’s dirty and everyone will think you’re dirty because you’re with her. I hope that makes you happy.”

She ran out of the room toward the front door, one hand raised to cover her face. He didn’t try to stop her. Her heels thwacked loudly down the hall and then he heard the door open and slam.

He scrubbed both hands down his face. “Shit.”

“That seemed to go well.”

He looked up, remembering Elena’s presence, and saw her watching him from the top step leading to the kitchen. “Sorry about that.”

She shook her head, coming down into the living room. “You don’t have to apologize to me. She was upset. You realize she’s completely in love with you.”

He cringed. “It’s a crush. I was hoping it would fade on its own.”

“I think you’re underestimating the teenage capacity for obsessive adoration. Look at One Direction. Hell, look at the Beatles. This isn’t new.”

“At least I’m not special.”

She didn’t try to touch him. “You okay?”

“This was probably for the best. She was going to have to figure out that there was nothing between us at some point.” Though he might have preferred she not walk in on him when he had Elena pinned against a counter.

Shit
. If she told Sandy…

Not that it mattered, he tried to convince himself. This was his house—even if it didn’t always feel like it. He had a right to have sex on the kitchen counters if he wanted to.

“She has a key?” Elena perched on the arm of the sofa.

“Keypad lock.”

“Ah. Right.” She smoothed down her skirt, drawing his eyes to her legs. “And you never changed it?”

He shrugged. “They gave me the house. I didn’t want them to think they weren’t welcome here.”

“And little Cassie is in the habit of just dropping by unannounced?”

“Now and then,” he admitted.

“I see. And you haven’t said anything.”

“It’s her house.”

“No. It isn’t. And I somehow doubt this is what her mother had in mind when she gave you the place.”

Irritation flashed. “Just leave it alone.”

He turned away from her, climbing the steps to the kitchen to resume their interrupted dinner preparations, no longer in the mood to dwell on what had initially interrupted them.

He heard her follow him but didn’t turn, adjusting the burners and taking stock of which part of the meal would have to be tossed. The sauce had burned onto the skillet—lost cause—but he hadn’t put in the chicken or vegetables yet, so he could modify his plans and whip up a quick stir fry without having to redo much work.

“Adam.”

“I should call her mother,” he commented as he got out the wok. “Make sure she got home okay. She was upset when she left here and you know teenage drivers.”

“It’s not your fault—”

He cut her off. “How do you feel about peppers in your stir fry?”

“Fine.”

She didn’t try to bring it up again as he cooked. She set the breakfast bar and poured the wine without comment. He was silent as he made inroads through his food, which wasn’t unusual, but Elena was as well. Which was a relief. It gave him time to think.

Not that it helped. He still felt like an ass.

He’d been careful never to lead Cassie on—she was like a little sister to him—but even if she hadn’t needed much encouragement, he couldn’t help feeling that he could have done something to prevent tonight’s mess. He should have talked to her sooner, but he hadn’t wanted to embarrass her by confronting the crush.

He excused himself as soon as they were done eating, slipping away to call Sandy. He got her assistant instead and left a message letting her know Cassie had seemed upset and he’d just wanted to make sure she was all right. Leaving comforting Cassie to her mother, he returned to the kitchen to find Elena rinsing the dishes.

“I can get those.”

A glance over her shoulder before she dismissed his help. “They’re almost done.”

She was gorgeous. Standing there in his kitchen. A thousand types of fantasy in a flimsy pink skirt.

And he felt guilty just looking at her.

When she set the last dish in the drying rack and turned to face him, he averted his eyes.

And Elena went off like a bottle rocket.

* * * * *

“All right.
What
? Which one of us are you pissed at? Her for walking in or me for seducing you in your kitchen?”

“Neither.”

“Do you want me to go?”

“No. It isn’t you.”

“Then what is it? What’s wrong?”

His face closed down and he seemed fixated on the floor to her left. She’d already collected her panties so she knew that wasn’t his fixation. Elena wanted to shake him until answers came out.

“Nothing.”

He was shutting her out. Maybe it wouldn’t have bothered her so much if she hadn’t believed, not two hours earlier, that they were really connected. It was like he’d dangled everything she wanted in front of her only to yank it away and Elena was not the kind of woman who passively accepted that sort of bait and switch.

She planted her hands on her hips, squaring off against him. “I tell you everything.”

“We’re different like that.”

“I’m getting that,” she snarled.

He held out his hands like a lion tamer. “Look, let’s just table this for the night—”

“What exactly are we tabling? Because I’m having a hard time figuring out why one minute you want me naked on the counter and the next you won’t even look at me. Are you ashamed to be with me? Ashamed that someone knows?”

That brought his eyes up, flashing with anger. “Don’t be ridiculous. Lots of people know. All of my coworkers—”

“Know that I’ve been staying in your guest room. Know that you’re being a really great guy and looking after me while there’s some psycho asshole leaving notes on my door. They don’t know that you’re lowering yourself to fuck me—”

“Goddamn it, Elena.” He prowled toward her and she stopped him with a hand on his chest, straight-arming him.

“What else am I supposed to think? Cassie caught us and you just shut down. If it’s not me, what is it? Are you worried about her?”

“Of course I am.”

“But that’s not it. Something else is making you crazy—”

“I can’t fucking
win
.”

The words burst out of him and Elena froze. “Okay…”

“I tried to do the right thing and I lost my job, but it wasn’t just my job it was my fucking
identity
. It was everything I wanted to be and everything I knew about myself. I was the Secret Service golden boy. I did everything right until I had to choose between doing my job and doing what was right and then poof. It was all gone. And I can’t complain because look at my consolation prize.” He waved a hand at the house. “But this life doesn’t feel like mine. Sandy’s house. Max’s job. My life is being handed to me and I can’t complain because it’s more than I’ve earned, but I feel like I’m not choosing anything anymore, it’s all just happening to me and I’m a passenger in my own life.”

“And I just happened to you too. You didn’t choose to get stuck with—”

“Elena.” He cupped the nape of her neck, his longer reach letting him hold her even with her arm still extended between them. He lowered his head, as if he would have touched his forehead to hers if not for the distance. “You are the one thing I’ve chosen in the last six months. The one thing that I want for myself. You make me feel like me again.”

She fisted her hand in his shirt and bent her elbow, dragging him in for a kiss. “Me too.”

But it wasn’t just that. She’d never been afraid to be herself, but he made her feel like it was okay. Or better than okay. Amazing. She wasn’t just her, she was the best, purest, most undiluted version of her because he could take it. He
liked
it. And she wanted to be that for him too.

She pulled away enough to meet his eyes. “You can still be you with that job. In this house.”

“It doesn’t matter anymore. When I found out about your legal bills, I called a realtor about putting the house on the market.”

“You
what
?”

Chapter Twenty-Five

“You’re selling your house to pay my legal fees and it didn’t occur to you to tell me?” Irritation surged—counterbalanced by a matched set of awe and terror that he would consider doing that for her.

“I’m telling you now.”

She pushed away from him, resisting the urge to slug him—and not even one hundred percent sure
why
she wanted to slug him, but certain it was a good idea. What had he been thinking? But then she knew.

He was trying to save her. Just like he tried to save everyone. Another rung on the ladder to sainthood. Always so damn
selfless
.

“I didn’t ask you to do that. I don’t want you to sell this house.”

“You didn’t have to ask.”

“Because you’re the hero and no one ever has to ask the hero to swoop in and save them?”

“Why are you pissed at me?”

“Because you can’t just fix my life without my permission!”

And she was scared. Scared she was just another project for him. Another damsel in distress.

If that was all this was—another chance for Adam to play the hero—what would happen when he succeeded? When he’d found her stalker and paid the legal bills to keep her sex tape out of the public eye, when he’d saved the day, what then? Did he just walk away? The thought of him leaving shuddered through her like a cold wind.

“I don’t want to be another Cassie to you, Adam. Just another girl you need to save.”

“You aren’t.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to be with me because it satisfies your hero complex.”

“I’m not. I don’t want that either.”

“Then what do you want?” She needed him to say her. She needed him to say forever. Even as the thought of it terrified her. But he was so distant, so uncharacteristically closed off.

He shook his head, running a hand through his hair as he turned, walking out of the kitchen.

“Adam?”

“It just seemed like selling the house would be the solution to a lot of problems,” he said over his shoulder as he descended to the living room. He threw himself onto one of the couches and she moved to join him, but kept her distance, curling up on the opposite end with her back braced against the arm.

“I thought it would give me distance from Sandy and Cassie. Like if I didn’t have the house anymore, I would regain the ability to say no to them. I wouldn’t have to worry about paying property taxes and utility bills, so I wouldn’t have to work for Max anymore if I didn’t want to. I could decide for myself what kind of job I wanted to do without the desperate need to pay my bills any way I can. And I could have helped you. But it wasn’t about saving you, Elena. It was about the fact that I
hate
that I can’t do anything for you. Like you said, I can’t fight your battles without being drawn up on assault charges. I just wanted to be able to do something and this was something.”

He grimaced. “I probably couldn’t have done it anyway. How would I have faced Sandy after selling her gift? Would’ve been a cop out. Just a way to get away from everything that’s happened in the last six months rather than owning it.”

“And now?” She hated the softness in her voice. The vulnerability. But for once he didn’t seem to hear it. His gaze didn’t pierce right through all her defenses.

He rubbed a hand across his face. “I don’t know.” Weariness made his voice hoarse. “Can we think about it later? Right now can you just kiss me?”

Relief she couldn’t explain rushed through her. One more night in his arms. It would be okay. She was already crawling along the couch toward him before he finished speaking. “That I can do.”

* * * * *

Elena woke up alone the next morning, certain Adam wasn’t in the room even before she rolled over or opened her eyes. The entire house felt different without him in it. It was still Fort Knox, but the bright, airy rooms were cool when he was gone, lacking the warmth of his presence.

Crap. She had it bad.

She needed to lock down this infatuation fast before it got out of control.

She heard the front door open and shut downstairs and suddenly the house felt warmer. Alive.

Crap
.

Elena rolled out of bed, showered quickly and dressed with less care than she usually took with her appearance, oddly impatient to get downstairs. It wasn’t as if he was going to evaporate if she didn’t rush right down there, but she hurried nonetheless.

Last night seemed to linger in the air as she padded rapidly down the stairs, back to the scene of the crimes. The kitchen where Cassie had nearly walked in on them. The living room where Adam had broken her seventeen-year-old heart. The same kitchen and living room where she and Adam had had their first fight.

At least it felt like a fight. Him boxing her out until she wanted to throw things. And then the make-up sex. Though it hadn’t really been make-up sex so much as distraction sex. But that was what they were good at, right? Avoidance sex.

Another excellent reason why she shouldn’t get too carried away with him. They weren’t a couple. They were a coping mechanism. If he wanted to sell his house, it was none of her damn business.

She found him in the kitchen, his back to her, an unopened bag with the logo of a local bakery bulging on the counter beside him.

“Hey,” she began, preparing to launch into her it’s-none-of-my-damn-business apology, but Adam held up a finger, turning toward her, and she realized he was on his phone.

“No, I appreciate the call. Thanks, Murkowski. We’ll be in touch.”

The name rang a distant bell, but she didn’t place it until Adam disconnected the call and tucked his cell back into his pocket. “There’s movement on your stalker case.”

Murkowski. The detective. “They called you?”

“I’ve been nagging him,” he admitted, sheepish. “Apparently he called you first, but when he got your voicemail he tried me.”

“I almost forgot about that part of the shit storm,” she muttered, more to herself than to him. “So what is it? What’s the big news?”

“The fingerprints had a match in the system and when they confronted the suspect, they got a confession within five minutes.”

Elena blinked. “You’re kidding.” It couldn’t be that easy, could it? “Who was it?”

“Do you know a woman named Mary-Kate Kenton?”

She started to shake her head, but a memory swam up from the back of her mind. The mailboxes in the lobby of her building where all the tenants picked up their mail. The one next to hers reading Kenton/Bryce. The little red-haired girl with paint under her fingernails who would smile at Elena when they bumped into one another in the hall. “My neighbor?”

She tried to reconcile the girl with the earnest blue eyes with the death threat and her brain refused to process it. “You can’t be serious. I
know
her. We’re not friends or anything. It’s not like we go out for coffee, but she borrowed a roll of tape last Christmas when she ran out.” Why would you borrow tape from someone you wanted to kill?

“Murkowski assures me that the police psychologists don’t believe her to be a danger to you or to herself. Apparently it took her weeks to work up the gumption to leave the threatening note and she never had any intention of escalating beyond that. That was her coup de gras.”

“Was it some kind of prank?”

Adam hesitated—as if he was considering lying to her, but he was too much of a Boy Scout for the thought to take hold. “No. She admitted she was trying to scare you into moving out.”

“Don’t tell me this is all about that apartment. It’s not even that nice!”

“She felt threatened by you.”

“She threatened me because she felt threatened by me? That’s her defense?”

“She doesn’t seem to care about her defense. Murkowski said she had about as much fortitude as a wet tissue when they brought her in for interrogation.”

“But she’s saying I threatened her? That is such bullshit—”

“She’s not saying you threatened her. She’s saying she felt threatened by you. Apparently she lived with someone—”
Bryce
. The other name on the mailbox. ”And he was pretty open about talking about how hot you are in front of her. She became convinced that if she could just get you to leave, her relationship would be perfect.”

“Hence the whore-on-the-door. Awesome.”

She’d been scared shitless, run out of her home, all because some insecure bitch was afraid of losing some asshole Elena couldn’t even remember meeting. It made her feel like a fool. Like the girl who cried stalker. But how was she to know it was just garden variety crazy-ass jealousy? She felt weak that she’d been scared by something so inconsequential.

“Murkowski wanted to make sure, since you know one another, that you still want to press charges. We’ll need to go in and sign some papers. Do you want to—”

“
Yes
.” Maybe it was feeling like an idiot. Maybe it was the fact that this was one thing she could do to get justice for a change, but… “I absolutely want to press charges.”

A new idea sang a siren song in her brain, unspeakably tempting.

“And I want to talk to her.”

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“Fuck good ideas. Let’s go.”