Dirty Deal (A Perfectly Matched Novel) (Entangled Brazen) (6 page)

One, she was breathing way too fast for her liking. Two, Bryan was staring at her with that same scary-sexy smolder. And three, the photographer was snapping pictures so fast the camera might explode.

“At last. Ees perfect.” He was practically humming with satisfaction now. “I thought I would be trapped here all day.” He started packing up his things, and Bryan set Serena to rights again.

“Wait, we paid you for two hours,” she said, happy for the distraction, as the other man clicked his black equipment case closed. Maybe she could blame her flaming cheeks on annoyance.

“You cannot count how long art will take to come. Luckily, it has arrived early today.” His tiny mustache twitched and he stood straight again.

She wasn’t about to keep arguing because winning that battle would mean more time up close and personal with Bryan, and she’d had enough of that for the day. “My refund for the other hour we paid you for better arrive early, too,” she muttered, just to keep up the pretense. Deep down, though, she was relieved.

Half of her was, at any rate. The other half? Was aching for more Bryan.

“When you see the prints, you will give me a bonus. That I promise you.” He lugged his barrels of props onto a little metal cart. “Please have the pleasant one contact me if it is required. If not, you have your shots sometime next week.” He disappeared into a back room, a metal grate clicking behind him.

The pleasant one? She searched for some anger at that snide jab but came up empty. The little turd was right. He was no ray of sunshine either, but she’d been in a crappy mood for days.

“So…does that mean I’m off the hook now?” Bryan asked, focusing his intense gaze on her.

“Yeah, sure. For today, at least. There will be an outdoor shoot in a couple weeks, once we see how these turn out and Grace picks a location.”

Serena just had to hope it wasn’t at the beach.

She and Bryan stared at each other wordlessly. She wanted to say more, but she wasn’t sure what, and she struggled to forget the last time she’d felt this awkward around him. At least this time she had all her clothes on. She’d take the wins where she could find them.

“I’ll, uh, I guess I’ll follow you out?” What was it about this guy? Normally, she would have strutted through the doors and never looked back. Men didn’t make her nervous.

He strode toward the door, pausing to hold it open for her to pass through. She was just about to thank him when she spotted her.

Piper, standing next to a black truck in the parking lot holding what looked suspiciously like an apple pie.

Serena froze in her tracks, staring as the other woman’s face morphed from drippy affection to simmering rage. Piper crossed the lot and stopped in front of them, pie outstretched.

Yep, definitely apple. Probably still hot, if the strong smell of cinnamon in the air was any indication.

“Piper,” Bryan said with a curt nod.

He was enviably calm. If Serena were in his position, she already would have been searching the area for a makeshift weapon. But not Bryan. He was cool as a compress, spearing a hand through his hair as the other woman cleared her throat, gaze darting between him and Serena.

“Hey there! I was just driving by and noticed your truck.”

Serena looked pointedly at the pie in the other woman’s hands, and Piper scowled at her before turning her attention back to Bryan.

“I mean, before. I noticed your truck before. So I was going home to bake some pies anyway, and remembered that apple was your favorite, so I thought I’d bring you one.” She handed the pie to Bryan, and he took it silently.

“Actually, he’s passed his apple phase. He likes cherry now,” Serena piped up. “I made one. It’s waiting at home. Where we’re going now.” Rather than looking put out, Piper seemed oddly elated, so Serena added, “He does love to eat my cherry pie.”

“That’s so strange, isn’t it Bryan? Since you’re allergic to cherries.” Her gaze was pinned on him now, a knowing smile stretching her lips. “Strange that you wouldn’t know that about him, what with how close the two of you are.”

Serena gulped, churning every gear in her brain to salvage the mess she’d caused, but Bryan cut in.

“That’s very thoughtful, but that allergy actually went away. I’m allergic to strawberries now. Go figure.” He thanked her again for the pie and took Serena’s hand in his free one, sending a sizzle of awareness through her. At least she wouldn’t have to fake that if Piper was looking.

He led them toward his truck and they were halfway there when Serena leaned in and whispered, “Actually, can I get a ride for real? I think Grace forgot we came here together.”

“Sure.” His answer was tight-lipped and, rather than walk around to the other side, she beelined to the closer, driver’s side of the vehicle. “What are you doing?” he asked.

“Avoiding being the victim of a public stabbing. She’s right behind us. Let me get in.”

He opened the door, and Serena rocketed herself off of the little step and into the monster-sized truck. After she was buckled in, she instinctively made a move to look behind them, but Bryan climbed in beside her and caught her hand.

“Don’t engage her,” he hissed as he set the pie between them. “Eyes forward.”

“You sound like a crazy person,” she said, but in truth her concern about Piper fizzled away under the heat of his touch. Curious, the way the warmth of his hand snaked up her arm and radiated through her entire body.

Jesus, it was going to be a long, torturous ride.

…

Bryan pulled his hand back like he’d been snakebit.

He had to stop touching her. All it did was undermine his self-discipline. He’d decided, long before he went to that photo shoot, whatever had sparked between him and Serena was better left at the beach that night. Hell, he’d had half a mind to not even call on her for the agreed-upon dates because she was too much of a temptation. He’d made the Colonel a promise before he died. Military for life, just like his father and his father before him. And that meant staying single until he’d done his twenty and could actually be there for a woman as a true partner. He wouldn’t settle for anything less.

Maybe Serena had said she didn’t want a long-term commitment, but so had Piper, early on. She’d known full well he was going into the army, and he’d been honest the whole time. It hadn’t helped. On the other hand, seeing her today had driven the point home that, if he didn’t have some kind of buffer between them, things would escalate, especially now that she was suspicious. It wasn’t even that she was a terrible person. She just couldn’t get past the fact that he didn’t want to be with her. He didn’t honestly think she’d hurt anyone, but without Serena or someone there to keep things at least somewhat regulated, she would push and push until he finally had to either file a restraining order or truly and honestly hurt her feelings, and as much as she irritated him, he didn’t want to do that. They had family connections, and it could only cause a rift if things got ugly.

Dealing with his attraction to Serena was definitely the lesser of two evils. She was the only weapon at his disposal right now, and he had to use it, no matter how much she wreaked havoc on his libido.

No matter how often she haunted his dreams.

No matter how her skirt crept up her slim thighs when she crossed one leg over the other.

“Sorry about that. I had no idea about your food allergy,” she said, and his attention snapped back to her face. Which, unfortunately, wasn’t that much less distracting than the rest of her.

He forced himself to focus on the road. “She’ll try to make something of it, but once she sees us out together more, she’s going to realize that it doesn’t matter if that part was a lie as long as she believes we’re really a couple. Just you being here helps, trust me. She’s aggressive when you’re around but not half as aggressive as she’d be if you weren’t.”

Serena let out a low whistle. “That’s…something. So what do you think is in the pie?”

He shrugged. “Apples would be my best guess.”

“And roofies, I think. All I’m saying is, I wouldn’t eat it if I were you.”

“I wasn’t planning on it,” he said. “She’s a terrible cook.”

Serena nodded and leaned forward to open the glove compartment, then snapped it closed again.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Checking. You don’t know how long she was out here. Who knows what she could have done. Though I think the more important question is where are you going?”

He’d cut through the parking lot and was heading west, the exact opposite direction of her house. “Throwing her off the scent, just in case. Trust me, you don’t want her at your doorstep.”

“Is this what your life is?”

“Why do you think the military seemed like a good option?” He glanced at her again as she chuckled. Bad decision.

Jesus, she was gorgeous.

He’d made every effort to downplay her looks since he’d seen her last. Had convinced himself that the moonlight and champagne had skewed his memory, making the fantasy of her way more compelling than she was in the flesh.

But he’d been wrong.

She was even more beautiful than he remembered, and that did nothing to help his resolve.

He turned his attention to the road again. Time to bite the bullet. “You know, as awful as it is to deal with the crazy, I’m kind of glad we ran into Piper today.”

“You’re glad? Seriously?”

“Hear me out. We’re probably okay, but there’s no question that the cherry pie was a close call. I fulfilled my part of the bargain today, and we need to put a little time into making your half equally successful.”

“I don’t think I follow,” she said as they turned down her street.

“I’m saying we’ve got to be convincing and we’re…not. You’re a stranger.”

“Well, not
completely
.”

He glanced toward her, and her cheeks went a pretty shade of pink as she huffed out a sigh.

“You know, sometimes I speak before I think. I’m just going to pretend that didn’t happen.”

If only he could. Instead, memories of her firm, round ass in his hands as he drove deep into her tight heat ran through his head.

He flipped on his blinker and pulled into the long driveway, saying a silent prayer for strength. “We’ve got to learn a little about each other. The reunion is next week, and then the wedding the week after that. So?” He let the question hang between them, gave it time to sink in. He had no doubt she’d see things his way. It was just a matter of getting her to agree to it.

“What did you have in mind?” she said at last.

“Well, we don’t have to get deep or anything. I don’t need to know about your pet turtle, Shelly, who meant the world to you or anything. Just stuff that could come up in a conversation. Let’s just keep it light. Are you free for dinner? I’ll pick up Chinese takeout. It’ll be casual.”

Again, she sank into silent contemplation, and he couldn’t say that he blamed her. She was in the same boat as him. Caught between a rock and a hot place. It didn’t take a genius to see the chemistry that bubbled whenever they were in the same room together, and they’d be putting themselves there on purpose. Tempting the fates.

But at the end of the day, he had two goals. To enjoy his leave without being stalked and, just maybe, to help Piper see that he was a lost cause so she could move on with her life. And Serena Elliott was going to help him do it.

He parked in front of the mansion, marveling again at the size of it. Even more imposing in daylight, the giant marble columns made it look like the entrance to Olympus.

“And you live here all alone?” He imagined crossing all that cavernous space, knowing he’d never run into anyone along the way, and felt a twinge of pity for her. Must be very lonely sometimes.

“Yep. Home sweet home.” She popped open the door and hopped out, but paused before closing it behind her.

“Come back at seven. With dinner. I’ll just have steamed vegetables. And order from the place on Henderson Drive. They’re the best.” Without another word, she clicked the door shut and strode up the steps.

He watched her go, mesmerized by her swaying hips and hoping against hope that she changed out of that skirt and into some sweatpants…or maybe a muumuu before he came back. He was resigned to getting the job done, but that didn’t mean he had to get blue balls doing it.

He flipped on the radio and rehashed the day. He’d squared up with Grace, and Piper hadn’t hobbled him. He’d been in close quarters with Serena and had managed to keep his hands to himself, if not his dirty thoughts. All in all, not the worst day he’d ever had.

He’d gotten halfway home before he realized he was whistling.

Chapter Six

She had three hours until seven o’clock, and Serena was determined to spend every minute of it working.

Grace was out there making love connections at a breakneck speed, but there was still a whole lot more to the business. Events to plan. Caterers to call for said events. Investors to woo.

So for the remainder of the afternoon, she rolled up her sleeves and dug in.

Or at least she tried to. Mostly, she stared at the phone in her home office, fingering the old-fashioned black cord her grandmother used to twirl while holding the receiver. She did get a few things done. Changed the ink in her printer, emptied the trash can, sent a couple emails.

By six thirty, she was pacing the oak floor, trying to think of details she could share with Bryan. Best to keep as close to the truth as possible, but it wasn’t like he had to know all the details of her childhood. It was more important for her to know about him. They ran in different circles, so the odds of them bumping into anyone she knew were low. The Serena he showed off to the world could be a total figment of their collective imaginations.

And still, for some odd and disconcerting reason, it felt wrong to out-and-out lie to him.

She picked up her now-cold coffee from the desk and took a long sip. The clock was winding down, and she had decisions to make. She sat her drink down a little too hard and some sloshed over the side onto the hem of her skirt.

Perfect. Now if she went and changed into something else, he’d think she’d gone and changed for their date.

Not
date.

Meeting. Or whatever the hell it was.

With a sigh, she made her way to her bedroom and pulled off her skirt and blouse. Maybe she could wear something casual. Laid-back. That way he’d know the change wasn’t for his benefit.

But even if she wore the world’s least-flattering sweatshirt—even if she wore something with
kittens
hand-stitched into the fabric—it wouldn’t change the way his sensual gaze made her feel like she was wearing nothing at all.

She shivered and tossed her work clothes into the hamper. Sweats it was.

Just as she finished pulling on a faded pair of yoga pants and a T-shirt emblazoned with the Salem Harvest Dance logo, the ring of the doorbell echoed through the house. Rushing down the stairs, she pulled her locks into a ponytail and took a second to collect herself before she opened the door.

Cool. Collected. Unaffected.

Until she opened the door and her whole plan went to shit.

Bryan had changed too, but instead of droopy old duds like hers, he’d opted for what she could only assume was his best panty-dropping attire. His dark-washed jeans hung low on his hips, clinging to his powerful thighs. In deference to the still-warm summer evening, the fitted army tee he’d worn earlier had been switched out for an equally fitted black tank top. With the combo of his muscled arms and the scent of whatever was in the bag he held, it was an effort not to drool.

“Can I come in?” he said. “I had to kill a kraken to get across the moat into this place, but here I am.”

“Cute. Come on in.” She stepped back and waved him in as she tried to pull herself together and think relaxing thoughts.

Calm blue oceans, calm blue oceans…

He walked in front of her as if he already knew where he was going, and she caught a glimpse of the back of his pants.

Calm blue oceans, calm blue…jeans clinging to his…

“Seriously, this place is like a castle. It should come with a guard dragon.” He set the white paper bag down on the wide marble island in the center of the room and she took a deep breath before walking over to help him with the food.

“Yeah, it’s a lot of space,” she admitted.

He pulled Styrofoam containers from the bag and set them on the surface, popping open each lid as he went. He’d brought a veritable smorgasbord of food, all slathered in various sauces and paired with fried rice or deep-fried rolls. Just smelling it, she’d probably gained a good fifteen pounds. The last container he pulled out was hers, though.

A huge pile of steamed broccoli and water chestnuts, which looked more than a little pathetic in comparison to the rest of the spread.

“Got plates? I mean the common-folk kind. You don’t have to break out the china.” His grin was teasing, and she laughed in spite of herself.

She moved to the other side of the island, but as seemed to be his custom, he was standing directly in her way. She cleared her throat, and he moved to the side. Not far enough, though. As she reached for the paper plates, she could still feel his hard muscles brushing against her, and a shiver of recognition traveled down her spine.

She had to get control over herself and the situation. “So, how do you want to do this? Eat and then study or study while we eat, or…?” She looked up at him questioningly, but he only shrugged and grabbed a plate from her.

“I’m game for whatever.”

“Okay. Cool.” She swallowed, suddenly aware of just how close they were again. The smell of his aftershave mingled with the scent of the food. At least two of the deadly sins all up in her kitchen.

She stepped away to dig some napkins from under the sink and set them out before putting the space of the island between them again.

He shoveled food onto his plate and took a seat on a high-back stool across from her. Good. They had a two-inch-thick, eight-foot-long slab of marble and all of the food between them. Hopefully it would be enough to keep her from jumping his bones. Again.

“So, um, I guess the first thing to figure out is how we met.”

“Okay.” He noshed on a chunk of mandarin chicken and seemed to think it over. She might have intervened with her own ideas if she hadn’t been so distracted by the way his angular jaw worked as he chewed, or the slight sheen on his lips that was way more tantalizing than any of the food in front of them. Finally, he swallowed. “How about this. I was a lowly grifter and you were a starlet with amnesia and together we became an unlikely pair who overthrew the town’s government and—”

“All that time and you couldn’t have put it into something that might actually work?” She pretended to feel annoyed, but she didn’t. Mostly she was just trying not to laugh, but she’d be damned if she let him know as much.

“It’s not my style.” He speared another piece of meat with his chopsticks and held it out to her. “Want a taste?”

She shook her head and stuck another piece of broccoli in her mouth, desperately trying to numb her senses to the wafting goodness of all the fried food.

“Okay, well, where would I meet someone like you, then? Where do you typically meet people?” He raised his eyebrows before taking another bite.

Where
did
she meet people? She thought back on the past few months, then had to spread the net out further to the past few years. Everyone knew she was a sort of “girl about town,” but when she got to the bare bones of it? She wasn’t attracted to a lot of guys. She still talked a good game, and went out once in a while to keep up appearances, but she always found herself bored and wishing she was back home with a glass of wine, watching a movie or something. The rest of her time was spent with people at work events. Or planning work events. Or researching work events.

She shoveled another hunk of flaccid broccoli into her mouth and chewed, suddenly depressed. Serena Elliott was totally boring and pathetic. When had that happened?

“I’m not sure. Guys usually just sort of, approach me. You know, on the street. At the supermarket. In a construction zone,” she lied.

“In a construction zone?”

“Yeah, if I pass through and nobody whistles at me, I’m a little pissed off. It’s how I gauge if my outfit looks hot or not.”

When he laughed, all her self-pity slipped away, and she found herself smiling again.

“Well, everyone at these things is going to know I’m not a construction guy, so that’s not going to work.”

Maybe not, but the visual sure did wonders for her imagination. Bryan, with a hard hat covering his buzzed hair, wearing nothing but a tool belt…

“What if you had some kind of medical attack or something and I had to help you? I met a woman once after she started choking at a restaurant. Had to give her the Heimlich maneuver.”

“How did that work out?”

“Not great. She lived, but… Remember that story about a girl and a cliff?”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah.” Bryan scooped up a pile of rice dotted with sprouts and morsels of chicken, all glistening with greasy goodness, and plugged it into his piehole. He grunted in approval as he chewed, and her stomach growled in answer.

Well, shit.

She eyed the containers of food in front of her. Not
all
of it was fried. There were some thin slices of chicken in a light sauce with carrots. A mound of steamed dumplings, like plump little pillows of savory goodness. Surely those couldn’t be so bad. And besides, at the rate it was taking them to even get one detail straight, she was going to need her strength.

The last of her resolve crumbled. She poked at the meat with her chopsticks and then gingerly took a bite.

Sweet baby Jesus, was that good. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d actually ordered full-fat Chinese food, and apparently it had been so long that she’d forgotten the taste. She closed her eyes to savor the bite but was brought back to reality when Bryan cleared his throat. Her eyes snapped open, and she realized he was staring at her.

“You like it?” His voice was low and husky, his intense gaze glued to her mouth.

She nodded, cheeks going hot as she remembered the last time he’d asked that question. Had she moaned in ecstasy when she was chewing the same way she had that night? She shoveled in another bite so she didn’t have to speak. To her everlasting relief, he redirected the conversation back to business.

“So, what else do we need to know? Allergies, right? Mine are cherries and hay.”

“I don’t have any.” She toyed with a new piece of chicken, this one fried. “Why don’t you tell me about your family?”

“Well, you met my sister Quinn at the charity event. I call her Q.”

She thought back to that night and pictured the woman. She was pretty and her features resembled Bryan’s without all the hard edges. “Interesting. Other siblings? Parents? Crazy uncles who have made a name for themselves by playing the spoons at every family function?”

“Parents. Mom died a few years back from an aneurism. My father passed away about ten years ago.”

She waited for him to go on, to offer additional information, but when none came, she took another bite of her food. The dismissal of the topic was clear, and she wasn’t about to push. Maybe he’d remember that when it got to be her turn.

“How about you?”

She still didn’t want to lie to him, but she’d shared more than she wanted the first night they’d met. She didn’t owe him more personal stories or childhood memories than she’d already let slip. He should understand that, since he was apparently so tight-lipped with his own.

“I don’t think people are going to ask about me,” she said. “And if they do, I can go along with whatever you say.”

“You’re not going to know what I said unless you’re glued to my side all night.” He chewed on something amber-colored and covered in sesame seeds and then swallowed. “We can’t keep contradicting each other.”

He was right about that. Things would get sticky if they weren’t on the same page. “Okay, well, I used to live here with my grandmother.”

“Right, I remember you saying this was your grandmother’s house. Didn’t your parents live here?”

She took a sip of the water in front of her and thought carefully about how to continue. “My mother grew up here, but then she and my father moved out when they had me. They got divorced and remarried to other people.”
Lots and lots of other people
, but she kept that little gem to herself. “And then married to each other again.”
Three times.
“I didn’t live with them much as a kid. They sent me to boarding school all over the world. London, Switzerland, and then finally Paris. I’d just landed a modeling contract there when I found out my grandmother was sick. I came home to take care of her until…” She took a deep breath.

Fuck this.

She was right the first time for not wanting to talk about it. She should’ve listened to her gut. He already knew far more than he needed to. “So now I live in her house and my parents and I don’t speak,” she finished lamely and jammed a dumpling into her mouth whole to stop her loose tongue from wagging.

Time stretched between them, and Bryan drummed his fingers on the counter before setting down his chopsticks and shoving off his stool.

“Well, I don’t know about you, but I think this is going to be one long night if we just keep asking each other questions. My life is a little too boring for all that.”

She let out a long breath, grateful for the change in topic. “Your life as a military trauma doctor?” She raised her eyebrows. “Yeah, sounds like a real snooze.”

“Your own life always seems boring to yourself. No matter how truly fascinating you are.” The words seemed weighty as he said them, and she eyed him as he walked around the counter and into her living room. “You got any board games? We can play checkers or something while we talk.”

“What? No. I mean, my gram might, she used to keep them under the TV, but I haven’t seen them since I was really young.”

She swiveled around in her chair to find him riffling through the cabinet under the television, five long, dusty boxes already stacked next to him.

“Trivial Pursuit, the 1930s. Damn.” He lifted up a box and set it with the others. “Do you know anything about Hoover towns?”

She popped one last bite of rice into her mouth and headed back to the living room. When she finally finished chewing, she plopped onto the sofa. “Nope.” She crossed one leg over the other and surveyed him for a long moment before adding, “But we could play a game I used to play in boarding school,” she offered.

“I’ll warn you right now I don’t pillow fight.” Bryan stood and joined her on the couch. It was wide enough so that they never touched, but the proximity still felt strangely intimate.