My Double Life: Wild and Wicked (10 page)

Most people wanted to know more about his father, the wealthy independent filmmaker who’d made his mark on the industry after being raised by foster parents in a humble part of Oakland. Thomas Fraser was an American legend—a real-life embodiment of the American dream. It was a theme he’d revisited plenty of times in his films, too. His dad was charismatic and loved by the media, no matter that he’d been a hard parent.

“It has to do with him being a self-made man.” He’d heard plenty about that growing up. “He’s afraid that if he doesn’t challenge his kids, we’ll be soft. He never believed in allowances when we were young, and he doesn’t believe in giving us anything now that we’re grown.”

Not even a credit on a film Trey worked hard on. Not even an acknowledgement of a job well done.

He shifted on the bed to lie on his back, drawing Courtney with him. She propped her elbow on his chest and rested her head in her hand. Her dark hair pooled on his skin, spilling onto his hip and arousing awareness in spite of the fact he should be sated. For now, at least. But even talk of his dad couldn’t dim the afterbuzz of the greatest damn sex of his life.

“Maybe he thinks he’s helping. Or maybe he’s followed that behavior pattern so long that he doesn’t know how to relate to you any other way.” She gave him a sheepish grin. “Then again, that could be my own years of therapy talking.”

He hated the idea that Courtney’s mother had driven her to those lengths, but she seemed comfortable with that part of her past. Far more comfortable than he felt about his dad.

“I’d be surprised if there was any way my father could view his actions as helpful.”

“People can rationalize a whole lot of things. You’re a filmmaker of sorts. You ought to know we are each the hero in our own dramas, right?”

He nodded, intrigued by this woman. What had started out as strong physical attraction became more interesting by the moment.

“So your dad probably thinks you need him to succeed.”

Trey found that hard to believe, and yet...it sure as hell was a kinder explanation for his father’s actions than he’d ever credited the old man with.

“Maybe. But I tend to think he’s just obsessively competitive.” Trey sighed and folded the pillow under his head so he could see her better. “I know he believes our mom spoiled us—which was impossible since we didn’t see her more than a few weeks a year—and that it’s a father’s job to be tough on his sons.”

“Wonder how he would have been with a daughter.” She traced idle circles on his skin and he thought about halting this conversation with a kiss.

And more.

“Difficult to say.” Although he guessed it would have been more of the same. Refusal to praise any accomplishment. Continually pushing her to strive harder in life.

“Your brothers aren’t married?”

He stroked her hair. The warm skin of her shoulder.

“No.” He couldn’t picture either of his siblings settling down. They enjoyed the bachelor thing too much.

And after this night with Courtney, Trey was strongly reminded why he needed to make some time in his life for women too. More specifically, time for Courtney. She was...amazing. Memories of her dancing for him, spinning around the patio in sheer veils, would be etched into his brain forever.

“Did you ever come close?” Her throaty whisper was another kind of touch altogether, the sound revving him up again. Already.

“What?” He’d lost the thread of the conversation invivid images of how they could spend the rest of this night together.

“M-marriage,” she clarified, clearing her throat as she stumbled over the word just a little. “Has anyone ever tempted you?”

He wished like hell he’d kissed her before the talk turned in this direction. He was pretty sure he couldn’t get the “M” word smoothly out of his mouth, either.

“Once.” He definitely didn’t want to discuss this. Crossing his fingers, he tried flipping the question around. “How about you?”

She frowned, lowering her lashes to hide her pretty eyes from him. Was she hurt that he hadn’t shared anything about Heather? He was already regretting the abrupt conversational turnabout. No matter that he’d wanted to keep things uncomplicated between them, he owed her more than a terse one-word answer after what they’d shared.

But then Courtney met his gaze and smiled.

“Me? Are you kidding?” She flopped back onto the bed beside him and wrapped an arm around his waist. “Definitely not the marrying kind.”

10

L
IES
. L
IES
.
A
LL
LIES
.

I crept through the house the next morning in search of coffee, wondering how I could have concocted such a bald-face fabrication about not being the marrying kind. What had happened to me since I met Trey that I was behaving like a completely different person?

The early morning sun spilled into the kitchen from a panel of high windows with eastern exposure. A sleek sideboard near the breakfast nook contained all the coffee essentials in plain sight, from a state-of-the-art java maker to a sugar container.

I’d already showered and dressed in the T-shirt and shorts Trey had given me in the middle of the night when we’d raided the kitchen for a snack. We’d fed each other Lucky Charms and tried to turn the shapes into a hieroglyphic-style language. I’d had fun spelling out naughty things on his naked abs right before I... Well, suffice it to say, I’d tried to pay him back for the immense amount of pleasure he’d given me in bed.

Judging by his reaction, I think I accomplished the task fairly well.

Now, waiting for the coffee to brew, I padded barefoot around the huge kitchen. Trey had chosen this place for us last night because of the private patio and the views.

I had to admit, the other half lived well.

“Sneaking out on me already?” Trey’s voice startled me as he entered the kitchen.

Whirling around from where I’d been daydreaming at the picturesque window, I took in his shirtless appearance. He did have washboard abs. Fawn had been one hundred percent correct.

“I might have if you didn’t have any coffee,” I teased, pointing to the pot, where a curlicue of steam drifted out the top. “But I’m a prisoner of caffeine. Now you won’t get me out of here until that cup is ready.”

“Excellent news.” Trey stalked closer, a pair of old jeans riding low on lean hips.

It was all I could do not to lick my lips.

“Mmm.” Distracted, I tried to remember the Lucky Charms code for, “Let’s get naked.”

“Can I make an observation?” He pulled two mugs out of a cupboard overhead and set them on the counter.

Something in his tone triggered a bit of wariness. He sounded more serious this morning. That put me on edge because I wasn’t ready for this to end. Hadn’t we enjoyed an amazing time together?

Hadn’t I worked hard to keep things uncomplicated?

“Umm, sure.” I smiled until my cheeks hurt.

“You don’t stutter around me. Especially not lately.”

“Oh. Right.” I hadn’t been expecting that. I relaxed a little, taking a seat on the bench at a built-in breakfast nook. I drummed my fingers on the French country table.

“Have you noticed?” He pulled out the carafe and filled the mugs.

“Actually, I don’t stutter much around people I’m comfortable with these days.” Although, just thinking about my stutter made my tongue feel a little sticky, like it was going to trip over itself any second. I forced myself to speak slower. “It has more to do with new situations or new people—if I feel any pressure or worry.”

He frowned. “So back when we first met...I was making you nervous?”

I remembered sort of fibbing about that to him, saying I hadn’t been nervous. But what did it matter now?

“I...” I took a deep breath as he put the sugar bowl and a spoon in front of me. “I liked you.”

My cheeks heated and I felt ridiculous. As if it was big news that I’d been crushing on him.

“You say that in the past tense.” He sat across from me and stirred sugar into his coffee. “What’s changed?”

I felt as if I was missing something in this conversation. What was he driving at?

“I guess I feel more comfortable around you now that—” How did I put this? “I mean, it seems you kinda like me, too, if last night is any indication.”

He put down his spoon with a laugh.

“No secret there.” He studied me with his golden brown eyes as if I was a puzzle to solve. “What I guess I’m getting at is this—if you can find ways to make yourself more comfortable in your job, why can’t you take over the role that Fawn has at Sphere?”

I nearly choked on my first sip.

Coughing, I had to put the cup down. Yes, this feminine grace of mine was one of many reasons why I didn’t have Fawn’s job.

“Trey, I’m not an account rep. I barely got through my interview at Sphere, I was tripping over my words so much.” It was mortifying to remember. “I could never meet with new people all the time and sell them our services.”

“So leave the sales to someone else.” He covered my hand with his, his olive skin a contrast with my pale fingers. “But your financial advice is genius. That email you sent me outlining ways to ensure I have start-up cash for the next phase of my business model was brilliant. You should be a highly valued member of that staff.”

He spoke with such sincerity that I almost bought into it. But then I remembered that the “me” Trey knew was a hybrid Courtney/Natalie mix. A bolder version of myself. An illusion I’d cooked up on a stage. I didn’t bring that same confidence into the rest of my life.

I took a slow sip of coffee as I thought about how to frame my reply.

“I’m content with my job,” I said finally. “Although I’m flattered you thought my advice was useful, I didn’t really go into the depth necessary—”

“But you could have,” he pressed. “If I wanted to explore those options for diversifying my investments, you could have pointed me toward exactly what I need, couldn’t you?”

“Maybe.” Actually, I had a hard time being modest about this one area of my life. I was excellent at my job. I studied financial news closer than most people in this town read
Variety
. It made sense to me.

“I want you in charge of my account at Sphere.”

“Oh, no.” I rose from the table and paced in front of the sideboard. “That’s a bad idea.”

“Why? I want my money working for me, and you know how to make that happen.”

“So does Fawn,” I reminded him. Plus, Fawn would pass along my recommendations anyhow. It would be just the same as working with me, only she was a more articulate, elegant face for the business.

“I like you better,” he insisted stubbornly.

Nervousness set off every one of my panic buttons as I thought about how badly this could go. Why had I sent him that email? If I’d just let him figure out his finances on his own, none of this would have happened and we’d be taking a long, luxurious shower together right now. Or maybe chasing each other around the huge hot tub I’d spotted in a corner of the yard last night.

“What happens when we—that is, what if things don’t work out between us personally?” I didn’t want to think about that, but I had to be realistic.

Trey Fraser was a fantasy man.

He rose from the table, capturing my shoulders between broad hands.

“We’re grown-ups,” he assured me. “I’m not going to become some petty jerk if you decide you don’t want to see me anymore.”

Me? Not want to see
him?

Clearly, he was just being polite.

“Even if I wanted to take over your account,” I shook my head, approaching the problem from another angle, “I couldn’t. It’s not my job.”

“If a client specifically requests you, Courtney, it will be your job.” He kissed my cheek and some of my worries melted a little. “All I want to know is this—do you have any objections to working with me?”

Now was my chance to shut down this crazy line of thinking. It would only stir problems at work. But selfishly, I liked the idea that I might still see him, even after we weren’t involved romantically.

And the pride in my professional abilities that I usually stifled was definitely making noise now. I knew I could put his money to work more effectively for him.

“Of course I won’t object,” I conceded. “I’ll do whatever I can to help you get that film studio off the ground.”

* * *

A
WEEK
LATER
, Trey had to admit that Courtney had more than lived up to her word.

He waited for her in the conference room at Sphere, reading over the thick packet of proposed investments she’d generated for him. He’d made the call requesting her to personally oversee his accounts the same day she’d agreed to it, and by the next day, she’d been knee-deep in research for him.

So much so, in fact, he hadn’t seen her in person since they’d spent the night together. Guilt nipped at him now for putting her in a position where she felt she had to prove something to him, her boss and her co-workers. Still, as he read through her comprehensive suggestions for everything from selling his European property to renting out a yacht he rarely used, he knew that he’d made a smart business decision by insisting on her as his account rep.

Yet what had he done to their fledgling personal relationship? He’d put them on an uneven footing by becoming her personal client. He’d practically ensured she’d be too busy to go out with him. For all he knew, maybe he’d sabotaged something really special between them for the sake of one-upping his father. But he’d put together a profile of her short-term returns on investment based on some examples she’d outlined in her suggestions for his business, and he’d been floored to think how well she’d done for Sphere clients.

All while the account reps took the majority of the credit.

“I’m sorry to keep you waiting, Trey.” Courtney breezed into the conference room a moment later, her white tennis shoes at odds with a deep rose-colored suit that flattered her dark hair. “I took my lunch hour at the dance studio and traffic was crazy getting back here.”

He’d be willing to bet she had no idea she still wore her sneakers. The quirky clothes that would have made him smile a week ago made him feel like crap now, since she’d had to rush on his account.

That wasn’t the only thing he noticed. Her hair was pulled back in a low ponytail that rested on one shoulder, her bangs swept to one side. One eye was still partially covered in the long fringe, but the other met his gaze directly.

“It’s okay.” He got to his feet to greet her, fighting the urge to pull her into his arms. He looked over his shoulder at the open conference room door and lowered his voice. “I’d kiss you, but I’m guessing you’d prefer I don’t.”

Her cheeks flushed a pink that matched her jacket.

“Ah. Yes. But a rain check would be welcome.”

“Is anyone else joining us?” He eyed the door again. “If it’s just us, I could take you out for a meal since you skipped your lunch.”

“I’d better not, but thank you.” She strode back to the door and closed it, sealing them in the privacy of mahogany wainscoting and heavy bookshelves full of imposing tomes. “Piles of work to do at the office.”

“I’m sorry if this was too much, Courtney—”

“No!” She rushed to reassure him, taking the seat beside him so he caught a whiff of her fresh, green scent. “Not at all. This new responsibility has been an eye-opening experience for me. It’s been busy, but great.”

“Honestly?”

“Yes.” She smiled, her hand dropping onto his arm as she shifted closer. “I was worried at first about how everyone at the office would react, but they seem happy for me. You sort of forced me to live up to my potential around here, and that’s been a good thing.”

“Good, except that I haven’t gotten to see you alone all week.” He didn’t want to pressure her more, but damn it, she was in his head all the time lately. “Let me take you out tomorrow night.”

“I can’t.” Her fingers slid away from his arm.

The knot of disappointment in his chest surprised him. He hadn’t planned on getting so close to her so fast. Especially when his professional life had to come first until he got out of his father’s shadow for good.

“Some other time then,” he started.

“Unless you want to come to Backstage for my show,” she blurted.

“What?” He hoped he’d misheard.

“After the success of my first show, they want me to return for a repeat performance.” Her gray eyes sparkled with mischief.

“I thought that first night was a fluke.” He tried to recall what she’d told him about dancing at the club. “You said you were filling in for your friend because she was hurt.”

Just thinking about her half naked on that stage, with a room full of greedy male eyes on her, made him tense all over.

“I was.” She leaned closer as if she was afraid someone in the hall could hear her already quiet voice. “But the show was such a hit they offered Natalie Night a one-time slot before her regular appearances begin this fall.”

“And you took it?” He hadn’t realized he’d spoken the thought aloud until she answered.

“I haven’t accepted yet, but I plan to.” Maybe his relief showed on his face because she rushed to continue. “You have no idea how that first show turned my life around. I braved an audience when I’ve always been incredibly insecure. I met you. I got a job for my friend.” She ticked off the points on her fingers, her simple gold bangles tinkling softly with the movement. “I’m being trusted with more work responsibilities when I never would have guessed I’d operate on this level.”

“But the risks are greater for your job now, right? I thought you needed to be careful no one recognizes you or you could have problems at work.” He figured reminding her of the stakes was better than sounding like an autocratic, possessive jerk and telling her flat-out not to perform.

Because, damn, he did not want her anywhere near that stage again.

Her lips flattened into a hard line. “I suppose you’re right. I just thought it would help Natalie. And, of course, let me relive an exciting moment.”

Trey shoved aside the investment proposal on the conference table and took her hands in his.

“At the risk of sounding arrogant, I’d like to think it wouldn’t be half as exciting without me.” His heart slugged a heavy rhythm in his chest while he waited, hoping like hell she’d agree.

She slanted him a smoky look. “That’s not arrogance. That’s a fact.”

“Well, then.” His hands itched to touch her. To skim over her curves and slide under the hem of her jacket to feel what she wore beneath. “I don’t think you can make your engagement because I don’t plan to be at Backstage tomorrow night.”