Playing with Piper (Menage MfM Romance Novel) (Playing for Love Book 3) (7 page)

No, it won’t be easy. But Wyatt is right — we have no marketing budget. Given the constraints, this is probably our best option. I sit up, my spine tingling with excitement. I want to win, damn it. I want to show my parents that despite their best efforts to thwart me, I can succeed. “Yes.” My voice comes out loud and enthusiastic, and I flush.
Well-behaved Southern women don’t raise their voices.

“I’m in,” I say in a quieter tone. “Whatever you want to do, I’m in.”

“Excellent,” Wyatt says. “Let’s get to work. Here’s what we need to do.”

An hour later, we have a plan. Several plans, actually.

First, we’ve decided to rename the restaurant. It’s now going to be called
Piper’s
. “A bit vain, don’t you think?” I ask Wyatt and Owen doubtfully. “Naming the place after myself?”

“People are going to flock here for your food, Piper,” Owen says grandly. “Of course it has to be named after you.”

I giggle, charmed by Owen’s statement. We’ve made significant inroads into the bottle of vodka, and we’re all feeling the effects. I’m tipsy. The alcohol plays a role in my light-headedness, but so does the relief of knowing I don’t have to face this alone.

I’ve misjudged Owen and Wyatt, the same way they’ve misjudged me. Today feels like a renewal of sorts.
New beginnings.  

“Okay,” I agree. “What kind of food should
Piper’s
serve?”

“Not Middle Eastern,” Wyatt says at once. “I love Middle Eastern food, but that’s not your strength. Why on earth did your aunt decide to open
Aladdin’s Lamp
anyway?”

“It’s a family secret.” I lean forward, lowering my voice to a whisper. I can’t seem to stop smiling. “When she was in her twenties, she had an affair with a man from Egypt, but her parents found out and dragged her back home in horror. Years later, she opened the restaurant as a way to remember him.”

I reach for the bottle to pour myself another shot, but Wyatt puts his hand over my wrist. “Pace yourself, Piper,” he advises. He gets me a glass of water. “Drink up.”

I frown at him. “Are you my mother?” I demand, my words slurring. “I’m not a child, you know.”

“Trust me, Piper. I’m well aware of that fact.” Wyatt’s eyes gleam with an emotion I can’t quite identify. His hand still remains on mine, and my body prickles with an unexpected heat. He’s got nice eyes, Wyatt. The color of dark chocolate. A girl could gaze into them all night.

Oh.
Oh.

I can feel myself sway toward him. For a moment, he watches me, sharp interest in his gaze, then he stiffens and pulls his hand away. My entire face flushes at his rejection. “So what should I cook, then?” I ask, my voice cool.

“Southern food,” Owen replies promptly. “Fried chicken. Macaroni and cheese. Ribs. Soul food.  That’s your sweet spot and you know it. Why else do you have mac and cheese on your menu?”

“It’s my most profitable dish.” I stop to consider his words.
Oh my God.
They’re totally right. I’ve been drowning in the weeds, and I’ve never stopped to think there might be clearer water ahead. “I am an idiot,” I exclaim, shaking my head. “How did I not see that?”  

Owen reaches out and ruffles my hair. “That’s what we’re here for,” he grins. “To give you the benefit of our wisdom and experience.”

God, they can be conceited. “Of course.” I flutter my eyelashes at him. “Please, Owen,” I mock. “Please tell me what to do. I’ll do anything you say.”

“Will you?” His blue eyes hold mine for just an instant, just long enough for me to feel a spark of heat. My imagination is throwing up one carnal image after another. Me on my knees in front of Owen as Wyatt watches. Owen’s hand tangling in my hair, pulling me toward his crotch. Wyatt unbuttoning my shirt, his expression knowing.

You’re not attracted to assholes,
I remind myself. But that’s precisely the problem. They aren’t being assholes anymore, and because of that, I’m seeing what Wendy noticed right away. They’re two very attractive men, and I haven’t been on a date, let alone anything else, in a really long time.

Don’t be an idiot, Piper,
I scold myself.
They’re your partners, nothing else.

My pulse beats in my neck and I force words out through my dry throat. “You know what I mean.”

Everything’s frozen for an instant. It feels like anything can happen. The night is alive with possibility. My blood is racing, and my body feels heavy with desire. Do I dare act on it?

My mother’s voice rings in my ear. Well-behaved Southern women
definitely
don’t get into threesomes.

I pull back. “We’ll also need to do something about this space.”

There’s a brief flicker of disappointment in Owen’s eyes, gone before I even really register it. “I’ll start keeping an eye on the auction lots,” he says. “Let’s see what we can get for cheap. First though, we’ll need a new sign. I’ll arrange for one tomorrow.”

“I’ll draw up a contract,” Wyatt adds. “And though I’m not looking forward to it, I’ll talk to Maisie.”

“Why not?” The vodka’s making me bold and curious. “Why don’t you want to talk to her?”

“We used to date,” he replies, his tone making it clear that I should change the topic. “It’s not a big deal.”

I don’t know why that bothers me. Guys like Wyatt and Owen are hardly likely to be single. They’re good looking and wealthy. In New York, where women outnumber men by a significant margin, they can pick and choose whoever they want. For all I know, they could be in relationships right now.

That thought depresses me even further.
Time to call it a night, Piper,
I tell myself, before I can allow myself to wallow further. Imaging a threesome with them is a pleasant fantasy, but allowing myself to think that it could happen is the most foolish thing I can do. We live in different worlds, and in any case, I have a restaurant to save.

“I have to go.” I rise to my feet. “Let me know when the contract is ready.”

They get up as well. Once again, they give me troubled looks. Stupid vodka. It’s making me think of things that I’ve ignored for so many years now. It’s making me realize how long it’s been since I felt the weight of a man’s body against mine, and it’s making me yearn for their touch.

This is insane. I need to get out of here.

T
he next morning
, my head’s throbbing and my mouth is dry. The room sways and tilts around me.

And that’s not even the worst of it.

Nothing happened,
I console myself, though it wasn’t for lack of trying. Last night, Piper was vulnerable and tipsy. Thankfully, no one had crossed the line, because it would’ve been a huge mistake. We don’t take advantage of drunk women, and we don’t sleep with people we’re in business with. The lines get too tangled.

I make myself a cup of coffee and call Max Emerson. He picks up on the second ring. “Owen Lamb,” he says, an edge in his voice. “What a surprise.”

I’m not a fan of Max Emerson. The kindest word I could use to describe him is sleazy. Though he wanted Wyatt and I to invest in his gastropub, he was extremely secretive about his operations, and a couple of times, he flat-out lied to us. “Max.” It takes effort to sound neutral. “How’ve you been?”

“I can’t complain, Owen.” He still sounds pissed. “Great things are happening for
Emerson’s
every day.”

I very much doubt that.
Emerson’s
is, at best, run of the mill. Max’s chef is mediocre, and the menu is generic. About the only thing the place has in its favor is its location. I rub at my forehead and wish I had the good sense to formulate a plan before I called Emerson. “That’s great to hear, Max.”

“Yeah,” he continues. “We’re participating in
Can You Take the Heat?
and we’re going to win. I’m sure you’ve heard of the contest. Yelp is going to put the winner on the front page of its website for three months. You guys are going to regret picking Piper Jackson instead of me.”

My hackles rise.
Don’t mention Piper’s name,
I want to growl.

I have to say I’m surprised
Emerson’s
is participating in Maisie’s show. Wyatt’s going to want to know that.

I make a snap judgement. I don’t want to talk to this guy anymore. I’ll find the information I’m looking for in other ways. “I heard the news,” I lie. “I was calling to congratulate you on being selected.” My tone hardens. “Unfortunately, you aren’t going to win, Max. Piper Jackson’s taking part in the contest as well. And we all know that when it comes to a contest between her and you, you’re going to lose.”

I hang up before he can respond, then I shake my head at my impulsiveness. Wyatt better be able to sweet talk Maisie into letting Piper into the show.

A
fter last night
, I’m convinced Piper is clean, but I’m not sure about her landlord. Once I’ve showered, I head out toward
Aladdin’s Lamp
. It’s a little after nine in the morning, and I expect the place to be empty.

Sure enough, there’s no one about.

There are things I learned in Dublin that I haven’t let myself forget. I could pick the lock and let myself in, but there’s nothing to see there. Instead, I slip into the narrow alleyway between Piper’s restaurant and the building next door, and head to the back.

There are three possible ways a restaurant can be mixed up with the mob — money-laundering, drugs, and an illegal gambling ring. I have access to Piper’s books, so I can rule out money laundering. My goal today is to search for any evidence of drugs or a gambling ring.

The alleyway smells of stale urine and rotting garbage. Though it’s bright outside, this pathway is dim, the tall buildings on either side obstructing all sunlight. I walk slowly, looking for signs of drug activity, but nothing seems out of place.

Which leaves a gambling ring. I curse under my breath as I reach the dumpsters in the back of the building. Gamblers like the trappings of the good life — fancy Scotch and smuggled cigars from Cuba. If an illegal gambling ring is being run from Piper’s restaurant, there’ll be empty bottles in the trash.

Fucking Mendez,
I think sourly. I hate rooting through garbage.

Five minutes later, I’ve rummaged through the waste and the recycle bins, and I’ve found nothing. I’m ready to give up when a voice speaks. “What do you think you’re doing?”

I freeze, because the grey-haired man who asks the question is also holding a sawed-off shotgun, and it’s pointed right at me.

Shit. This must be Piper’s landlord.

I raise my hands up in the air, very slowly. “Hello,” I say cautiously. “I’m Owen.”

“Are you now?” His voice remains hard. “What are you doing in my dumpster?”

“Your dumpster?” I act as if I’ve just realized who he is. “Ah, you must be Piper’s landlord.”

He relaxes slightly, but the barrel of the gun stays fixed on me. “And who are you?”

“My name is Owen Lamb. I’m one of Piper’s new partners.”

He finally lowers the weapon. “Sorry about that,” he says gruffly. “But you can never tell in this neighborhood. I’m Michael O’Connor.”

What does he mean, you can never tell in the neighborhood? The crime rates in Hell’s Kitchen aren’t high. There’s nothing that warrants pointing a gun at me. What is Michael O’Connor worried about?

Damn it. Each lead I follow seems to produce more questions than answers.

“No worries.” I reach forward to shake his hand. “I appreciate you watching out for the place.”

He nods curtly. “What were you doing back here anyway?” he asks. “This is a strange place to be hanging around in.”

I search about for an excuse, cursing the vodka for the fuzziness in my brain. My head feels like a construction crew has taken a jackhammer to it. “Food wastage,” I improvise. “I’m trying to get a handle of how much food we throw away.”

He raises an eyebrow at my explanation. “By poking around the garbage? Odd way to go about it.”

“Well,” I shrug, not knowing what else to say. “I’m a very hands-on partner.”

Michael O’Connor is staring at me. “You’re an Irishman, aren’t you, lad? I’ve lived here for forty years and I’ve never lost my accent. You neither, from the sound of it.” His face scrunches into a puzzled frown. “Do I know you from somewhere? Your face looks really familiar.”  

Shit.
This time, I’m really in trouble.
Hell’s Kitchen is filled with Irish immigrants, and Michael O’Connor could be working for the Westies. I’m the spitting image of my father. If he figures out who I am, I’m in danger.

Not just me. Everyone I care about could be hurt. The Westies demonstrated their ruthlessness seventeen years ago when they killed my mother and my sister as revenge for my father’s betrayal.

I’ve done something really stupid by coming to Hell’s Kitchen. I’ve put Piper and Wyatt in danger.