The Singles (19 page)

“By Christmas, I hope.”

“You plan on coming home then, even if he’s not back.”

“Maybe.”

He placed his own elbows on the table and leaned in close to me, his jade green eyes dancing with amusement. “Did Penelope let you know, she told me you were out here apartment-sitting for one of your female colleagues?”

Dammit. I hated lying to him—loathed it almost as much as not giving Pen the entire truth—and I felt like shit when I offered him a hesitant smile. “Maybe I didn’t want you to worry about me. Did you stop to think that might be why I asked her to tell you that?”

He wore a skeptical look when he rested his shoulders to the red leather booth. “What’s she up to, Gem?”

“I’m sorry?”

“I know my sister like the back of my damn hand. I can tell when she’s up to something.”

“Calm your tits, Agent Connelly,” I teased, sounding so much like Pen that he couldn’t help but grin. “She’s not up to anything besides working like crazy on some new software her company’s launching next year.”

A lot of that was the truth. Although I had no idea what she was doing for August, I knew she’d been doing legitimate work for her job back in Vegas.

Tilting his head to the side, Linc scratched his scruffy chin. “You know I’ll always help both of you,” he said carefully, and I rolled my eyes theatrically in response so that he’d see it beneath the dark booth lighting. “Are you sure my sister’s not into anything sketchy?”

“She’s being perfectly—” To my relief, Pen picked that exact moment to shimmy over to our booth and slam down next to her brother. “Having fun?”

“Not as much fun as if you were dancing with me!” she sang, and my lip twitched. I had no plans to dance when I came in here, but with Linc’s eyes burning a hole into the side of my face, I turned to him. “Can you keep an eye on my drink?”

For a few seconds, he studied me closely, and I felt my chest hammer under the scrutiny. From the day he first stepped foot in my life six years ago, I’d never been very good at lying to him, and he always saw right through me. Then he nodded and turned to his sister with a forced chuckle.

“You just brought me here just to watch your stuff.”

Grabbing my hand, she smirked. “I feel a little less bad now that you realize it.” She urged me out of the booth. “Be back in a few, big brother!”

I felt myself relax completely as soon as we stepped out onto the floor and I moved my hips to the sound of Halestorm’s rendition of The Beatles’ “I Want You.” Spotting Linc, who was already on his phone, I gave him a little wave and turned my back to him. “Thank you,” I told Pen, widening my eyes in relief.

Swinging her hair over one shoulder, she gave me a pointed look. “Alright, spill it. You came in earlier looking like someone mugged you after pissing on your shoes. What happened?”

“Oh, you know, the usual. I showed up to work to find that Margaret wasn’t who called me this morning, and—”

Her eyes bulging, Pen’s slim fingers cupped both of my shoulders. “Hold on,
what
?”

“I’m pretty sure Oliver’s ex-girlfriend was who called.” I still hadn’t figured out what to do about Finley, but there was no way I was letting it go. No matter who she was. At Pen’s disgusted face, I danced around her, whispering in her ear, “And then a picture of Oliver and me made the front page of a lifestyle website.”

She caught my hand and looked over her shoulder. “You didn’t tell me you were with Mr. Sex-In-A-Suit last night.”

“I wasn’t
with
him, I just
bumped
into him and we talked for a few minutes.” During which he proceeded to drive my body absolutely crazy with his mouth and fingers, but that was beside the point. “So, of course, Margaret flipped out and let me know how she feels about me being around her son.”

For close to a minute, Pen was quiet, letting the guitar solo in the middle of the song play. She bobbed her head to the music, but I knew she was absorbing what I’d told her so far. When the vocals resumed, she questioned, “And, let me guess, the stepmonster had something to say about that?”

I felt my phone vibrate in its spot between my breasts, but I ignored it. “She doesn’t want gold-diggers like the Russian
whore
my dad used to be married to sinking their claws into Oliver.” Saying those words aloud sent acid rushing to the back of my throat, and I swallowed it down and blinked hard.

When I opened my eyes, I saw that Pen’s mouth was parted, and she had a horrified look on her face.

“She said that to you?” Her voice was lowered to an angry growl. “She actually sat in front of you and
said
that?”

“And she didn’t even flinch.”

Her nostrils flared, and she was about to say something else, but a hand on my shoulder made her pause. I looked behind me to see a perfectly-coiffed blond man—the type of guy who
used to be
my type—and yet, I felt nothing as I smiled at him politely.

He moved his mouth close to my ear. “I was watching you—”

“She’d love to,” Pen practically shouted, shoving me against him.

Although I kept dancing, I glowered at my best friend, who responded with a shit-eating grin. “It’s your birthday,” she leaned forward and whispered. “You deserve a little fun.”

And as I danced with the good-looking blond and my best friend, letting the sexy, repetitive lyrics move through my body, I realized she was right. I needed to escape being Lizzie for one night.

I needed to be Gemma instead.

When the Halestorm song faded away to Theory of a Deadman’s “Gentleman,” my partner gave me a questioning look, but I shook my head.

“Sorry, bathroom break,” I shouted over the music, even though I didn’t have to go. With a suggestive roll of my eyes, I jabbed my finger over my shoulder at Pen. He cast his megawatt smile on her and danced against her as I swiftly departed the floor. 

Avoiding our table and the imminent heart-to-heart with Linc in favor of the restroom, I fished my phone from the front of my halter-top. When I saw the message was from Oliver, my hands clenched around my phone for a moment before I slackened my grip.

I waited until I was behind a bathroom stall and sitting on a closed toilet to check the text, feeling my heart hammering in my throat as I read it slowly.

Well after midnight here, and I can’t get you out of my head. Your smell, your taste, and your body—I’m counting down the days until that’s all mine.

Holding my phone close to my chest, I released a tremulous sigh. Just when I made up my mind to put everything about Lizzie out of my head for the night, he had to send me a message and remind me that it was impossible to escape the way he made me feel. And after a day like today, I savored everything about his words. I allowed them to penetrate my veins and warm me before I wrote a reply.

You’re not out tonight? What kind of Bad-Boy-Next-Door are you? Also, I never gave you an answer.

As I waited with, I hated to admit, baited breath, I flushed the unused commode and stepped out to check my appearance in the mirror. Every few seconds, I glanced down at my phone screen. When a new text showed up, I let out a tiny noise from the back of my throat that caught the attention of the woman looking at herself in the mirror next to me.

“You sound whipped,” she pointed out drunkenly and grabbed her cocktail from the quartz countertop, dancing away to the end of the song straining through the bathroom vents.

When I opened Oliver’s text, my breath caught at the photo he shared. It was of the TV in his hotel room, and it was paused on a particularly epic Lagertha and Ragnar scene from the first season of
Vikings
—the show I’d suggested he watch when we had lunch in his office. Below the picture, his message sped up my pulse.

Spent the day in meetings and am too tired to go out, so I started season one. You were right about it. Also, I WILL see you. It’s inevitable.

Inevitable. What a beautiful, tragic word.

Sighing tremulously, I tucked my phone back in its spot in my bra and left the restroom in search of Linc and Pen.

“Happy birthday, Gemma,” I whispered softly to myself.

––––––––

“I
’ll probably be back next month,” Linc told me first thing Monday as he walked to my front door carrying his duffle bag.

Making sure my bathrobe was secured around my body, I slid onto the leather armchair on the other side of the open room and tucked one of my feet under my butt.  “Next month?” I tapped my fingers on my thighs. “Why so soon?”

He rocked forward on the balls of his feet and cast a meaningful look behind me toward the dining room table. If Pen were around this morning, she’d probably have her ass planted in the seat closest to the kitchen entrance, furiously pecking away at her laptop. Except Pen wasn’t around.

“I’m putting a down payment on a Jeep from a private owner in Santa Monica, and I’ll be picking it up then,” he said.

This was the first time he’d said anything about buying a car that would bring him back to L.A., and I bit the inside of my lip until I tasted copper. It was obvious what he was doing, but I wasn’t going to let him know that him being around bothered me. Taking a quick peek down at my phone to see that it was eight fifteen, I saw I had a new text from Margaret—
I need you to stop by my house to pick up the McQueen suit hanging in the laundry room. Be here no later than ten.

Thank
God
. She’d just given me a way to return the court documents to her home office, and my expression was full of relief when I looked at Linc. “We’ll definitely have to do something fun when you come back.”

Sighing heavily, he sagged his shoulders. “Gem ... are you sure there’s nothing up with my sister?”

It was the fourth time he’d asked me that question since Friday night, and it was starting to wear on me. Pen had been out of the apartment most of Saturday and part of yesterday, leaving me to entertain her brother while she did God knew what.

And once again, this morning she was nowhere to be found.

Personally, I was at the point where I was worried, and I never pried into the parts of her life she chose not to tell me about.

Twisting the sash of my white terry cloth robe between my fingers, I swallowed my unease. “She’s been working her ass off. You should be proud of her, not breathing down her neck,” I reprimanded softly.

“I’m very proud of my sister.” He dropped his head back to stare at the ceiling. I watched his Adam’s apple bob a few times before he lowered his attention to me. “But I’m worried about her. I’m also worried about
you
.”

“You shouldn’t.”

Dropping his bag in the foyer, he was in the living room in a matter of seconds, sitting on the ottoman near the armchair. He leaned forward with his forearms on his thighs and glowered at me, openly frustrated. Linc Connelly had the whole law enforcement glare perfected—and with him looking at me like that, all I wanted to do was confess.

Knowing what a disaster coming clean would be, I lifted my chin high, attempting to seem undaunted. “Yes?” I asked icily—my best Margaret Manning-Emerson impersonation.

“Next time, use more Febreze,” he told me loudly.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“The scent of bullshit is all over the place. Between Pen leaving every five seconds and you rushing into the other room every time your phone rings, I’m wondering what’s going on here.”

Gripping the sides of my chair, I straightened my spine. “Pen hacks her company’s software for a living and I’m an escort, Linc.” When he flinched at my wording, I continued, “I don’t know how else to explain it to you without going into details you don’t want to hear.”

Even when I was a phone sex operator—when I would actually get up from the table in the middle of dinner to take a call—I’d always been upfront with Linc and Pen about my job. No point in trying to sugarcoat it now, especially when I needed him to leave so I could get ready for the other job he was clueless I even had.

Shaking his head, he released a laugh overflowing with exasperation. “You two are up to something.” When I started to speak, he jerked his head from side to side. “Dammit, Gemma, I know—”

“Do you want me to ask Pen to go back to Vegas?”

Throwing up his hands, he stood up and crossed his arms over his chest. “She’d fucking kill me for having you ask her, you know that.”

Scrunching my nose, I held my thumb and forefinger a couple centimeters apart. “Maybe just maim you a little.” I tapped the home button on my phone again to illuminate the screen, gritting my teeth when I saw that it was now eight twenty. Luckily, I’d already taken a shower, because I was running out of time and I still needed to get dressed.

Placing the phone face down on the side table, I twisted my lip inquisitively. “Didn’t you tell me last night at dinner you had to be back in Vegas by twelve thirty? You’re cutting it a little close, aren’t you?”

He looked at the time on the cable box several feet away and scrubbed his palm over his face. “Shit, I am,” he muttered.  “Listen, can you tell Pen—whenever she gets in—I had to go?” 

“Of course.” Coming to my feet, I walked over to him, letting him pull me in for a side hug. As he ruffled my damp blond hair, I gave his unkempt beard the stink eye. “You should get rid of that,” I complained, and he stepped away from me wearing a smirk.

“It’s No-Shave-November.”

Snorting, I clutched my robe together. “It’s a good thing I’m not home, then. I’d have to break into your apartment to shear you.”

Walking backward toward the door, he pointed his finger at me. “By the way, Gemma, I still don’t buy half of what you or Pen have told me this weekend.” But regardless of his words, each step lightened the pressure I’d felt the last few days. “Actually, I don’t buy any of it.”

He wouldn’t, and I felt like crap for lying to him, but what the hell was I supposed to say?

Oh, remember that evil beyotch I told you about— the one who was married to my dad? Well, I’m working for her now because your sister hacked me into her company’s security system.

Curling my toes into the paisley-print area rug, I scoffed. “Shouldn’t you be harassing your sister instead?”