And I see the truth in his eyes. “You don’t talk about this.”
“No.”
“But you did to me.”
“Yes. Now ask me why.”
“Why?”
“Someone has to go first.”
It is what he said to me on the plane. It is his offering of trust, and I
know I was right.
There is something happening between us, something I may never
experience again, and ironically that means lying. Now, this moment, is my
chance to tell him Amy Bensen’s story. To make sure he doesn’t dig around
to find out on his own.
I open my mouth to relay my fake life per my Amy Bensen file, and
snap it shut with a stunning realization. My story is Liam’s story. Her father
ran out on her when she was a kid and her mother died of cancer. How can
this be? It’s impossible. I am not telling this lie to Liam. I can’t. I won’t.
“I need to go to the ladies’ room,” I say, and I do not wait for his
reply. I scoot out of the booth and take my purse with me, but Liam is out
the other side and standing in front of me, and I see the worry in his eyes.
It’s like he senses my instinct to bolt. He thinks I’m running away, and I
am—but not from him. From the me I don’t even recognize as me.
“Amy—”
I lean into him and press to my toes, brushing my lips over his. “I still
want to lick your tattoo. Remember?”
But he doesn’t laugh. He leans back and gives me an intense look.
“Hurry back and let’s get out of here.”
“Yes. I’d like that.”
His hands slowly ease from my waist where they have settled,
reluctantly it seems, and I like that he does not want to let me go. And I do
not want him to either, but I have to find a way to make this work.
I rush away from Liam, and the waitress directs me to the bathroom,
a fancy three-stall room with mirrors on the door, and I rush inside the
farthest one and lock myself inside. All too soon, I am back where I was two
nights ago, leaning on a bathroom stall and fretting. But this time Liam has
found me and I do not want to lose him or put him in danger. I tell myself
lies protect him and I should embrace them and him while he is in Denver.
But deep down I feel this man inside me and I do not want to limit our
possibilities. He knows I’m running and if I really want to be with him, I
have to ensure he does not dig into my background. If I don’t give him
something, he might go look on his own.
The air shifts in the bathroom and I push off the wall. I didn’t hear
the door open but I hadn’t heard it at the museum either. My hand goes to
my throat and I do not dare breathe. I listen and I do not hear anything.
Wait. Do I? Time seems to stand still and I can’t seem to make myself move.
What if I go outside the stall and there is another note? What if I have to
run?
The cell phone in my purse starts to ring and I jerk at the sound. It’s
Liam. Of course, it’s Liam. He is the only one who has my number. How long
have I been standing here? I shake myself and open the stall, steeling
myself for whatever I find outside. Eager to just know what waits on me, I
rush forward and stop dead in my tracks as I bring the sinks into view.
“Meg? What are you doing here?”
She whirls around from where she stands at the sink primping her
long blond hair to lie on her shoulders, a contrast to her short red dress.
“Oh my gosh. Amy! What are you doing here?”
“I…” My phone starts ringing again.
“Oh good.” She lights up. “You got your phone working. I can’t
believe we’re both here.”
“I…yes. Very small world.”
“That’s what I love about this little area of Cherry Creek. You can live,
eat, shop, and play here and get to know everyone like it’s a small town.
Only we have Chanel and Gucci in this small town. We’re the high-society
chicks. Well, not that I can afford that kind of thing, but maybe I’ll find me a
sugar daddy.”
I cringe considering Liam and his billionaire status and think that
while her comment is playful, he must deal with real-life money chasers.
“Are you on a date?”
“My boss brought me. And he’s certainly a hot property himself.
What about you?”
“Yes. A date. Who I should get back to.”
She grabs her purse and pulls out her phone. “Let me grab your
number before we forget.”
I can’t get out of this. Dang it. I remove my phone from my purse and
glance at the numbers on the screen and my throat goes dry. One is from
Liam. The other is unknown.
Chapter Twelve
I stare at the unknown number and my mind races. It could be a
wrong number. It has to be. No one has this number but Liam and my
handler has never called me. That’s not true, I remind myself and my mind
flashes back.
The phone is ringing and I jerk to a sitting position. There is no one
left to call me. No one I love. It has to be one of them. Someone is alive. This
is all a mistake. I grab the headset and my hand shakes so hard I all but
drop the receiver. “Dad?”
“Listen and listen quickly, Amy,” a stranger says. “They are coming for
you. Get up and get dressed and get the hell to the back door of the
hospital. I’ll be in a cab waiting for you.”
“What? Who are you?”
“There isn’t time. Get the hell out of the fucking bed. Now!”
“Okay, ready,” Meg announces. “What’s the number?”
I blink through spots, and damn it, my eyes are prickling and my
forehead pinching. Meg waves her phone in front of me. “I’ll type it in my
phone so I can’t lose it.”
“Right,” I croak and try to smile, though I imagine I look like I just
swallowed a rock the lump in my throat is so big. Somehow, I lift my phone
and punch in the screen to see my number, then read it to her.
“Perfect,” she declares, and if she notices I’m rattled, she doesn’t
show it. “I’ll call you tomorrow and we’ll make a date.”
“Great. Yes.”
She heads towards the door and I follow her into the hallway, where
she has halted, a stunned look on her face. And I know why. Liam is leaning
on the wall, looking to her, I am sure, like some sort of magazine model or
romance hero who has miraculously popped off the pages of a novel. His
eyes meet mine and I feel the connection inside and out, radiating. To me,
Liam is what he has seemed since our plane ride. Salve on an open, aching
wound.
He pushes off the wall the instant he sees me and pulls me to him. “I
was worried about you.”
“He’s with you?” Meg asks from behind me, and there is no missing
the shock etched in her voice. I refuse to read into it.
Liam answers for me. “Yes. I’m with her.”
Meg whistles and I turn in Liam’s arms, comforted by the way his
hand settles on my stomach and pulls my back to his chest. “Amy, honey,”
Meg declares, “I need to know where you shop. I’ll call you tomorrow.” She
darts down the hallway and I stare after her, fighting the urge to follo
w her
to ask her boss about my new boss, unsure I am steady enough to even try.
“She’ll call you tomorrow?” Liam asks, and I turn to him.
“She’s the secretary at the leasing office. She wants to do coffee or
drinks.” My hand settles on the hard wall of his chest and warmth travels
up my arms and over my chest and shoulders.
“Then why do you look like you saw a ghost?”
I laugh but it sounds choked. “I guess ghosts are like lies. They swim
like sharks all around me.” What was intended as a joke holds so much
truth that I am shocked I have allowed such a telling statement to fall from
my lips. I am even more shocked that I cannot seem to regret it.
He studies me, his eyes probing, and I sense he wants to ask
questions, but he doesn’t.
Damn it, he doesn’t and I want him to ask, just as I want to answer.
“Sharks only have the power you give them, baby. Own them. Don’t ever
let them own you. And they’ll have to fight me to get to you anyway.”
Suddenly, I am swimming in one part fantasy, one part wicked, hot
desire. His declaration checks every box on my fairy tale desire list and
strokes my need for him to a full on fire. And while his words might be pure
seduction, I choose to grant them the possibility. I choose the fantasy. The
escape he has proven he can be for me in a way no one else ever has been.
He leans in and pressed his mouth to my ear. “I’m going to take you
to my room now, and fuck you until neither of us can walk anymore.” He
eases back, searching my face for a reaction, his blue eyes blazing hot
through the dim lighting of the hallway. “Any objections?”
“No,” I whisper, and am shocked at how unabashedly I reply to his
wicked declaration.
“No objections whatsoever.” Not only do I want this man, I have no
doubt, for at least tonight, he can make me forget the phone call. He can
make me forget everything but him.
“Then let’s get out of here.” He caresses a path down my arms,
raising goose bumps on my arms and I am anything but cold. In fact, the
only time I am not cold is in this man’s presence. His fingers lace with mine,
and as he leads me forward, this intimate act of hand-holding that is
becoming familiar, creates a burn in my chest and a moment of fear. I could
get used to this. I could get used to him in my life, by my side.
Entering the main dining room, I am momentarily jerked back into
the world where he is not all there is and where the ghosts that swim like
sharks at my feet, and in my head, live. I scan for Meg and her boss, but I do
not see her, or him. Relief washes over me. I do not want to think of
anything right now but Liam’s wicked promise.
***
The walk to the hotel is silent. We don’t have to speak. The air
between us is both electric and soothing, a contrast that speaks to my soul.
This is what I need. He is what I need. I refuse to let anything else in. I will
not melt down in a haze of pain and heartache, or fear over a phone call. I
can worry about that tomorrow. Locked in Liam’s room I am safe, and in his
arms my escape will be complete.
And when we approach the entrance of the hotel, I do not even
make a pretense of my mockery of a story about fearing how I will look to
the hotel staff. Maybe I should care for other reasons. Maybe I should fear
being noticed, and with Liam, it is impossible not to be noticed, but I do
not. I am with Liam and I will not be any other way in this moment of time.
“Mr. Stone,” the doorman greets Liam with a nod.
Liam inclines his chin at the man and I find myself drinking in his
profile, so strong, so confident, and I envy him, this man who knew what he
wanted to be in life and made it happen.
This man who knows where he has been and who he is. I know
nothing of me, not even where I have really, truly been and why I am here.
Why I exist. Why I breathe. We are not alike, as I had kidded in the
restaurant. We are so different that we are top and bottom, night and day,
but when I am in his arms, I do not have to face these things or myself.
The short path through the lobby to the elevator feels eternal, and I
am unusually frustrated when the doors to the car open and we have to
wait for someone else to exit. Liam seems to mimic my urgency, pulling me
into the car before I can walk in myself, and then pressing me toward the
wall by the keypad, his big body framing mine.
My hands go to his chest and heat darts up my arms and across my
chest. Liam slides a card into an elevator slot, directing us to the penthouse
level, then flattens a hand on the wall above my head. Our eyes connect
and I feel it clear to my toes, in every part of me. Still we do not speak, as if
we are both afraid the spell will be broken and we will be back to goodbye.
The doors ding open and he drags his hand down my arm, and laces
my fingers with his, tugging me along again as if he fears I will change my
mind. After my flip-flopping from no to yes, I don’t blame him, but that is
over. I crave the hot, dominant way I know he will take me away. I want to
be here, to be with him.
A quick swipe of his keycard and the door is open, and he flips the
light on. Liam tugs me inside and I smile as we step toe to toe, his hands on
my shoulders. “Any second thoughts?” he challenges.
“About how this night started, yes. About now, none.”
“Do you want to talk about how it started?”
“Do we have to?”
“No.” He takes my hand. “We don’t have to talk about it.”
A charge sparks in the air and he starts backing down the hallway and
I willingly follow until the sound of my phone ringing freezes me in place.
Urgency is like lightening in my blood, my future hanging on the
unanswered line. “I have to get this.” I tug my hand from Liam’s and grab
my purse from my shoulder, unzipping it with an obvious shake to my hand
that Liam isn’t going to miss.
Aware that I am unsteady, a mix of champagne and panic, I lean
against the wall and stare down at the unknown number. Quickly, I punch
the “answer” button before I miss the call again, and I swear my heart is
about to explode through my throat as I croak, “Hello.”
“Ms. Bensen?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, good,” a slightly familiar male voice proclaims. “This is Scott
from the cell phone store. You left your driver’s license here. We close in an
hour if you want to swing by.”
Relief washes through me and nervous laughter, once again, bubbles
from my lips.
“Thank you. I’ll come by tomorrow and get it.”
“I’ll hold it at the register and keep it safe. Goodnight.”
“Thank you again. Goodnight.” I end the call and Liam takes my
phone and shoves it back into my purse before setting it on the ground and
the look in his eyes says I’m in for another game of dodgeball I do not want
to play.
“I left my ID in the store.” I lean forward and wrap my arms around
Liam’s neck and mold my upper body to his. Warmth spreads from every
plac
e we are touching to every place we are not. “Where were we?”
His hand splays between my shoulder blades, a hot branding I
welcome, but the warning that follows is ice dousing the fire. “You aren’t
going to pretend what just happened didn’t happen. Just like you aren’t
going to tell me you didn’t walk into the bathroom at the restaurant
running from me and then exit running from someone, or something, else.
And I’m not buying it was Meg.”
“New places make me nervous.” I press my lips to his.
His hand tangles in my hair and gently pulls my head back, forcing my
gaze to his, and his eyes are as hard as his voice as he orders, “Don’t give
me that kind of answer. Raw and honest, Amy. That’s what we are or we
are nothing at all.” He presses me against the wall, caging me with his arms,
pinning me in a stare. “Tell me who is scaring you and I promise you, Amy, I
will make them go away.”
If only it were that easy. If only he could be my Prince Charming, my
hero. But the truth he wants is that I’m a reality show kind of gal. And in
reality, heroes die, just like everyone else in my life. I grab his shirt and lean
into him. “What happened to you fucking me until we can’t walk anymore?
That’s what tonight is supposed to be. Not you making me one of
your mathematical equations you have to crack. I don’t want to be cracked,
Liam. I don’t want to answer questions. I want to be fucked.” I barely
recognize the woman who can say such a thing and that only twists me into
a few more knots. I am sick of not knowing. “You promised. You said you
were—”
I yelp in surprise as he picks me up and starts walking. “What are you
doing?”
“No more questions, remember?”
Blood rushes to my ears, and I do not even try to see the room
around me but I am aware it’s a fancy sitting area that is nothing more than
a means to an end. The bedroom. Sex. We are going to have sex. That’s
what I asked for. That’s what I dared to demand. Actually, I demanded I be
fucked. Until last night, I didn’t say that word. This man is changing me and
I am not sure if that is good or bad. It feels good. He feels good, but maybe
too good. I cannot even willingly lie to the man when lying is how I survive.
He is making me careless. He is making me…so much.