8
“I quit!”
Eight weeks in and Piper couldn’t take it anymore. “I swear, if that man makes one more remark about my clothing, I will shove my foot up his ass.”
“You could do that,” Sheila laughed, “and right after, you can go pick up your ticket and hop on the first bus home.” Damn, but the woman knew her fears all too well. Piper groaned and pressed the phone against her ear to keep from throwing it. “Come on, don’t be so dramatic. It can’t be that bad.”
“You don’t know this man,” Piper seethed. “He’s like a plague on my existence. He calls me day and night, night and day; he keeps me out all hours of the night. I’m losing my mind!”
“It’s not like you can’t tell him no. What does he want?”
Piper huffed angrily as she sidestepped a pedestrian who shot her a curious look. Even now, she was on her way to Tate’s apartment. He’d called to ask that she meet him there instead of the coffee shop today, which was completely unnecessary since he changed the venue her second day on the job. Still, he called every morning to remind her.
How thoughtful of him.
So, now she had to make trips to get his coffee before going to his place. His apartment was quickly becoming her second home, considering she hardly spent any time at hers anymore—he always had her running.
“What doesn’t he want? Piper,” she said in a mocking tone, “I need that paper, now! Piper, get me a coffee! Piper,
did you remember to pick up my dry cleaning? Piper, Piper, PIPER!” Breathing deeply, Piper tried desperately to bring her heart rate down before she gave herself a heart attack. “He seems to think that I should be at his beck and call. Did you know that he even insists on me joining him when he goes out? I’m telling you, the man is a thorn in my ass.”
“Doesn’t sound any different from any man I’ve ever been with. Look,” Sheila’s voice took on a mothering quality. Piper listened intently, knowing she was about to receive some sage advice. “I don’t think the problem is so much him asking for everything under the sun, but,” her voice rose to drown out Piper’s cluck of protest. “But, the fact that the two of you already had sex, it’s like doing everything backward. Face it; you’ve got a marriage on your hands.”
“I do not. I don’t!” Piper insisted as she pushed open the heavy door to his complex and rode the elevator to his floor. Shelia laughed heartily, fanning the flames of her righteous anger. “Tate Larson is not marriage material. He is a loathsome, selfish jerk who- Good morning!” she said cheerily.
Tate stood, arms folded, outside his open door watching her as she stepped off the elevator. He gave her a
withering look. Oh shit, had he heard her? Piper swallowed. “Hey, Shelia, I’ll call you later.”
“Is he there?”
“Mmmhmm.” Piper pressed her lips together, that funny feeling in her stomach kicking in again as Tate continued to watch her.
“Does he look as hot as he did at the club that night?” Shelia’s voice trilled in her ear and by the way Tate lifted his eyebrow, she wondered if he could hear her too. “Jesus, I still can’t believe you got to tap that. You get all the luck!”
“Okay, Sheila, I have to—”
“What is he wearing? At least give me that much before you dump me off to continue living out this lonely existence. One daytime fantasy, that’s all I’m asking.”
Piper rolled her eyes. Sheila was a man-eater, but well-meaning and she loved her. It left her wishing she had as close a connection with all of her friends as she did with Shelia, but being lucky enough to call four fantastic women friend at all was more than she could have ever hoped for. She wasn’t about to complain.
Standing back, Piper cocked her head and
boldly let her eyes travel down Tate’s body. As if preparing himself for her inspection, he leaned against the door frame, crossing his feet at the ankles, and waited.
“A white t-shirt,” she began, “and blue jeans.”
“Tattered blue jeans?” Shelia asked eagerly.
“Kind of.” She let her eyes drag over his pants and Tate shifted, the unsure look in his eyes making her want to laugh. It wasn’t every day that Tate Larson got nervous or uncomfortable. She would enjoy toying with this new-found chink in his armor.
“Oh, and what about his hair? Tousled, like he just rolled out of bed, or styled?”
Piper flicked her eyes up again. “It’s pretty messy.” His hair stood out on all ends, like he had spent the morning raking his fingers through it. She fought down the urge to do the same. Disheveled was a good look on him.
Tate’s eyes narrowed slightly.
“Is he watching you?”
Piper chuckled. “Yes.”
“Good. Now look at his arms.” Catching on to her game now, Piper traced a path across his chest and down his arms with her eyes. “Are they all stringy and veiny?”
Her instant reaction was to sneer at the visual picture. “Not at all.” Tate’s eyes narrowed dangerously, then dropped to look down at himself. Clearly, he was smart enough to recognize when two women were sizing him up, and from the one-sided conversation, he came to the conclusion that he was coming up short.
“I know. I remember all that beefy goodness.” Sheila sighed longingly before abruptly switching gears. “Okay, doll, my work here is done. So before my mind falls any deeper into the gutter, I have to get back to work or I’ll never get anything done.”
“Okay, hun, talk to you later.”
“Give our cowboy a smooch for me!”
Piper snorted as she put away her phone. As if. Then again…The memory of their kiss flashed in her mind and Piper flushed. When she looked up it was to find Tate glaring at her and she nearly laughed at the look on his face. He was furious. Hefting her loaded down tote higher on her shoulder, she pasted on a bright smile and headed inside. “Coffee?”
Kicking the door shut behind them, Tate stood frozen as he watched her unload. “What was all that about?”
“What was all what about?” Trying her best to sound innocent, Piper went into the dining room where she usually set up shop and went about spreading her things out on the table.
Tate followed. “Don’t play coy, it doesn’t suit you,” he snapped. He waited a beat, as if choosing his words carefully. “You were talking about me.”
“I was,” Piper said slowly, turning to face him.
“To whom?”
“My friend.” She raised her chin, daring him to get angry. She was preparing for battle. “She wanted to know if you were still as good-looking as you were at the club that night,” she volunteered, knowing he wouldn’t need any further clarification. Their little tryst remained a constant presence between them.
“I see.” He stepped forward and Piper noticed the storm brewing behind his ocean blue eyes. A nerve jumped in his jaw. “And what did you tell her?”
The dark, hungry look he pinned her with made her mouth go dry and her pussy run wet. “I told her…” He stepped closer, invading her space. “That, um…” Piper licked her dry lips and his eyes dropped to follow the movement. “You aren’t.” She watched as his shoulders stiffened and he backed away.
“I’m not,” he deadpanned, watching her for any indication that she was lying.
Drawing herself up, Piper prepared to tell the biggest whopper of her life. “Nope,” she said, popping the word. “Nothing like I remember.”
Actually, that was the truth. The Tate she remembered before she found out his name and that he was a total ass and the Tate she stood before now, was like night and day. The Tate from the club was a smooth, sensual creature that made her insides liquid with a simple touch. His kiss was so passionate, so tender that she still found herself replaying it whenever she was alone.
The Tate that stood before her now was a wretched man. He demanded and ridiculed and even though he was gorgeous to look at, the bottom line was, she couldn’t stand being around him.
He closed in on her, forcing her to tip her head back. “I could make you remember,” he growled. “I could bend you over this table right now and take you from behind. Would you like that?”
Piper’s heart thundered in her ears at his words and she felt herself wavering under the weight of his piercing eyes. The sound of his voice, rich and husky with desire, made her think of sex and the way his fingers felt thrusting inside of her. Her gaze dropped to his hands and just the sight of those long fingers made her ache all over.
“What do you say, Piper? Should I take you here, now?” He grinned devilishly, stepping into her, grazing her arm with his fingertips. “Yes, you want that don’t you, baby? You want to feel me moving inside you again. I bet you’re creaming your panties aren’t you? Should I check? Should I slip my fingers inside and see if you’re wet for me?” he purred, pressing his body against hers until the heat from his skin seared her.
She blinked, and then blinked again. Her body trembled with want, but she refused to allow herself to succumb to his sexual prowess. Once wasn’t enough, not with the way his body seemed to call to hers, but it would have to be. “No. That’s not going to happen.” Backing away, Piper put a safe distance between them, then grabbed a chair and seated herself at the table.
“You’re wearing pants again,” he commented. “I like you in skirts better.
Easy access.”
“Well
, I like pants.” Pulling out her phone, she called up the week’s calendar. “You have an interview today with Nancy Meyers…” As she went over his schedule, Piper couldn’t help noticing the self-satisfied smirk Tate wore as he leaned over her shoulder to grab his coffee. The movement happened to cause the noticeable budge in his pants to rub up against her arm. Piper swallowed thickly and forced herself to focus on her work. Cocky bastard.
*****
It had been an exceedingly long day, so Piper decided to treat herself to a manicure. Seated in the corner of the couch with her knee tucked into her chest, she dragged the brush in long, even strokes across her toenails. The brilliant shade of yellow reminded her of the suns she used to draw in the corner of her pictures as a child. It radiated warmth, vibrancy and cheer, and she imagined them lending her the same effect as the paint dried and adhered to the tiny nails.
Just as she finished putting on the last of the second coat, the phone rang. Capping the bottle, Piper waddled across the room to answer it.
“Hello?”
“I need you to come over,” Tate said matter of fact.
Piper scowled. “Didn’t anyone ever teach you proper etiquette? A please would be nice.”
There was a long pause, in which Piper could almost picture Tate grinding his teeth in irritation. Good, she hoped he broke them all in the process. “
Please
,” he muttered finally.
“Sorry, can’t. I’m busy,” she said with a smile.
“Then get un-busy.”
“It’s almost eleven, Tate. I’m off the clock. Whatever it is, I’m sure it can wait until morning,” she said, beginning to lose her patience. Tate seemed determined to make her job her life, and that just wasn’t going to happen.
“It can’t wait,” he insisted, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “Stop being a pain and just come over, alright?”
Piper closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration. “Explain to me what is so important that you need me to come all the way over there at this time of night and then
maybe
I’ll consider it.”
“Explain to me what you’re so busy doing that you have to consider it.”
“Tate,” Piper said in warning.
“I just need you to come over, now. I’ll explain when you get here.”