Cheater (Curious Liaisons #1)(13)

I hunched my shoulders and followed him into the building.

We were the only two people on the elevator.

Which was really unfortunate, but what would I have expected on a Saturday morning?

The annoying classical elevator music just made everything that much more irritating, grating on my already-frazzled nerves.

“Who were you talking to?” he asked without looking directly at me.

I licked my lips. “My boyfriend.”

He froze. “Your boyfriend?”

It was a total lie, but I couldn’t just say I was talking to the ex-fiancée he’d cheated on, now, could I?

“Yup . . . C-Carl.” Oh good, a stutter—that was new. Thanks, Thorn, for adding that to my already awesome conversational prowess.

“C-Carl?” He smirked. “With two Cs”?

“Laugh it up, jackass.” I shrugged. “He’s a . . . professional, um, dancer.”

“So you’re dating a male stripper?”

Of course, that would be the exact moment when the elevator doors opened and two nice elderly ladies with cute purses and tight chignons stepped on.

The company employed a lot of teachers to help with the online tutoring, and I was sure, by the horrified looks on their faces, the two ladies taught first grade and were just itching to red card me.

Not like I hadn’t spent most of my elementary-school days having my yellow card replaced with a red one for speaking out of turn.

“Good morning,” I said in my most cheerful voice.

They ignored me.

Lucas covered a laugh with a cough behind his hand. I raised my foot and stomped down on his nice shoes.

He bit out a curse, causing the two ladies to stiffen.

“Language, Thorn,” I said in a serious tone just as the chime announced a stop and the doors slid open.

“Bite me, Avery.”

A gasp was heard, and then both old ladies scurried off the elevator, nearly colliding with one of the company mail clerks. The doors closed and we were alone again.

“All in all, a really solid start to my Saturday. Why are we here again? I thought interns only work Monday through Friday.”

“Impromptu meeting.”

“Gee, I hope that doesn’t throw off your Saturday plans.”

Lucas’s lips twisted into a seductive smile. “My Saturday is a very patient woman . . .”

I took two sips of coffee, then a third. The elevator doors opened again. “Who’s your Saturday?”

Ugh, I hated that I was curious by nature.

“Funny you should ask.” He led the way to his office, set his briefcase on his desk, then pulled out a stack of papers and held them out to me.

On the first page was Monday, or Molly.

She had a short pixie haircut that looked killer on her, and with tattoos down her arms and a nose ring—well, she so did not look like a Molly to me, but she was absolutely stunning. Her tattoos added to her beauty, and her smile was wide. She looked normal, too good for him. The bastard.

I turned to the next page. Tuesday, or Tabatha and Cary. “Wait.” I frowned. “Why two girls?”

Lucas glanced over my shoulder. His breath, which unfortunately didn’t smell like an old man’s, kissed the top of my neck. “They’re roommates.”

I took a few soothing breaths. “And they’re okay with this?” I seriously wanted to rip up the paper, set it on fire, and shove it down his pants. What a complete ass!

Lucas’s voice was calm, gentle. I dared not look at him. “They’re flight attendants, they travel a lot, and neither can seem to find time to date regularly. The arrangement works for them because it’s convenient.”

I snorted. “What? So you screw them, and they say thank you?”

“No. Actually, we don’t have sex every time. If you must know, sometimes they just want to relax and hang out, so I make them dinner, rub their feet, and sometimes just please them.”

Had it just gotten really hot in that office?

My face heated to a painful degree. “You . . . please them.”

“Why is that so hard to believe?” He walked around me. I chose to stare down at the paper so I wouldn’t look at his gorgeous hazel eyes.

“It’s just—” Both girls had brown ombré-style hair coloring and seemed to love pink lipstick. “I thought it was all about sex, that’s all.”

“Believe me, pleasing them pleases me.” His voice was gruff. “And in the end, they want to make me happy in bed because of it.”

I took a cautious step back and quickly glanced at the next page. “Wednesday looks . . . way too normal.”

He laughed. “Chelsea’s a teacher.”

I almost dropped the stack of papers again. “But that’s so . . .”

“What?” He placed his hand on the paper and lowered it so I had no choice but to look at him. “Normal?”

“I was going to say typical, that you’d sleep with the help.” I grinned wide. “Let me guess, she works here?”

“No, she works at the low-income school down the road, earns below the poverty line, and volunteers at a soup kitchen every Saturday.”

Well then. Who was the ass now? “Sorry.” It literally hurt my body to apologize to the man.

“You didn’t know.”