Cheater (Curious Liaisons, #1)(6)

Or the girl responsible for it?

“Are you going to answer that?” Avery was back in my office, cheeks flushed as she pointed at my phone. “It’s literally been ringing for the past five minutes.”

“Exaggeration. It would have gone to voice mail,” I said in a bored voice. “Now, why don’t you go do a coffee run?”

She frowned. I could tell she wanted to argue, but I was her boss, so I pointed to the door and waited for her to leave.

With a long sigh, she turned around and left, only to then walk backward toward my office and call over her shoulder, “Still drink macchiatos?”

“Yeah.” I was too surprised that she’d remembered to elaborate.

She gave a quick nod and started walking out the door again, only to come back, still refusing to make eye contact, and hold out her hand.

“Cash.” She coughed. “Remember? Almost homeless? Starving?”

“You never said ‘homeless.’”

“I have to survive off my severance for the next few weeks. That includes rent, food, and any sort of transportation to the office.”

I dug into my pocket and pulled out a hundred. “Then keep the change.”

She hesitated, staring at Benjamin Franklin’s face like the money was a moral dilemma rather than me just doing something nice, as her boss, as her ex-friend.

“Nope.” She licked her lips. “I’ll bring back your bribe money. Don’t worry. I’ll count your change to the very cent. In fact, I should ask for nothing but pennies.”

I drowned out her incessant chatter and grabbed my phone.

Jess had called twice.

Damn, they always had regrets.

I quickly texted her to say she had done the right thing. Hell, I had every woman pegged. Like I was a freaking mind reader.

She didn’t miss me.

She missed the idea of me.



Jess: I didn’t realize how lonely being alone was. How do I even start dating again after you?



Me: It’s natural to be nervous. Why don’t you try happy hour and see how that goes? You’re a great woman.



Just not my woman.

After sending the text, I followed up with another text saying lamely that I had to go to a meeting and was running late.

I didn’t and I wasn’t.

But she didn’t know that.

In fact, other than reading the marketing reports from each school we’d just done outreach with, I had shit to do until Monday.

But it was Friday.

And I no longer had a girl to take home.

Or a girl to go home to.

Jess had loved cooking, so every Friday night I’d go to her house. We’d eat, drink, have amazing sex, and I’d leave in the middle of the night. It worked perfectly.

Except now—now I was irritated.

Because I needed sex.

Like some men needed water.

It was what I did when I felt nervous—actually, it was what I did when I felt anything—sex was my yoga.

And now I had nothing.

I tapped my pen against the report I’d been reading.

Ten minutes later I was still tapping, still staring at the same page, when Avery came bustling back into my office like a bat out of hell. Damn, the woman had too much energy.

I was torn between wanting to put a sleeping pill in her coffee or watch her turn in circles until she tuckered herself out.

“Here.” She shoved a cup in my face and then dropped the change onto my desk. “I got myself something too for my efforts. Is there anything else, or do you want me to work on the project list I was given?”

Oh shit. I’d been staring at her lips, and I totally spaced what she’d just asked me.

“Do I need to talk slower?” With an irritated frown, she spoke with care, enunciating every word as though speaking a foreign language. “It’s not really my thing, but if you’d rather I make smoke signals from my desk or learn sign language, I think I can manage.”

“You know, for someone who’s trying to get a good review from a VP, you’re not really starting off on the right foot. ‘Professional,’ remember?”

Her expression fell.

“That’s what I thought.” I smirked. “And sorry, but I had someone”—I searched for the word—“quit on me this morning, and it’s put me in a bit of a bind.”

“Who?” She tilted her head and took a sip of her giant coffee. “Did they do something important?”

“Very”—I tugged the collar of my shirt as she sucked in her bottom lip—“important.”

“Well, maybe I can help. And I mean that in a strictly ‘I’ll take on more work if you pay me more’ way, not an ‘I want to dig you out of the hole you’re in because I’m a nice person and I remember the way you used to hold my hand when we went to the fair’ way.”

“You were scared of Ferris wheels. It was the least I could do.”

Her blush ran from her cheeks all the way down her neck. “They’re . . . tall.”

“I’m tall. Are you afraid of me?” I leaned forward, placing my hands flat against my desk, ready to pounce.

She paused, and then a loud “Nope!” came out of those pink lips before she leaned forward. “Now, do you need my help?”