Wicked Heart (Starcrossed #3)(41)

She gives him a formal nod. “Love of my life. Hello.”

He looks at me, then back to her. “What are you doing in here?”

“Chatting. Bragging about you. Torturing Elissa. You know, the usual. I’m trying to convince her to have dinner with us.” She stands and goes over to him. “Please tell her there’s no use resisting. She seems to think she has a choice in the matter.”

Before he can say anything, Angel’s phone rings. She looks at it, then at me. “I have to take this. Be right back. Liam, give her your puppy-dog eyes and tell her she needs to join us.” She swipes her phone. “Daddy! How are you?”

She takes the call out into the hallway, leaving Liam and me staring awkwardly at each other. He glances away and shoves his hands in his pockets. This is how he’s been all week. He avoids looking at me whenever possible, and goes through Josh for questions and notes to avoid addressing me directly. Probably for the best. I seem to have a Best of Liam Quinn pornographic show reel on standby in my brain, and whenever we’re alone together, it starts playing.

“Insistent little thing, isn’t she?” I say, and smooth back the wisps of hair that have escaped my ponytail. True to form, images of him and me making love flash through my brain. I try to keep my expression neutral as my body tingles with the phantom graze of his hands.

As for Liam, I have no idea what’s going through his mind, but the way he’s looking at me isn’t helping. After a few seconds, he breaks eye contact to stare at the floor.

“Angel likes you. So you should just agree to come to dinner and be done with it. Lord knows, I haven’t yet found a way to win an argument with her.”

I look down and shuffle some papers in front of me. “Angel and I can just go by ourselves. You don’t have to come.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I see him focus on me again. “What if I want to come?”

“You don’t have to feel obligated to spend time with me just because your fiancée likes my company.” I chance a look at his face. He’s frowning. “Things between you and me haven’t been exactly friendly for the past week.”

“I hadn’t meant to avoid you, but—” He exhales. “Being around you again is . . . complicated. Plus, I know you aren’t exactly thrilled to have me on the show. I was trying to give you space.”

“I’m your stage manager. It’s not like you can get away from me.”

“I don’t want to get away from you. That’s the problem.”

I stiffen. “What does that mean?”

He stares at me for a few seconds before taking a step forward. “It means having you and Angel in the same room is all kinds of fucked up, but I don’t want it to be. I’d like to be able to spend time with you without all this weirdness.”

He’s so close now, I have to tilt my head to see his face. Images of him with his hand in my panties loops through my brain. “So, what? After all this time, you want to be friends?”

He blinks a few times. “Yeah. Sure. Friends. Dinner might be a step in the right direction.”

“Friends” is one of those terms that seems benign but has a whole host of barbed-wire boundaries. Once you’ve made love to someone with so much passion that his name is branded on all your cells, is it possible to ever think of him as just a friend? Or is the heat of an old flame always going to lie dormant, just waiting to consume you again?

“Elissa?” When I look up, he gives me a pleading look. “To borrow a phrase from the night we met, I’d love for you to come. Please, don’t make me beg.”

I shake my head and sigh. There’s no way we’ll ever be friends. I think he knows it as well as I do. But for Angel’s sake, it looks like we’re both willing to try.

“Fine. I can’t guarantee it won’t be weird, but sure. Why not?”

“Thank you.” He pauses for a moment, as if unsure of what to say next. “Liss . . .” When I look up at him, his expression fades into an echo of what I used to see when he looked at me. A quiet desperation. His gaze rakes over me with the sort of raw need that makes me feel like the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen, which is ridiculous considering whom he’s marrying. “You have to know that . . .”

“What?”

Just when I think the intensity in his expression is going to make me combust, Angel strides back into the room. “So, did you seal the deal? Is she coming?”

Not yet, but if your boyfriend keeps looking at me like that, it’s a real possibility.

“I’ll be there,” I say, and step back to tidy my already neat files.

“Yes!” Angel says, and beams. “Eight o’clock. Dress up and wear sexy shoes. There’s a dance floor.”

She grabs Liam’s arm before waving good-bye. I can see tension in Liam’s shoulders as they exit my office and disappear down the hallway.

I sit and lean back in my chair.

Not only do I have to get through dinner with Mr. and Mrs. Perfect, I have to put on makeup and be expected to dance. Oh, and show up with the boyfriend I don’t have. This has disaster written all over it.


As we walk into the elevator that leads up to Lumiere, I slap Josh’s hand away from his tie. “You look great. Stop fiddling.”

He slides a finger into his collar and pulls. “Remind me why I’m here again?”