You've Got Fail(29)

“Hannah? Dammit!” I shoved my phone into my bag.

“Scarlet, what’s wrong?”

“I can’t talk about it.” I crossed my arms over my chest and willed the elevator to speed the hell up.

“It sounds like you’re in some kind of trouble.” He stepped closer and put his hands on my shoulders. “What can I do?”

The elevator doors opened, and I dashed out.

Willis’s voice thundered around me. “Gene, get her a cab.”

“Yes, sir.” Gene stepped out the front door, his hand already held high.

“I’m coming with you.” Willis stayed by my side.

I whirled. “No.”

“I want to help.” His earnest blue eyes reminded me why I should get far away from him. He was a sweet, sexy nerd who deserved better than a con artist, especially since I was working a long con on him.

“You can’t. This is between me and my sister.”

“And some guy named Pauly.” He dogged my heels as I darted out the front door.

“Yes.”

“Just let me come with you.” He grabbed my elbow as a cab pulled up to the curb.

I shook him off. “You’re sweet, Sparky. But you’re out of your depth here.” I couldn’t look him in the eye, so I dropped my gaze to the sidewalk. “And you aren’t wearing shoes.”

“I can get some.” He tilted my chin up. “Let me help you.”

“I can’t.”

“You can.” He lowered his eyebrows, his stubbornness seeking to overcome my own. But I couldn’t let him get any closer than he already was. It would only end in more trouble for him.

“No.” I stepped back and ducked into the waiting cab. “See you next weekend.” Closing the door, I gave the cabbie my address and prayed I wouldn’t arrive too late.





11





Willis





I plopped down in front of my laptop and dropped my head into my hands. She’d been right there, on my bed, ready to go. The rage I’d felt for her ringing phone resurfaced, and I gave my own cell a dirty look.

But that wasn’t even the worst part. No, the worst part was when she refused to let me help. She didn’t even confide in me what the issue was. Obviously, it had something to do with her sister and Pauly. His name alone sounded shady enough. What could they possibly be mixed up in?

I sat back and thought about jerking out my aggressions. The thought of her spread and ready for me would be more than enough of a mental image to send my ship sailing time and again. But I was too bothered by her refusing my help. And she was in trouble. I rose and paced around my apartment, trying to figure out what the hell I was feeling besides straight-up worry.

An idea skittered across my mind—I could go to her apartment building and…and… What? Hold up a boombox outside and hope she looks out her window? Besides, I didn’t know where she lived. Not really. Damnit. I had no way to get to her.

Despite the fact that I shouldn’t want her, I couldn’t help myself. I was more than willing to risk the professional relationship to get to know her. Which was dumb. This must have been my dick thinking. That had to be it. Maybe she was right, and I needed to back off. Try the “just business” routine again. See if I could stand it for more than thirty seconds this time.

Again, I sat in front of my computer and fidgeted in my comfy chair until I was in “the spot.” Work. I needed to keep my eye on the prize and remember that I was working toward a New York Times bestseller, a blog that brought in major advertising dollars, and future book advances with lots of digits.

I rolled my shoulders and clicked over to my blog. People had posted photos of Scarlet from the previous night, and she looked fantastic. A really nice photo of her had garnered over five-hundred comments. It was from our entrance into the theater. She smiled, her familiar mischief shining in her eyes. I stood at her side, a strained smile on my face while I blinked at just the right moment. Great.

The commentary was entirely complimentary toward Scarlet, and I ignored the light-hearted jokes at my expense. At least they said the “mystery man” was handsome despite the closed eyes and odd expression.

I needed to respond, to thank them for the encouraging words and then get down to business.

It occurred to me that this would be the first time I fulfilled the charade by pretending to be the living, breathing Scarlet. Was it lying? Scarlet’s words came back to me, accusing me of running game right along with her. Maybe it was, but I was too deep in it to go back now. I typed a quick thank you to everyone for the compliments and sent it. Then I flicked over to my forum of questions that was bursting with over one-hundred since I’d logged in the previous day. The ladies were chatty, and it was my job to respond. Work—I needed to get to work and stop thinking about Scarlet’s personal trouble. My fingers hesitated over the keys as my thoughts flitted back to the worried notes of her voice as she ran out on me this morning.

“Ugh.” I leaned back and stabbed my fingers through my hair. She was driving me crazy. I couldn’t even concentrate on the words on the screen. The need to go to her made my palms itch. But there was no way I could. She was just as much a mystery to me then as she was the very first day we met.

I grabbed my phone and tried to think of someone to call for help. My lock screen wallpaper—a movie poster from Aliens Versus Vampires VI—appeared, and an idea hit me right in the mouth. I unlocked the phone and clicked on my messages. The top one, sent last night, was from Jason.