Sweet Liar (Dirty Sweet, #1)(2)

“You spent the entire dinner pining after her. Pining, Weston King. Surely pining is a sign of love.” I turned to the audience member that I knew would be on my side.

“Yes, indeed,” Audrey nodded, with a bob of her head that was somehow both girlish and sexy as hell. “Pining is Love 101. If a girl came to me and said the guy had told her he was pining after her? That’s like popping the question.”

“Exactly like,” I said straight-faced. I was being sarcastic, of course, but the girl did make me want to smile.

Among other things.

I stretched my arm across the back of the seat bench, casually, making myself comfortable. Not making a move. No, not that.

“I am not in love with Eliza—”

“And on top of your pining…” I said, speaking loudly over Weston. His denial, which he was surely about to deliver in full, was infuriating and, frankly, patronizing, and I refused to listen to more than a second of it. “We have Donovan, who declares a relationship with a woman on a public street, for crying out loud, in front of his partners. I thought for sure that man, of all of you, had reason.” He must have forgotten how miserable he’d been the last time he’d given his heart, albeit ten years ago.

Soon enough, he’d remember.

“And then we have Nate,” I continued. A man of varied sexual pleasures and interests, Nathan Sinclair had been another fly I’d never expected to drop. “When I’d had drinks with the man last night, he was talking about one particular woman like she hung the moon. Soon it will just be me and Cade.”

I leaned closer toward Audrey, since she probably didn’t know anything about our fifth partner who headed the Tokyo office. “No one will ever love Cade, even if he goes pansy on us. That’s a man that even a mother wouldn’t love. He’s one of my best friends. I ought to know.”

Weston harrumphed from the front seat, completely indignant, but I noted a hint of optimism, as though he hoped I were right about his future, and that he’d be leaving the bachelor life for good.

He really had gone bananas over that Dyson girl. Poor sucker.

I stole another glance at Audrey, curious at how badly I’d offended her with my speech, love-cheerleader that she was.

But when I turned in her direction, I hadn’t expected that she’d already be staring at me. The flush in her round cheeks as she looked quickly away sent a jolt to my todger.

I should have been ashamed of myself.

But I wasn’t.

She was a very attractive young lady. I couldn’t help how my body reacted. I’d been respectful. For the most part.

“This is me,” Weston said, pointing out the window to his building.

My driver pulled over next to a large bank of snow. To be fair, the entire street was banked with snow, lingering from the storm the day before.

“Guess I’m going snowshoeing,” Weston said with a sigh. He stepped out of the car and immediately cursed, the door slamming before I could make out the full extent of his blaspheme.

I leaned over Audrey, and not just because I wanted to smell the rose bouquet in her perfume, but so that I could roll the window down and call after my partner.

“Have a good Thanksgiving,” I said, “if I don’t see you again before the holiday.” He was flying off somewhere later in the week—Utah or Kansas—the United States Midwest was always a blur to this Hampshire native.

“You too, friend. It was good seeing you. If even briefly. And nice meeting you, Audrey.” He turned, stepping into the snow. “Fuck. These were a brand-new pair of Giacomettis.”

“You can put them out with the rubbish, along with your balls. Since you’re obviously not using them anymore.” I rolled up the window before he could throw back a dig of his own, but he got me with a simple flip of the bird.

I sat back in my seat, accidentally grazing my hand along Audrey’s bare knee.

Perhaps, not so accidentally, but I played it perfectly—the shocked drawback from the touch and an immediate apology, stammering so that she would indeed believe that the brush was innocent. With all the predators these days, I certainly didn’t want to be confused for one.

Or at least I wanted to be my own breed of predator. The kind that knew when to behave. Though the shock of the touch had sent fire through my blood, it wouldn’t be followed up with any pouncing.

We drove in silence for several minutes, a thick silence. Too thick. Too heavy, making the car hot and stuffy and tense.

I loosened my tie and stole another glance in her direction. She seemed to be lost in her own thoughts. Had I offended her after all with my touch?

Then I remembered the conversation from before Weston exited the car. That was more likely the cause of any hard feelings.

Normally, I would brush the whole thing off. Let her be offended. I wasn’t changing my stance on romance to please her.

The tension between us, though, wouldn’t dissipate. It seemed filled with more than just the words of what I had said. It was growing and breathing, and I felt the need to claw through it, the way you claw through bedsheets when they’ve twisted around you during a nightmare.

“You’ve been quiet,” I said. Obvious. To the point. “Have I rained on your love parade?”

She twisted her head in my direction, her eyes catching a reflection of a streetlight making them spark in the darkness.