Misadventures with My Ex Page 12

  “Yep. I verified that when I had dinner with her last night. She’ll be flying in on Tuesday. But she knows something is up. She’s got eyes and ears everywhere. She’s well aware you haven’t kept your usual hours at the office this week. She also knows you haven’t been out partying and hooking up. She’s determined to find out what you’re doing.”

  My guts seize. So I have three days—maybe four—to repair my relationship with Eryn and figure out how I’ll prevent my mother and her greed from coming between us again. “Thanks for the warning.”

  “You’re welcome. I’ll be flying back with her. I’ll keep her occupied as long as I can, but you know how she can be…”

  Do I ever. “Thanks. I owe you.”

  “I’ll remember that if I ever find a woman I love enough to fight for.”

  We end the call, and I’m alone with my thoughts. I stand, pace. Think. Plot. Ideas spin and fill my head while I sip coffee. I have Eryn completely to myself without any distractions this weekend. But by the time the cup is empty, I still have no great ideas on how to win her back. The sex has been beyond, but she needs more than pleasure from me. She needs to feel cherished and beloved.

  She needs me to put her first. I’ve got to do that—starting now.

  Tiptoeing across the penthouse, I slowly open my bedroom door. Thankfully, it’s silent, and I ease toward the bed to check on Eryn, curled into a ball on her side of the bed.

  To my surprise, she rolls over. “What are you doing?”

  “Checking on you. Why aren’t you asleep?”

  “I haven’t slept all night.” Her voice sounds scratchy and a little nasally. She’s been crying.

  That hurts. “I haven’t either. I know you wanted tonight to yourself, but maybe we’ll do better working our issues out together.”

  She shakes her head, her dark, silky hair brushing her shoulders. “I can’t think around you. You overwhelm me. You always have. When you’re in my personal space, it’s like all I can see are the sun and rainbows and good things. I never see what’s actually lurking under all that pretty stuff until it bites me.”

  I risk coming closer and sit on the edge of the bed to take her hand in mine. “There’s nothing lurking underneath this time. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you the truth. I wanted to protect you from the ugly family politics. I still do.”

  “They don’t matter anymore. We’re just temporary.”

  There’s a note of hurt in her whisper that spurs me to take her in my arms. She’s stubbornly refusing to believe I’ll never let her go again. Because when I waltzed back into her life, I strong-armed her into becoming my mistress, rather than groveling, apologizing, and trying to make her my fiancée again?

  I can fix that.

  “How about we get out of here?” I suggest.

  In the shadows, I see her surprise. “And go where? You must be exhausted, too.”

  Actually, now that I have some direction, I’m exhilarated. “Nope. Pack for an overnight stay. I’ve got a surprise.”

  Chapter Eight

  Eryn

  Thirty minutes later, West tosses our luggage into his sleek black Porsche. We hop inside and jet down I-15 in the dark. I have no idea where he’s taking me. He simply turns the heater on, flips on the satellite radio to something soothing, then tells me to lie back and relax.

  When I wake again and sit up, the sun is shining and we’re on I-10 approaching downtown LA.

  I blink. “Where are we going?”

  “I’m taking you home.”

  For good? My heart lurches in my chest. Now that he got his past off his chest and figured out he can still unravel me anytime he wants, he’s letting me go?

  Pain seizes me… I didn’t expect to feel it—or anything—for him ever again. I thought I knew better. I’d hoped I managed to protect myself. But why lie? I’ve suspected for almost a week that he was getting to me. Now it’s undeniable that I’m falling hard and fast for Weston Quaid once more.

  And he’s walking away.

  What’s wrong with me? What flaw do I have that leaves me mooning and weeping over a man who always says the right things, makes love to me like I’m the only woman he’ll ever care for, then discards me once he’s through?

  “Fine.” I lean as far away from him as his sporty ride allows. “You can send me the rest of my things when you get back to Vegas.”

  He sighs heavily and grabs my hand. Even though I stiffen against his pull, he lifts my palm to his lips. “Honey, I’m not dropping you off. And I’m certainly not leaving you. Haven’t you been listening to me at all?”

  I don’t answer. He knows what I’m thinking. I heard him, but…

  “You don’t believe me yet. Seriously, I’m never leaving you. If you want to be rid of me, you’ll have to be the one to go.”

  I cut a glance in his direction. He seems serious. I want to believe him.

  Hope, the insidious bastard, takes root in my heart. My brain is telling me to take a wait-and-see approach. I should listen to the smarter of my two organs.

  Finally, we pull up at my apartment complex. West collects our luggage and escorts me upstairs. When I let us in, familiar surroundings greet me. They should soothe me. But after a week in West’s palatial, Vegas-ostentatious pad, my simple unit full of artfully cultivated garage-sale and clearance-bin finds doesn’t feel like home anymore.

  He leads me to the bedroom and drops our suitcases near my closet, then starts peeling away my sweatshirt and athletic pants.

  “What are you doing?” I push at his hands. I don’t know where I stand with him, and I don’t understand why we’re in LA. Sex isn’t going to help any of that.

  West sighs. “Letting you sleep. That’s why I brought you to your place.”

  I scowl in confusion. “Just for sleep?”

  “You didn’t get any last night. I thought you’d rest better in your own bed.”

  My jaw drops. Is he for real? He drove three hundred miles simply so I could be more comfortable? Regardless of the fact that he hasn’t slept and would have felt more chill in his own penthouse?

  “I don’t understand what’s happening between us,” I finally murmur.

  He gathers me close. I don’t resist…but I don’t melt against him, either.

  “The last week has been a lot for us both to digest. I’ve changed your whole routine, uprooted you, made you start thinking about a future you thought was dead. You’ve made me realize what a colossal mistake it was not to fight harder for us three years ago. You’re full of confusion. I’ve got regrets.” He squeezes me tighter. “But we can get through this together.”

  I don’t know what to say. I don’t know whether he’s right or whether we’re both crazy. One thing, though. We want the same conclusion. We both want us, together. I wish I could deny it. I tried to. It didn’t work. I don’t know how I’ll trust West again, but I already know that stubbornly insisting there’s nothing left between us but sex is pointless.

  “Maybe.”

  “That’s better than you telling me to fuck off,” he quips. “I’ll take it for now. C’mon. Lie down. Rest.”

  The stubborn part of me wants to sit up and talk. Exhaustion has other plans. When he strips away the rest of my clothes, then peels off his own and pulls me down to my cool white sheets and into his arms, I can’t keep my eyes open.

  But when I wake, he’s gone.

  I sit up, feeling West’s absence immediately. A glance around tells me it’s early afternoon. His suitcase is missing.

  Son of a bitch.

  Then I hear the front door shut.

  “West?”

  “Yeah. You awake, honey?”

  He came back?

  He said he wasn’t leaving. Maybe this time you should believe him…

  “Where did you go?”

  “To run a few errands before I take you somewhere special tonight. And to grab some lunch. You have no food in this house that isn’t frozen.” He appears in the door of the bedroom, looking pu
t out by my extensive Lean Cuisine selection.

  I wince. “Sorry. Since I’m only here long enough to scarf down a few calories before I crash for the night, things like grocery shopping don’t always happen.”

  He holds up a bag from a local sandwich shop I love. “Well, here I am, coming to your rescue.”

  Climbing from the bed, I stretch and yawn—catching sight of his duffel in my bathroom. He must have taken a shower while I snoozed. “My hero.”

  West drops the subs on my dresser and prowls toward me, his stare raking my naked body. “Yes, ma’am. How hungry are you for that turkey on wheat?”

  “Starved.”

  “Are you sure?” He nuzzles my neck and palms my waist. “There’s no way for me to talk you into waiting, oh, an hour to eat?”

  Managing to hold in my shiver, I give him a little shove. “I know you. An hour will become two. Then I’ll waste away.”

  The truth is, if I give in to him while I’m feeling so confused and vulnerable, my head will be too cloudy to hear anything he says. We need to talk way more than we need to fall into bed together.

  At least that’s what I’m telling my eager body.

  He sighs and scoops up the sandwiches. “Fine. I’ll grab bottles of water and set up in the kitchen.”

  “Thanks,” I call after him.

  After digging my robe out of the closet, I head out to the main living space of my unit and find him spreading our food and a couple of bags of chips across my bistro table.

  “Feel better?” West takes a bite and moans like he’s savoring it. “Damn. Apparently, I was hungry, too.”

  Since we skipped breakfast, that doesn’t surprise me.

  “We both needed the sleep.” And I needed time to get a fresh perspective. “You got some, right?”

  “A few hours. It’s enough.”

  I scarf down half my sandwich in the same time it takes him to devour all of his. In between bites, I regard him across the table. “I can’t believe you drove all the way here just to let me sleep in my own bed.”

  West tosses his napkin aside, then reaches for my hands. “When we were together before, I didn’t put you first when you needed me to the most. I’m going to do that from now on. And I know your cynical heart. You either don’t believe me yet or you’re not sure what to think. That’s what this weekend is for, so I can prove to you how serious I am.”

  “What do you want, West?”

  “You.”

  “Beyond the next thirty-six days?”

  “Yes. Screw our arrangement. I don’t want a mistress. I just didn’t know how else to persuade you to come to Vegas and spend time with me so we could see what was left of us.”

  I nod slowly. As much as I hate to admit it, I understand his point. “All right. Then I…have questions.”

  “I’m sure you do. Fire away.”

  “Did you ever feel guilty for romancing me under false pretenses?”

  He pauses. “At first, yeah. When I took you to bed the night we met, I felt like I had an angel on one shoulder telling me this was wrong, that you could get hurt…and a devil on the other insisting we’d enjoy the hell out of each other. And since you said you weren’t looking for anything lasting, what harm could I really be doing? As long as I treated you well while we were together and found an amicable way to make your dad back away from the story, how could anything go wrong? Before long, I started falling for you.” He sighed. “I talked to my grandfather a few times about coming clean, but we both agreed it would be best to wait until after you and I were married. Then you’d know I genuinely loved you. After all, if I was only with you to make your dad back off, he already had. Why go through with the wedding?”

  “But then you didn’t.”

  “And now you know why. I also suspected that if I confessed everything then, you’d never believe or forgive me. And I was torn up about my grandfather while so damn worried we’d never be together again. I…froze. I wish I’d handled everything differently. Time and maturity have taught me a lot. But I can’t go back. So here we are now.”

  “Who was the woman you took to the theater the week after you left me?”

  West scans his memory, then rolls his eyes. “Someone my mother foisted off on me. For the record, I never touched her.”

  “But you weren’t celibate for three years.”

  “No. Once I realized I’d truly lost you, I tried to move on. I failed pretty miserably. I guess you didn’t do a lot better?”

  How much do I confess? If he’s being honest and we’re really working on bridging the chasm between us, shouldn’t I tell him everything? “I…slept with one of your frat brothers about two weeks after your grandfather’s funeral.” When he rears back like I’ve slapped him, I rush to explain. “By then, I thought all your family stuff must be over. But you hadn’t called. You hadn’t returned any of my calls, either. And I saw you on TMZ with that woman…”

  “I don’t remember her name. I never even saw her again. I certainly didn’t fuck her. I was working fourteen-hour days, six days a week, at a multibillion-dollar organization I barely understood, while trying to finish up school and keeping my mother off your back. I missed you like hell.” He clenches his teeth. “So, your revenge…was it sweet?”

  “No.” I tear up because as much as I’ve blamed West for everything, I have some guilt in all this, too. “I regretted having sex with that douche immediately. I told him never to call me again.”

  He looks away, his face twisting with sadness. “You had every right to be angry.”

  “But not to intentionally sleep with someone you knew simply to stab you in the back. It was low. I felt awful.”

  West sighs and takes my hands. “Look, neither of us have been completely alone while we’ve been apart. It’s water under the bridge now. I just want to move forward.”

  It should be, but even knowing he’s given another woman the kind of attention and pleasure he gives me makes me crazy. “Is it?”

  “Whatever you did while we were apart, I don’t love it. And I can’t blame you…but I don’t want to hear more.”

  I drag in a breath. He’s right, and I shouldn’t let the past continue to be a stumbling block between us. “All right. Same.”

  “Anything else?”

  “Yeah.” She frowns. “If you don’t get along with your uncle, and your mom is going to try to shred me, why did you insist in our agreement that I attend a family dinner?”

  “When I put that into our negotiations, I hoped that you and I would decide to try getting back together. Mom will be an obstacle until we show her that nothing she says or does can tear us apart again. I always intended to prepare you beforehand so you wouldn’t be blindsided by her venom. But I have to be honest, she’s not going to take this lying down. Expect something.”

  “Sounds like it will be an uncomfortable dinner, but I can handle her.”

  “My uncle will probably just be a leering drunk.”

  “I’ve endured plenty of those waiting tables over the years.”

  “I have no issue putting him in his place so you don’t have to.”

  “Okay.”

  “You’ll do it?”

  What West is really asking me is if I’m willing to brave his family because I’m committed to trying to make things work between us again. I hesitate. It’s not that I’m unsure; there’s really no other option except to see where we could take our relationship. If I don’t, I’ll always wonder what if. But this is a big step. West seems to be all in. I was last time…and I got burned. I’m still a little scared. Okay, a lot. No, having my heart broken again isn’t the worst thing that could happen, but it isn’t an experience at the top of my list to repeat. Still, was I actually happier alone?

  “Dinner it is.”

  The smile that brightens his face is wide and elicits thoughts of acts way too sexy to perform in the next three minutes. “I know you’re nervous. You don’t have to be. It’s going to work out.”

  I hope li
ke hell he’s right. “So, hot shot, where are you taking me tonight?”

  “It’s a surprise.”

  “You know I’m not a fan of surprises.”

  “I hope you like this one,” he says as we dispose of the sandwich wrappings and clean the bistro table. “I’m really excited.”

  That’s obvious, and because he is, I tamp down my inherent cynicism. “I’m definitely interested to see what you’ve cooked up.”

  “Just…keep an open mind, okay?”

  “Sure.” Now that he’s pried it open, I don’t see another option anyway.

  West kisses my knuckles. “We’re leaving in an hour. And, um…wear something sexy and elegant but comfortable enough to spend a few minutes outdoors.”

  “Outdoors? Where are you taking me?”

  With a grin, he palms his car keys. “You take a shower. I have one more errand to run. See you soon…”

  WEST

  My palms are sweating as we get closer to the Hotel Casa del Mar in Santa Monica. Arranging tonight took a lot of phone calls while Eryn slept. Thank god money can move mountains, or this idea would never have become reality on such short notice.

  Now I just hope tonight is as special to Eryn as it is to me.

  She looks absolutely stunning in a silky taupe-colored jumpsuit with spaghetti straps that bisect her delicate shoulders and crisscross her back before tapering to gather around her small waist, then flare into pants with wide legs that almost appear skirt-like until she walks. The look is perfect, just like she is.

  When I flip on my blinker and slow down at the entrance to the parking lot, she freezes. “Why are we coming here?”

  “You don’t like this place?”

  “I do. It’s just…this is where you proposed. What—”

  “Deep breath. I’ve arranged for us to have dinner by the ocean.”

  My response calms her, and I try not to grimace. Eryn is willing to try working with me to build a future together again. But her anxiousness gives me pause. Am I doing the right thing?

  I’m still not sure when the valet takes my car and I lead Eryn inside. Heads turn in her direction. I can’t help but notice other appreciative male stares cast her way as I ask her to wait in a chair by the door.