Misadventures with My Ex Read online

  Instead of letting me go, he grabs my arm and pulls me back into his body, murmuring in my ear, “We’re not done. You haven’t seen the last of me, honey. That’s a promise.”

  Chapter Three

  West

  “Got a minute?” I ask, calling my sister from Java and Jack’s parking lot.

  Genevieve Quaid is a force all her own. Shrewd, beautiful, elegant. She’s had a scrape or two with love, so she understands the scars. Besides, few people know me better—or can give me more astute advice. I need it. My instinct to simply rip off Eryn’s clothes and remind her repeatedly how amazing we are together in bed won’t win her back.

  I hear Gen turn off the music in the background and shift the phone in her grasp. “What’s going on? And where are you? I called your office this morning. Mary said you were out for the rest of the week.”

  “I’m in LA.” I pause because I know my announcement will shock my sister. “I’ve been trying to talk to Eryn.”

  “That’s interesting. And?”

  “I drove out here purely for business…but I don’t think I can walk away from her again.”

  “I’m not surprised. The first time almost killed you.” She hesitates. “No offense, but she’s good for you, and you’re a miserable bastard without her.”

  “None taken. You’re right. I called you because I need help untangling the female psyche—or rather, Eryn’s stubborn resistance—before I proceed.”

  “She didn’t welcome you, I take it?”

  “I think she would have preferred a case of the clap.”

  Gen laughs. “I’m not surprised. But look on the bright side. You haven’t lost your sense of humor.”

  “I’m serious about this.” I have to be. That kiss we shared in her office… It’s the most alive I’ve felt in three years.

  Still, if I thought I was the only one hung up after our separation, I’d do my damnedest to leave my ex in peace. I put Eryn through a lot, and in her shoes, without knowing what truly caused our split, I wouldn’t give me a second chance, either. But that five minutes in her office tells me our flame still scorches hotter than ever. And given everything she told Echo last night under the influence of vino, she hasn’t moved on. God knows I haven’t.

  Since I’m the one who broke us, shouldn’t I be the one to put us back together?

  “But if she doesn’t want you in her life, what are you going to do? You can’t force her to accept you.”

  Now Gen is understanding my dilemma. “I need a strategy.”

  “Have you tried simply explaining?”

  “She’s not ready to hear it. She doesn’t trust me. So why would she believe me?” I suspect she’s afraid the truth will change her mind, and she can’t yet handle the possibility of caring about me again.

  “I get that. So what is she willing to talk about?”

  “The best conversation we’ve had since I knocked on her door last night…” I wince. “Well, there wasn’t a lot of talking.”

  She gasps. “You did not take her to bed before mending fences. West!”

  “I didn’t.” But if she hadn’t protested in her office? I absolutely would have.

  As much as I hate to admit it, having sex with Eryn before we’ve resolved anything would have been a mistake.

  “Why do I get the feeling it was a close call? I don’t want details, mind you,” Gen rushes to tell me.

  Yeah. Just no on the TMI with my sister. “After a pair of run-ins with Eryn, I feel as if I’ve got two options to proceed: I either stroll her down memory lane and make her remember all the reasons we fell in love in the first place.”

  “That’s stupid. Next?”

  “Thanks for giving the idea a chance,” I drawl.

  “Every time you try that tactic, she’ll mentally bump into ‘The End.’ Until you explain why you left, you’ll never win her trust again. And you won’t progress her beyond a hot moment or two. As I recall, chemistry was never the problem with you two.”

  Gen is right. I just don’t know how to tell Eryn when she refuses to listen.

  “What’s your other choice?” my sister prompts.

  “Coercion. I’m not proud of it, but if I make her listen—”

  “She probably still won’t hear you. And even if she does, will she get it?”

  That’s a valid question. The situation that forced me to leave Eryn is ugly and complicated.

  “Maybe she needs to see all the crap for herself,” Gen says.

  My first reaction is to tell my sister she’s finally gone crazy. First, despite my suggestion, I wonder if I can make Eryn breathe unless she wants to. Second, I hate to put her in the middle of the shit show. Then my brain starts turning and my thoughts begin churning. Maybe there is a way to work this out…

  “What’s going on with Uncle Eddie?” I ask.

  “I haven’t seen him lately, but I’m convinced he’s up to something. I hear rumors…”

  “I already know he’s making another play for my job.” And I’ll be damned if I let him take from me what I’ve fought so hard to win. “Is he still in Vegas?”

  “I don’t know. When he is, he usually maintains a high profile, but he’s been awfully quiet the last couple of weeks.” I hear the concern in her voice. “If he’s gunning for you, little brother, it’s serious. And personal. Mom won’t take Eddie’s challenge or Eryn’s return well, either.”

  “I’ll deal with her. Heard anything from anyone else on the board?”

  “No, but I worry there are some under-the-table dealings going on,” Gen warns. “The board meeting is only two weeks away, and I have no doubt our dear uncle is actively plotting against you. You need to get home ASAP.”

  “My gut says the same.” I have to stop him. I probably shouldn’t wait until Sunday to head home, but if I leave Eryn now, what little bit of her animosity I’ve been able to thaw will freeze again. “If you hear anything, let me know.”

  “Will do. Are you thinking of ways to get Eryn to Vegas?”

  Sometimes, Gen is so smart I swear she’s a mind reader. “Yeah, and I think I’ve got an idea how.”

  I hope she doesn’t hate me for it…but—at least for the short term—I’m not holding my breath.

  ERYN

  This morning did not go well. Waking up hung over and still aching for West was bad enough. Almost having sex with him in my office… So not smart.

  After he left, I couldn’t spend another moment in there for the rest of the workday. Instead, I donned an apron and waited tables until the last of the lunch crowd left. The rush left me little time to think, but once the doors closed at two and I scrubbed the place clean…I found myself alone with my thoughts.

  To escape them, I gave my long-neglected gym membership a workout. I also hit the grocery store, dialed Echo to chew her out but settled for her voice mail instead, made some phone calls to suspend food and supply shipments for Java and Jacks, then reached out to some local contacts about a job for the next six weeks. Finally, I gave in to my urge for a hot shower and a power nap.

  Now, it’s eight p.m., and I’m wide awake. This is close to my usual bedtime since my alarm is usually set for four a.m. But tonight I’m too keyed up for sleep.

  It’s West’s fault.

  Behind me, my phone buzzes. A glance at the device tells me I have a fifth missed call from him. I listen to one of his messages. He wants to see me, says it’s urgent.

  By his own admission, we’ve concluded the business between us. The only burning issue left is our enduring mutual lust. The question is, do I ignore his message…or pursue it? God, I’m crazy to even consider the question.

  I pace and chew on a ragged nail. But my thoughts keep circling back to one realization: if I want my ex out of my life for good, I can’t manage that by willing myself to forget him. I know that doesn’t work because I’ve already tried. For years.

  What I haven’t tried? Fucking him out of my system.

  With a frustrated sigh, I reach for my
phone, then hesitate. Am I being impulsive? Probably, but does that automatically make this idea wrong? After all, if I don’t call him, what are my more appealing options to forget him?

  Sex it is.

  Blistering excitement twists my belly. I try to write it off as nerves as I press the button to return my last missed call.

  West picks up on the first ring. “Eryn?”

  “Why are you calling me?”

  “I’ve got a proposition for you.” His voice sounds smoky and thick. Sexy. Or am I hearing what I want in his tone? Whatever the case, his rasp wrenches my anticipation higher.

  “I’ve got one for you, too.” After this morning’s kiss, I’m going to guess my proposition is a lot like his. “Can you be here in ten minutes?”

  “Five. I’m not far.”

  I start questioning the wisdom of my decision again, but it’s too late. I’ve opened the door, and knowing West, he’ll charge in like a bull. “Have you eaten?”

  “I haven’t thought about food.”

  Gripping the phone tighter, I struggle for breath. “Me either.”

  “Be ready.”

  Three beeps let me know he’s hung up.

  My heart shifts into overdrive. I toss the device on the sofa. My thoughts race as I rush to my bedroom and tear into a drawer I haven’t opened in months. Finally finding what I’m looking for, I toss on the skimpy garments and throw a robe over myself, just in case I’m wrong about his intentions.

  As I’m belting it closed, I hear his fist bang on my door, heavy and insistent.

  With my belly seizing and my sex clenching, I dash across the unit to let him in. “That was fast.”

  “This can’t wait.”

  He shuts and locks the door behind him with a sure flick of his wrist. Then he pivots, fixes his stare on me, and stalks in my direction.

  I back away into the living room, more nervous than I want to be. “What’s your proposition?”

  “You first.”

  “All right.” Clenching my fists, I work up my nerve. “I want you to fuck me. Tonight and tonight only.”

  If he’s surprised, he hides it well. “So this is a booty call?”

  “Yes. Nothing else.”

  “Why?”

  Why do I want him, or why is it just sex? “Everything I said when I was drunk is true. No one makes me feel as good in bed as you. This morning proved we’re hotter than ever together. You want it. I want it. We’re consenting adults.” I shrug. “Why not?”

  West’s expression gives away nothing. “Valid points. I’ve never ached for another woman the way I do for you. On a lot of levels, sex makes sense.”

  I try not to let my relief show as I unbelt my robe. “Exactly. Let’s get to it. My bedroom.”

  “Wait.” He grabs my wrist. “I have a slightly different proposition.”

  “What?”

  “Tell me, if we have sex tonight, what happens tomorrow? Do we just go our separate ways?”

  My first inclination is to say yes, then I reconsider. What if I haven’t completely scratched my itch for him by then? “We can make that decision in the morning.”

  “No. I’ve waited three years to feel you again. I already know a few hours won’t do,” he insists. “And I can’t stay in LA. I need to get home.”

  “Where’s that?”

  “Vegas. Come with me.”

  Is he crazy? “I have a life here. A business.”

  “That will be shut down for the next six weeks.”

  “Not until after my Sunday rush.”

  “Fair enough. Come to Vegas then.”

  I yank from his grip and pace. “So, you’re suggesting…what? That for the six weeks Java and Jacks is shut down, we fuck our brains out? Or until we get tired of each other? I can’t do that, West. I need a temporary job to make ends meet.”

  “I’m not making myself clear. Let me try again.” He reaches into his coat pocket and withdraws a fat sealed envelope and a pen, then drops both on my entry table. “This is a contract. I’ve already signed it. If you agree to the terms, I will pay the salary of every one of your employees for the duration of the remaining construction. In addition to waiving your rent, I will pay you your estimated lost revenue plus ten percent for that same period. In exchange, you will come to my home—to my bed—and be my mistress.”

  My jaw drops as shock pings through me. I belt my robe tightly again. “You can’t buy me; I’m not a whore.”

  “You’re not,” he assures. “I’m proposing an equitable solution to our mutual problem. I have no choice but to shut you down temporarily. But I’m willing to be fair. During this unavoidable construction, you pointed out that you have employees to retain and bills to pay, which you can’t do without money coming in. This arrangement takes care of that. And while the contractor brings the building up to code, you and I can deal with the fact that we still want each other. I can’t be away from the office for six weeks, so the ten percent extra is to compensate you for the inconvenience of being away from home.”

  As much as I hate to admit it, his proposition makes a warped sort of sense. I hate even more how tempted I am. The only way I’ve experienced Vegas is with six girls in one cramped Motel 6 room for a night shortly after I turned twenty-one. That was a haze of vodka, smoke, and bad decisions, so I don’t remember much. But the city aside… What about having six weeks of toe-curling, spine-melting, blood-boiling sex with West? That should give me plenty of time to work him out of my system. Maybe then I can return to LA and forget about the past. Yes, and with my slate clean, I’ll be able to focus solely on the future.

  Isn’t that what I’ve wanted every time I’ve been masochistic enough to grab a bottle, don my wedding dress, and succumb to tears?

  The twinges of missing my ex aside, yes.

  What happens if you fall in love with him again?

  I shove the pesky voice aside. I know him now, which means I’ll know better than to lose my heart. When he first sweet-talked me, I was a cynical twenty-year-old, hoping deep down that Prince Charming would sweep me off my feet and prove me wrong. Now I know true love really is just another fairy tale. I won’t fall for West’s bullshit twice.

  I look for other flaws in the plan, but I don’t have pets or any other responsibilities to hold me in LA. My sisters may not approve, but they won’t try to stop me. Plus, not having to wake up every day at four in the morning or wait someone else’s tables, even temporarily, is really, really appealing.

  “What am I supposed to do all day while you’re working?”

  “Whatever you want. Rest. Shop. Relax. There’s a full spa in my building, a mall less than half a mile away, and a cache of movies, music, and books in my condo. You shouldn’t be bored. But listen to me, Eryn.” He grabs my chin. “You’ll be mine between six p.m. and six a.m.”

  My heart slams against my ribs. “And you’ll be mine.”

  A little smile plays across his face. “Is that a yes?”

  I don’t want to make this too easy on him. True, I already asked him for sex tonight, but I only had to give myself for a couple of hours. This is a month and a half of being in West’s arms, indulging in every pleasure that makes me shiver and sigh.

  I yank from his grip. “I need to read the paperwork first.”

  “You should. There are conditions.”

  “Like what?”

  “First, when we’re alone in my apartment, you’re naked. Always. Second, wash your hair or take care of any ‘headaches’ before I get home every night, because I don’t want to hear excuses. When I walk in the door, I only want to hear you say ‘yes.’”

  I don’t see an ounce of humor on his face. So clearly, he’s serious. The idea of surrendering to West on that level is both thrilling and scary as hell.

  “Do I get to sleep?”

  “You’ll have all day to nap, honey.”

  Holy cow, that should not turn me on. “Anything else I should be aware of before I decide?”

  He nods. �
�We’ll be having dinner with my family once.”

  I feel my eyes go wide. West’s siblings Flynn and Genevieve aside, I’ve never met the infamous Quaid clan. Sure I’ve seen pictures and read tabloid accounts, but he never introduced us when we were engaged. And I always found that odd. Then again, I was never more than his dirty little secret. “Why?”

  “Because it’s necessary. Since you’ll be with me and I don’t want to be without you, you’ll come along.”

  Something about his excuse doesn’t ring true, but I don’t know what he’s actually up to, so I can’t refute him. And maybe it doesn’t matter. So we’ll have a stilted meal on gilded plates with some of his famous relatives. Whatever…

  “Fine.” I send him a slow, heavy-lidded stare. “What about tonight?”

  He shakes his head with regret. “I need to be back in the office tomorrow morning. I’ve been away from my responsibilities too long as it is.”

  “So you’re saying if I want you at all, I have to sign your contract and come to Vegas?”

  “Yes.” He steps closer and wraps an arm around me. “But I’m happy to leave you something to think about.”

  He dips his head and covers my lips with his. I should probably resist on principle, but my head gives way to my long-starved libido and the internal war I wage ends in an embarrassingly short skirmish.

  I melt around West, opening my mouth to him, curling my arms around his neck. Hell, I even rub myself against him. He exploits my weakness swiftly and without mercy, plunging deeper into the kiss while thumbing his way across my aching nipples. I writhe. I mewl. I give in utterly. He takes in my surrender as if it’s his right, lifting me against his massive frame and carrying me to the living room sofa.

  The moment I’m flat on my back, he tugs open the belt of my robe and shoves the garment wide. His eyes nearly bulge from their sockets. “Holy shit… I’ve forgotten how gorgeous you are in black lace.”

  I knew this outfit would get to him. He’s always had a thing for me in anything delicate and sheer. But this low-cut, breast-hugging babydoll trimmed in little pink bows has him panting. Good. He can’t always have the upper hand.