Misadventures with My Ex Read online

  I don’t believe her for a minute. In the past, she often misbehaved until she riled me so much I had to fuck her hard enough to put her in line. Is that what she wants now?

  Barely tasting my food, I shovel in bites and examine the situation while I wait for her to finish.

  “You know, when I locked Java and Jacks’ door behind me today, two of my customers nearly cried.”

  “Your coffee is beyond buttery and smooth, so I understand. I’m sorry you have to close down. I know it’s more than a mere inconvenience when you’re building a business. If I had any way around the issue…”

  Some of her prickly demeanor eases. “You didn’t. I know because I called the city. The timing just sucks.”

  I can’t argue with that. “How has business been since you took over?”

  “It slumped at first. Some of the regulars were worried I wouldn’t keep the same coffee and maintain the usual standards. But they’ve all come back now—and brought friends, so it’s good.” Her animated expression wanes. “I wish I’d known how tough running a restaurant was really going to be. I’m acclimating…slowly. You know I’ve always been a night owl, so being in bed by eight p.m. is a shock to my system and my social life.”

  I smile. “You would have been better off running a bar.”

  “Don’t think I haven’t thought of that…”

  “What’s stopping you? You’ve got the restaurant space and a prime location. Once the construction is done, it wouldn’t take you long to morph the place into a hopping night spot.”

  Not that I want her to. I’m hoping at the end of six weeks, she’ll be ready to sell the place and move to Vegas for good. But for now, one step at a time.

  She shrugs. “Actually, I’ve been wishing lately that I’d gone to college. I’ve waited tables my whole adult life, and I want to do something different. But Ella and I both knew Echo needed an education if she was going to be a physical therapist. By the way, she got married, you know? Ella, not Echo. To a great guy. Carson runs the Sweet Darlin’ Candy Company. She moved with him to North Carolina recently.”

  “That’s great for her. I love everything Sweet Darlin’ makes. And Echo is almost done with school, so that’s good.”

  “For a while, I thought about matriculating once she graduates, but now that I’ve got the restaurant…” Suddenly, she seems to remember that I’m the enemy, and her expression closes up. “I’ll figure it out.”

  I add this new wrinkle to the list of considerations for our future. “You will. And I’m happy to be a sounding board if you want to talk.”

  “Nope. You know why I’m here.”

  “Money.”

  She nods. “That’s it.”

  “And the sex.”

  “Not my first motivation, but it doesn’t hurt.”

  Oh, that’s a lie. Eryn has these little tells when she’s being less than honest. One is that she can’t keep a straight face, so I know she’s absolutely here for the sex.

  “Let’s talk about the contract. I want that signed before anything commences.”

  “Not so fast. I want to negotiate.”

  This ought to be interesting. “Shoot.”

  “I want one day a week off.”

  “No.” I refuse to give her time and space to build more fortifications against me.

  “That’s not a negotiation, West. That’s a brick wall. You’re not even hearing my argument.”

  “Fine. I’ll listen, but you won’t change my mind.”

  Eryn huffs, looking flustered. “You’re so stubborn.”

  “Pot meet kettle.”

  She just rolls her eyes. “I want one night a week to gamble, see shows, or sight-see. I’ve only been here once. I hardly remember the trip.”

  I take a bite of steak and sit back to process what she’s said. Once I swallow, I shake my head. “It’s Vegas. You can gamble twenty-four seven. Feel free to hit the slots during the day. Same with sight-seeing. Shows are in the evenings, and if you want to go, I’ll try to figure out a way to take you without being mobbed by the press.”

  “I’ll want to go home, check on Echo and my apartment some weeks, too.”

  “I know you.” I plant my elbows on the table and lean close, until we’re inches apart. “You’re wanting time away from me so you can remember all the reasons you should hate me without my touch clouding your thoughts. The answer is no. Next?”

  She bristles. “You don’t own me, Weston Quaid.”

  “I intend to for the next six weeks.”

  Silence. Eryn pushes her half-empty plate aside. “I can’t do this. I’m going back to LA.”

  Since she doesn’t move, I suspect it’s an empty threat. She wants to see how far she can push me, if I’ll cede any power to her. I will…but not until I’m sure she’s actually giving us a chance.

  “If you walk out the door, my offer is null and void. I hope you’ve got a better way to make money and explore one of the most exciting cities in the world, all while having the best sex of your life. If you do, don’t let me stop you.”

  Eryn stands. I hold my breath, more than a little worried I’ve pushed her too far. Honestly, I’d rather wrap my arms around her, kiss her, take her to bed, and love her long into the night. But she’s not ready for that yet, so I have to be patient—for now.

  Instead of grabbing her suitcases and leaving my apartment, she strolls to the picture windows with a view of the Stratosphere in the distance. “You’re a bastard, West.”

  “So you’ve said.”

  “Running a company has hardened you.”

  “It needed to if I was going to be successful and keep my job.”

  She cocks her head. “When we were dating, you said you didn’t want that job.”

  “Things change. Do you want to hear the reasons? I’ll be happy to tell you.”

  Eryn ignores my question. “I’ve changed, too. If you have any notion that you’re going to find ways to make me fall in love with you again, that’s not going to happen. You should tear up this silly contract, and we should go our separate ways.”

  I’ll take my chances. “Thanks for the FYI.”

  Finally, she turns, arms crossed over her chest. “If you’re not trying to wear my heart down again, why do you want me here?”

  “My job is high stress. I want a mistress, not a hassle.” On some level that’s true, but it’s a complete falsehood where she’s concerned. But the lie will let her feel safe…and her guard will come down.

  “I noticed the agreement prohibits me from dating anyone else. But you don’t have to adhere to the same standard?”

  I didn’t include anything to that effect because I’m not interested in anyone else. But if adding that to the contract will make her feel as if she’s won a negotiation point, fine. And it’s a good sign that she’s feeling a bit possessive.

  Rising, I hold out my hand. “Give me the envelope. I’ll make the amendment now.”

  “I’m not done.” She turns, seemingly following the bank of windows into the living room.

  It feels more like she’s desperate to maintain distance.

  “What else?”

  “This naked-all-the-time thing is ridiculous. First, it’s October, and the weather is getting colder. Second, I’m the kind of girl who needs a bra. Third, you didn’t mention anything about dinner, but I can’t cook in the buff without risking my skin. And I can’t eat in the buff with you. I’ll starve to death.”

  It’s not easy, but I repress my smile. The truth is, I expected her to push back on this and I’ve already got a strategy. “You can keep the heater set at whatever temperature is comfortable for you. I’ll find garments I approve of that support you”—and your very lush breasts—“adequately. I didn’t ask you here to cook for me. It’s not required, but if you’re so inclined, I would appreciate it. I’ll make sure you have the apron of your choice for such occasions. Eating au naturel… I’m afraid I can’t bend on that point except to assure you that I won’t let you s
tarve.”

  “I’m not a toy, West.”

  She has no other argument, so I know I’ve won. I also notice that she didn’t question my intentionally vague clause about eating dinner at the time and place of my choosing. Eryn will figure out soon enough that phrase has nothing to do with me choosing whether we eat dinner at seven in my apartment or at eight at a restaurant along the Strip.

  “You’re not,” I assure her instead.

  Silence. She wrings her hands and continues staring down from the windows, like she’s cornered and looking for a way out.

  “Eryn, I’ll try to persuade you, maybe even push. But I can’t force you to sign the contract, and we both know it.”

  “It’s probably not even enforceable.”

  True, but after a lot of education and a couple of years of running an operation the size of Quaid Enterprises, I’ve learned the value of agreements. The tighter the better. “I merely wanted the lines and rules to be very clear between us.”

  Eryn taps a nervous thumb against her thigh, refusing to look my way. “But I don’t see any boundaries in here for you. I can’t disturb you at the office unless there’s an emergency. I can’t protest if you have to work late or on weekends. And I can’t terminate this agreement without forfeiting every dime you owe me. Where are my protections?”

  I’m impressed. She’s driving a harder bargain than I anticipated. “You’ll have your own bathroom. If you’re in there, I’ll keep out. If I violate your personal space, I’ll owe you…say, a thousand dollars.”

  “Ten.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Ten thousand,” she counters. “This contract is so slanted in your favor. There should be something that’s weighted significantly in mine.”

  “The bathroom is for you to take care of your personal needs. It’s not a safe space for you to hide. As long as you agree to the spirit of that interpretation, then fine. I’ll pay you ten thousand dollars every time I violate your privacy.”

  “You should prorate my ‘service.’”

  I raise a brow. “Meaning?”

  Finally, she turns to me, and I see the argument all over her face. She’s stalling. She’s afraid of what comes next.

  I soften.

  “Well…” She swallows. “Like any job, if I work two weeks, then quit, I get paid for the time I spent in that position.”

  So she’s looking for the early-out clause. Maybe she’s calculated exactly how much money she needs to scrape by while Java and Jacks is closed and intends to stay only for that long—not a minute more.

  “You’re a contractor, not an employee. You earn by the project, not by the hour. I’ll pay you when the job is done.”

  Her mouth twists into a scowl. “Maybe you should pay me by the orgasm.”

  Now she’s hitting low. Because she’s feeling powerless? Because she’s itching for a fight? Either way, I can’t let this point of contention go. I’m not even sure six weeks will be enough to win her back, so I can’t negotiate anything that would potentially afford her to leave sooner.

  “This isn’t just about the sex, Eryn.” I stroll closer, slowly, giving her time to flee. “It’s about your company, too. If it makes you feel better to know that I’ve missed you over the last three years and regret the fact we weren’t able to spend that time together, I’ll admit that. But I refuse to compensate you by the sex act. As you so aptly pointed out when I first propositioned you, you’re not a whore. Any more objections?”

  She presses her lips together. “It says in the agreement that you require a minimum of an hour’s conversation a day. Does that include the conversation during dinner?”

  “If you’d like.”

  “I would. I’d also like you to clarify what you mean by ‘presentable’ when we go out.”

  “Dressed both appropriately for the occasion and to my liking.”

  “So I can spend time getting ready, and you alone have the power to say it’s not okay and that I have to start over?”

  “If you prefer, we can discuss everything in advance to avoid a waste of time and energy.” Finally, I close the distance between us. “I think you’re dreaming up objections to avoid what happens next. I want you, Eryn. I’ve made no secret of that. I’ll amend the contract as we’ve discussed, but once that’s done and we’ve signed, I expect you to start abiding by the agreement.”

  “By taking off my clothes, getting into your bed, and spreading my legs?”

  “If that’s what I want, yes.”

  She turns her back on me. “You really are a bastard.”

  I smile grimly. I knew winning her back would be an uphill battle…but I’m making progress. “Are you signing or not?”

  “Where’s my luggage?”

  “In my bedroom.”

  She rolls her eyes. “Of course it is. Wait here.”

  I have zero intention of doing any such thing. Instead, I follow her down the hall and into the master suite. Though the beige tones are neutral, the decor itself is incredibly gaudy. I don’t really need 6,400 square feet to myself, and my clothes could never take up all the space in the enormous closet. But the views in this high-rise condo are unparalleled. I have panoramic views of the Strip from my patio. This penthouse simply needs a cosmetic overhaul before it will feel like home.

  “Why am I not surprised you’re following me?” she mutters. “And why does that massive-ass bed look like a million flamboyantly kinky fantasies might have been fulfilled here?”

  “You’re still stalling.”

  Eryn sighs as she digs into one of her bags and produces the envelope and pen I left with her. “Whatever. Here you go.”

  “Excuse me.” I head toward my home office.

  Ten minutes. That’s how long I’m going to be forced to clamp down on my anticipation to make the requisite changes.

  “I’m drinking more wine,” she calls after me. “Did you order dessert?”

  “In the fridge.” I shout back.

  She might not admit how excited she is when she opens the container, but when she puts a bite of the smooth chocolate panna cotta layered with banana ricotta cookies in her mouth, she’s going to flip. That woman loves dessert. And she especially loves chocolate.

  As much as it chafes, I hole myself in my office long enough to draft the changes we discussed. I call my attorney for confirmation. I pay him to be available to me day or night. Luckily, he doesn’t keep me waiting. The moment he’s perfected the changes, he emails me a new document. I notice my hands tremble as I pull it off the printer, sign it, and fold it into a crisp new envelope.

  Heaving a sigh, I stand and find Eryn back in the dining room, glass of cab in one hand, fork in the other, making orgasmic sounds that leave me aching as she savors her dessert.

  “I thought you might like that,” I murmur.

  “You play underhanded, Quaid.”

  Something I’m sure she’ll utter more than once before she finally realizes that everything I’ve done has been designed not to take advantage of her but to get us back together.

  Instead, I toss the envelope on the table in front of her. “Changes made. I’ve signed.” Gently, I set the pen on the table beside her plate. “Your turn.”

  Eryn peers up at me. “Once I do, how long will it be before you penetrate me?”

  “Three minutes. Maybe less.”

  “Hmm.” She peers down at her plate. “I think I’ll consider this matter a bit more while I finish my dessert.”

  “Don’t toy with me.” My patience is already wearing thin.

  Her answering smile is full of challenge. “Or what?”

  “Sign it now. Or you’ll find out.”

  Chapter Five

  Eryn

  I distract myself by taking another bite of the heavenly dessert and let the flavor linger on my tongue. But I can’t seem to pry my stare off West.

  Stalling is only postponing the inevitable. I came here for the sex. The money is a super-helpful side benefit, but I’m here to scr
ew him out of my system. He probably has some inkling of that. The question is, how should I handle him? I don’t want to seem too eager or too desperate. I certainly don’t want to make this easy on him. I’ve got walls between us; I need to be completely certain they’re in place before I let him any closer. I can’t risk him prying me open. I can’t put my heart on the line with this man again.

  Slowly, I walk my fingers across his dining room table. Well, not his. He must have bought this unit furnished, because absolutely nothing here fits his taste. It really does look like a drag queen’s fantasy pad, complete with overlarge crystal chandelier. I don’t see an ounce of masculine simplicity anywhere.

  Finally, I open the envelope and extract the revised contract, then pick up the pen and scan his verbiage changes, which he’s helpfully underlined. Phrasing he’s eliminated has been stricken-through. He’s even initialed all the changes and signed the last page. All I have to do is put my signature next to his.

  As I swallow the last bite of dessert and pretend I’m still reading, I breathe through the excitement scorching my veins. I can literally feel his desire. It hangs in the air, scented like musk and testosterone, sharpening the moment. It blends with my own thrill and fills me with an anticipation I can barely stand.

  Just to keep him dangling, I set everything down, then lift our used plates from the table and take them to the sink. I don’t rush as I rinse them off and open the dishwasher.

  “Eryn…” He raises a brow at me. “Last warning.”

  “Don’t I get a minute to consider? Don’t you want dinner cleared from this…ahem, lovely table?”

  “You had all weekend and another five hours in the car to consider. You already decided to come here, and you know why. You stalling now is merely for spite.”

  “How do you figure that?”

  “You know every minute you’re making me wait is torment.”

  I do know, and I give him the accompanying smile. “Really?”

  West grits his teeth. “If you couldn’t tell from my demeanor, fine. I admit it; you’re killing me. Now sign.”