EIGHT
SHANNA WAS ALMOST frenzied with excitement at dinner.
The PI hadn’t progressed the case, there hadn’t been time.
Yet he was confident. Oh, really? Nothing to do with the fifty grand Shanna freely handed over?
The PI said it covered the retainer and expenses.
Please be true. Don’t let it be that the guy was a charlatan who’d just seen dollar signs.
If that was the case, it was as much her fault as Shanna’s. Her friend was eager to find the man she loved, that drive had to be compelling. Anyone would be forgiven for tossing money at a possible life belt for the one they loved.
Dinner with Shanna didn’t usually go so late. Her friend could be forgiven for struggling with being alone. Going from having a boyfriend in your bed every night to being by yourself would chill anyone’s sheets.
She snuck back into her parents’ house, grateful her path stayed clear of relatives.
Upstairs, she showered and readied for bed, still worrying about her friend.
If only she could do more. Shanna’s heartache plagued her.
Losing love. Caring for someone that much only to have them vanish. She couldn’t imagine the torment.
Her own bed covers weren’t toasty when she slipped under them. No boyfriend had warmed hers for a while. A long while.
What was normal for her would be a reminder of isolation for Shanna.
Just as she turned off the lights, her cellphone rang. Maybe Shanna—unknown number. Not Shanna. No! Brogan? Could it be that he’d followed through? That would be impressive and surprising.
Subduing her smile, she answered. “Hello, Mister.”
There was a second of silence. “How did you know it was me?”
“It’s after ten o’clock and I just spent the evening with Shanna. She’s the only friend who would call me this late. Her number’s in my phone. Yours isn’t.”
“Quick deduction,” he said. “Your quo was this call. Can I hang up now?”
Smiling, she wriggled down in bed. “I asked you to call so you could fill me in on what happened with my father.”
“You want to talk?”
His incredulity was funny.
“Yes. I’m in bed with nowhere else to be… Jenna said you didn’t call your exes. Have you got something against talking to women on the phone?”
“It’s a waste of time. Jenna can make required arrangements.”
“I’m not dating Jenna, I’m dating you,” she said. “And we’re not making plans, we’re exchanging information.”
“Email is more efficient.”
She laughed, though his tone wasn’t comedic. “Okay, then email me. But I can’t ask an email questions and you owe me an answer.”
“An answer?”
“To my question. Why should my father be suspicious of you?” she said, smoothing a hand down the covers over her body. “Quid pro quo, I kneeled for you.”
Staying quiet wasn’t easy, but she left the silence for him to fill. Eventually her wish came true.
“You’re a beautiful woman.”
“Thank you,” she said. “Are you trying to distract me?”
He inhaled. “Your family and mine are opponents in business. It’s natural for him to be suspicious of my motives.”
“Especially given our relationship isn’t real,” she said. “Maybe he senses you’re using me.”
“Perhaps, or he fears I’ll get what I want.”
“Or that you’ll break my heart,” she said. Another silence. “What is it that you want, Brogan?” He didn’t respond. Without thinking, her hand slipped beneath the covers. “You’re thinking quid pro quo, you won’t tell me until I do something for you.”
“Mm,” he said in confirmation.
Anticipation undulated her hips. “I can’t kneel for you or kiss you… What would you like from me, Mister?”
“Take off whatever you’re wearing.”
The request was so instant and direct, a shiver of excitement shot through her.
“Why is it all of your requests are sexual?” she whispered, pushing the straps of her nightdress down to wriggle out of it.
“You are at liberty to refuse. This for that. Without one, there’s no need for the other.”
“I want an answer.”
“And I want you naked.”
“Brogan,” she breathed out his name. Her hand drifted across her breast, fingers lingering in her cleavage. Writhing between the mattress and duvet, she wished for the warmth of his caress. “If you were here, would you touch me?”
“Would you like that?” She purred in agreement, hand sliding lower. “Where do you want my hands?”
“Everywhere,” she admitted. That extra glass of wine at dinner freed her inhibitions. “Anywhere you want.”
His voice deepened as it slowed. “Be careful, Irish. Once you grant permission, it’s mine. Wholly. Until I say otherwise.”
“Will you hold me Saturday night? Dance with me?”
There was always dancing at these glitzy get-togethers.
“I don’t dance,” he said. “And our first formal public appearance will be Friday night.”
“Friday?”
“Mm. Plans have changed.”
Bringing forward the official public reveal by a whole twenty-four hours. The day of the week had less to do with her request than her need to be up close. Somehow, honesty was easier when she didn’t have to look him in the eye. Lying there in bed, it was a fantasy, a dream, and it felt good.
Stroking her stomach, she wanted her hand to be his. “Quid pro quo, Mister. If I give you something, you’ll have to dance with me.”
“You’re coming home with me Friday night, Irish,” he said. “Your father encouraged me to accept an invitation I’d intended to decline. He’ll bring you to the event, then you’re coming home with me.”
The men’s afternoon meeting must’ve borne fruit. Had they come to some kind of arrangement? Amazing that they’d spoken as rational adults. Brogan? Yeah, she could believe he kept his cool. Maybe too much. She’d never seen him without it. Her father was less adept at restraining himself.
“That’s news to me.”
Her excitement wasn’t reciprocated. Brogan was good at matter of fact, that was his way.
“We’re an intimate couple, Gia. You’ll be spending a lot of time in my apartment over the next few weeks.”
Boyfriends usually went through various rounds of meetings with her father before she spent the night at their apartments. After that day’s negotiations, Brogan apparently exempted himself.
“I don’t even know where you live.”
“You will,” he said. “You’re my partner, Gianna. Do you understand what that means?”
No, she wasn’t sure she did and never would. As much as she enjoyed playing with him, what they had wasn’t real. They had no future, no time to figure anything out. Still, while she had to endure the charade, there was nothing wrong with indulging in the fantasy.
Being Brogan’s partner wouldn’t be the same as being any other man’s.
“That the world thinks we’ve had sex… that I’m at the mercy of your quid pro quo.”
“Our quid pro quo.”
Pushing the duvet from her body, she breathed in through her teeth when cool air rolled over her.
“Our deal is that I do what I’m told,” she said. “You can ask anything you want of me.”
“Anything sexual I want is subject to quid pro quo, sex wasn’t explicitly part of our deal.”
Licking her lips, she trembled again. “Do you want something sexual?”
“Right now I want to know if you’ve paid your debt.”
“My debt?” she asked, skimming her hand down her body. “I’m naked, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Nothing?” he said. “A man should know what his woman wears in bed.”
“I sleep in a nightgown.”
“Not anymore,” he said.
Her lips curled as her hips squirmed.
“I’ve never had a man talk to me the way you do.”
“You said this relationship was going to be different,” he said. “Now you’re naked, what was your question?”
Good thing he was keeping track, she’d forgotten he owed her one.
“What do you want from me?”
One breath. Another.
The beat of her heart echoed in her ears.
“Not the same thing I wanted when we made our deal,” he said. “Are you working tomorrow?”
He’d just referred to her volunteering as work. Her family mocked it, or they ignored it. They didn’t like to acknowledge it existed. Brogan… referring to it as… he’d respected it, respected her, in a way her relatives never had.
“Yes,” she said. “And Shanna is going to introduce me to her PI at lunch, I want to make sure he’s for real.”
The ease of his lazier tone lessened. “You believe he isn’t?”
Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to share her concerns. Don’t forget Brogan Spurn is a tenacious guy. One way or another, if he wanted to, he’d get answers. For better or worse, she’d opened her mouth, backtracking wasn’t an option with a guy like this.
“I was supposed to meet him with Shanna today, but Jenna called me away. I’m sure it’s nothing. Shanna’s just so desperate to find Jarrod that she’s not thinking straight. The PI took all her money; I didn’t think he’d do that at the first meeting. We don’t know what kind of guy he is yet.”
“All her money?”
“All your money,” she said. “Sorry.”
Had she pissed him off?
He inhaled. “Jenna will put someone on it.”
“Someone on… you’re going to help your brother?”
“Half-brother and I don’t give a damn about him.”
His words were sure though a complete contradiction.
“So who do you give a damn about?”
“My money,” he said.
Right. Yes. His financial stake. If the PI didn’t do his job and Shanna kept giving him money, Brogan would be the only one taxed.
“I’ll let you know what I find out.”
“Jenna will follow up with the investigator,” he said, losing the last of his ease in favor of returning to his usual detached self. “Get some sleep, Gia. We may be up late tomorrow.”
“I—”
The phone line died before she could say anything else. Hmm, well, she gave him points for trying. For a man who never talked on the phone with women, he’d given it a shot with her.
She returned the phone to the nightstand and covered herself with the duvet. She could put her nightdress on again, but Brogan’s quid… He’d never know if she went against his wishes, but as she wriggled in the warmth of her sheets, she smiled. Being Brogan’s girlfriend wasn’t so bad after all.