O face, p.7
O Face, page 7
“Damn. Wow. Sorry.” Her shoulders sagged, but she didn’t answer. “I didn’t mean to be an asshole,” I added. “Mental illness sucks.”
She cocked her head at me.
“What?” I demanded. “Do I have food on my chin or something?”
“No, it’s just... You’re the first person to be so easy about it.”
“The media wasn’t so easy,” I guessed. She huffed in clear agreement. “Is that why you hired me? To take the pressure off?”
“No. Although, it’s refreshing to talk to someone who doesn’t think they know all the details just based on what they read in the papers.”
“Yeah, my being out of touch with reality is a real perk.”
Her lips twitched again. “Actually, I hired you because my father is out of touch with reality.”
“What do you mean?”
She sighed, and we both fell silent as the waiter appeared to refill our drinks. I didn’t press the issue. Even after the waiter left us, we ate in silence and I waited. Whatever she’d been about to tell me was serious. It was also decidedly in the realm of private. And one thing Cassie Franklin had never been was open.
I hadn’t even technically included it in our terms. I’d used the word friend instead of open on purpose. Partly because I didn’t think she’d have agreed to spilling her secrets. And partly because I’d been too focused on the physical perks that would hopefully come from this arrangement—another reason I hadn’t let her pay me. The last thing I wanted to become after leaving the military was Summerville’s resident gigolo.
“We’re broke.”
I stopped, my fork halfway to my mouth with the last bite of the best chicken I’d had in three years—I’d already made a mental note not to tell my mother that. “What?”
She picked up her wine, holding it close without actually drinking it. “Franklin Industries. We had to pay out a settlement for a drug trial that went really wrong last year. And then we invested everything into the new implant program. But then the FDA still hasn’t approved that even after your successful surgery. And my dad...he has a habit of pissing off the investors which makes it hard to get funding renewed. So, now we’re broke. If we don’t find new funding, we’re going to lose the company.”
“Shit, Cassie, I’m really sorry,” I said, unable to picture her without her living in the shadow of her father’s company. The heir to Franklin Industries had been her identity for as long as I could remember. Her whole life had been a preparation for running the place when her father retired. He made no secret of it. I could only imagine how Cassie felt knowing it might not make it that long. “Is there anything else you can do?”
“Not without an investor. They found one actually. A Japanese company that has all the resources we need to go back into R and D and contract to produce more of the drugs that we know would put us in the black again.”
“That’s good news,” I said, but the look on her face told me it was anything but.
“It would be. Private funding is the only way we stay out of the government’s pocket. Otherwise, we end up like any other Big Pharma research firm, ripping off the customers it’s supposed to heal. But...”
“But?”
Her shoulders sagged and she let go of her wine long enough to scratch at her shoulder. I noticed her chest had reddened and now she scratched at that too. “Mr. Nichimoto is from a very conservative Japanese family. He’s very old-fashioned and doesn’t think a woman should have control of an entire company. He’s pressured the board by stipulating the only way he’ll invest is if I’m married by the time the deal goes through. And a week ago, the board agreed.”
“Holy shit. Is this guy for real?”
“Apparently.”
“And your dad is going along with it?”
“He offered a compromise,” she said wryly. “If I can show that I have a boyfriend and we appear serious enough, he’ll sell that to Nichimoto and we can make the deal to save the company.”
“That’s insane.”
“I know.”
“So, you need the media to see us and run with it so that it gets back to Nichimoto.”
“Exactly.” She took a deep drink of wine, the rest of her dinner clearly forgotten.
I studied her. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.” She set the wine down but didn’t let go.
“Why bother?”
Her eyes widened. “Are you asking me why I care about losing everything that matters to me?”
“No. I’m asking if it really matters as much as you think. Look, this company is your dad’s. And I know he’s your father, and I know losing his company would be hard, but he’s retiring in a year, anyway. I’m sure he has savings. I’m sure you’re both going to be fine if things don’t go your way here.” She didn’t answer, but the pain in her expression spurred me on. “If it were up to you, is running this company what you really want?”
Her eyes glinted like I’d just challenged her entire existence. “I’ve been training for this my whole life.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
“I know what you’re asking, and I don’t appreciate it. I promised to be friendly, but I don’t owe you any explanations. Besides, I just shared something very personal with you, and you’re throwing it in my face.” For a split second, I expected her to get up and walk out. But she surprised me. Instead, she leaned in so that I caught a whiff of expensive perfume, her eyes blazing with the kind of fury meant to send a message: I am not backing down first. “Of course I want it. I wouldn’t be here—with you, doing this—if I didn’t.”
I threw up my hands, surrendering underneath the heat of her glare. Wisely, I decided not to mention the rash that was spreading across her chest and up her throat. A rash that was looking more and more like hives. If I hadn’t seen it the other day in her office, I might have assumed she had an allergy to something she ate. But I already knew, this was stress. Anxiety in its purest form. Cassie Franklin was a ticking time bomb herself. I had to tread carefully here.
“Sure,” I said lightly. “Of course you want it. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean anything by it.” I raised my wineglass in a peacekeeping toast. “You convinced me.”
It wasn’t a lie, I realized as we finished our drinks, and I paid the bill. Cassie had definitely convinced me of something, but it had nothing to do with her father or his company. I’d come here thinking a dinner would be enough to satisfy my curiosity. That I could get to know the real Cassie Franklin and once my questions were answered, I could walk away for good. Go live in my parents’ house on the outskirts of a tiny town and ignore the world.
But after everything she’d told me tonight, I was nowhere close to being done. More than ever, I wanted Cassie Franklin; in my bed, sure. But more than that, I really did want to earn her friendship. There were secrets buried in her. Surprises and sides to her that I was convinced no one else in the entire world had experienced including Cassie herself. Cassie Franklin was uncharted waters, and that was something I couldn’t walk away from. I’d pretend to be her boyfriend for as long as she needed me, but before it was over, I planned to experience Cassie Franklin as a lover—and maybe even as a friend.
Chapter Eight
Cassie
Two nights after our fancy dinner, I let Liam take me out again. I wasn’t sure what I’d expected when I’d agreed to another date, but it definitely wasn’t this. Liam’s truck was a throwback to our high school days, and I had a feeling his flannel shirt was too. I had no problem with casual, but this was a little too laid back. I tried not to show my disapproval but Liam was more perceptive than I gave him credit for.
“Do you want to change?” he asked when I greeted him at my front door.
“Me?” I blinked, looking down at the black dress I’d chosen and then at his flannel and jeans.
“Well, it’s a little late for me,” he said with a playful grin. “Unless you want me to wear something an old ex of yours might have left behind.”
“I don’t have any ex’s clothes,” I mumbled. What I’d meant was that I didn’t have any exes. Not really. I’d been a little generous at dinner the other night, calling Evan an old boyfriend. But Liam didn’t know that, and I wasn’t about to admit my lack of sexual experience to a guy who’d probably slept with half our town four years ago.
“Well, we could both go nude and give them a real story.”
“Let’s just go,” I snapped, cranky from being grilled by Dad about Liam and our fake date the other night. Dad wanted me to use the publicity to bring in more investor cash. He wasn’t convinced we had enough to keep us afloat until I could find a way to satisfy Nichimoto. I couldn’t bring myself to tell him that I wasn’t even sure I wanted to anymore.
My words came out even sharper than I’d intended, though. Liam complied without another word about our clashing wardrobe.
Twenty minutes later, the truck idled annoyingly loud as I sat and stared out the window at the club across the street. The bass coming from within was loud enough and strong enough that I could practically feel it shaking the pickup truck. Rock music. Not my favorite. Around the side, I spotted an outdoor area that had some sort of beanbag game set up. People stood around it, talking and laughing.
Liam waited in silence for me to make up my mind, and I could already feel his judgment if I said no. But I couldn’t bring myself to say yes either.
“It’s not the right image,” I said finally.
He didn’t argue, just put the truck into gear and drove off. For some reason, his silence made me feel defensive.
“The investor is going to be studying us. I can’t give the impression I—”
“The impression you what? Like to have fun?”
I cut him a look, but he just stared straight ahead at the sea of red taillights in front of us. “CEOs don’t go to clubs like that,” I said shortly.
“Maybe they should,” he muttered.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
He opened his mouth, clearly about to say something, but then took one look at me and promptly closed it again. “Nothing.”
“You’re a lot grumpier than the rumors in high school suggested,” I said finally.
He looked over. “I guess you just bring it out of me.”
“Oh, I make you an ass?”
“An ass, an eardrum.” He shrugged. “Looks like you’re responsible for a lot of my key parts.”
I shook my head and stared out the window. Deep down, though, I had to admit that I was kind of enjoying this. I’d shared something really personal with Liam and he wasn’t treating me like I was breakable for it. If anything, he was being harder on me.
“What? No quick reply for that one?”
I swiveled to glare at him. He was baiting me. I knew it, but I also couldn’t just let him have the last word. “I’m used to being the responsible one, what can I say?”
He frowned like that hadn’t been the answer he’d expected and when he spoke again, his temper had drained away. “You don’t ever punch out, do you?” It was a sincere enough question, but he’d pushed me too far. I hated how defensive I felt around him, but I couldn’t seem to shake it off.
“Just because I don’t burn it down every night after work doesn’t mean I don’t know how to unwind.”
“Uh-huh. Name one recent thing you did to relax.”
I shot him a glance and then looked away. His smugness was evident as he said, “I thought so.”
“I can’t go out and get drunk all the time,” I said, frustrated.
“Who said anything about drinking? I just meant pleasure. It could be something as simple as...” I jumped as his fingertips brushed over the back of my hand. “I rest my case.”
“You’re talking about sex.”
“I’m talking about pleasure,” he insisted again, but if anything, it only made me think about sex more. I swallowed hard, thinking of all my failed attempts to do exactly as he’d just suggested. If he only knew.
“I tried. It didn’t work,” I said quietly.
He pulled over and turned to look at me. In the dark cab of the truck, his eyes glinted with desire that felt suddenly dangerous to acknowledge or accept. “You’re not trying it with the right people then.”
I licked my lips, and he growled—a low rumbling in his throat that made my stomach tighten. He scooted closer so that his chest strained against his seat belt. I backed away, my head bumping the window behind me.
“You don’t have to be afraid of me. I won’t hurt you,” he said quietly.
I lifted my chin. “I’m not afraid of you.” Lie.
“I can’t stop thinking about you,” he admitted.
I blinked, completely at a loss.
“I think about you too,” I heard myself saying.
He leaned closer so that his warm breath washed over me when he spoke again. “Let me touch you, Cassie.”
His voice was rough with need and even from here I could sense how tense he was. Holding himself back. Going slow—for me. It scared me, but I couldn’t explain that to him now. Besides, I didn’t want this moment to end, and I knew, the moment I admitted how terrified I was, and why, he’d stop. “I thought you said this wasn’t about sex.”
“It’s not. I just want to give you pleasure. No sex. I swear.”
Not yet. The unspoken words hung in the air between us: a clear line drawn in the sand. He was leaving it up to me. I could say no. But I didn’t want to. For once, I wanted this. Maybe it would prove I wasn’t as frigid as they all said.
“All right,” I whispered back.
Slowly, he reached for me, using a single finger to trace the shape of my face. He let it trail from my forehead to chin before dropping low to skim over my throat and down my chest. With his dark eyes locked on mine, he dipped his finger between my cleavage, tracing a line along the edge of my dress and then trailing up again to tangle in my hair. Everywhere his finger touched left a fire burning in its wake.
That, more than anything, was a shock.
I didn’t speak; too afraid to break the spell.
We were both breathing heavily, and I noted the fogged windows while somehow not taking my eyes from his. It was exquisite, this kind of contact. No pressure for whatever should come next. And no thoughts either. My mind was the quietest it had been in forever. All it could think about was this moment. And Liam’s hands on my skin.
I tried to remember the last time I’d been touched. Or the last time I’d enjoyed it this much. But I couldn’t and I didn’t want to. All I wanted was Liam. More of Liam.
“Don’t stop,” I whispered, my eyes meeting his and my skin humming with the feel of him.
His finger found my chest again. Slowly, it dragged lower, over the thin fabric of my dress, and lower still, until it reached the hemline and grazed my bare thigh. I sucked in a breath, but he didn’t stop there, sliding his finger underneath my dress and up my thigh, higher and higher, painfully slow.
I watched him, too caught up in the sensation of his skin against my own to talk or even breathe.
“Does that feel good?” he asked.
I nodded wordlessly, my lip caught between by teeth.
His mouth inched toward mine in the darkness.
My lips parted as I stared back at him, wondering for the hundredth time what it would feel like if he kissed me. Would my body respond at all? Would it feel as good as it did when he touched my face? My gaze dropped to his mouth and I couldn’t help but imagine it on my own. Or on other parts of my body.
As if he’d read my mind, he changed direction. Instead of kissing my lips, he veered sideways and pressed a kiss against my cheek. His breath tickled my ear, and I shuddered. His finger slid along the edge of my panties.
“Liam,” I whispered, no idea what I was even trying to convey.
“Shh. Just focus on the pleasure.” He leaned closer, kissing a trail down my throat to my chest, his lips skimming the neckline of my dress. I jumped when his finger slid inside the edge of my panties and brushed over my clit. My eyes closed while he explored, and I felt myself practically melting against his touch, every one of my fingers and toes going liquidy and tingly at the same time.
Was this what it was supposed to feel like to be kissed?
Was this what the rest of the world experienced when they were intimate?
“I want it,” I whispered, realizing too late that my words sounded like a direct invitation to skip straight to the part where we got naked. “But just—” I winced, stiffening at the thought of taking this that far right now, and Liam drew away.
“Just not with me,” he finished, the words sounding like a question and an accusation at the same time. I knew the moment had ended when he pulled his hand away.
“It’s not that. I—”
“Don’t worry about it,” he said, his voice tired. I let it go, watching with tense muscles as he slid back into his seat and put the truck in gear. “Just let me take you home.”
Neither of us spoke again as he pulled a quick U-turn and headed back toward my house. My thoughts were a jumbled mess, too disjointed to form any kind of response as he pulled up in front of my house and parked. He made no move to walk me to my door.
“I’ll call you to set up our next date,” I said, feeling awkward to be the one in charge now.
“Sounds good.” His voice was neutral. Almost cold.
Just before I got out, I spared a glance at him, but he didn’t meet my eyes.
Finally, without a word, I climbed out of the truck and walked away.
Behind me, the truck revved into reverse and pulled out of my driveway, the exhaust filling the empty street in its wake. I didn’t turn to watch him go and instead concentrated on fitting my key into the lock and then getting inside. In the foyer, I was shocked to realize my blurred vision had nothing to do with the darkness outside and more to do with the tears filling my eyes.
I blinked them back and shut my front door behind me with a hard click. Wine. I needed wine and lots of it to make sense of Liam Porter. Because something either awful or amazing had just happened between us; but I had no idea which it was.
