“Oh.” Piper frowned and her eyes dropped to the floor. “But why would you want to do that?”
Tate rolled his eyes and dropped her arm. Piper watched as he crossed the room and flopped down on the couch. He patted the cushion next to him and Piper’s feet obeyed, carrying her there and seating her at the opposite end of the sofa. “I did it because I knew it was the only way to get her to leave. Marie is probably my closest friend, but she can be really intense and really freaking nosy sometimes.”
Piper mulled over his words. “So let me get this straight,” she said, situating herself so she was facing him directly. “You asked me over so your sister would think that I was one of your floozies and leave?”
Tate grimaced at her choice of words. “It sounds worse when you say it, but basically, yeah.”
“You’re a piece of work,” she said with disdain.
“Never claimed I wasn’t.” They stared at one another until, finally, Piper looked away. “Do you want to watch a movie or something?” Tate asked, breaking the silence.
“Depends. What movie is it?”
“The Expendables.”
Piper pursed her lips, determined not to smile. She failed. “Sure. I can’t resist Stallone. Or Lundgren. Or Van Damme. Statham is pretty swoon worthy too…”
“Maybe I wasn’t so far off base with the floozy bit,” Tate said, earning a pillow to the side of the face. “What did I say?”
“Just start the movie, asshole,” Piper chirped playfully, her grin spanning her entire face. She had to admit, never in a million years would she have thought she would be sitting in the middle of Tate’s living room getting ready to watch a movie with the guy. It was such a natural, everyday thing to do. Something friends would do. The way he was smiling and teasing lightened the severity of his face, giving him a more approachable appearance.
Dare she say it, when he behaved like this, the man was almost likeable.
9
She had just enough time to head home, shower and change before heading out to meet Tate. Tonight, as with nearly every Saturday night since she signed on to this job, he insisted that she join him at the after-hours club.
“I need a DD,” he’d told her, and Piper grudgingly agreed. Never mind that he could take a cab—he wouldn’t hear of it. Plus, it counted as overtime, and she could always use the extra cash. Only now she was stuck sitting in a darkened corner while her boss and former one-night stand tried to hook up with anything with a pussy.
The Night Life, a restaurant/bar, was teaming with college grads and random people on the hunt for a good time. It was Friday night, one of the busiest nights for partygoers, or so Piper assumed. She never had been one for the night life, content to just sit at home and take in a made-for-TV movie or a good book.
This was so not her scene.
The only reason she agreed to subject herself to such…insanity, was because of the added bonus, but she was seriously wondering if the cost to her self-esteem was worth it. The problem was—and if she was being completely honest with herself—as much as she detested Tate Larson, she was finding it more and more difficult every day to say no to him.
On the outside, he was everything she had dreamed her fantasy man would be: tall—at least 5’11”—pale blonde hair, bright blue eyes, strong square jaw, and when he smiled, he had the cutest dimples she had ever seen. And he was charming…when he wanted to be. If she hadn’t already experienced him in action for herself, she would have to wonder how he ever got a woman. The only real problem she had with him was his sour attitude…that, and when he wasn’t making lewd or rude comments, he hardly knew she existed.
She’d served as his assistant for over eight weeks now, the longest surviving of all his employees, but that was probably due to the fact that she refused to be fired. She served him coffee daily, helped him stay on track with his deadlines, scheduled his appearances and made sure he was on time to every interview, photo shoot, and function regardless of how late he kept them both out the previous night. She worked hard to look the other way when he hooked up with random women and she even fielded his mother’s phone calls.
Normally, that would be a hardship for someone in her position, but two weeks ago, when Tate insisted that she go with him to his mother’s house for Sunday brunch, she found that Ms. Larson, or Cindi as she insisted she be called, was a refreshing total opposite of her son. She was warm and caring and most importantly, she didn’t take any of Tate’s crap. She could really learn something from the woman.
After brunch, Tate had excused himself from the table and Cindi wasted no time jumping down her throat about her little boy. She didn’t like the way he lived his life. As the only woman Tate had ever brought home, Cindi felt that made Piper somehow special and with that came the expectation that she would somehow get Tate on to a better track.
Despite the many times she demanded that Piper intervene in her son’s life, she didn’t. It was his life to ruin as he pleased. Although, there were times, like tonight, that she wished she had the nerve to pitch a fit because with each woman he took to his bed, pain etched lines into her stupid heart.
What was that saying, the heart wants what the heart wants? Well, since recently glimpsing his human side, hers had apparently decided it wanted Tate Larson. At this rate her heart was going to look like a road map of battle scars when this was all over—evidence of every heartbreak ever endured since taking on her role as assistant to Tate Larson, Author and Heartbreaker of the Young and Naïve. She was such a dumbass.
You would think that after weeks of playing chauffeur to a drunken Tate after securing his flavor of the night it would be punishment enough, but apparently she was a glutton for it because she had yet to put her foot down.
She recalled clearly the first time he had requested that she join him. He had flashed her one of his rare and brilliant smiles, and despite her exhaustion following a week’s worth of jumping to meet all of his commands, she had folded.
With thoughts of their first encounter in her mind, she had dressed in a provocative tight-fitting dress with a plunging neckline and fuck me heels that had made his eyes bulge out of their sockets. Whatever she had expected from that night, she didn’t know, because after a couple of beers he had left her sitting alone at the bar while he went scouting for a piece of ass.
She ended up driving him and his hoochie back to his apartment that night before returning to her empty bed feeling completely and unexpectedly heartbroken. When the pattern repeated itself the following weekend, she vowed to never again allow herself to get hurt by Tate Larson.
Easier said than done.
She felt foolish for believing that the woman he used her to chase from his apartment that evening not so long ago was his sister, because obviously it was a lie, and she was just dumb enough to fall for it.
Sipping at her frozen daiquiri, Piper let her eyes roam around the spacious but crowded room, reminding herself that she was only searching for Tate because she had an early morning ahead of her and she didn’t want to be out all night—a lie she told herself so she didn’t have to admit how pathetic she was. When her hunt came up empty, she shifted in her seat, hunching in on herself as thoughts of him in a darkened corner, or maybe a restroom stall, wrapped around another woman, plagued her. Her foot began a rapid tempo under the table, the clicking of its heel barely audible over the loud, thumping music that pierced her ear like a sharp dagger. Being at a club wasn’t nearly as fun or glamorous when you were sober.
She stopped abruptly when a shadow fell over the table. A mixture of elation and relief washed over her. Expecting to find Tate, Piper lifted her eyes, a hopeful smile curling her lips. Her face fell as she took in the sight of the man standing before her. He was easily taller than Tate, tanned skin peeking out from beneath shirt sleeves that were rolled to the elbow, and the smile he offered her was warm and inviting. Piper could almost imagine being content to look at him all day.
But he wasn’t Tate.
?
??I couldn’t help noticing you over here, all alone. Can I buy you a drink?” His deep, smoky voice penetrated the cacophony with ease.
Piper glanced around the dance floor and over the patrons lining the bar, but still no sign of Tate. She knew it was a waste of time and effort to entertain this stranger, but she had to remind herself that she couldn’t let her life idle away while she pined after a man who clearly didn’t want her.
She motioned to the cushioned seat beside her. “Sure.”
The stranger grinned widely, as if he had just overcome a huge obstacle, and slipped into the seat. “I’m Thomas,” he said, offering her his hand.
Piper shook it. “Piper.”
He pointed to her drink. “What are you having?”
Piper looked down at the half-empty glass clamped between her palms, debating on whether it was a good idea or not to have any more alcohol. Not a very big drinker, she was already feeling its strange effects. Her limbs felt oddly heavy, yet light, as if they might float away, and this was only her second drink of the evening. Except for the night she celebrated her new job with her friends, when the goal had been to get completely wasted; she wasn’t much for hard liquor, so the drinks were hitting her pretty hard. But what was one more?
She was preparing to throw caution to the wind when her thoughts traveled to Tate, as they always did, and reminded her of her responsibilities.
“I’ll just have water, thanks.”
Thomas raised a thick brow. “Water? You do realize you’re in a club, right?”
Piper nodded glumly. “I’m a designated driver tonight,” she told him.
Sitting back, he eyed her, a slow smile tipping the corners of his full mouth. “It’s not often you come across someone willing to sacrifice their night in exchange for someone else’s fun,” he said, eying her appreciatively. “Water it is.” Holding up a beefy arm, he waved over a member of the wait staff.
“What can I get for you, hon?” the young blonde waitress asked with a sultry smile as she approached the table and crouched down in order to hear over the music. Her eyes skimmed over Thomas with open desire, and then traveled over to Piper, clearly determining that she wasn’t any competition.
Piper was used to dismissal. She was under no illusions that she was gorgeous or even beautiful. She was plain, with straight, dull hair that couldn’t decide if it wanted to be red or blonde, so it settled someplace in between. Her eyes were a boring shade of brown and freckles dotted her nose and cheeks. Even her figure, a little too thick and round, couldn’t compare to the model thin women society demanded, but despite all that, men still seemed interested so it couldn’t be all bad. Maybe the view she had of herself was just warped, like every other female on the planet.
She looked away, ignoring the woman’s blatant flirtation with the man seated beside her, acting as if she wasn’t there to overhear her throaty coos. Invisible as ever.
Like a magnet, her eyes fell on the dark figure stumbling from a narrow hallway in the back. His legs were wobbly, clearly having had too much to drink, forcing him to skim his hands over the walls to guide his way.
Tate.
Her stomach crimped at the sight of him. The way he was tripping over his own feet worried her. Tate tended to overdo it sometimes when he was off the clock, but this was the first time she had seen him so far gone that he couldn’t walk upright and on his own two feet. Apparently tonight he decided to celebrate a little harder than normal.
“Excuse me,” Piper said briskly, sliding out of the booth and leaving her new friend to gape after her. She hurried across the dance floor, temporarily blinded by the pulsating colored lights, and to Tate’s side, catching him just as he lost balance and began his dissent to the polished wood floor.
“Tate,” Piper cried in alarm, straining to get a solid grip on his big body. Jesus, he’s heavy. “Tate, I need you to stand up.” Her puny muscles were already shaking beneath his considerable weight and Piper knew it was only a matter of time before she either dropped him, or crumbled beneath him.
“It looks like you could use some help.”
Piper looked up, and straight into Thomas’s eyes. “Um…” She wiggled her arms more securely under Tate’s armpits, feeling her knees begin to buckle. “Yes, please,” she squeaked, and was immediately relieved of her burden.
“Where do you want him?” he asked, bending to hoist Tate’s limp body over his shoulder effortlessly, which surprised Piper, because Tate was anything but a waif.
Glancing around, Piper met the bartender’s disapproving eyes and half the patrons who had paused to gawk at them, and made her decision. “Outside. I think we could both use some fresh air.”
She followed closely behind Thomas as he carried Tate from the restaurant and settled him on a bench just outside the doors.
“Do you have a car nearby?” Thomas asked, taking a step back.
“Yes. The valet has my keys.” She gestured to the twenty-something, fresh-faced man in the dark uniform.
Thomas nodded and said, “I’ll tell him to bring it around.” Accepting her ticket, he then turned, heading in his direction.
Taking a seat beside Tate while she waited for the car to arrive, Piper let her eyes roam over him. Long legs lay open, his hands resting in his lap. His wide chest, thick with muscle from regular workouts, rose and fell steadily. As her eyes traveled up, she committed every detail to memory. The top two buttons of his shirt displayed burnished skin with a dusting of barely visible hair, thick neck, pulse ticking calmly beneath the surface. His head craned back, allowing the light from the neon sign mounted overhead to catch on the slight beard shadowing his chin and cheeks. His mouth gaped open just the slightest bit, revealing slightly uneven white teeth. Piper, unable to resist the urge to touch him, reached up with trembling fingers and brushed a lock of blond hair from his forehead.
“All set,” Thomas’s deep voice called as he closed the distance.
A slight blush colored her cheeks at being caught, and Piper dropped her hand quickly. “Thank you,” she said as she got to her feet.
“No problem,” Thomas promised. “Would you like help getting your….boyfriend, to the car?”
Piper stifled a smile, recognizing when someone was fishing for information when she heard it. “He’s not my boyfriend,” she admitted, and immediately wanted to slap herself for her honesty when she caught the satisfied, hopeful look on Thomas’s face. “But yes, I would love some help.”
“Then I am at your service.”
She half expected him to bow gallantly, but Thomas just went to Tate and leaned over him. She really shouldn’t be disappointed by that.
Tapping his cheeks lightly, Thomas attempted to rouse him. “Hey, man. It’s time to wake up.”
Piper rolled her eyes but watched intently as Thomas worked to bring Tate around. Minutes passed before Tate finally released a grumble of annoyance and slowly picked up his head.
“Just ten more minutes,” he said in a gruff, sleep-filled voice that brought a smile to Piper’s face. She couldn’t count how many times she had heard that request after letting herself into his apartment only to find him tucked beneath his covers like a bear in hibernation.
“Nope,” Thomas said sternly, “it’s time to rise and shine.”
Piper stepped back, giving a wide berth as Thomas grabbed Tate by the wrists and forced him to stand. Tate opened heavy-lidded eyes and grinned when they found Piper.
“Piper,” he singsonged. “You’ve come to rescue me.”
“Of course,” she said, feeling a small mark of pleasure tingle in her belly. His words really shouldn’t affect her the way they did and she would admonish herself about it later, but right now she had to focus on getting him home and into bed.
Seeing Thomas’s struggle to keep him upright, Piper went around to his opposite side and slipped an arm around Tate, hoisting him up.
The five-foot trek to the car felt more like five miles, but they eventually got there. Leaning Tate agains
t the side of the car, Piper was relieved to find that he at least had his feet under him enough to stay standing.
Turning to Thomas, she smiled gratefully. “Thanks so much for all your help.”
Reaching into his back pocket, Thomas removed his wallet and handed her a small, white square. “My business card,” he informed. “My cell is on the back. I’d like to take you out sometime.”
Piper stared, stunned, at the fine lettering that proclaimed Thomas a professional event coordinator. She wasn’t sure how to respond. Briefly, she entertained the idea of dating this man, but quickly nixed the thought. There was no way she could take on another man right now. Tate was more than enough for her to handle.
Before she could give him a response, a drunken Tate reared his ugly head. “Piper doesn’t go out,” he said caustically, “unless it’s with me.”
Thomas gave him a blank look, one that said he didn’t put any stock into his words.
“So back off, pal.” Attempting to lean closer and affect a menacing look, Tate pitched forward instead.
Piper’s quick reflexes allowed her to catch him before he got too far. Pushing against his chest, she forced him to stand upright, using her body as a wall to keep him there.
Unexpectedly, warm hands wrapped around her waist, and Piper froze.
“God, you’re so beautiful,” Tate murmured. Burying his face in her hair, he inhaled deeply. “You always smell so good.”
Slowly, Piper leaned back and turned her head to face him. When she met his gaze, she felt the intense heat reflected in his eyes zip through her body to settle between her thighs.
“You’re drunk,” she told him, unwilling to believe anything he said in his current state, but unable to deny how good his words made her feel.
Moving his hands up to cradle her face between his heated palms, Tate lowered his head until his lips hovered over hers. Her heart raced out of control and the focus of her world funneled into a narrow scope in which only she and Tate existed. She leaned into him, her body hungry for his touch, his kiss, his everything. As his breath mingled with hers, the bitter smell of alcohol hit her in the nose, bringing her back to reality.