Trouble Page 4

  I’m a mature, professional woman. I never get involved with clients.

  Besides, I’ll be working with my cousin. It’s perfectly safe.

  Chapter 4

  Spencer

  “Eleven-ten.” Miles gloats, and I shake my head, rubbing the towel through my damp hair.

  “I tweaked my back.”

  We’re in the luxury locker room of the Palmetto Lake Club downtown, where I’ve been kicking his ass at our weekly game of racquetball—until today.

  “I beat you fair and square. Admit it.” He closes the pine door of his locker, securing it with a thumbprint.

  “I have no problem admitting if you beat me fair and square.” I pull my suit coat over one shoulder and toss my tie around my neck while doing the same. “I tweaked my back when I hit the wall in our second match.”

  “Tweaked your back,” he scoffs, tossing his racket under his arm. “Don’t be a poor loser, Freeze.”

  Exhaling a laugh, I drop the thick white towel in the bin and grab my racket. Winning is so commonplace to me, I let it go—even though my right side is hurting like a mother. “Congrats on your win.”

  His elfin face pinches. “You’re patronizing me.”

  “Good God, Miles.” I stretch to the side as I flip my tie around, fastening a small Windsor knot. “Don’t be a poor winner.”

  “Fuck, look at the time.” He slaps his Rolex. “We’ve got to meet Daisy in twenty minutes.”

  I give myself one last check in the mirror. I don’t tell Miles I couldn’t give a shit about winning or losing today. Daisy texted me she’s bringing her cousin to the meeting this afternoon, and that old itch is driving me mad.

  I pop an ibuprofen and follow him out of the ancient, red-brick edifice to where a black Lincoln waits to return us to the office.

  The conference room at Antiques Today has a brilliant view of downtown Columbia. A massive mahogany table is situated in the center, surrounded by butter-soft black leather chairs, and a projector hangs from the ceiling, pointed to a fifty-inch flatscreen television.

  In the center is sparkling and still water, coffee, and tea, and a pair of servers have arranged platters of finger sandwiches and fruit on the credenza.

  “Good afternoon, Miles. Spencer.” Daisy breezes into the room in jeans and a flowing white top, pausing to kiss my cheek. “Can you believe I’ve never been in this room?”

  I glance around the austere space. “We rarely use it.”

  “Why have it?” She picks up a tiny sandwich and takes a bite. “Mmm… Chicken salad.”

  “For moments such as this.” Miles holds out a hand. “Would you like a snack, Miss…”

  “Winthrop. Joselyn. I’m good, thank you.”

  My eyes snap up, and she’s here.

  She’s dressed in a charcoal suit perfectly tailored to her tall, statuesque frame. It’s expensive, Armani, I’d guess, with a white silk blouse under the jacket. The top button in the center of her chest gives me a peek at her soft cleavage, and her glossy red hair is brushed over one shoulder in smooth waves.

  She looks amazing.

  “Sorry, Miles,” Daisy covers her mouth as she swallows her bite. “I forgot you haven’t met my cousin. Sly, this is Miles Klaut, founder of Antiques Today. He’s a legend in the business and not at all as scary as he seems at first.”

  “Do I seem scary?” Miles puts a hand on his chest and winks up at her. “It’s nice to meet you, Miss Winthrop.”

  I step around the table, and her eyes flare when she sees me in a most satisfying way. “It’s nice to see you again, Joselyn.”

  “Spencer.” Her voice is quiet, slightly husky, pure sex. “How are you?”

  “Much better now.” I give her a rare smile, and she blinks away quickly, cheeks flushing.

  Don’t be afraid, Sin.

  “Spencer said you’re an artist when it comes to flowers.” Miles motions to the chairs, and she and Daisy sit.

  “An artist?” She arches an eyebrow at me, and I lightly shrug.

  “I described what I saw. Would you like something to drink?”

  “I’ll have a water, thanks.” She takes a chair, and I hand her a bottle of Pellegrino before rounding the table to sit across from her.

  From this angle, I can study her beautiful face as we chat. Miles leads the discussion, explaining his ideas, and Daisy is quick to catch up with him. She lists potential venues and themes and the pros and cons of each.

  Leaning back in my chair, I let the two of them run with it, preferring instead to memorize the flicker of dark lashes over ocean eyes. The afternoon sun highlights the red streaks in her hair like fire, and I notice a faint sprinkling of freckles across the top of her cheeks. Her skin is like ivory. She’s a rare beauty.

  “Sly has connections with one of the best caterers in the area, and of course, she’ll handle all the floral arrangements.”

  “Did you have anything in particular in mind?” Her voice is smooth like whiskey, with a hint of smokiness. “We’re lucky that we can get almost anything here.”

  “I think the New Englanders would be most impressed by tropicals.” I lean forward, joining the conversation.

  Daisy lights up in her unique way, nodding quickly. “Did you bring your portfolio, Sly? Show Miles the one you did with the tiger lilies.”

  “I didn’t…” Joselyn looks worried, glancing from her cousin to Miles to me. “It’s in Fireside. I-I wasn’t planning to do this anymore.”

  “No need to apologize, Miss Winthrop.” Miles smiles at her, giving me a knowing glance. “Anyone who can make an impression on Mr. Freeze here must be worth her salt.”

  Her pink lips part, and a wicked image flashes across my mind.

  “Who’s on the guest list?” Daisy climbs onto her knees in the chair, leaning on her elbows, and with her hair in a ponytail, she’s like a kid planning a birthday party.

  Miles eats it up. Nothing makes him happier than people jumping onboard his unnecessarily elaborate plans. “I’ve got Brimfield and Skinner. Grafton—”

  “Oh! I hope they send Heather. She’s so fun. I’d love to show her my store.”

  “I’ll put in a special request for Ms. Olsen to attend.”

  Joselyn sits quietly in her chair, chewing on her bottom lip. She’s different today, quieter, and I don’t like it. She can’t be intimidated by all this. She’s far too talented to be insecure. Something else is troubling her, and I want to know what it is.

  At the wedding reception, she had the nerve to mock me, and it was annoying as fuck and ridiculously adorable.

  I want her to do it again so I can pull her across my lap and spank her creamy, white ass. Then I’ll smooth my palm over her soft, pink cheeks. Then I’ll follow with my lips…

  Her eyes are on me, and I try another smile. She blinks hesitantly before finally returning my greeting with a small smile of her own. That’s better.

  “I think we’ve got a great start.” Daisy is on her feet.

  “How soon can we make it happen?” Miles stands as well, and they’re eye to eye.

  “Two weeks?” She glances to her cousin. “What do you think, Sly? Will that give you enough time?”

  “I think so.” Joselyn is still distracted.

  Daisy glances to Miles, “Yes?”

  He’s beaming. “I’ll send invitations as soon as you verify the venue.”

  “I’ll make some calls on the drive home.” Daisy lifts a small leather bag off her chair. “Now I’ve got to hit the road. I’ve got a husband to feed.”

  The pituitary case.

  “Is it after five already?” Miles takes her arm, and they’re like a tiny power duo. “I’ve got a date with my Netflix. I just started the Cecil Hotel doc. Very nice to meet you, Miss Winthrop.”

  They head for the door, and I wait as Joselyn collects a small clutch, which I assume holds her phone. “She was always his favorite,” I tease, as if I care Miles prefers Daisy.

  “She’s a pixie.” Joselyn pick
s up the empty bottles, placing them in the trash.

  “You don’t have to clean. Maintenance will take care of it.”

  Her cheeks flush, and she shakes her head. “I’m used to doing all the jobs.”

  “Daisy told me you’re self-employed.”

  “Trying to be. I recently had a change in circumstance.”

  “You fired yourself?” I place a hand on the open doors of the elevator, holding them for her.

  “What?” She blinks up at me, then realizes I’m joking. “Oh, no. Just… personal stuff.”

  I’m intrigued, and I can’t let her go. “It’s after five on a Friday. Let me buy you a drink.”

  The elevator dings when we reach the bottom floor, and she hesitates. “I shouldn’t.”

  “Still with the boyfriend?” If she says yes…

  She doesn’t answer immediately, and her eyes flinch with something like anger.

  Daisy pops back into the foyer. “Sly, you coming?”

  “I’ll drop her where she needs to go.” I glance at Joselyn. “If that’s okay?”

  She wavers a bit longer before giving a short answer. “Sure.”

  An edge is in her voice, and I finally catch a glimpse of my feisty redhead.

  Her cousin skips over and gives me a hug. “Night, Spence.” She turns to Joselyn and kisses her cheek. “I’ll call you.”

  Daisy and Miles are gone, and I’m still waiting to see what Joselyn will say. She glances up at me and presses her lips into a decided smile. “No boyfriend.”

  “In that case, I know where to get the best martini in town.”

  “Lead the way.”

  With pleasure.

  * * *

  “So what makes this the best martini in town?” Sly’s jacket is off, and her hair is soft over her broad shoulders.

  She’s gorgeous, perched on a leather barstool in Nightcaps with that silk blouse giving me a teasing glimpse of her lace bra underneath.

  Standing in front of her, I pass one of the two cone-shaped cocktail glasses to her. “For starters, they’re ice cold.” She takes the drink in both hands and gives it a little sip. Her eyebrows rise as I continue. “They use the precise amount of vermouth, and just a dash of olive juice.”

  She takes another, bigger gulp, blue eyes wide. “Mm—I agree.”

  Tilting her head back, she polishes off the entire thing then lifts the toothpick and pops the green olive in her mouth, chewing like it’s a piece of gum. “You’re right. That was a damn good martini.”

  I almost laugh, but I narrow my eyes instead. “You’re supposed to savor it.”

  “Can I have another?” Her eyes dance. “To savor?”

  “Are you used to shooting straight vodka?”

  “No.”

  “I’ll get you another one, but only if you sip it this time.”

  “I told you, I don’t like being bossed around.” The fire in her eyes heats my already simmering blood.

  Stepping closer, I slide my hand along her narrow waist. “I don’t want you drunk tonight.”

  She considers this before nodding. “Okay.”

  Signaling the waitress, I order another then turn to study the creamy skin of her neck leading down to the luscious curve of her full breast taunting me from the V in her shirt. God, she’s gorgeous. I want to spend the night getting to know her so much better.

  But first… “What happened to the boyfriend?”

  Her eyes follow the olive as she traces it around the edge of her glass. “We broke up.”

  “Good. He didn’t deserve you.”

  A gorgeous smile spreads her full lips, and she shakes her head. “You never even saw him.”

  “But I saw you. Any man who would leave you alone looking the way you did is a fucking idiot.”

  She snorts into her glass, taking another small sip. “Fucking Elliot.”

  “I rest my case.”

  Her lips press together, and she peeks up at me from under full lashes. “That was very nice what you said about my work today.”

  “I’m not nice. I’m honest.”

  “So you’re not a nice man?” She leans closer on the barstool, and I’m ready to take her home.

  “Haven’t you heard?” She shakes her head, and her eyes fix on my lips. Yep, time to take this vixen to my bed. “I can be nice when I want to be.”

  “I don’t believe you. You’re naughty.”

  “I am. Just like you.”

  “At least we know it.” She slips the olive between her teeth, chewing as she gives me a sly wink.

  I think I get her nickname now. “Are you hungry?”

  She nods, and I take her hand. “I ordered dinner for two. It should be at my place the same time as us.”

  “You’re mighty sure of yourself.”

  Pulling her hand into the crook of my arm, her body slides closer to mine. “I only hoped.”

  “Then it’s your lucky night.”

  Fuck, yeah, it is.

  Chapter 5

  Joselyn

  “It’s beautiful.” I’m on the balcony of Spencer’s two-story brownstone overlooking the Congaree River.

  It’s in a historic part of downtown with galleries, cute little shops, and restaurants, and as the light breeze moves through my hair, I remember walking through the city on my first visit, dreaming of living in one of these gorgeous homes.

  We didn’t talk much on the ride back, and I feel a little more sober than when I left the bar. Now I’m here. What am I doing here?

  “The view sold me on this place.” He joins me, two glasses of wine in his hands.

  He’s gorgeous in a bespoke suit with his dark hair falling in perfectly messy waves. I want to curl my fingers in it, remembering how soft his hair is—contrasted with the dark scruff on his square jaw.

  I remember the way he kissed me that night, demanding, possessive, leaving my cheeks scuffed pink. I want to feel that scruff between my thighs.

  He’s intense and intimidating, sensual and predatory. He’s too smart, but I’m not afraid of him.

  “You have impeccable taste.” I take the glass and sip the dry, oaky wine.

  Steak and fish are plated downstairs on the dining table, but I’m not hungry for food.

  I texted Courtney not to wait up. I have no idea what to expect, but it’s been a long time since a man seduced me.

  I could use a bit of seduction.

  “It’s my job.” He looks at me in a way that makes my insides beg. “What do you like, Sin?”

  I take another sip of wine and give him a coy smile. “True crime.”

  His chin drops, and he laughs. “So I’ve heard. What do you like so much about true crime?”

  Shrugging, I step around the immaculately furnished sitting room. It’s all leather and brass and stained-glass Tiffany lamps. “The passion, the fear. It’s exciting and terrifying.”

  “You like being scared?”

  “Yes, but I like being in control of my fear.”

  His hazel eyes darken, and I can’t tell what he’s thinking. “Do you want to eat something?”

  “Not just yet.”

  I take a step closer, setting my wine glass on the end table. At the bar, we started something I want to continue. My tongue wets my bottom lip.

  His dark brow furrows as he watches my mouth. “You probably should. You’ve had a bit of alcohol.”

  “I’m not a child, Spencer. I know when I’ve had too much to drink.”

  “Do you?” The way he looks at me sometimes is pure lust, like he’s stripping me bare in his mind.

  I place my hand on his wine glass, taking it and setting it beside mine on the nearby table. He slides his hand along my waist, the warmth of his palm radiating through my silk blouse.

  My palm is flat against his chest. “Do you enjoy true crime?”

  A hint of a smile, a deep dimple, and his voice is low. “I prefer more sensual entertainment.”

  “What do you like so much about it?” I imitate him, slidi
ng my palms under the lapels of his coat and easing it off his shoulders.

  He catches it and tosses it on the couch. “Pretty much the same thing you like about true crime.” His hand is on my waist again, fisting my blouse, tugging it out of my skirt and up my back.

  I pause to help him lift it over my head, thankful I wore my pretty lace bra. Doubly thankful I just had the complete spa treatment two days ago… Fucking Elliot. Glad I’m not wasting a body scrub, waxing, mani-pedi, and facial on that idiot.

  “Hey, beautiful. Did I lose you?” Spencer doesn’t miss a beat. He monitors my every response, and I have a feeling it’s going to be a very good thing.

  “Just an old ghost trying to get me down.”

  He catches my face in his elegant hand. “Don’t let it.” Our eyes meet, and he’s so focused. “Do you trust me?”

  “I hardly know you.”

  “You can always tell me to stop, and I will.”

  “What are you planning to do to me?”

  He turns my body so my back is to his chest and slides one hand over my bare stomach, pressing us flush. I’m still in my Armani skirt, but glancing down, I can see my hardened nipples through the thin cups of my bra.

  “I want to take you from behind,” he speaks in my ear, his voice thick, his beard scuffing my cheek. “I want to look down and see those beautiful tits bounce as I thrust into you again and again.”

  Leaning my head back, I close my eyes as he traces the fingers of his other hand up my arm, to the silk covering my breast and squeezes. I gasp as he continues.

  “I want my hands all over them, lifting and squeezing as I kiss the side of your neck.” He does it, placing warm lips to my heated skin. “Smell your beautiful hair, memorize every inch of your gorgeous body…”

  His teeth graze my neck, up behind my ear as he inhales deeply. My insides are wet and clenching, and when he bites the skin on my neck, I almost meow. Lust and hunger and vodka and wine swirl in my veins, and I’m blazing with need.

  “That sounds good…” I manage to say.

  He releases me, and I take a shaky step forward, turning to watch as he loosens his tie and lifts it over his head. His eyes never leave me as he quickly unbuttons his white dress shirt.