Amy Bensen 01 Escaping Reality (29 page)

hand settles on his heart. It thrums beneath my palm, a soothing melody

that feels like home. He feels like home.

I’m going to tell him everything. I just have to find the right time.

***

I wake on my side, a bright blast of sunlight illuminating the room,

and my eyes lock on the sight of Liam standing in the bathroom knotting a

red silk tie at his neck. He’s been back for two days, one I regretfully slept

through, the other we spent in bed together, but today he goes back to war

with his “a-hole” investor. We haven’t talked. Not really. I was too sick from

the concussion and he was too protective to do anything but worry about

me. Despite the ER giving me a thumbs-up on a clear CT Scan, Liam is

determined to get me to a neurologist, but I know he’ll understand why I

won’t go when I finally tell him about my past. Or what I know of it.

Liam’s gaze suddenly lifts and catches on mine in the mirror, and my

stomach flutters wildly. He gives me a devastatingly sexy smile, and turns to

close the distance between us. And I am like a starving animal soaking in his

male grace and the way the gray pinstriped suit accents his long, leanly

muscled frame.

“How do you feel?” he asks, sitting on the edge of the bed.

I sit as well and touch the small bandage at my hairline, one that

thankfully has been downsized from gigantic the day before. “Ready to be

out of bed.” I stroke my hand down his arm. “Or to stay in it with you here.”

I glance at the clock and note the nearly one o’clock hour.

“But alas, you must go, and I have the acupuncturist showing up in an

hour.”

“Call me after the appointment and let me know how it went. I hate

leaving you.”

“I’m fine and you need to take care of business.”

“I’ll make it fast, if I can.”

A few minutes later he is gone, and I shower and dress before

heading to the mini-kitchen off the dining room area to make coffee. The

instant I bring the table into view I go still at the sight of my notepad and

computer. I didn’t expect Liam to be back and I never put my things away.

I walk to the table and sink down into the chair in front of my

computer. My screensaver is on and my notepad is closed, but I open it to

see what would be the first thing Liam would have seen if he had as well.

I’ve scribbled
Why is there no record of the fire?
and
Who covered it
up?,

both phrases underlined heavily. There are references to my hometown

papers and my father’s name is everywhere. I feel sick to my stomach all

over again and it has nothing to do with my concussion.

Liam may never have looked at these notes, but if he did, he is too

smart not to put two and two together. I have to talk to him now. I have to

make sure he doesn’t do anything to get the wrong people’s attention. I

dial his cell. He doesn’t answer. I press fingers to my forehead. He never

answers his phone.

A text beeps and I quickly glance at it.
Just walked into meeting. Are

you okay?

I sigh and type.
Yes. Yes I’m fine.

Derek wants us to go to dinner with him and Mike.

Mike is the “a-hole”. I’m never going to get to talk to Liam at this

rate.
What time?

Seven. I’ll send a car for you.

I’ll be ready.

***

At seven sharp I exit the hotel in a white, form-fitting lace dress Liam

had picked out during our shopping trip, paired with red high heels and a

red purse, both of which I’d chosen.

My only other accessory is the white bandage by my hairline that,

despite my efforts to sweep my long blonde hair over it and seal it there

with hairspray, still shows.

I’m barely in the car when my cell phone rings, and it’s Meg. I frown.

She’s avoided me for almost a week and she chooses now to call? “Hello.”

“I just ran into Jared. He told me you had some sort of a head injury?

He said he’d stopped by the hotel several times and left you messages you

won’t reply to.”

Jared stopped by the hotel? “I’ve been in bed. I had a concussion.”

“Was it—”

My defenses prickle. “No, it was not Liam. Jared knows that. Is Luke

back in town?”

“Oh, yes. I emailed you a new property list. Did you see it?”

“No. No, I didn’t.”

“Luke inadvertently sent you the wrong one and he apologizes. He let

your boss know. I guess you were supposed to do some reports you haven’t

done? Dermit was asking why, so you better get on it.”

I’m confused. Completely confused. Who do I work for? Do I work for

anyone? Is

Dermit real or not? “Can you please get me a number for my boss?”

“You’ll have to talk to Luke about that.”

“Can I make an appointment?”

“I’ll get with him and call you.”

My phone beeps. “I need to take that. I’ll check in tomorrow.” I click

over to Liam.

“Where are you?” he asks.

“I’m almost there, I think. I’m in the car.”

“I’ll be at the door waiting on you.”

“Okay. Yes.” We end the call and I immediately pull up my email. The

only email is from Meg with the property listing. I really have no idea what

is a cover story and what is a problem anymore. The idea of telling Liam

everything and no longer being on my own with this sounds better every

second.

“Your destination, ma’am,” the driver says, and the door opens

almost immediately. Liam leans in and tosses a large bill at the driver.

“Keep the change.”

He offers me his hand and pulls me to my feet, giving me a hot

head-to-toe inspection before leaning in near my ear. “You look good

enough to eat. I think I will.”

“Liam,” I gasp softly, instantly warm all over, my nipples tightening.

That is how easily this man gets to me.

Deep, sexy laughter rumbles in his chest and he shuts the door

behind me. “Come with me.” He laces my fingers with his and pulls me

toward the building, and the way he has said the words “come with me”

has me quaking with the certainty he is up to something naughty.

We enter the high-rise building and my heels click on the fine white

ceramic tile that blends with my dress and contrasts with my shoes. I glance

upward at spiraling rows of offices that remind me of a corkscrew and seem

to climb forever. “Wait,” I say, and tug on Liam’s hand.

He stops and turns to me, glancing up as I am, and then back down at

me. “You like it?”

“This is the building you designed, isn’t it?”

“Yes. This is it. You like it?”

“It’s…” I struggle for a word that suits it, and settle on, “sexy. Like

you.”

He pulls me against him. “Sexy, huh?”

“Yes. Very.” My fingers curl on his cheek. “And brilliant, also like

you.”

His eyes darken and heat. “Come with me,” he orders again, and sets

us in motion.

We step onto the elevator and though I know the building is tall I

gape at the panel that reads 107 floors. “107 floors?”

Liam punches in a code and then directs us to the top floor. “Yes,

107.”

“That’s an intimidating elevator ride.”

He molds me close. “I’ll protect you,” he vows, and I’m not sure he’s

talking about the elevator ride. I’m not sure anything is what it seems ever

in my world.

“Why 107?”

“105 had been done and seven is lucky.”

“You believe in luck?”

“You don’t?”

“Not really.”

“We ended up seated together on a plane. I’d say that’s pretty

lucky.”

I soften inside, and more of that warmth he stirs in me pools low in

my belly and slides hotly between my thighs. “I think my luck is changing.”

The car jumps a little and I jump with it.

“Or not. What was that?”

“The car stops at floor one hundred and shifts to the right slightly.”

“I don’t think I want to know why.”

“It’s part of the sway built into the top of the tower.” The elevator

stops. “And just that quick, we’re here.” The doors slide open and I’m more

than a little glad to get the heck off the car after that jump, planned or not.

We exit into a hallway and Liam indicates another elevator. “The last

two floors require another ride up, but I want to show you something first.”

“Aren’t we going to be late to dinner?”

“I told you 7:00 and them 7:30.”

We travel a narrow hallway with glass windows from floor to ceiling

and I feel a bit dizzy and unsteady. Liam opens a huge wooden door and

motions me inside. I step into an oval-shaped room that is nothing but

windows and random pairs of leather chairs split by small tables.

Liam takes my hand and I always have this sense he is worried I am

about to run away.

But I’m not running from him. It’s time he knows I’m running to him.

He leads me to the far side of the room and it is like I am standing on a

cloud staring down at buildings twinkling like stars.

“It’s beautiful.”

“So are you,” he murmurs, his body framing mine from behind.

“You know,” I say, turning in his arms, “Mike might have some merit

with the whole

‘tallest building’ idea. He knows you won’t make it just another tall

building.”

“He knows he wants the tallest building. Period. The end.”

He turns me and sets me down in a chair, going down on a knee in

front of me and sliding my skirt up my thighs. I look over my shoulder. “No

one is going to catch us,” he assures me. “I locked the door.”

He cups my sex and suddenly jerks on my panties, ripping them

away. I gasp. “Liam!”

He laughs and shoves them in his pant pocket. “Now I have

something to think about while ol’ Mike runs his mouth.” His hands stroke

back up my thighs. “It’s been too long since I’ve been inside you.”

My cheeks heat at his boldness, but I agree. “Yes.”

“Did you take a pregnancy test?”

I’m taken aback by the unexpected question. “I told them I might be

at the hospital.”

His lips curve. “I did, too.”

“You did?”

“Yes. Did they test you?”

“Yes. But they said it was too soon to be accurate.”

“When can you tell?”

“I think another week.”

“Call the doctor and ask.”

I nod. “I will.”

“Tomorrow.”

“Yes. Tomorrow.”

“I’m going to give us both something else to think about over

dinner.” He slips two

fingers into the V of my body.

“Liam,” I gasp. “Not here.”

“Yes. Here.” And before I can object again, his head is between my

thighs and his tongue laps at my clit. I mean to object. Really I do, but his

fingers slide inside me and he is licking me in that way he does that drives

me insane.

I grab the arms of the chair and Liam pushes the skirt of my dress

higher, lifting one of my legs to his shoulder. For a moment, I drink in the

image of me sitting in the chair with this gorgeous man between my legs

and me spread wide for him, and it is erotic and exciting, like everything

with Liam. Pleasure spikes, already building in some deep spot in my sex

and I swear I just keep on being the easiest orgasms this man has ever

given anyone. He touches me and I shudder. He licks and I moan. And that

is just what happens. He licks me again, I moan, and then my sex clenches

around his fingers. I shatter like glass thrown to the ground, instantly, and

in tiny little pieces, pleasure splintering through every nerve ending in my

body, until I am limp in the chair.

I blink the image of my leg over his shoulder into view and blush

furiously. I try to pull it down and he leans in and licks me one last time. I

shudder with the impact and he chuckles, then settles my leg on the

ground. I quickly try to shimmy my skirt down my legs, and can’t get it.

Liam pushes to his feet and pulls me with him, caressing my dress

back into place.

“I can’t believe we just did that here.”

He leans in and kisses me, pressing his tongue into my mouth, before

he whispers, “And now we can both have a taste of what the rest of the

night will hold. Mike be damned.”

Chapter Twenty-One

The restaurant is a circle that rotates and has a bar in the center with

spectacular views of the city. Liam and I join our group of what will be six,

including us, and Mike, Mr. A-Hole himself, greets me with a handshake.

Mike is as Liam has described: rather short for a man, no taller than my five

feet, four inches, forty-something, and otherwise quite decent looking. I say

a quick hello to the others attending the dinner and we all are seated. Mike

to my left. Liam to my right. Derek on the opposite side of Mike, and two

other investors on the far side of the table.

The first order of business is wine, which I refuse for fear I might be

pregnant. “Diet whatever you have,” I say, and Liam squeezes my leg,

pulling my gaze to his, and there is awareness and approval there. And

heat. Lots of heat. I think the idea of me being pregnant actually turns him

on. But I think all men get a macho rise out of the idea of creating a baby on

some level. That doesn’t mean they’re happy when the round belly and

dirty diapers come around.

“So tell me about yourself, Amy,” Mike encourages.