Homewrecker Incorporated (9 page)

It'd been years since I'd heard that voice, but I remembered it as clearly as if it was yesterday.

My first instinct was to run to my car and peel out of there as fast as possible. My second was to walk straight up to him and slap him across the face. That was what I'd done the last time I saw him. Instead I gave Izzy a kiss on the cheek and passed her to Jessica before turning around.

I lifted my chin and said, "Robert." 

"It's good to see you, honey." His blue eyes searched my face. 

My stomach turned at his use of the endearment he'd assigned to me when I was just a naive little girl stupid enough to think her father was the greatest man in the world. He made his way down the steps toward us. He'd barely aged in fifteen years. Apart from a bit more gray hair, he was still the same handsome piece of shit I remembered. "You look so much like Teresa now."

I gasped and stepped back as though he'd punched me in the gut.

"Don't you dare say her name," I spat.

"Claudia," Jessica said softly. I glared at her and she lifted her hand in surrender.

"I shouldn't have come." I spun around to head back to my car. I was certain my face was probably as red as my car by that point. I hated I couldn't control myself around him but after what he'd done, I just couldn't handle it. My blood boiled and I needed to get out of there. Fast.

"Auntie Claudia, you have to play with me," Izzy demanded as I walked away.

"Sorry, pumpkin pie. Auntie Claudia has to go do some work, but we'll play next time. I promise," I said, turning briefly to give her a reassuring smile and a wink. "Maybe we can go see a movie soon?" She smiled brightly, nodding like any child would.

"It's a date." Satisfied she wiggled out of Jessica's arms and ran up to the porch where Shawn just stepped out.

"Claudia, please, just talk to me. Don't you think this has gone on long enough?" Robert strode toward me. Jessica wisely joined her family well out of the line of fire.

"Long enough? How long is long enough to hate the person who killed your mother?" I sneered, keeping my voice low enough that Izzy wouldn't hear.

He reached for my arm.

"Don't you dare fucking touch me!" I yanked my arm away and jumped into the driver's seat. He started to say something else, and I slammed the door. Something I would have yelled at anyone else for. That car was my baby, but I was too pissed to care. I revved up the engine, and after a brief moment of seriously contemplating running him over, I peeled out, spraying gravel at his feet.

❖

I sped over the countryside, making my way back to the city. The speedometer approached one hundred miles per hour. Times like that I wished for a manual transmission, the ability to shift, to leave my problems behind one gear at a time.

My phone chimed in the seat beside me. I didn't have to look to know it was Jessica, a fact confirmed by the screen in the dash a second later. I ignored the call and slowed just enough to make my next turn without going off the road. My gym bag slid across the black leather and red stitching of the backseat. Thank God I'd grabbed it before I left. I needed the run I'd told Grace I was going to take before I went to my sister's. I had a lot of time to kill before eight, and I couldn't risk going back to the penthouse and being spotted by Grace with no excuse to go out again without her. I could have gone to the temporary apartment, but there was hardly anything in there and I needed a distraction.

As I took another turn, I hoped my dress wasn't getting wrinkled in the trunk. I regretted not hanging it in the car, but with the way I was driving, it probably would have ended up on the floor anyway. Thankfully, my gym had complimentary irons and steamers I could use when I stopped there to shower.

I should have canceled my date. Shit, not date, business dinner, but I told myself I didn't have Grey's number. Of course I could have called the office or Janet directly to get it or at least leave him a message, but that didn't cross my mind. Or if it did, I ignored it.

I was too busy stewing over that son of a bitch my sister still called Dad. I was determined to never refer to him as anything but Robert.

I managed to make it to North Avenue Beach in one piece and without getting a ticket for reckless driving. At one point I think my speed topped out at around 120.

I grabbed my bag from the back and kicked off my heels before I pulled my dress up around my waist and slipped into a pair of running shorts. I didn't bother to look around before I unzipped and pulled the dress over my head, which elicited an enthusiastic tap on my window and thumbs-up from a couple of college-age meatheads jogging by. I flipped them off. One, who was rather cute, pantomimed being stabbed in the heart as he jogged backward behind his two friends who were heading for the running path. He mouthed, "I love you," before turning around. I laughed to myself and slid my sports bra on over the black lacy number before I unclasped it and pulled it free.

A few minutes later, with shoes on and earbuds in, I was running through all my frustrations and repeatedly past the pack of frat boys I continuously ignored despite their best efforts. The playlist blaring in my ears wasn't one I listened to often, but the anger in the voice of the metal band's lead singer matched what I was feeling as my feet pounded the trail and I pictured my father's face below them.

Chapter 7 

"Do you have a reservation?" The host asked when I entered the restaurant. I inhaled the aroma of steak and butter filling the elegant space.

"No, at least I don't think so. I'm meeting someone, but we only made the plans a few hours ago so I doubt he called ahead." I nervously played with the few golden strands of hair hanging loose from my French twist at the base of my neck.

"What's the name?"

"Michaels, Greyston Michaels."

"Oh yes, here it is. Mr. Michaels made a reservation for eight. You're rather early, so it will be a few minutes before your table is ready. Would you like to wait at the bar?"

"God yes," I replied.

I definitely needed a drink. My run, shower at the gym, and subsequent trip to the Art Institute of Chicago took my mind off things for a time. I always felt close to my mother when I walked amongst the beautiful paintings and sculptures of the Institute. She loved art and would take Jess and I on spontaneous trips to museums and galleries around the country a few times a year. It was a passion that had rubbed off on me. Unfortunately, the instant I stopped and let my thoughts drift, I was right back there staring into the face of the man who walked away and ruined everything so many years ago. 

The host helped me out of my cream peacoat, revealing the open back of my black and cream dress with red lacing across the low-cut chest. I might have been there for a business dinner, but my dress sent an entirely different message.

"Vodka and soda," I said to the bartender when he approached. I definitely didn't nurse it and was ordering another just a few minutes later.

"A woman after my own heart," a very sexy voice said against my ear.

Much like the vodka, his presence got into my bloodstream and completely threw my body off balance. As much as I tried not to, I smiled when he stepped up right beside me, so close I could feel his warmth against the bare skin of my thigh. The familiar tension I felt low in my belly whenever he was around took on a whole new life. I longed for the touch of his hands on my bare skin.

He glanced down at his watch. "I see you were even more anxious for our date than I was." 

"Business meeting," I corrected with a sly grin. "And I always say if you're on time, you're late."

Despite the protest of my body, which clearly wanted to get as close to Grey as possible, I was here to end our harmless flirtation, or whatever the hell it was between us. A task which would have better served with a sober, not fucked up by seeing my dad, mind. Who was I kidding? I'd known when I chose my dress for the evening that the night, very much like the day that preceded it, was not going to go to plan. At least not any plan I was willing to admit having.

Grey looked even better than I remembered and his lips even more kissable in the dim light of the bar. Seeing him again, I realized how different he was from his brother, at least from the photos I'd seen of Gregory. Grey's hair was just a bit longer and more disheveled. Gregory was the picture of a disciplined businessman--everything in just the right place. Grey had a more carefree vibe about him.

"So, Mr. Michaels--"

"Grey," he interrupted.

"So,
Grey,
what exactly is the purpose of the business meeting? Are you going to give me pointers on how best to serve your brother?" His jaw clenched and a fire lit in his eyes. "As his new assistant," I added, turning my body toward him. His face relaxed as I took a sip of my drink.

"To the contrary, like I told you, I need a new assistant. I believe your talents will be better utilized serving me."

He placed his hand over mine around the glass and pulled it toward him. His unexpected touch sent goose bumps over my skin. Keeping his eyes trained on me, he took a drink from my glass. His tongue flicked out over his bottom lip to catch a stray drop of the clear liquid.

"My need for you is far more urgent than my brother's," he continued, his eyes burning into me as he took the lime from the rim of my glass and sucked it between his lips. "I'll have one of these, as well," he told the bartender without looking at him.

I pulled my lip between my teeth and bit down to temper the urge to kiss him right there in the middle of the crowded restaurant.

Between the drinks and the stress of the day, I was far past worrying about my responsibility to Elsa Michaels. The only thing I was worried about was getting some release and from what I could tell, Greyston Michaels could give me that and more.

"You are the most stunning woman I have ever seen," he whispered, inching closer. "Those eyes, I've never seen anything like them."

"Oh yeah." I smirked. "What color are they?" I closed my eyes before finishing the question. No one ever really noticed their true colors, so I expected an educated guess at best.

"Well"--he leaned over and whispered in my left ear--"the left is sea green with hints of blue, like the ocean when you're far out looking down into the depths. The right"--he moved around, letting his lips brush ever so slightly over my forehead, to whisper in my right ear--"is blue like the sky on a perfect summer day."

I opened my eyes, surprised at his accurate response. My heterochromia typically eluded most people, even those close to me would say my eyes were either green or blue, never one of each, a trait inherited from my mother.

Whatever was left of my instinct to fight the attraction between us dissipated as I leaned forward until our lips were mere centimeters apart. "You're going to regret me," I whispered against his mouth.

"The only thing I would regret is not kissing you right now," he breathed, closing the gap between us. He gripped my hips, sliding me forward on the stool. My lips parted instinctually. His tongue slid along the seam of my mouth and then against my tongue. The essence of lime teased my taste buds. He pulled back, breaking the contact as quickly as it began. I groaned as my body revolted against the loss of his touch.

"We have plenty of time." He gave me a sexy smile as he picked up the drink the bartender must have dropped off while I was too distracted to notice.

I'm pretty sure I pouted a little, but I didn't audibly protest, instead choosing to join him in a drink. He was working me. Smooth. I imagined he'd left a long line of brokenhearted women in his wake over the years. I considered knocking his confidence down a peg or two and telling him we didn't have as much time as he thought. Right then, that night was it. It had to be. No matter what happened with Elsa's case, there was no chance of anything else with me for him, or any man really. Seeing my father further enforced my determination to stay permanently unattached.

"Pardon me, Mr. Michaels, your table is ready," the host said from behind us.

Grey flashed me a sexy smile before he stood and waited for me to pass. Following the host to the main floor, he escorted us to a private table against the back wall. Watching Grey sit, I got the chance to appreciate all six-foot-something of his chiseled frame. He'd changed out of his business attire and wore a pair of jeans that hung low on his trim hips with a fitted button-down black shirt that clung slightly to his well-muscled chest.