Know When to Hold Him (12 page)

Chapter Seventeen

As soon as Liam gave her directions to his new house Spencer’s palms grew sweaty. Her heart rate went up to a thousand beats a second. She’d never acted this way before about a second date. Second dates were par for the course. Routine. Expected. Another dinner, more polite conversation, maybe some fooling around. Been there, done that, a thousand times. Okay, maybe a hundred. Fifty.

And it wasn’t even a second date, officially. All of her resolutions to stay away, to create distance between their personal and professional goals, had just fizzled into nothing as soon as he had lowered his voice and talked to her about a paint color, of all things.

So she drove herself to his new house. This way, she had an out if things grew intense. If she couldn’t stop herself from wanting to see him, the most she could do was give herself opportunities to control the situation.

His new house was easy to find, in one of the most charming neighborhoods of Dallas, filled with wide streets, large trees, and early twentieth century homes. Yards were littered with swings and tricycles, signs supporting city council races and the local schools.

Approaching from the sidewalk, Spencer loved Liam’s home at first sight. A hybrid of Tudor and Spanish styles, it was well-kept and lovely. The lights on the porch showed a hanging swing and it made Spencer remember their first kiss, at the Buchanan pool. She had a flash of how nice it would be, to sit with Liam on that swing in the evenings as the street lights flickered on, waving at the neighbors walking their dogs, chasing after their kids on bikes.

Spencer knocked on the door. A few minutes passed. She knocked again. She was just about to leave when Liam finally answered.

“I’m so glad you’re here.”

“You are?”

“Yeah, I have a ton of splotches and I have no idea what to do with them.”

Typical.

Spencer cocked her head. “Splotches?” She wasn’t sure she had heard him correctly. He nodded with confidence. It appeared she had. “That sounds…personal.”

“Lane brought them over. Zach’s ex-girlfriend? Or was that Liddy?” Liam led Spencer through the house into the kitchen. It was clear he had just moved in, as there were stacks of brown cardboard boxes in each room.

Spencer laughed, seeing the sample books on Liam’s counter. “I think Zach’s been with both of them,” she said. “But Lane is the interior decorator. And these are
swatches
.” She enunciated the word clearly and slowly, enjoying the confusion that washed over Liam’s face. He didn’t seem to see the problem.

“
Swatches
,” Spencer repeated, “are something the decorator gives you.
Splotches
are something the doctor gives you a prescription for.”

As his understanding grew, Liam laughed at himself. “Okay, this is why I need you.”

Warmth spread over her at his words. His clueless maleness was charming and strangely irresistible. She reached for the sample books as the doorbell rang.

When Liam returned with a steaming pizza box, his kitchen counter was hidden under the swatches and paint color squares Spencer had spread out in a fan position.

“Who picked out all the stuff at your house?” he asked, carefully placing the pizza box on a section of countertop that was not currently covered in slices of carpet, strips of upholstery, and paint chips.

“I did,” Spencer answered offhandedly, still flipping through a fan of paint colors.

“I loved it.”

The sincerity in his voice almost made her heart stop. Was it the simple compliment? Was it the L-word?

Liam nodded at what Spencer had laid open. “I like that. Let’s do it.”

Spencer’s heart jumped again. She pressed a hand against her chest. Maybe she needed to get it checked out. This irregularity couldn’t be normal. And all because he’d said…

“Let’s do it,” Liam repeated, opening the pizza box. Spencer noted the name of the restaurant on the white cardboard.

“You’ve only been in town for two weeks, and you’ve already found the best in the city,” she observed.

“Absolutely,” Liam said, with a burn in his eyes that did things that would make a cardiologist call for a cart.

“Liam,” she breathed. “What are we doing?”

He handed her a paper plate with a slice of pizza on it. “Having dinner. For now.”

Spencer reached out and took the plate from him. “I thought you said you cooked on the second date.”

Liam screwed up his face. “I know. I don’t even have a place for us to sit.” Spencer pushed a swatch book out of the way and hopped on the counter, surprising him before he continued. “I did want you to see the place.” After taking a bite he paused. “Do you feel deprived of the full second date experience?”

Spencer shook her head. She sat on a kitchen counter top, eating pizza off a paper plate, surrounded by boxes, with barely any furniture in the place, and she was having the time of her life. Maybe she did need to see the doctor. Or maybe it was just this man that screwed up her head and heart so much.

When they finished their slices, Liam grabbed her hand. “Now for the tour. Was I supposed to do that first? Is that proper etiquette?”

At the reminder of etiquette, Spencer apologized. “I should have brought you a housewarming gift.” She did a mental inventory of the space, wondering what he needed. Liam was definitely not a houseplant kind of guy. Maybe he’d like a cactus.

After seeing the rest of the house, she loved it even more than her first impression had suggested. It was solid and homey, probably because homes constructed in the 1930’s were good quality, with signature details and heavy wood. The previous owners had updated it with beautiful fixtures and large baths. She wasn’t sure that an interior designer could do anything to this house. Still, Spencer found herself making suggestions. Here, he could do two chairs, the better to read the paper in the morning. This room needed a beautiful antique bed, with this great white bedding she’d seen in a magazine.

Spencer was still caught up in the possibilities when they came to the master bedroom. A high vaulted ceiling was the only clue that the room used to be an attic. She flipped on a light, and, anchored solely by a king sized mattress and springs in the middle of the floor, the room proved charming.

“You could really have a fabulous bed in this room.” Spencer’s attention turned to the ceiling. “With this height. Something dramatic, with four posters. Really romantic.” She paused, realizing what she’d said. Her skin heated, as much from embarrassment as from the images that ran through her mind involving four poster beds and Liam.

“Don’t stop,” Liam said, closing the gap between them. His hand went out, and he turned her chin toward him with a finger. “I wanted to know what you thought.”

A hot flush crept up her neck. Which was totally not Spencer’s style. She had perfected the calm, cool, collected Grace Kelly stare years ago. But not with this man. Not calm. Not cool. Certainly not collected.

The beautiful arched windows faded away. The dramatic ceiling beams disappeared. Furniture and paint were distant, abstract concepts. There was only this man. Liam.

He stilled, watching. Waiting. Spencer placed her trembling hands on his sculpted chest, loving the way he was solid and good and safe.

This fits
.

His hands wrapped around her waist, sure and strong.

Fits.

Liam pulled her hips gently against the hard length of his cock.

His mouth covered hers. The softness of his lips. The scrape of his beard against her cheek. Felt like home. Spencer kissed him, letting him know exactly what she felt. Alive. Sexy. Ready. When he leaned to the side and slowly tasted her neck, nibbling and licking the sensitive flesh under her jaw, she returned the favor, using her teeth to tug on his earlobe gently. She’d been right. His ears were sexy when she had her teeth on them.

Liam maneuvered so that his back was to the mattress. With a sure, steady grasp on her waist, he lifted her down on his lap and sat down on the bed. She straddled him. His erection between her legs was intoxicating, and she rubbed herself against his length, needing more of him.

He must’ve liked it, too, because he thrust back as if to answer, “Yes.” His large hand was then inside her shirt-Spencer wasn’t sure whether her buttons had been dealt with and didn’t care—and he palmed her breast, first reverently, then with a firmer touch. The sensations made her nearly spin out of control as desire crested within her. Spencer could swear she heard a distant chime of bells.

Liam flicked her nipple, sending a corresponding thrill straight to her core as if she were a violin and he the master musician. “Yes,” she moaned. Spencer wasn’t sure she could take much more of this song. Another chime rang out. Then another. This time, Liam’s pants were buzzing.

“Shhhhhhit!” Liam dragged his swollen lips away from hers to fumble with his pocket. “Sorry, let me just get this damn thing.”

Spencer had to move off him in order for him to reach his pocket. She stood, anxious, ready for Liam to toss the offending piece of technology and get back to doing what they were doing.

“Shit.” She echoed his curse. Liam’s expression was half-murderous, half-resigned, and she nodded. Some calls had to be taken.

Or not. Spencer paused. She couldn’t help herself from drinking him in while he stood. Something about his hard, athletic body in the casual tee and jeans and bare feet made her crazy. She wanted to see all of him, underneath. The desire to explore him, to trace his tattoos, to run her fingers along the plane of his belly, the jutting missile between his legs, the firm curve of his thigh. Everything about him set her on fire.

And then Liam ended the call. Something in his body language made her take a step back. And then another. A strange emotion welled up inside of her—frustration mixed with anger. Frustration like a toddler who’d just been denied her favorite toy. Anger that someone dared to interrupt this…moment. This perfect moment was ruined by a stupid phone call.

“What’s up?” Spencer asked, surprised that her voice seemed so shaky.

Liam cocked his head, trying to figure something out. “I think you just proposed.”

A lump went up Spencer’s throat. She couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t believe… “WHAT?” She squeaked.

“To Troy Duncan.”

Spencer’s eyes widened. “I don’t…”

“Well, not you. But it sounds like your idea.”

Realization started to rain down on her but still she said, because it was perfectly true, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“That was another reporter. Asking me if Troy agrees with his pastor that parents of children conceived out of wedlock should marry.”

“That’s an interesting question. I’m sure Troy has some strong opinions on that.”

“And you have nothing to do with this.”

She considered a whole host of snarky responses but decided to be straight with him. “You know how the game is played.”

“Game? This is a man’s life!”

“And a child’s life! It’s a freaking DNA test. A cotton swab in the mouth. What’s so hard about it?”

“And he has to get married if he doesn’t want to consent to a personal invasion of privacy-”

“Oh come on!”

“-every time a groupie decides she wants to get a payday?”

Spencer put her hands on her hips and stared at Liam, open-mouthed. “I don’t represent groupies,” she assured him in a frosty tone.

“Spencer…”

“What?” She lifted her chin in defiance. “I’m doing my job.”

Liam’s mouth twisted. “It’s your job to try to ruin a man’s reputation?”

“I’m not ruining anything. And you should be thanking me for it.”

Liam laughed hollowly. “
Thanking you?
For what, exactly? The extortion or the blackmail? For manipulating the press and forcing Troy into something he doesn’t want to do?”

Spencer shook her head. “You don’t get it. You don’t get that the fact that Dalynn hiring me is the best thing that could have happened to your client. Because I get it. I know what it’s like to be in the middle of the hurricane. I know what it’s like to have a life, a reputation ruined based on spurious accusations and flat-out lies. I know that a scandal can ruin someone’s life. So I help people. I may manipulate, I may threaten and pull strings and call in favors, but I do it so that the situation
ends
. It stops. It’s resolved. And when
I’m
involved, people go home and they live their lives in peace. Maybe they have to pay some money. Maybe they have an extra kid they didn’t plan for. But it’s done.”

“What happened to you?” Liam asked in a voice so soft, Spencer barely heard him over the pounding in her ears.

“Nothing,” she spat out. “I’ve led a privileged, wonderful life. Look at me. I’m Spencer Hightower. Nothing has happened to me. Just a country decided whether my philandering, lying, bigoted, cold, warmongering father got to be president or not. As traumas go, I got off easy.”

“It doesn’t sound easy.” The empathy behind Liam’s eyes was almost her undoing. Spencer had everything under control, under wraps. She didn’t like talking about the Election. She knew it made her sound like a whiny, First World brat. But wounds were wounds, and Liam’s warm words were capable of opening all her scars.

Spencer waved a hand. “It wasn’t true. That’s the thing that killed us. None of it was true. And we thought truth would be a defense. But you know what? No one cares what the truth is. No one cares that my Daddy is just reserved. They call him cold. No one cares that he couldn’t care less about someone’s skin color. He votes against one bill, and he’s a racist. No one cares that it was an ice storm, they go for the jugular when he drives his car into a tree and nearly kills his own daughter. No one’s going to care that Troy loves Jesus. They’re going to see one big pregnant belly, and Troy is going to be a liar who can’t keep it in his pants.”

“You can’t ruin his life based on your guess of what happened nine months ago,” Liam muttered. “The things you put out there in the press have consequences.”

She took a step toward Liam. “I’m not ruining anything. I won’t do that to another family. But I’m going to win this. I’m going to find out if Troy is the father of Dalynn’s baby. If so, I’m going to help ensure she has enough to support her baby in a lifestyle consistent with the standards of the National Football League. And I’m not stopping just because you’re mad at me. Or because you want me in that bed.”