Know When to Hold Him (14 page)

Chapter Nineteen

Liam was used to hustling days. The kind where he didn’t stop, didn’t let go. Today had been one of those days. Wheeling, dealing, making plans, and battling Spencer Hightower. All day, he’d wondered about her. The woman made him smile. The woman made him fume. Just knowing she was out there, somewhere, on the top of her game, putting him on the top of his. She threw for a touchdown. He intercepted. Damn, but it was sexy as hell.

Spencer was a quick, clever adversary. Yeah, he liked her. Damn sure lusted after her. But he didn’t know her. He didn’t know what lengths she would go to, to get what her client wanted. And until he knew for sure who she was, he couldn’t risk his whole career on a pretty face and a mouth that brought him to his knees.

This was going to be a tough one.

Liam leaned back in his office chair and propped his feet on his desk. He always plotted better when he was comfortable. The file that Spencer had left with her so-called evidence still sat there, mocking him. In truth, he hadn’t really cared what was in the damn thing. No papers or pictures were going to change his ultimate goal of protecting Troy Duncan’s career come hell or high water.

But he needed to know what they were dealing with. The best way to defeat the defense was with a good offense.

Flipping open the file, Liam reviewed the stack of print outs, texts, e-mails, and nude selfies. Sure, it didn’t look good for a guy who was hanging his reputation on an already-iffy claim of sexual purity. But none of it proved that Troy had impregnated anyone.

For the first time in Liam’s happily heterosexual life, he did a double take at a picture of a nude man. Sometimes, he was amazed at his own brilliance.

He picked up the phone and dialed JT Buchanan’s number.

“Do I want to know why you’re asking this?” JT asked.

“I’d rather not say,” Liam hedged.

“Uh huh.” JT didn’t sound convinced. But, as Liam knew he would, JT the lawyer couldn’t resist giving his legal opinion, and then, because Liam wasn’t licensed to practice law in Texas, he asked his old buddy for a favor.

“Thanks man,” Liam said. “I owe you one.”

“Big time. Like Cowboys tickets big,” JT stressed.

The thrill of setting up a play coursed through him when he hung up the phone. Now all he had to do was wait and see what kind of person Spencer Hightower really was.

…

“You have a visitor,” Phil, the firm runner, informed her.

“Who wants to see me?” Spencer glanced up from her computer.

Phil read off the business card he’d been given.

Well, she had no choice but to say yes.

Five minutes later, Spencer had reviewed the delivered documents twice, just to make sure her eyes weren’t playing tricks on her.

Nora and Rainey joined her soon after hearing the office gossip that a process server had visited Spencer.

Spencer handed the letter over and waited.

Nora examined the piece of paper. “The hell?”

Spencer waited for Rainey’s response. Rainey’s mouth settled into a grim line.

“That’s what I thought. Check and mate.”

“Kiddie porn?” The volume of Nora’s voice rose to a dangerous level. “Is he joking? That was a grown man in those pictures!”

Spencer read from the letter. “Examination of the private pictures of the complainant reveals that he may have been a minor at the time of capture. Therefore, further dissemination or publication of said photographs would constitute an illegal distribution of child pornography under all applicable federal and state laws. Yadda yadda cease and desist. We win. You lose. The end.”

Nora tapped her chin. “I’ll have to inspect those pictures again. Just to see what we’re working with.” When Rainey choked back a cough, Nora shrugged her shoulders. “What? How else are we supposed to tell how old the hot, naked football player is?”

“That was our ultimate weapon,” Spencer mused, lost in thought. “The last PR tool to cast doubt on Troy’s character and pressure them to saying yes to the test.” She tossed the letter on her desk. “There’s no way we can touch those pictures with a ten foot pole, now.”

Nora snickered at the word “pole.”

Rainey lifted a quizzical brow. “Could we release them anonymously?”

Spencer shook her head. “They’d know it was us. Since I gave them to Liam.”

“Ah,” Rainey said, understanding. “Mr. Jerkwad.”

Spencer’s first response was to agree, but she stopped herself. Liam had calculated to cut off the opponent from her weapons, render her toothless and ineffective.
God, he was good.
There was every chance that Troy was over eighteen in those naked pictures. But no one in their right mind would submit themselves to legal action over it.

She kicked herself mentally.

Why had she given him that file? Because she’d assumed he’d agree to anything because he kissed her under a starry Texas sky? Because he’d held her stupid hand during a stupid tornado? Liam Connelly obviously meant business. On one level, she had to respect the balls of this move. On another, she was pissed she hadn’t prepared for it.

“I have to hand it to him,” Rainey said. “At least he’s not a pushover.”

Spencer’s head jerked. “What did you say?”

“I thought after you guys went out, he’d be crawling all over himself to do whatever you wanted. But he actually stood up to you.”

“True,” Nora agreed. “Guess he’s not your type after all.”

An acute discomfort crept over Spencer. Were they wrong? Had non-pushover jerkwads actually been her type all along?

…

Five o’clock came and went, and no call from Spencer. No journalists had called on her behalf, no answering legal pleas had been delivered. The silence was disconcerting.

He waited until nine to be safe, to make sure she wasn’t planning another attack today. His next play had two prongs and had to be perfect. A swing to the left, and then the handoff to the right. Time to pass the ball. He picked up the phone, and she answered on the first ring.

“Hello.” Spencer’s voice was low, sexy.

“Hey.”

“Kittens?” She asked.

“Troy loves animals.”

“Ashley Cadence?”

“He’s been to three concerts.”

“So they’re dating?” She was incredulous.

“You, of all people, should know that the press makes up stuff every day.” He paused to enjoy her low laugh over the phone. “So… Are we good?” For some reason, her answer had quickly become important. As crazy as it seemed, he didn’t want to lose her. If he hadn’t already.

“Liam…” Spencer took a deep breath. “This isn’t personal. This is business.”

This isn’t personal. This is business.
Holy cow. She was separating the two. That strange emotion wound itself around in his chest again, something between hope and
more
. A loud
boom
sounded on her end of the phone.

“Where are you?”

“At home,” Spencer said. “In bed.” Liam rubbed his hand over his face. He should not be this bothered by two little words.

But he was. More than he should be.

“I heard something.”
That sounded lame
.

“I’m watching a movie.
Independence Day
. I needed a movie with guns in it.”

That explained the explosions, Liam thought. “Have you seen the part where the President makes the big speech and rallies everyone to fight the aliens?”

“I love that part. It just came on.”

Liam chuckled at the memory of Spencer’s rousing speeches earlier. It was a shame she didn’t want to go into politics. She could bring the Capital down with just that “hypocritical liar” line.

“Nice move on the cease and desist letter,” she admitted.

Damn
. Liam was proud of her. Congratulations didn’t come easy for competitors like them.

“Thanks. You know, I’ve been a little worried about your response.”

“You’ve kind of tied my hands.”

The image of a tied up Spencer, naked and writhing, made Liam glad they were on the phone. He hardened just at what his imagination conjured up. Reality would do him in.

“Yeah?” His word sounded strangled, even to himself.

“I still have one play left.”

“Let’s go ahead and get it out of the way, then,” Liam said. “Hit me.”

“An ultimatum. Paternity test by NFL Draft. Or we go public.”

It was a dirty move. And the best one she had now. Just the suggestion that Troy wasn’t the All-American innocent golden boy would tarnish his reputation. If the test was positive? It could bring down Troy’s career in one crazy, huge public relations disaster.

And at the end of the day, Liam didn’t want to gamble his career on just the dubious, at-best chance that Troy was a one-in-a-million-sex-drive-free athlete. That wasn’t even counting any other tricks she had up her sleeve, because there was no way she only had one more play.

In a flash, Liam realized she’d been holding out. She could have pulled out this ultimatum at the beginning, played her strongest and highest card. But the fact was she hadn’t showed that she had wanted to play fair and give Troy a shot at doing the right thing.

He had to stall, so he could to talk to Troy, maybe get some straight answers.

“I’ll talk to him.”

“Okay.” Her answer was deceptively simple, but, for tonight, he’d take it.

The distinctive Will Smith cackle rose in the background. “Headed up to the space ship?”

“Yeah and oh, wait—this is a good part, too.” The volume rose, and Liam heard the line that always made him laugh. “Hello, boys, I’m ba-ack.”

“That is a dumb movie,” Liam said, propping his feet on his desk, thinking about her in bed.

“It’s like a mini-candy bar. Bad, yet irresistible,” Spencer said as the volume of the movie decreased to a normal tone.

Liam couldn’t help himself. “Like me.” He leaned back and fiddled with a pen, tossing it and catching it between his fingers.

“Pretty much.” Her dry, southern humor always caught him off guard.

“If I can get Troy to agree…” Liam found himself dry mouthed.

“What?” Spencer’s voice was soft.

“Can we have a second date do-over?”

“I’m not sure we had an official first date.”

“Well, I took you out to dinner, and you kissed me. That was definitely a date.” Spencer made an
mmm
-sound. “Then the second date, you came over for dinner and kissed me.”

“So I’m the one doing all the kissing?”

“Pretty much. It would be unprofessional for me to make a move.”

Spencer made that
mm-hmm
sound again. Liam continued. “Of course, the second date didn’t go the way I’d planned.”

“Oh? What was the plan?” Spencer’s voice had gone husky. Bright alarms and DANGER signs flashed in Liam’s head.

Run. Run as fast as you can.

But he didn’t listen.

“First, you would have slowly…stripped off…the packing tape and unpacked some boxes.” He said it lustily, smiling when he got the laugh he’d been hoping for. It was good to laugh with her again.

“Maybe.”

“Maybe to unpacking?”

“To a second date.” A warmth spread through Liam’s chest, and he swore his heart gave an extra thump.

“Awesome,” he replied, as if he were sixteen and the cutest girl in school had just maybe agreed to go to the ice cream parlor with him. “I’ll call you after I talk to Troy.”

“’Night, Liam.” Her voice was sweet, and although it was dangerous, he imagined her in bed, with nothing but a smile and a remote control. Every man’s fantasy.

“’Night, Spence.”

Chapter Twenty

When Spencer woke the next morning, she checked her cell phone to see if someone—anyone—had called.

Okay, so she hoped Liam had phoned. She thumbed through her recent calls, social media sites, nothing.

Spencer dressed and went to the office, just in case important calls came through to her there.

“Uhmm, Spencer?” Nora entered the room.

“Yes?”

“You have a message.”

So Liam had called.
Game time.

“What did Mr. Connelly have to say?”

Nora handed a piece of paper to Spencer and took a few steps back as if that would soften the blow. “Your dad called.”

Spencer probably stood stone silent for a good thirty seconds processing the news.

“Spencer?” Nora snapped her fingers in front of her face.

“That is really so rude,” Rainey scolded, stopping by the office door when she spotted Nora snapping at Spencer again. “How would you like to be snapped at?” Rainey snapped for emphasis.

“Soooo…” Spencer drew out the word. “Who called again?”

“Your father,” Nora repeated herself.

“You sure?” Spencer asked. “It wasn’t George?”

“Unless George introduces himself as Hayes Hightower.”

“George introduces himself as George Clayton, from Senator Hightower’s office,” Spencer said, imitating the man’s flat intonation perfectly.

“Right. And this strange man introduced himself as Hayes Hightower.”

“That’s my dad.”

“So I’ve heard,” Nora said.

“My dad doesn’t call me.”

“He did.”

“George calls me.”

“He didn’t,” Nora sighed. “Look, is this some weird Senatorial protocol I don’t know about? Or did you want George to call you?”

“No, I wanted…” Spencer stopped herself. She had wanted someone to call her, and it wasn’t her father or her father’s chief of staff. She’d wanted a tall, tattooed dreamboat on the phone. With good news about a paternity test, of course. Spencer shook her head. “I’ll try to get ahold of him.”

“Okay…” With a long, questioning look, Nora backed slowly out of the office, Rainey following close behind. Spencer took a calming breath and dialed a number that she had memorized but rarely used.

“Hi, Dad.”

“Spencer, so good to hear from you.” She heard the restrained sarcasm in his voice.

“Sorry, I just received your message. You can dial my cell phone if you need to get me immediately.”

“Isn’t your office supposed to handle your calls?”

“They do, but friends and family are allowed to dial me directly.” She heard the restrained sarcasm in her own voice.

“Excellent,” was Senator Hightower’s quick reply. “George tells me you haven’t RSVP’d for tonight.”

“Tonight?”

The Senator continued talking. “I put you down for two…”

“Two?” Spencer hurried to her computer to check her calendar.

“At my table,” The Senator was saying. “It will be good to see you.”

“Yes, it will. And will mom be there?” Wherever “there” was.

“No, she gave up on the foundation three years ago because of that whole Sarah Palin debacle. As if anyone wants to eat moose steak.”

Spencer’s head dropped into her chest, taking a moment. The Foundation for the American Family. Oh. Crap. She’d forgotten the conservative think tank’s annual meeting was about to kick off in Dallas, and her father was a fan. A big fan. A founding member, in fact.

“I’ll see you tonight; don’t be late. The table won’t wait on you.” Senator Hightower hung up without saying good-bye, but that was just par for the course for such a busy, important person.

Rainey and Nora popped their heads in, like prairie dogs. “Foundation for the American Family. Tonight,” was all Spencer managed, a bleak expression on her face.

“Ugh.” Rainey made a face.

“Do you have something to wear?” Nora asked.

Spencer nodded. “My black Chanel… Oh, crap.”

“Your black Chanel? I love that dress.”

“It’s torn.”
Liam,
Spencer thought.

“Torn? When?” Nora asked. At the benefit, Liam’s jacket had hidden the damage done to the dress, and Nora had been too animated that night to pay much attention.
Liam.
The memory made Spencer swear again.

“Don’t do that. It scares us when you cuss,” Rainey said.

“I need a dress. And a plus-one.”

“Call JT,” Rainey suggested.

Spencer noticed Nora’s tiny flinch and waved that off. “He has a thing.”
Liam.
She remembered a wet, perfect male body and a kiss of an angel—or a devil. Which was ridiculous, she told herself. One, Liam would need to come fully dressed to the Foundation dinner. And two, there would be no kissing with the Senator around.

Spencer checked her watch. “Let’s hit up Neimans.”

“What about a plus-one?” Nora asked. Spencer thought about it. Liam was supposed to call her. At any moment, as a matter of fact, to let her know Troy’s decision about the paternity test. When he called, she’d bring up the dinner nonchalantly. She mentally rehearsed the conversation.
Hey, you have to eat tonight, so why don’t you get dressed up and come and eat some rubber chicken and limp broccoli with a bunch of uptight, conservative rich people. Sounds good? I’ll pick you up at seven.

Focusing on her friends, Spencer made a plan. “Neimans first. Man later.”

One lunch break, two department store floors, three trips to the dressing room, and six dresses later, Liam still hadn’t phoned or texted. Not that Spencer was focusing on that. At all. She was shopping for a dress for a quasi-political dinner in support of her father, a United States senator.

Image counted.

The dress had to be perfect. Still, her distraction showed when she accepted Nora’s selection of a red sequined mini-dress.

What would Liam think when he saw her in it? Red, short, and tight, it was a guaranteed winner for a third date.

This wasn’t a third date, though. This wasn’t a date at all, Spencer told herself, as she tried on an emerald green number that the first former First Lady Bush would have looked fantastic in.

But not quite right
.

Finally, Rainey and Nora approved a long, flowing white dress that tied over one shoulder.

Back in the office, Spencer finally made the call. It was nearly four o’clock, and she wasn’t getting a date just by sitting there, twiddling her thumbs.

She picked up her cell. It wasn’t her style to call a man and ask him out. Well, not a man she really liked. Doing it for business was one thing. Doing it when a man’s voice made your stomach flutter was another.

It was a horrible idea. She put down her cell. The Foundation for the American Family, for Pete’s sake. Her father would be there. Nothing about that was fun, or cool, or interesting. Liam would despise it.

Spencer thought of her father, doing the thing he did at parties, all eagle-eyed and critical, and then she thought of Liam Connelly’s warm, firm hand holding hers and immediately some of the stress melted away.

With a deep breath, she took the plunge.

“Hi.” Liam’s greeting was easy, cool.

“Hi,” Spencer breathed, focusing on gaining control. “What’s up?” She scrunched up her nose. She sounded like a nervous teenager.

“I haven’t gotten Troy yet, but…”

Spencer interrupted him. “That’s not what I’m calling about.”

“It’s not?”

“Well…no.”

There was a beat of expectation, on both their sides. Was he disappointed? Relieved? Spencer pushed on. “So, there’s this thing…”

“Yes?”

“I mean, it’s going to be really lame. Not very fun. Bad food and old fogeys.”

This time Liam interrupted her. “Spencer?”

“What?”

“Are you trying to talk me out of going with you?”

“No.”

“Good, because my answer is yes.”

“Oh.” Spencer realized what she’d been saying. And what he’d just said.

“A thing, huh?”

“Yes. A lame thing,” she repeated with a rueful tone.

“It’s so nice to be asked out.”

“No.” Spencer spoke firmly. “I’m not asking you out. This is a boring, unavoidable thing, and I need to bring someone.”

“So you thought of me. I’m flattered.”

Spencer couldn’t help but laugh. “Of course. You’re the opposition. I want to bore you into agreeing to Troy Duncan’s paternity test.”

“Nice strategy. I’ll have to use that sometime.” Liam paused. “Do I need to wear a suit?”

“Yes,” she said, knowing what was coming next.

“Can I have my coat back?”

“I guess…” She picked up a pen and twirled it through her fingers.

“When?”

“When what?”

“When is the thing?”

Spencer blinked. She hadn’t told him? “Tonight. Tonight is the thing.”

Liam cursed. “I already have a thing tonight.”

“Oh.”

“It’s…” Liam paused. “Work. I really have to go.”

Spencer nodded, thinking of her new dress and, for some reason, was far more disappointed than she should be. “That’s fine. My thing is not really a fun thing, anyway.”

“Stop trying to convince me.” She had to laugh, despite her disappointment.

…

Spencer handed the keys to the valet, glanced up, and read the hotel banner welcoming the Foundation’s members. Stepping inside the entrance, she saw a giant red, white, and blue sign welcoming the dinner guests and advertising the celebrity guest speaker for the night: Troy Duncan.

She stalled, stone still as fancy dresses and suits flowed around her, and steeled herself. Where Troy Duncan was, so was his agent. And like magic, she turned to the left and found Liam Connelly entering the hotel.

There were a hundred other people milling about, making their way to the ballroom, but only one man filled her vision, strutting toward her like he owned the damn place. His broad shoulders and muscular body were accentuated by a slate gray suit over a black shirt that opened a little at the neck. No tie. Of course, not. He’d managed to comb his hair tonight but he hadn’t shaved, the dark stubble shading his strong jaw.

Liam was close enough to talk, and a thousand strange things flitted through her brain. A brain usually wired for the perfect sound bite, the witty retort, the sassy comeback. Instead, she asked, “Is this your thing?”

…

Liam didn’t even notice her greeting. He was too distracted by her brilliance. Her hair appeared softer than she’d worn it at the last fancy event. It was pulled back in a low ponytail, a thin braid circling her face that made her seem fresh and innocent, as did the delicate white dress. Liam wanted to put his arms around her, put his jacket around her, keep her safe from everything lame, everything dangerous, and anything remotely unpleasant.

“You look beautiful.”

Spencer flushed at the compliment, which only made Liam want to give another one.
Play it cool, Connelly.
He reached out and took her hand, brushing the back of it gently with his thumb. Liam should’ve waited to touch her. But he couldn’t. And she didn’t pull back her hand. Which was awesome. “Looks like we have the same thing.”
Yeah, just like that. Chill, Connelly.

“I need to tell you something,” Spencer started. Liam gave her hand a telling squeeze, letting her know she could tell him. It would be okay. “My father will be here.”

Hell, that was a shocker. He swallowed, hard, and dropped her hand, a natural reaction for a man, upon hearing that he’d meet his girlfriend’s dad for the first time.

Wait. Liam blinked hard.
Girlfriend?
He pushed that back into the box it had come out of.
Chill the fuck out, Connelly.
According to her, they hadn’t even had a date yet. And they hadn’t come to this together. But here he was, making eyes at her in the lobby.

He was meeting Spencer’s dad. No biggie. The man was just one of a hundred people running the country. The man who’d almost been elected the leader of the free world. Not a problem. He could handle that. Liam was in the middle of an exhalation when Spencer reached out and patted his arm. And here he thought he was playing it cool.

Spencer leaned over. He caught a whiff of her perfume, heady, sweet, and womanly. “This really is a good place to be seen and meet people, if you can stand bombastic, self-righteous holdovers from the nineteenth century,” she whispered.

Liam coughed to hide his laughter.

“And the drinks are horrible, but that’s par for the course,” she continued.

“You still trying to talk me out of this?”

She slipped a hand through his arm and stepped toward the ballroom. “I may leave right after dinner.” She leaned in and lowered her voice. “The speaker has something of an image problem.”

“Really?” Liam smirked at her. “Hard to believe since he’s got the best reputation in the business.”

Jokes aside, Liam reached up to adjust his tightening collar. Air. He needed air. Stuffy suits, hundreds of people, waiters, tables—the room closed in. He guessed fresh air was out of the question tonight.

…

The Foundation for the American Family hadn’t been established by a group known for stiff drinks and open bars. Still, wine in tiny glasses was available if you went to the far back corner bar where similarly desperate guests hid out. Spencer wished it wasn’t so déclassé to have a drink in each hand. That rule had been drummed into her head during her sorority pledge semester. Equally unfortunate was the fact that she was recognized by many of the FAF regulars. She sent apologetic glances to Liam as every two feet another of her father’s cronies or her mother’s acquaintances stopped them to chat.

Of course, they wanted introductions to Liam, who handled them graciously. Spencer wasn’t sure when it happened, but soon more men were coming over. Not to talk to her. To talk to Liam, the former professional football star. They clapped his back, discussed this Super Bowl or that championship game. It was an entirely new experience for Spencer, to have a date who was equally well known, yet in an entirely different sphere.

With a hand on the small of her back, or a slight touch on her elbow, they stayed connected. It was nice. For so many years, Spencer had been expected to hold her own. Hayes Hightower had required his wife and daughters to be self-reliant on the campaign trail, to shake hands and smile for available cameras. She’d never had someone by her side until Liam.