Show and Tell (39 page)
“He’s CFO of Millennium,” Daddy went on as if he were a bulldog with a nice, big fat meaty bone.
With Scott’s eyes on her this morning, she felt as if she suddenly had a big red
S
painted on her chest.
S
for slut. “Who’s a CFO?” She pretended confusion as she struggled for a way to shift her father offtrack.
S
painted on her chest.
S
for slut. “Who’s a CFO?” She pretended confusion as she struggled for a way to shift her father offtrack.
“Scott Sinclair. I told you. The new customer.” He waggled his eyebrows. “I think he wants to ask you for a date.”
Lord. She could not handle her father matchmaking for her. “Daddy, he’s got to be in his midforties.”
“Ahah!” he crowed, “so you did notice him.”
She rolled her eyes. “What did you tell him about me?”
Her father shrugged. “Nothing. He asked who you were, I told him, and that was that.”
Trinity pursed her lips. “Daddy. The tips of your ears are getting red, which means you’re not telling me the truth.”
“My ears do not get red.”
“They do. Just like Pinocchio’s nose grows.”
He laughed, and her heart turned over. He had such a boisterous, wonderful laugh, and she’d missed it terribly in the last few months.
“You’re a poet,” he quipped, “and you didn’t even know it.”
“I’m not letting you sidetrack me.” She gritted her teeth. “What did you tell him?”
He expelled a gust of air. “He asked who you were. ‘Who was that beautiful woman,’ ” he mimicked. “And I said, ‘That lovely lady is my daughter.’ ”
“And?” she prompted.
He grimaced. “This and that, nothing important.”
God.
This and that
could be anything from her name to telling a certain interested stranger she wasn’t divorced yet. Men were like that, unable to see the subtle differences between
this
and
that
. She hadn’t exactly lied to Scott. She’d just failed to mention the divorce wasn’t final. Okay, she failed to mention that she hadn’t even started divorce proceedings until
after
she met Scott. Yet from the moment she’d stepped into her bathroom, she knew in her heart she would divorce Harper.
This and that
could be anything from her name to telling a certain interested stranger she wasn’t divorced yet. Men were like that, unable to see the subtle differences between
this
and
that
. She hadn’t exactly lied to Scott. She’d just failed to mention the divorce wasn’t final. Okay, she failed to mention that she hadn’t even started divorce proceedings until
after
she met Scott. Yet from the moment she’d stepped into her bathroom, she knew in her heart she would divorce Harper.
But what did it matter? This thing with Scott
had
to be over. He had the ability to turn her inside out and get her to do things she’d never consider in real life. That said it all. Scott wasn’t part of her
real
life. He was a fantasy.
had
to be over. He had the ability to turn her inside out and get her to do things she’d never consider in real life. That said it all. Scott wasn’t part of her
real
life. He was a fantasy.
She laid down her knife and fork. “Daddy.” She put her hand over his. “I need you to listen very carefully. I just had my marriage end very badly. I do not want you setting me up with another man. Promise?”
Her father shook his head sadly. “I’m sorry Harper did this to you. You deserved so much better.” His gaze hardened. “You deserve a man who’s going to take care of you.”
“I’ve got a job, Daddy. I’m taking care of myself.”
Right. She still had her mother’s trust, and if it weren’t for that, she wouldn’t have the money to cover the cost of her groceries, let alone a mortgage. It was pathetic. She was a spoiled rich bitch. Her father still had to pick out men to take care of her because he didn’t trust her judgment in choosing a winner herself.
She’d proven her abysmal judgment by taunting Scott into making that challenge with Norman. And she was weak, because the moment she saw Scott again, all she could think of was how damn good he looked. She wanted to climb his body and take his tongue in her mouth. She’d wanted to run to him this afternoon.
God, she was a slut. Something had gone very, very wrong with her sense of right and wrong the night she let him into her hotel room. If her poor mother had lived . . . she couldn’t even think about what her mother would say. Good girls didn’t do the things Trinity had done.
Good girls didn’t
love
doing them, either.
love
doing them, either.
“Daddy, I’m begging you. Please don’t try fixing me up.”
She could only pray her father listened to her. Because she certainly hadn’t shown any sense of control or restraint around Scott up to this point.
SCOTT slumped in front of his office computer, staring blindly. The entire afternoon, his mind had been all over her. Back at work, he’d slammed Rudd’s idiotic
scenarios
for messing with the bottom line, snapped at Elton, forgotten a conference call, then holed up in his office waiting for the end of the day. He’d been alone half an hour, contemplating
her
. Driving himself crazy.
scenarios
for messing with the bottom line, snapped at Elton, forgotten a conference call, then holed up in his office waiting for the end of the day. He’d been alone half an hour, contemplating
her
. Driving himself crazy.
Outside, the night had turned dark and moonless, and a biting rain rolled in, slashing at the windows. The fresh storm fit his mood.
He knew he shouldn’t have done it, but he researched her on the Net and came across a wedding announcement not even six months old. Why the hell hadn’t Herman Green come right out and told him to back off because she was married? Instead, the man had seemed encouraging. Dammit, this last month had probably been some lark for her while Harper Harrington the Third was out of town somewhere. What the hell kind of name was that anyway? It stank of
rich
and
gaudy
.
rich
and
gaudy
.
Scott knew he sounded petty, like a kid who’d gotten his favorite toy taken away from him for bad behavior.
But fuck, fuck, fuck, he wanted to—
His e-mail beeped. Sure as hell, his pulse rate kicked up hoping it was her. She needed him, wanted him. Yet, she was married. He couldn’t tear the solid steel block out of his gut.
He maximized the e-mail program only to find it
wasn’t
her.
wasn’t
her.
Shit. He sat up. The infamous e-mail address, with another attachment. Why come back after three weeks of silence? He opened and read, and the steel block rose to choke him.
“Do you really want to throw yourself away on a slut like her? She could cost you big-time if you’re not careful.”
For five full seconds, he couldn’t move, rage immobilizing his muscles like handcuffs. He ached to punch his fist through the monitor and come out with his hands wrapped around the e-mailer’s scrawny throat. She was
not
a slut. She was passionate and mysterious, gorgeous and tantalizing.
not
a slut. She was passionate and mysterious, gorgeous and tantalizing.
And cheating on her husband.
He clicked on the attachment, and a stunning, high-resolution photo filled the screen. Norman was clearly visible, as was Scott, but his profile obscured her face. Still, she made his insides steam up, his cock hard, his mouth water. Sitting on the barstool that night, she’d allowed him to slip his arm around her shoulders as she seduced Norman with a smile on her red lips. A need had boiled in Scott during that moment. He’d wanted to hoist her up on the bar and take her for all to see. His cock had been a raging, painful ache he couldn’t slake.
Until he had her in Norman’s hotel room. And even then, it wasn’t enough, would never be enough. Need and desire etched into the lines of his face just as someone snapped his picture.
Primitive tribes felt that a picture stole one’s soul. Whoever took this one had stolen that moment, perverted it.
Flipping back to the e-mail, Scott hit Reply.
“Who the hell are you and what exactly do you want? I’m sick of your fucking games.”
Trinity Green had already ripped out his heart, and he was done with this crap. Almost in the blink of an eye, his computer beeped. He opened.
“I know what you did in that hotel.”
His heart stopped altogether.
The two people who knew what he’d done in that hotel room were in the photo with him.
Had Trinity Green set him up?
She and Norman had been there when he arrived. She
said
Norman was from out of town, but Scott didn’t know for sure. How did he know for sure that Norman was a stranger to her? Until today, he didn’t know anything about her.
said
Norman was from out of town, but Scott didn’t know for sure. How did he know for sure that Norman was a stranger to her? Until today, he didn’t know anything about her.
And look how she’d struggled to keep it that way.
Norman could be the infamous Harper Asshole Harrington the Third. Had they set him up together? A cameraman in the bar, then a hidden camera in the hotel room? Did she have someone following them the whole time, snapping pictures? He’d knocked on her door that first night, and she’d seen an easy mark. She hadn’t figured that he’d ever find out who she was.
His whole body screamed in agony, his flesh stretched over his cheekbones, a stabbing pain like a nail driving through his temple into his brain.
Punching the Forward key, he tapped in her address, and his fingers actually shook as he typed his message.
“Are you fucking blackmailing me now? And I understand you’re married as well. Maybe Norman is your husband, and you two are out to make a buck. What kind of woman lets another man go down on her in front of her husband?”
He didn’t feel one goddamn bit better after he pushed Send. He was overreacting, getting carried away, jumping to unwarranted conclusions, but he felt like a gutted fish with the hook still stuck in his throat.
Even the possibility that she was using him shouldn’t fucking hurt like this. She was nothing more than a good lay. And hell, they’d only done that once.
She was a fantasy, a figment of his imagination—the woman he
wanted
her to be rather than what she truly was. Yet it was like watching someone trample your dream into dust. And yeah, it was far worse than the night Katy asked for the divorce. By that time, he’d already lost his expectations and hopes.
wanted
her to be rather than what she truly was. Yet it was like watching someone trample your dream into dust. And yeah, it was far worse than the night Katy asked for the divorce. By that time, he’d already lost his expectations and hopes.
With Jezebel, his dreams had only just begun.
18
TRINITY had driven round and round the downtown parking garage beneath Scott’s offices, then found his sedan in the same space he’d occupied before. He hadn’t left work yet, thank God, because she didn’t know where he lived. She hadn’t called his office or his cell phone because she’d been afraid he’d hang up.
The night was cold, the downpour incessant since five thirty. She tugged her coat tight as she waited by the side of Scott’s car. The things he’d accused her of in his e-mail punched a hole right through her heart. She could not have him think she was a cheat, a liar, a blackmailer, and a whore.
Her tummy trembled. Harper had to be the culprit. He wanted his cut before he got out. But how had he known Scott’s e-mail address? Had he been sneaking into the condo, looking at her computer? However it was done, she’d stuck Scott in the middle of it. Involved him. She shivered.
Light spilled out from the elevator as the door opened with a
whoosh
. He was so tall, he ducked automatically as he exited.
whoosh
. He was so tall, he ducked automatically as he exited.
A pulse ticked at her temple. He was beautiful. Men could be beautiful, or maybe it was in the eye of the beholder. The dark suit jacket set off the silver streaks in his hair, the white shirt contrasting with the tan he hadn’t lost from the summer. His legs ate up the concrete with a determined stride. And she wanted to melt at his feet.
He didn’t see her until he beeped the remote, and then he was close enough for her to see the pupils of his eyes dilate.
She wanted to touch him, but though he was feet away physically, he was miles off in emotional distance.
She’d memorized the lines of his e-mail and answered every question. “My name is Trinity Green. I would never blackmail you. Norman isn’t my husband. I am married, but I’m getting a divorce. I was at the hotel that first night”—something flared in his eyes and was gone an instant later—“because I found my husband cheating. ” She gulped in a breath. “I don’t know what kind of person . . .” She couldn’t say it, not the way he had. “I don’t know how I could have done
that
with another man watching.” Her mother, rest her soul, would turn over in her grave.
that
with another man watching.” Her mother, rest her soul, would turn over in her grave.
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