Sweet Southern Betrayal (7 page)

He needed to know more about her, her secrets, and if they impacted his life.

Shutting the laptop, he tamped down any lingering madness-induced curiosity and didn’t reach for the phone to call Jack tonight. He could get the investigation started tomorrow and also get the annulment papers drawn up and filed. This was just a slight setback. His plan was to end the marriage, send the smoking-hot wife back to Las Vegas, and get his ass back to DC. He didn’t even have to speculate on the consequences of losing sight of the goal. His father was living proof.

He could take care of this and not lose everything. It was what he did every day.

Risa was only here because of one night, one mistake. She’d soon be a fond and fuzzy memory of the one time he’d let his dick rule his head.

And in twenty days, his plan would be back on track.

Chapter Six

Teague wasn’t a fan of sleepovers.

He had no trouble getting women to join him in his bed for a few hours of pleasure. Of course, he wasn’t crazy enough to think that it was only about sex—this was DC and even orgasms had a hidden agenda in this town—but that was how the game was played. And Teague was an excellent player and enjoyed both the sex and the strategy.

His dates didn’t stay overnight. They didn’t leave personal items in his bathroom “just in case” because that is when he ended it. They definitely didn’t hang out all day in their skintight yoga pants and tank top, watching awful reality TV, mocking his love of the news channel, and taking orders for their online sex toy business.

But Risa did. And he found he liked it. A lot. Which was perfect because they’d be spending some quality time together until she hopped on a plane back to Vegas tomorrow.

The annulment papers had been easy to complete and a colleague in Vegas had filed them with the court this morning. Now all they could do was sit and wait for the requisite time to pass and for the judge to sign off on the decree. And with neither of them contesting the request, it shouldn’t take long. In the meantime, they were hiding out in the apartment to avoid the good people of Elliott and their inevitable questions.

They’d started the day pretending to be newlyweds on opposite couches and had moved to the same couch by lunchtime. Their desire hung around like a third roommate since she’d arrived, and neither of them had shied from the occasional brush of skin and heated look. She was a beautiful woman who wore her sensuality with ease, and he couldn’t stop his response.

It had been years since sex had been for the sake of sex. The heat, the appetite to possess another person for at least a time, the sweaty, frenetic mutual goal of release and ecstasy. And while he didn’t remember every minute of his night with Risa, he recalled enough to know that what they’d experienced was the kind of sex you had in the backseat of your dad’s car when you were supposed to be at the movies—dirty, fun, and addictive.

It didn’t help that he’d spent some time clicking around her website for Behind Closed Doors, where she sold sex toys and high-end exclusive lingerie either online or through private parties hosted in people’s homes. There were a couple of items for which he would have loved to ask for a private demo. But the site wasn’t garish or tawdry as he would have expected. It was tasteful, luxurious, and very romantic. This was
not
his father’s porn shop.

“What are you reading?” Teague looked over at Risa, sprawled on the couch next to him, her feet wedged under his thigh, her Kindle propped on her chest.

Risa looked up, her eyes a little glazed over from whatever world she’d been living in with the characters of the book. Her auburn hair was piled up on her head in a messy ponytail. She looked wild, free, and very sexy.

“
Jane Eyre
. It’s my favorite book. I’ve read it a gazillion times.” Risa got up and crawled across the couch, sitting close to him, and placing a hand on his arm as they talked. She was a toucher, especially when she was talking to you. The complete opposite of Teague. But he didn’t mind it with her. “Have you read it?”

“Umm…no. I’m a man and I’m pretty sure there aren’t any Black Hawk helicopters or explosions in that book.”

She punched him in the arm and made a face as he scrambled to save his laptop from sliding and crashing onto the floor.

“Why?”

“Why what?” she asked.

“Why is it your favorite book?”

“Jane and I bonded over the orphan thing.”

“I’m sorry.” Teague leaned in and grasped her hand in his own. He’d forgotten her reference to having no family and regretted bringing it up.

“Not your fault.” She stared at him, her eyes more silver than green with her emotions, but she continued. “There’s a part where she talks about being obscure, little, poor. I know that feeling. I
lived
that feeling every time I sat in a social services office and a bunch of strangers talked about me like I was a stray dog.”

He knew better than to offer her pity and stuck to the topic. “But she didn’t stay that way? Obscure?”

“No. She didn’t”

“What happened?”

“Are you serious? You don’t care about what happened.”

“Tell me. You know I won’t read it and it will bug me. I’ll die confused and bitter.”

She laughed and he smiled because he’d accomplished the mission to cheer her up. “Dumbass.”

He laughed, raising his eyebrow in expectation.

“Oh fine.” She huffed. “Mr. Rochester—the hero—loved her. He didn’t see her as obscure. He saw her as a person of worth.”

“And were they happy?”

She nodded. “After his crazy first wife set the house on fire, jumped from the roof, and blinded him. Yes, they were happy.”

“Your idea of the road to happily ever after is a little bloodthirsty.”

“Life is messy.”

“True enough.” He paused. “I looked at your website.”

“You did?”

“It was romantic. Not sleazy or tawdry like people would assume.” He pointed at her Kindle. “You’re a closet romantic.”

“Nothing in the closet with me. I wear my heart on my sleeve.” She closed her Kindle cover and placed it on the coffee table. “It’s Teflon-coated, of course, but I still let the occasional asshole get past the barrier.”

“And then what do you do?” He didn’t like the idea of someone playing fast and loose with Risa’s feelings, a thought he didn’t care to dwell on for too long.

“I cry with my best friend Pepper, eat about ninety-five pounds of Ben & Jerry’s, and swear that I won’t do it again…” She made a face of disgust with an eye roll and her little nose scrunched up. “But I do. You’ve got to keep trying or you’ll never win the prize.”

“I wouldn’t know.” He shook his head. “Never played that sport.”

She cocked her head to one side, her nose scrunching up again but this time with her curiosity. “By choice?”

“I don’t see the point.”

“That’s very sad.” She reached over and twined her fingers with his own as she watched his face. The gesture was mildly disturbing, but he liked the weight of her hand in his so he rode out the urge to push her away. When he merely stared back she gave it a squeeze and leaned over to peek at his laptop, “So what are you doing?”

“Working.” He closed the computer and placed it on the coffee table, propping his feet up as he leaned back on the couch cushions and closed his eyes. This was one of the times when he wanted to jump on a flight to Costa Rica and drag his father back home to face the mess he’d left behind. At the beginning of his trip to Crazy Town, in the hotel in Richmond where he was shacked up with the paralegal, Teague had asked his father what could possibly be worth throwing away a lifetime of hard work and his reputation. His father had answered simply—love. Teague had laughed in his face, called him a fool, and time had done nothing to lessen his reaction.

“Fixing the stuff your dad left behind?”

“Yes. When he left he had missed court dates, unfiled legal papers, and many angry clients beating down the door of the office. I tackled the easy stuff first, so now I’m down to the hardest cases, the ones that need a lawyer to take them over before people run out the statute of limitations and lose their chance.”

“So why don’t you do it for them?”

He popped his eyes open and found Risa close, strands of her hair lying against the pale, soft skin of her cheek. Teague lifted a hand and brushed them back. His skin grazed hers and like a magnet, her body leaned into the touch. In the span of a few seconds his body went from relaxed to first-alert.

Holy shit. He still couldn’t believe the mess he was in because of a few too many shots of tequila. Looking back it had been really stupid to drink so much and leave his friends—the buddy system was there for a reason—and he’d blown it. But nothing would have peeled him away from Risa. That photo on Beck’s phone had told the truth of it. Her hot body and gorgeous face had sucked him in and thrown him under the power and control of his lust from the minute she’d begun her post-show meet and greet in the VIP area. An hour spent in her company and he was convinced that nothing else would do but to have her under him for several hours that night.

Obviously, time and circumstance had not lessened her impact on his common sense.

He swallowed, focusing on the question she’d asked instead of the one he wanted to ask as she leaned in even closer, her warm breath coasting over his jaw. “I’m missing the gene that would make me any good dealing with people’s personal problems. I’m better with CEOs. They yell, scream, and threaten to cut your balls off, but they never sit in my office clutching a box of tissues and weeping.”

“Life is messy. It’s giving a shit,” Risa whispered as she shook her head, her eyebrows scrunched up in bafflement.

“I give a shit. For eight hundred dollars an hour I care a whole lot.”

“Really?” She sat up straighter. “People pay that?

“I’m
very
good at what I do.” He grinned, draping his arm over the back of the couch and snagging a long strand of her hair to toy with. “I could help you with whatever made you leave town.”

“Ah.” She dipped her head again, shielding her eyes and giving away another one of her tells. “You don’t miss much.”

“It’s my job to see everything.”

“It’s nothing, I just owe some money.” She looked back up at him, but only after she’d finished with her lie.

“How much money do you owe and to whom?”

“Why do you want to know?”

“Because I could probably help you out with your problem. Maybe make it go away.”

“Why is it that all you lawyers think you have to fix everything?”

“Well, I don’t know about other lawyers, but I
know
I could probably fix it.”

“And your modesty overwhelms me.”

“I’m not bragging, sweetheart. I handle issues for CEOs of Fortune 500 companies every day. I think I can take care of your problem.”

“I think you’re doing enough for me this week. Let it go.”

“You aren’t going to tell me?” He scooted even closer, his curiosity killing him. Everything about her body language said she was worried, scared. “People owe money all the time. I’m sure I can help.”

“So, if you’re so anxious to walk in and fix my life, why don’t you help some of the hard cases from Dad’s practice?”

“I told you. I have no desire to spend my days dealing with strangers’ messy personal lives.” He shrugged his shoulders, unapologetic for his career choice.

“Well, I’m a stranger and my debt falls squarely in the category of ‘messy personal life.’”

“
How
messy?” He didn’t know why he kept pushing; she didn’t seem to want his help and he couldn’t understand why he wanted to do it anyway. Maybe the piece of paper from the State of Nevada had triggered some primal protective streak in him. That annulment needed to go through before he started beating on his chest with his fists.

“Teague, there is no grade of messy—when it comes to the problems of other people you are either all in or all out. You can’t half-ass giving a shit.”

“But—”

“Don’t worry about it, please. I don’t deser—. I’ve got it under control.”

“Wait. You don’t
deserve
my help? What the hell does that mean?”

She backed up a half step, the arm returning to wrap around her waist. “Nothing. I meant that you’re doing enough already with the annulment and everything.”

The air crackled between them with her anxiety and his irritation at being shut out. He stared her down, waiting for her to crack, and finally giving up when it was clear she had a stubborn streak made of titanium. His bullshit meter was going off the charts, but he couldn’t force her to tell him if she didn’t want to.

He’d make sure that Jack found it when he did his background search.

He sighed. “Fine.”

Her expression softened, a little color returning to her cheeks, and she visibly relaxed. He rubbed his neck and stretched his back, moaning a little at the stiff kinks in his lower lumbar region.