The Innocent Liar (6 page)

Chapter Eleven

T
here was a knock on the bathroom door, and Eli entered after a moment as Fiona sat and pulled her knees up to her chest to hide her body. He didn’t react to her nervousness at all, and he set the coffee on the side of the bathtub before he sat down on the ledge that surrounded the tub as well. She should be nervous, and she certainly was, but not the kind of nerves she expected. She should fear him. Fear was a common feeling for her at this point, but it just wasn’t what she felt about him anymore. He could intimidate her with the best of them, and he did. He held all the cards regarding her place in Jackson, and the only thing she had left was her name. She’d not given him that or the life attached to it, but she wasn’t kidding herself. He was in control here. Fear was definitely what she was supposed to feel. Instead, she felt nervous. Butterflies winged through her guts like a schoolgirl trying to flirt for the first time and realizing she was out of her depth.

His gaze followed the length of her arm from her shoulder down to her hands wrapped tightly around her knees. He didn’t hide his attention to her body, and it was disconcerting. She didn’t know how to feel pretty anymore, and she suddenly wanted to feel that way. She wanted him to be attracted to her. She shouldn’t under the circumstances, but she was more than attracted to him, and all she wanted was some reciprocation of that desire. Again, it made little sense. She had no business thinking about men at all, but even if she did, Jake was the type of man she should like. He was safe, a bit soft, kind and compassionate. That’s the type of man she should want. Instead, she couldn’t stop thinking about
this
man. His eyes were too dark to decipher, his build was too strong to fight, his whole being was just too damn overwhelming.

“Your clothes should be done in about thirty minutes. I want to take you somewhere after that.” He stood. He didn’t wait for her to respond before he left. Her gaze followed him as he walked across the rather large and lavish bathroom. He was still wearing the jeans and T-shirt he’d been in the night before, and she stared like an idiot at his ass as he moved away from her. He had a nice ass—one of the nicer ones she’d seen in jeans in her lifetime. She studied the assured and confident way he moved. Naturally, he caught her staring at his butt the moment he glanced over to the bathroom mirror, and his lips pulled up subtly as he left the room.

She may well have stayed in the warm bath for over an hour, and when she finally climbed out, clean for the second time in less than twenty-four hours, she sneaked out to his bedroom, finding a pair of her jeans, underwear, bra, socks, and shirt. It was a little odd that he’d touched her dirty underwear while she’d slept, and it might be a bit odder that he’d decided exactly what pair she was going to wear. The pair he’d chosen was by far the cutest ones she owned at this point—lace, light pink, and low rise. They were more a boy-cut brief, but the lace was pretty. The bra he picked out matched—also the cutest she owned, and the only matching set too. She smiled, and her cheeks burned as she dressed. She wasn’t supposed to be thinking about these things right now, but there was hardly a chance of her not thinking about it with him around.

She found him carrying a large stack of blankets and quilts out to his SUV. His hair was wet, and he’d obviously showered in one of what she assumed was many of the other bathrooms in his overly large house. His jeans were different too, and the long sleeve cotton shirt he wore was a deep mustard color. He glanced up to her, and she picked up a stack of sheets he had set on the dining room table and walked out with him to his car. She found out it wasn’t all he was loading, and there was a large box of cleaning supplies, a smaller box of toilet paper and paper towels, and a stack of bathroom towels.

“Where are we going?”

“To the shop.”

He said nothing else, and when she followed him back into the house, it was only to grab her tote bag with her clothes folded neatly inside.

“Come on,” he said.

He wasn’t one for long flowing conversation, and she was getting used to his clipped one-or two-word responses. It was no longer offensive or rude to her. It was simply who he was. When he was ready to talk, he would. She was curious about why they were going to the shop, but she stayed quiet.

When they pulled up in front of the warehouse, after ignoring one another on the ten-minute ride, he carried the box of cleaning supplies into the shop, and she grabbed the other box. When they reached the corridor that led to the locker room, janitorial closet, and the inventory storage room, he finally spoke.

“When I first opened Hunter Custom Furnishings, I had little more than the clothes on my back. Every penny I had went into leasing my equipment, buying this warehouse, and keeping myself in wood. I was literally on a ramen noodle and Chef Boyardee diet for an entire year.” He looked back at her for a moment.

She had a hard time imagining Eli being poor or needy in some way, but then she supposed most people were at some point in their lives.

“I couldn’t fathom being able to afford a home like I live in now, and the only roof I had over my head was this one.” He turned and headed up the stairs to the second floor loft.

She followed, trying not to stare at his butt that was conveniently taunting her at eye level—truly an incredible ass. When he reached the top landing, he balanced the box on one arm as he fished a key out of his pocket. The door at the top of the landing was on his right, and whatever lay beyond must sit above the large inventory storage room at the end of the downstairs corridor.

As he pushed the door open, he looked back at her again and smiled. The smile was maybe the first real one she’d seen from him. She was taken aback for a moment by just how nice it was. He was good at smiling when he chose to, and as his lips pulled up, hers seemed to naturally follow suit. “It’s not much, but it’s furnished for the most part, it’s unused…and it’s yours if you’d like.” He held the door open as she moved by him into the open space.

The lights were out, but there was plenty of sunlight shining through the large arched windows that surrounded three sides of the open rectangular room. The stairs leading up had been far more than just a story, and she understood now why. This particular room sat more or less on the roof. She’d noticed the smaller structure on the rooftop before, but she’d assumed it was open down to the vast inventory stock room below—of course she’d never actually been in the inventory room as Aaron protected it fiercely, or she’d have realized this was its own structure. The apartment was an open loft style. To the left of the doorway was a full bathroom, but aside from that one room, the loft was completely open. The small kitchen sat along the back wall beyond the bathroom. She moved to the table sitting in the open kitchen area and set the box down.

“The kitchen isn’t much. When I bought the warehouse, the cabinets, stove, and fridge were actually part of the break room, but seeing as it was only Mike and I back in the early days, I decided we could do without a kitchenette in the break room, and I snagged it for myself.”

The kitchen was simple but perfect. The stove was a small apartment size one, and the fridge was only as tall as she was. The sink looked like a reclaimed old sidebar sink, and she instantly fell in love with it. The cabinets were all open, and a few pots, pans, plates, and glasses were neatly organized on the small stretch of shelves.

“Eli…I…I mean, I can live here?” She was pretty sure she might start crying soon.

“Storage closets don’t suit you. Hell, they don’t actually suit anyone. It’s sitting vacant. Someone should get some use out of it.” His voice was bland again, as though he was telling her a giant “no duh” sort of statement, but when her eyes found his, he glanced down at the floor for a moment and cleared his throat. He almost looked nervous, but handing over a loft to her couldn’t possibly make him uncomfortable. But then it hit her. Being nice could.

“How much—”

“Nothing. I don’t need your money.”

“I can’t—”

“You can. You will. You’re going to.”

“
You
interrupt a lot.” She was trying to lighten his somewhat intense and uncomfortable disposition.

“I’m aware.” His voice was quiet.

She started looking around. Beyond the kitchen was the living room, which consisted of an old leather couch, chair, and a coffee table. The bedroom area was in the front far corner. The bed was a queen size, and it sat at an angle in the corner with nightstands on either side. An armoire stood farther down the wall toward the kitchen. The mattress was covered in a large plastic storage bag, and pretty much everything had a light coating of dust.

When she turned back to him, there were most definitely tears in her eyes.

“Cleaning, not crying.” He tossed her a rag, and when he brought her a bottle of dust spray, he quickly brushed a tear from her cheek. He seemed embarrassed again and cleared his throat before he returned to the box of cleaning supplies and grabbed his own.

He was not a man afraid of working hard, and there was something exceptionally sexy about that. Her eyes kept glancing to him as he scrubbed the large arched windows. It was a good thing too, for she certainly couldn’t reach the highest part of the arc. When he reached up, she was afforded the very best view of his waist. As he stretched, his jeans dropped low and his T-shirt rode up. What she saw was impressive, not necessarily surprising, but damn impressive. His lower stomach was taut, and she could see the bottom of what she knew were ripped stomach muscles. The dark patch of hair that led down his abdomen and under the low waist of his jeans sent warmth through her belly that settled between her legs. When he caught her staring, that warmth exploded in wetness, and her cheeks started burning.

But she wasn’t the only one watching. She caught him staring almost as much as she was as she moved from nightstand to headboard, to coffee table, to armoire. He seemed to be drawn to her backside, and it left her self-conscious if not turned on. She’d had the attention of plenty of men, but she couldn’t say she’d actually wanted any of that attention. The fact she couldn’t seem to stop thinking about what he would look like without clothes on was a bit shocking, but when she moved on to the kitchen and started wiping down all the pots, pans, dishes, and glasses, it was suddenly the only thought in her head. When Eli joined her and wiped down the refrigerator shelves, it didn’t help matters.

The floors were wide and worn wooden plank flooring, but it had a solid and healthy varnish on it that cleaned easily. He moved furniture as she mopped, and when they had finally mopped their way to the door, they moved into the bathroom. The bathroom was for the most part clean, and after running a rag over the countertops and the mirror, her new home was ready to be lived in, and she was exhausted.

They headed down to his car and carried in the bedding and towels, and he helped her strip the large storage plastic from the mattress before they made the bed. He’d brought a couple pairs of flannel sheets, a thick blanket, and a beautiful warm patchwork quilt that she loved. He collapsed onto the bed when they were finished, and after staring at him nervously for a moment, she joined him. The bed was comfortable, lying next to him was not—it was arousing, nerve-racking, and panic inducing. But staying calm with her intimidating, handsome boss lying shoulder-to-shoulder with her was most definitely not possible—didn’t mean she wanted him to move away.

“Are you LK?”

His sudden comment brought her up short. She was stumped for half a second until she remembered just how much of her body he’d seen the night before—all of it. This wasn’t a question she could answer, and he must know that. His head was dropped to the side, watching, waiting.

“You can’t think I’m going to answer that?”

“Of course not. Your initials?” He eyed her. “Lena, Leah, Lisa, Laura, Leslie…You don’t seem like an L to me.”

She watched him, saying nothing, but he didn’t seem to be expecting her to say anything either.

“Keller, Kinsey, Kimpson…” He was silent after that.

She lay there for a while, and then she looked over at him. “I definitely don’t think you’re a jerk.” Her comment was misplaced, and when he turned to look at her, he looked shocked.

“Yes, I am.” His voice was quiet.

“You may not always seem nice, but you do exceptionally nice things sometimes. That says something about you, even if your words don’t.”

He studied her as she spoke. He was expressionless, but as she watched, he swallowed. His Adam’s apple bobbed as his throat worked, and he looked petrified. He looked away then, and she eventually stared up at the ceiling. When she looked over at him next, his eyes were closed, and he was breathing quietly. She closed her eyes too, certain there was no way in hell she could relax enough to enjoy this rest. When she opened them again, it was two hours later, and she was alone.

Chapter Twelve

E
li would have perfectly enjoyed staying in bed with Fiona for the rest of the day, night too for that matter, and while he did eventually leave, he also spent a good fifteen minutes looking at her as she slept quietly beside him before he managed to get his ass up and moving. He took his drafts home with him to work on for the rest of the weekend. If he stayed at the warehouse to work, he would have a hard time concentrating, knowing she was nearby, but even at home alone, he struggled.

By Monday morning, he was anxious to see her again. He’d stayed away from work, which was not a common thing for him on the weekends, but he was out his door by six on Monday morning, unable to waste any more time without going insane. He hated this. This was weakness, and he didn’t like it, yet he did like it because who didn’t love to fantasize about fucking all the damn time?

He managed to pull in at the supermarket and run inside even though he was ready to be at work. Of course the supermarket stop was completely about her too, so he wasn’t really sure he’d actually shown any restraint at all. When he made it up to his office, he set the paper grocery sack on her desk with the top rolled over. He used a Sharpie to scrawl
Happy Housewarming
on the outside, and then he waited for her to come up.

Unfortunately, she was not the first visitor of the day, and when Candace popped her head in his office, he felt pathetically shattered. He’d heard the heels clicking on the metal stairs, and while he’d never seen Fiona in heels, and knew damn well after rifling through her personal possessions that she didn’t own any, he still expected to see her peeping in on him. Candace’s seductive smile was what met him instead.

“Candy.” He likely didn’t sound as excited as she expected, though excitement wasn’t really his thing.

“Howdy, boss.” She sauntered across his office, wearing a skirt that while business appropriate was still too short for November in the Tetons. But however professional the length might have been, it didn’t stop her from crossing her thighs, sitting on her hip, and letting the skirt ride up high when she sat in the chair in front of his desk. He glanced at her legs, but it was hardly in appreciation—more annoyance. The look she returned to him said she’d misinterpreted the glance. “Looking at something?” He couldn’t stand that overly contrived, sultry voice.

“I’m wondering if you would ever make the ill-conceived choice to sit in front of one of my clients like that.”

She misinterpreted him once again, apparently thinking his comment was some sort of come on. “No. This is just for you.”

He stared at her for a moment. It was painfully hard not to roll his eyes, and when he heard footsteps on the stairs again, he thanked God there would be an interruption to end this catastrophic Candace flirt session. He watched his nameless beauty walk into her office through the glass wall that separated them. He was staring over Candace’s shoulder to do it, and when she huffed and angled her head to interrupt his line of sight, he ignored her and stood.

Fiona’s head cocked to the side as she took in the paper bag, and when she unrolled the top and looked in, her lips pulled up in a sweet smile as her top teeth bit gently down on her lower lip. He started walking toward the door that joined their offices, and she glanced up, smiling at him until she caught sight of Candace standing from her chair. Her smile faltered before she plastered it, fake as it was at that point, right back onto her mouth.

“Candace, you’re going to be late getting the showroom open.” He didn’t bother looking back at Candace as he spoke to her. He was standing in the doorway to Fiona’s office, and that’s where he wanted to be.

She looked at Candace for a moment before glancing away dismissively. She knew how to kick Candace’s arrogant ass with her disposition, and he loved it. “Ramen noodles and Chef Boyardee. Very nice. Most people just buy a lady a candle or a wreath. You must have known how much I like pre-processed food.”

“Lucky guess.” He winked before he could stop himself and turned back to his office. Candace was still standing staring at them with a rather disgusted look on her face.
If looks could kill
suddenly had a whole new meaning to him, and that meaning was aimed past him at Fiona. He wasn’t actually trying to taunt her in any way. He was simply done with it. He’d been done, he’d made that clear to her, she was refusing to let it go. His patience was not something without bounds. He was well aware that becoming involved with her had been a mistake from the start, but that fucking well-understood hindsight did him little good now.

“Candace, please.” His voice was curt, but he kept the annoyance he was really feeling from infiltrating his tone.

“So, are you two, like, fucking now?”

He’d already turned back to Fiona, and his attention was on her when Candy’s completely inappropriate question smacked him. Fiona cleared her throat but said nothing.

He spun toward Candy. “You have a store to open. I will be down to speak with you shortly, but I will not have you disrespecting me or any one of my employees because you are having a problem with jealousy.”

Candace was finally silent, and when she stormed from his office, she didn’t look back.

“She’s a peach, Eli. Can’t imagine why it didn’t work out.” Fiona was being sarcastic. It was how she handled her own nerves.

He was usually a prick when he was nervous, but she apparently had better coping skills. Still, there was a hesitant look on her face that suggested she wasn’t entirely sure she hadn’t overstepped a line. She probably had, but since she didn’t really exist at Hunter Custom Furnishings, he decided to let it slide. It didn’t hurt that he was so damn infatuated with her that anger seemed impossible.

“Shut up.” He was equally sarcastic, and her lips pursed in a small smile as he turned back to his office.

He headed down to the showroom quickly, and when he pushed open the door, he started scanning the two level shop for Candy. They got plenty of traffic off the street, but a good portion of their visitors were by appointment too, and this time of morning was usually slow on both. It was a damn good thing, as he had no intention of holding his tongue even one second longer with Candace.

“She’s not your type, you know?”

He stilled at the sound of her voice. She was standing on the upper level of the showroom, glaring at him.

“Oh, really?” He shouldn’t be entertaining this conversation, but he couldn’t seem to help it.

“Too young for you. Too sweet. Sex-with-the-lights-out-missionary-position sort if I were guessing.”

He eyed her, and he waited for her to say something else inappropriate. She rose to the occasion. She always did.

“If memory serves, you like to keep things a bit more interesting than that in the bedroom…or wherever it was you chose to fuck me at the moment.”

His blood was running hot, and soon it would be boiling, but he let her dig herself in deeper.

“She could never satisfy you. Practically dresses like one of the boys. Besides, Jake’s got it good for her, and he’s fucking hot. I’d do him.” She thought she could make him jealous with that comment, and he was most definitely jealous if nothing else, but it was not in any way for her sake.

He looked at her coolly, stifling the bitterness that Jake’s name brought up, and when she bobbled her head in that perfect what-are-you-going-to-do-about-it move, he responded by crossing his arms. “Are you finished making a complete fool of yourself?” He gave her time to respond, and when she didn’t, he continued. “If you come to my office it better be work related. If you open your mouth in my presence, you make sure nothing inappropriate or lewd comes out, and if you so much as retaliate in any way against Fiona for this, you best be prepared to pack your desk.” He glared at her with his icy cool expression.

“Be careful. Wouldn’t want your hard-on for the janitor showing.” Her hands gripped the railing of the second level, and she was leaning over it, obviously failing already to heed his advice.

“I have a feeling no one would notice over the glaring view of your pathetic jealousy. You don’t have the right to treat any one of my employees, including me, with anything less than respect. Now, how about you focus on your job? I know it’s going to be difficult, what with your proclivity for causing trouble, but just give it a try. Earn that paycheck I give you.”

He turned and walked out without another word. He was upset for about half a second, but as his feet moved back toward the shop, his mind seemed to snap back to Fiona—more specifically, lights-out-missionary-position sex with Fiona. He could almost imagine the feel of her warm breath on his lips as he thrust into her with her legs wrapped around his waist. Missionary position would do just fine with her.