When It Hooks You (It #1) (23 page)

It didn’t. She dialed into her voice mail anyway. No messages. Pressing her thumb to the power button, she held it there until all mobile life was extinguished. She left it that way for the next two days.

On Friday evening, she finally turned her phone back on. The familiar monotony of work had steadied her during the last couple of days, and she felt ready to face whatever might be on the device. She could see from the call log that Adam had tried to contact her a few different times, but there was only one new voice mail—from Lyssa, asking why Trish hadn’t returned her messages. She found new texts from Lyssa and other friends. Nothing terribly important. And there was one from Adam.

I’m sorry and I love you. I know that doesn’t make any difference or excuse what I’ve done, but I want you to know. I won’t bother you anymore.

She should’ve been relieved he’d gone down so easily, perhaps should’ve even been touched by his tender words. But she was neither of those. She was pissed. The man had taken her heart, stretched it to its limits, and let go, flinging it into the fiery chasm of hell. Now, because she’d been too disconcerted to wail on him back at the hotel and too afraid to pick up the phone the other night, he was getting off easy. He’d probably already moved on to the next victim, writing off Trish as a failed attempt.

“That motherfucker,” she muttered to the apartment at large. Then she scrolled through her contacts and jammed her finger down to place a much-needed phone call.

“
Hola
,” said the voice on the other end.

“JoJo, my love, I’ve had my heart completely smashed. Thought you might like to see what that looks like. Wanna get ripped tonight?”

“Are you going to get drunk and cry?”

“No.”

After a brief pause, JoAnne asked in a cautious, vaguely robotic tone, “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Nope.”

Trish could practically hear Jo’s relief leaping from cell tower to cell tower. It was a confirmation that Trish had called the right person. Any other friend would’ve tried to coax her into letting out her emotions. Trish knew very damn well that was exactly what she
didn’t
need. The only thing she wanted to do with her feelings was slay every last one of them. Her weapon of choice—Jose Cuervo.

“Get on your party pants, girl,” JoJo said. “We’re goin’ out! Any requests on where?”

“Any place but a blues bar.”

“Not a problem.”

The night passed in a haze of tequila shots, dancing, and plentiful slurs on the despicable quality of men in general. Jo never asked for details about Trish’s breakup. She implicitly accepted that the guy was “a major dickweed.” A group of JoAnne’s friends appeared at some point, joining the party.

The wee hours found the two girls sitting on a curb, waiting for other members of the group to hail a cab. JoAnne leaned her head on Trish’s shoulder. “For the record, I don’t wan’ t’ see yer heart smashed. Sometimes the jealoush bitch in me takes o’er my mouse…mouth.”

“I love this moush.” Trish reached her hand around to smoosh Jo’s cheeks together. That was the last semi-clear memory she had of the night.

She woke late the next morning alone in her apartment with a raging headache. The good news was that by comparison, her heartache seemed duller. Gingerly rising and crawling off her bed, she started the teapot and lingered nearby. The moment the high pitched squeal of boiling water sounded, she snatched the pot from the burner.

The sharp sound had triggered a jumbled flash of something that had happened the night before—a memory of her and Jo screeching into her phone.
Oh, God, please not Adam
. Her sour stomach churned as she mentally thrashed through the drunken evening for more details about the call. She tossed a peppermint teabag into a mug and poured the steaming water onto it. Letting it steep, she grabbed her purse off the counter, pulling out the phone to look up her call record.

“Poor Cliffy.” She giggled in relief when she saw his number. Bringing her hand to the side of her face, she steadied her laugh before it could shake and scramble her brain.

She pressed his number as she settled onto her small sofa with legs curled under her and one hand wrapped around the warm mug of tea. “Good almost-afternoon,” she sing-songed when Cliff answered with a wary hello.

“How ya feelin’?” he asked. A shit-eating smile came through in his tone.

“Not great. Sorry about the drunken phone call last night. What, um…what did we say?”

“It was all very screechy, so I’m not really sure. Though I gather JoAnne remembers our tryst, after all.”

“Yeah. She remembers. But don’t worry; she’s equally sorry it happened. Would you care to hear the inspiration for last night’s binge? Is this a good time?” She’d blown off enough steam the night before to be ready to talk about Adam—but only from behind the shield of a phone. The day after Hotel Hell, she’d informed Cliff of the skeletal details of the breakup. After that she’d avoided his concerned looks and managed to be very, very busy whenever he’d stopped by her desk.

“Sure,” he said.

“Adam sent me a text to say he wouldn’t bother me anymore. He also said he’s sorry and that he loves me, but he knows that doesn’t excuse what he did.”

“Huh. Those seem to be good things. Why would that send you on a bender?”

She shrugged. “Sucks that he gets to end it so quietly after being such a bastard. None of this would’ve happened if I’d stuck to the plan. We lied and told ourselves Guatemala was the third date, but really it was the fourth. Trouble starts on the fourth date.”

“I thought you had a great time on the trip.”

“I did. Too great. If we hadn’t gone, penetration never would’ve occurred, so technically I wouldn’t have become his mistress, and he wouldn’t have led me on to think we could have a future together. If it wasn’t for any of that, I never would’ve had to find out what an ass he is. I could treasure memories of the first dates. Now I can only look back and see what an idiot I was. How could I have missed all the clues?

“He never called me and rarely even sent a text unless he was in Chicago. He was probably afraid
she’d
be around, looking over his shoulder or hearing my response come in. He told me we couldn’t show any affection in front of Luis and Elina, and I accepted that it was because they were conservative. They’re probably friends with his wife! I couldn’t understand what he said to them, so he probably told them I was a business colleague or something. He swore he was going to tell me about her, but I’ll bet he probably thought I’d figured it out for myself, already. I would’ve if I hadn’t been such a lovesick moron. Instead, I let him totally use me.”

“Something doesn’t sound quite right,” Cliff said. “If he was only sleazebagging, wouldn’t he have been banging you from the first moment you gave him a chance? Didn’t you say he was the one always cooling things down before they went too far?”

“He’s obviously got a sick, drawn-out form of seduction.”

“Or sex wasn’t all he was after.”

“What else could he have been after? He’s married. It’s not like he actually believed we could form something together.”

“You never know what might be going on in someone’s life unless you’re living it. He could be in a shitty marriage. Maybe he’s lonely and going through a tough separation or divorce. From what you told me, it doesn’t sound like you gave him a chance to explain anything before you stormed out of the hotel.”

“I gave him a chance! He didn’t offer any explanation. What was I supposed to do—stand there staring at him for another half hour to give him time to concoct his next lie? If he was separated or getting a divorce, why wouldn’t he have told me that immediately?”

“I don’t know. It’s like I said, you never really know what might be going on in someone’s life. But it sounds to me like he really did care for you. Why else would he have taken you to meet his friends and see his business? Why wouldn’t he have taken you to some random location to have his way with you? That place means something to him and so do you.”

“What the hell, Cliff? The man freaking lied to me about being married! Why are you trying to stir up compassion for him?”

“I honestly don’t give a rat’s furry bunghole about him, but I don’t like you berating yourself for not seeing clues that were probably never there.”

“Well…” She paused, not willing to see Adam as anything but a manipulative, cheating, son of a thousand rabid bitches. “It all ends up in the same place. He lied to me, and no matter what his motivation, he’s married and off limits. I need to move on and be a lot more careful next time.”

“Are you going back to your three-date max?”

“Yep.”

“Resetting the ol’ hymen too?”

“Nope. The plan needs an overhaul in that area. I thought revirgination would keep me from getting attached too soon, but in reality, it built up the importance of sex too much. That’s why I lost my head with the first guy I let in. I think it’s wiser to have sex more frequently and with more people, thereby lessening its importance and helping me keep things in perspective. I’m too hung over for any activity today, but what are you doing next weekend?”

“You better be careful with your wording, toots. The way you said that makes it sound as if you’re propositioning me.”

“I am propositioning you.” She sat up straight, surprised by her own words. Warm tea sloshed over the rim of her mug, rolling onto her fingers. She’d had no idea this was where the conversation would lead, but now that she’d said it, it made perfect sense.

Cliff didn’t appear quite as convinced. Her proposal was met with silence.

“Think about it, Cliffy. We trust each other one hundred percent, right? And we’re firmly in the friend zone, so there’s no chance of a misunderstanding. I need another man on me and in me to override my latest nightmare. Won’t you do that for me?” More silence told Trish she’d gone too far. “Or we can forget I said anything.”

“No! No, don’t rescind yet. I’m still processing.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I mean, why not? We’d be going into it with forthright expectations…”

“Uh huh.”

“What about the no-dating-coworkers policy?”

“We won’t be dating and we’ll be discreet.”

Cliff’s long pause was followed by, “This is nuts.”

“Absolutely insane.”

“But brilliant in its simplicity.”

“You in?”

“I’m in.”

Chapter 20

T
ORTURING
C
LIFFY
W
ITH
S
EXUAL
I
NNUENDO
proved to be an entertaining distraction. It started with Trish innocently nibbling on the end of her pen. Cliff had returned from a client meeting and asked her to check on an appointment for him. While waiting for the calendar to load, she noticed the overly curious way he studied her lips as they pulsed on the pen. She slipped the tip of her tongue into the action, dragging it along the shaft. His pale complexion went pink, and he made an instant move toward his office, stuttering something about having his assistant pull up the information later. The next day, Trish brought in a banana.

Cliff and a couple of paralegals emerged from the elevator that morning. Trish greeted them, letting her eyes linger on Cliff while a secret, seductive smile twitched one corner of her mouth. She lifted the elongated fruit, but before she could peel the first yellow strip, he averted his gaze, bolting ahead of the group to get past her.

Later that afternoon, he sauntered over to her desk, perching at his usual spot. He pressed a hand flat on the surface and leaned forward, giving Trish what she suspected was supposed to be an inviting leer. The look had more of a creepy-drunk-uncle feel to it. “I presume you’ll stay away from gyros this time,” he drawled.

Is he trying to play the fluster game?
Trish wondered. If he was, he rather sucked at it. “To the contrary,” she replied in a smooth, silky voice. “We’ll have plenty of hot, spicy meat. I’ll even let you lick the tzatziki right off me.”

His elbow buckled, sending the heel of his hand skidding across her desk to knock into the keyboard, setting off a chain reaction of spilled paperclips and toppled Post-it pads. Trish grabbed her half-filled travel mug before it, too, fell victim.

“Sorry,” Cliff said, straightening to stand. His forehead pinched and his lips tightened.

“It’s my fault.” Trish worried he was about to back out of their deal. She couldn’t let that happen. She was counting on the upcoming tryst with Cliff to get her over the final hump of the Adam breakup. “Don’t worry—I’ll stop teasing.”

Cliff frowned, keeping his voice low. “I’m not sure I’ll be advanced enough for you. I have experience, obviously, but I’ve never really…gotten freaky.”

Trish bit her lips to stop from laughing. She was pretty sure her activities had never fallen into the freaky category, either. “I’ll go easy on you. Promise.”

At her suggestion, they went for a quick lunch together off premises to talk over guidelines. Managing expectations was the key to preserving their friendship. They decided on Friday as the big night since that would allow two days to shift back into platonic mode before seeing each other again at the office. They didn’t want the rendezvous to resemble an actual date, so they agreed to each do their own separate thing Friday evening, and then meet at Cliff’s apartment at ten.

“Do you see this as a onetime thing or recurring?” Cliff asked.

Trish hadn’t thought that far ahead. “I guess we’ll see how it goes and then decide.”