Selling Seduction (Your Ad Here #1) (4 page)

“Yeah. See you then.” His words faded as he watched her head inside, never looking back at him. A few seconds later, the reflection on the glass stole her from view. It was a good thing they were going their separate ways. Mercy wasn’t an addiction he wanted to form. There was too much past and too much obligation there. Breaking off something hot and heavy with her further down the road—and it would end badly; relationships always did—would hurt Liz too. It would force his sister to choose sides.

Nope. He wasn’t doing that. Twelve years was a good span of time for him to keep his distance.

Mercy groaned and rubbed her eyes, but the exhaustion didn’t ebb. A tiny lapse in memory on her part, and now it was barely nine in the morning, and she was sitting on a hotel couch, trying to wake up. How had she forgotten Liz was a morning person?

“I already showered, so you can get in there right away.” Liz chattered away, as if it were normal for someone to be chipper and alert before the sun was awake. She didn’t even have the decency to have a hangover. “Check in at the other place isn’t until noon, but I thought we’d get breakfast first, and I wanted to give you time to change your flight if you need to.”

At least Liz sounded happier than last night. It had Mercy a little worried. There should be more grief and mourning. That would come later, she supposed. “Wait. Flight changes?”

Liz poked her head back into the living room. “We’re going on a honeymoon, remember? Ten days of debauchery?” Liz’s chin quivered for the briefest of seconds, and then a plastic smile slid back in.

“You were serious about that?” Mercy extracted herself from the blankets twisted around her. As consciousness swept in, so did the night before. Her ruined sweater. The conversation. After. Holy shit, what came after. It was only a one-time thing, she had no desire for more, but damn, that was one hell of a memory.

“Come on, sleepyhead. Clock’s ticking.” Liz handed her a cup of coffee.

It came from the in-room maker, and it was basic, but Mercy was pretty sure it was still an elixir of the gods. She took a couple sips, not caring it scalded her tongue, then gathered her clothes and headed into the bathroom. She emerged sometime later, feeling much more prepared to face the day. She ran a list of to-dos through her head. What she could accomplish from her phone, on the drive to the hotel, and what would wait until after. She grabbed the phone next to the couch and called the front desk, to let them know she was checking out early.

They read back the last four numbers of the billing card on file, and her brain stalled. “I’m sorry. Say that again?” she asked.

“The card is for Thompson Advertising. It was changed out last night.”

Ian.
Warmth snaked through her. He did that for her?

“You all right?” Liz’s question broke Mercy’s rambling thoughts. “You look like someone punched you in the gut.”

He did it because his sister was staying here. Disappointment and embarrassment pushed everything else aside, and pride joined it. “I didn’t authorize that.” Mercy could almost hear her credit card weeping, as she spoke. “Change it back to the original card please.”

“We can do that for the room, but your assistant was emphatic that the ancillary charges be taken care of
right now
. Those have already gone on the new card.”

The room service. “I see. Thank you.”

“Mercy?” Liz snapped her fingers. “You all right?”

“Just shaking off some side effects.” Of the pack Alpha taking care of his sister cub. Something twinged in Mercy’s chest. If she gave it any attention, she’d say it was a whisper, wondering what it would be like to have someone watching her back that way and her returning the favor. Fortunately, she wasn’t giving it any attention.

Liz studied her. “You’re not hung over, are you? You barely drank anything.”

“I’m great.” Mercy almost believed her own smile. If she kept it on long enough, it would become truth. “And ready to go if you are.”

A few minutes later, Liz’s car was packed, Mercy’s was returned to the rental place, and they were headed toward the mountains.

Liz plugged her phone into the aux jack, and an upbeat dance remix pumped from the speakers. If Mercy shoved aside the train-wreck of the last twenty-four hours and the amazingly explosive conclusion, this felt like old times. She and Liz filling the gas tank, pointing one of their cars in a direction, and seeing what nifty little hidden spots they hadn’t discovered yet in Utah.

“What did you two get up to last night, after I fell asleep?” Liz’s question caught Mercy off-guard.

The images that teased her all morning flooded in, unrestrained. Being pressed against the car. Ian traveling his mouth along her neck. The things he did with his fingers. She mentally shook herself. “Us two, who? What makes you think I got up to anything?”

“Defensive much?” Liz’s laugh was strained. “I woke up in the middle of the night, had to pee, saw your note…”

Mercy looked up, to see Liz watching her. “And?” Mercy asked, when Liz didn’t continue.

“Oh, God. You slept with him, didn’t you?”

“No. There was absolutely no sleeping involved. And both of us stayed fully clothed.” Who knew that would come in handy for denial, later on? “Speaking of, did you return his calls? He said something about a lawyer and your stuff.”

“I’ll call him later. When I said we should spend the next week indulging in debauchery, I meant once we arrived there. And not with Ian. He’s my brother, for Christ’s sake.”

Mercy tried to ignore Liz’s implication, but it dug under her skin. Liz had never judged her before. Mercy had to be reading her words wrong. “So I’ll spare you the details, and you can be grateful you didn’t walk in on us.”

“But… You can’t hook up with him.”

“Why not?” An edge crept into Mercy’s question. “And why won’t you call him back?”

“Because you don’t take things like relationships seriously.”

The words hurt more than Mercy expected. They were true, but she didn’t like the way they sounded coming from Liz. “I don’t know if you realize this, but neither does he.” Lines like the ones he used last night; the smooth glide from conversation to seduction; the outright suggestion they take attachments off the table—Ian had done this before.

“Exactly,” Liz said.

“What?”

“You’re my two favorite people in the entire universe, and I want to see you both happy. If you’re screwing each other, you’re not available to find that one person who will show you love isn’t a joke.”

Like true love has done you so much good.
The moment the words slammed into Mercy’s head, her gut twisted with guilt. How cruel was she? Liz was being sweet, like Liz always was, and Mercy wouldn’t throw that back in her face. “You’re right. And it doesn’t matter. It’s not like it’s going to happen again.”

“Which is another reason not to call him. He doesn’t need to know what we’re up to. Let’s go find us way cuter guys as distractions.”

*

As soon as he was out of sight of the café entrance, Ian crumpled the waitress’s number, along with the scribbled note—
Call me
—and tossed it in a nearby trashcan. Even though he put in the time to flirt with the curvy brunette, he wasn’t in the mood for the effort it would take to follow through. Maybe it was getting up early enough for a 6 AM conference call, or the two hours of yammering before he had his coffee.
She won’t be as much fun as Mercy was.

So what? Mercy was probably on her way back to Georgia by now.

Seeing her last night was a trip to the past, but not in a bad way. When Ian was sixteen and his family picked up and moved halfway across the country, Liz threw a fit. She was supposed to be starting high school in the fall. Moving here meant another year of Jr. High, and leaving all her friends behind. Then she met Mercy—the daughter of one of the agency’s clients—and the two were instant best friends. Trauma forgotten.

For Ian, moving back then was the best thing that had happened to him up to that point. In Chicago, he was the nerdy kid, built well enough to go out for sports, but not interested in physical competition. He liked a mental challenge. He was on the chess team and in the computer club, and the only reason he didn’t get beaten up more often was he fought back.

In Park City, he was the bad boy. The new kid the girls swooned over, who didn’t go to church like everyone else and had the nerve to say why not. He and Mercy formed a bond too, but it wasn’t the same as what she shared with Liz.

Ian fell into step with the light morning crowd, and headed toward the parking garages of downtown Park City.

“Two minutes. I need to call my art guy,” Mercy’s voice mingled with his meandering into the past and flung him back to the present.

He whirled to scan the sidewalk at the sound of her voice, then slapped himself mentally when he realized what he was doing. Great. Now he was hallucinating her. That was fucked up. His phone rang, and he grabbed for it, grateful for the distraction. “Yeah.”

“How was the wedding? And the earlier-than-God-gets-up call?” It was his assistant, Jake. “I know you’ll probably be in the office soon, but you’ll want to hear this now.”

“You don’t want to know. And hear what?”

“KaleidoMation called while you were on with Boston. They’ve narrowed their choices down to two companies, and we’re one of them.”

This was the kind of news Ian needed. The account would be a step into a new market for them, pushing past the legacy media his mother and grandfather built the company on, and into modern technology. They’d done a bit of work here and there, but nothing as intensive as KaleidoMation wanted. “Fantastic news. You’ve got everyone working on next steps?”

“Yes.” Jake sounded insulted by the question. “Two catches, though. They’re concerned about our lack of experience with social media, and they’ll be in town Thursday and Friday, to talk in person about how we’re going to handle things. Your schedule’s been set, and I’ve made travel arrangements for them.”

Normally, Sales handled new accounts, but this client was significant enough, Ian was involved in negotiations from day one. It was too bad he couldn’t bring Mercy in, to consult. The kind of experience she had—

How many times was he going to have to squash thoughts of her? This wasn’t about last night, though. From what he’d seen and heard, the woman knew her stuff. And the reaction she had to him suggesting they work together meant she was keeping that knowledge to herself. “Thanks for the heads-up, and for being on this.” Ian clicked off the locks on his SUV. “I’ll be in the office in ten minutes. We’ll talk details then.”

He’d throw himself back into work, shake whatever funk had Mercy’s face, body, and intoxicating moans haunting his thoughts, and land his company a huge success. Exactly the way it should be.

Mercy angled her chair at the table in the back of the bar, so she could see the entire room. The place was too bright and clean to be cliché. It kind of squicked her out. A cute guy at the counter had smiled at her a couple of times, but she couldn’t find the enthusiasm to return the interest. Liz was with someone else, laughing, twirling her hair around her finger, and with far fewer drinks in her than her behavior implied.

Liz got a text from Ian earlier, asking where she was and for her to call when she had a minute. She promptly ignored it. She was afraid if she talked to him, she’d let it slip they were in the honeymoon suite, and he’d try and talk her out of binging and indulging. Mercy didn’t have a good argument against that. She’d told Liz what he wanted, his text confirmed it, the rest was between them.

Mercy and Liz spent the afternoon seeing the town, stepping into overpriced souvenir shops, and visiting the sprinkling of art galleries along Main Street. It was a pretty little town—Mercy could admit that, despite the memories it held. She could do without the proliferation of faux-wood facing on every single building. It didn’t build atmosphere so much as make it look like the city was trying too hard.

Mercy tried to get into the tourism, but the email waiting for her kept nagging. The note from the client she’d been wooing, KaleidoMation, saying they’d narrowed their decision down to two choices, and they’d like her in their offices early next week, to talk about options. Their biggest concern was whether an agency the size of hers could handle their needs. She itched to get back, to work on a proposal proving she had what it took.

She took her phone from her purse, pulled up a note app, and scribbled thoughts. Now seemed like as good a time as any, while Liz was distracted, and Mercy couldn’t find the motivation to blather with a stranger. Every few seconds, she looked up, keeping track of her surroundings.

A text came from Liz.
If I’m not back in 10, don’t send help
.

Mercy glanced in her friend’s direction and got a wave and smile from Liz, before she and her companion wandered off toward some dark corner. Mercy shook her head and turned back to work.

Seconds turned into minutes, and she lost herself in her ideas. The ideas flowed. KaleidoMation picked her company to make it this far, she could address any of their concerns. She simply needed a killer presentation and the right reassurances that size didn’t matter—it was how one used what they had. Sure, everyone said it, but recognition and relating to the consumer was important in this business.

The nearby scraping of chair legs across hardwood jarred her from her work, and she jerked up her head to see Cute Guy taking the seat across from her. Except he wasn’t quite so cute up close. There was a hesitation in his smile. A lack of confidence Ian didn’t suffer from.

As soon as the name entered her thoughts, she snarled at herself. Of course he wasn’t Ian. That was last night. It was time to move on.

“You look bored over here in your corner.” He scooted his seat closer. “Head down. Tweeting your friends. Someone might think you don’t want company.”

The assumption made her grind her teeth. “
Someone
might be right.”

“Don’t be like that, doll.” Another scoot of his chair, then one more, and she was pinned between him and the wall. “You wouldn’t be here if you weren’t looking for something,” he said.

On another night, in another town, she’d be in the bar because she wanted to get laid. She’d fall into the aggressive blandness. Not with this guy. He’d set her alarms off, even if she were in the mood. “I
am
looking for something. How did you know?”

“I’m psychic.” He glided a hand up the inside her leg.

She jerked away and stood in a single motion, relief sliding in when she saw Liz emerge from the back rooms. Her friend wore a bright smile that didn’t reach her eyes. Apparently they were both off their game tonight. “Her.” Mercy waved, to grab Liz’s attention.

Mr. decidedly-less-cute-now, glanced over his shoulder, and his leer grew. “You kinky girl.”

Mercy rolled her eyes. “Hey, gorgeous.” She prayed Liz would play along. “The honeymoon suite awaits. You ready to get out of here?” She brushed past the creeper, not caring she jarred him with her shoulder.

“Hold on.” He grabbed her wrist, fingers digging into skin hard enough to hurt. “There’s room for all three of us.”

Mercy ground her teeth together. “Let go of me, or I’ll scream.”

“Ooh, you’re vocal, too. Filthy bitch. I’ve got something to cram in your mouth.”

Liz sidled next to him and dropped her hand near his crotch.

“Your dirty whore girlfriend knows what I’m talking abou—” His eyes grew wide, and his jaw moved up and down, but no sound came out.

“That’s my nail file.” Liz’s voice was low, but unwavering. “I jerk my hand up, and it probably goes through your balls. Kinky enough for you?”

The guy let go of Mercy’s arm and shoved her aside. “Uptight cunt.”

Mercy tried to keep her composure as she joined Liz. She took her friend’s hand and glanced over her shoulder several times, as they made their way outside. They’d parked on the street, so there was no need to worry about the creeper stalking them in a dark parking lot. Acid and adrenaline churned in Mercy’s gut, as they pulled away from the curb. Mercy was in the driver’s seat, since she hadn’t been drinking. She tried to find something to say. Anything. The best she managed was a
thank you.

She’d dealt with creepers before, and wasn’t above kneeing someone wherever she could if it came to that. Why had she hesitated? Something was distracting her. She gripped the wheel so hard, she wondered if she might crack it.

The rest of the ride to the hotel was silent. Fortunately, the town was small enough it only took five minutes to get there. They made it up to their room, and the moment Mercy unlocked the door and pushed it open, Liz rushed past her. Seconds later, retching echoed from the bathroom.

Mercy took the couple extra seconds to latch shut every possible lock on the door, then joined Liz, grabbed some water, and waited.

Liz leaned her head against the wall. Red splotched her cheeks. “Thanks.” She took the glass and rinsed her mouth. “I don’t know if I should have done that. What would I do if he called my bluff? Not stab him. Crap, are you all right? You looked terrified.”

Mercy sank to the floor next to her. She’d give the suite that—the bathroom was huge. “I don’t know what he would have done. I’m glad you were there.”

“Do you deal with that a lot?”

Mercy couldn’t ignore the twinge the question brought with it. Liz didn’t mean to imply anything, though. It was an innocent question, because Liz knew Mercy had a more active social life.

“I hope your night was better. You were beaming until you saw us,” Mercy said.

“Yeah… No. The guy was all sorts of sweet, and we were making out in the hallway, and I couldn’t do it. How does anyone do that? He understood, though. Gave me his number, in case I changed my mind. Are you sure you’re okay?”

Mercy had a feeling Liz wouldn’t go through with it. It was the big reason she didn’t protest. Liz wasn’t made for flings. “I’m a little high strung. Do you want ice cream?” The more Liz said, the further below zero Mercy’s desire to linger on the events in the bar dropped. She was grateful Liz had stepped up, no question about it. So why Liz’s words rub her wrong?

“I’m good with that. Maybe skip the debauchery the rest of the week, and ski instead?”

Mercy managed a weak smile. “You ski. I’ll sit in the lounge, with Irish coffee and my laptop. Otherwise, yes.”

*

“Always a pleasure. Enjoy the rest of your day.” Ian shook the hotel manager’s hand and left the man’s office. That was another contract negotiation out of the way.

“No. I ordered the HD sample. Yes, I’m sure that’s what I wanted.”

Great. Two mornings in a row, he hallucinated Mercy’s voice. And she sounded irritated, instead of seductive. He rounded the corner leading to the lobby, and ground to a stop when he saw her a few feet away, pacing and talking on the phone.

She widened her eyes when she met his gaze, and she said, “Right. Fix it,” before dropping her phone into her purse. Her smile was nervous. This wasn’t right. She almost appeared… guilty? She definitely looked incredible. Jeans, sweater, hair in a ponytail—she’d probably be irresistible in a burlap sack.

He approached with a smile. No reason to be anything other than friendly, though he’d prefer it if the images assaulting him—leading her to a dark corner, sliding his hands under her top, hearing her moan again—would take a break. “Funny running into you here.”

“Not really.” Her laugh stuttered. “I’m on vacation.”

“You should have mentioned you’d be in town a few more days. I could have hooked you up.” Or they could have hooked up.
No.
That was a one-time thing.

“I didn’t know. Last minute decision, and all that.”

She was hiding something, but he wasn’t sure how to coax it out of her. The way her gaze flitted around the room, landing everywhere but on him, asking her directly wasn’t the way to go. “Couldn’t get enough of me?”

“It’s not that. Liz…”

That made sense. “Gave you her room.”

“
Yes.
Exactly. Because it was pre-paid, and she didn’t want your gift to go to waste. That would be silly. I’m here completely alone.”

The pieces clicked for him. He knew what she was holding back. “Mercy?”

“Hmm?”

“You’re a horrible liar. Where’s Liz?”

“Pro shop. Looking for a new ski suit.”

He rubbed his face, but it didn’t help reassemble his jumble of thoughts. “So she was grieving, and you let her wallow on the slopes instead of working to figure out the next steps in her life?”

Mercy’s posture shifted in an instant, her spine going rigid, as she crossed her arms. “Yes.”

“She was dumped at the altar.” He couldn’t believe they were having this conversation. “She may not be thinking straight. Did that occur to you?”

“Did it occur to you that she’s an adult and can make her own decisions?”

A retort died in his throat. Maybe he was being a little overprotective, but he’d told Mercy why he was looking for Liz. Liz would know too, if she’d returned his calls yesterday. “The longer she waits to resolve this issue with George’s wife holding her things hostage, the harder it’s going to be to resolve it.”

“
What?
You didn’t think to mention that detail—oh, I don’t know—two days ago?”

“I told you there were issues getting her belongings.” How did he become the bad guy in this?

“And I told her why she needed to call you back. But holding her stuff hostage? You left that out.”

“I figured I’d give her the rundown the next morning. I didn’t expect her to screen my calls. Liz doesn’t do impulsive. She was dealing with a lot.”

“Like a brother who doesn’t believe she can think for herself?”

“That’s not true.” Everything he said, she twisted back on him.

“You know what? I’m not playing the messenger on this.” Mercy nodded at something behind him. “You two talk to each other.”

Ian spun, to see Liz standing a few feet back, shopping bags on one arm and eyes wide.

She smiled. “Hey. Funny running into you here.”