Selling Seduction (Your Ad Here #1) (9 page)

“No, that’s okay. I’ll be an intern. They don’t get paid, right? And if I help you start making more money, you can put me on the payroll?”

“Interns are fresh out of college. I can’t
not
pay you.” Mercy hated telling her
no
. Liz would help her out if she needed it. She insisted on wiring Mercy money a couple of times, even when Mercy said she’d find a way. Gave her a safe-haven, growing up. “Ask Ian for a job,” Mercy said.

A scowl spread over Liz’s face. “You wouldn’t.”

“I don’t need to.”

“We both know what happens if I go to him. He won’t hesitate. He’ll give me a big title and fancy office, and piddly bullshit work.”

It sounded so condescending when she put it that way. Mercy wanted to argue that wasn’t the Ian she knew, but it clicked in her head and gnawed at her stomach. This
was
him, when it came to Liz. “I don’t have a lot of time to train you. You’ll have to do a lot of studying by yourself, to get up to speed.”

“I will. I promise. I’ll devour whatever you tell me to.”

Mercy didn’t think she’d regret the extra help. Liz was capable of doing what Mercy was about to ask, but Mercy did feel guilty about the lack of salary. And the nagging, telling her this might be a bad idea for reasons she hadn’t considered. That was okay; she’d deal with it when the time came.

“We’ll make it official, then. You get the same contract as everyone else. Follow the same rules, no favoritism.”

“I promise.” Liz grinned. “Thank you. Thank you, thank you. Now, finish your work, so we can go celebrate.”

“Eh…”
Fuck
.

“Hmm?” Liz raised her brows.

“Ian and I are going to dinner. We thought you’d be in Salt Lake one more night.”

Liz’s smile fell from her eyes, but not her face. “No worries. He can celebrate with us. But you have to let me tell him.”

Mercy gave a non-committal shake-nod. “Let me wrap up. He’ll be here at seven.” And then everyone could figure out what to tell everyone else. It’d be fun.

Ian knocked on the door of the honeymoon suite, and his pulse thrummed in his ears. When did he last anticipate a date this much? He couldn’t say. With Liz gone for the night, Mercy had the place to herself. Maybe it was a good time to try out the amenities. Sure, he had a hot tub back at the house, but this one was en-suite, and hotel sex felt naughtier by default.

His evening planning stalled until it evaporated when the door swung open and Liz stood on the other side, dressed for what he assumed was dinner. “Hey.” She beamed and pulled him into the room. “One more minute, and we’ll be ready.”

For the second time in just a couple of days, disappointment welled inside at seeing her and was quickly joined by guilt. Wait.
We’ll
be ready? He was grateful she was back safe. That didn’t mean he was changing his plans for her.

Mercy stepped into the room behind Liz, and mentally, Ian’s jaw dropped. The high collar on her dress highlighted her neck, and the sleek curves hugged hers, the dress ending halfway down her thighs. In those heels, she had to be as tall as him. She smiled at him over Liz’s shoulder. “Ready. And guess who’s coming with us.”

“Fantastic.” Ian kept his irritation in check, not understanding where the sudden surge came from. His fingers twitched by his side, as nervous energy danced through them. He held open the door and bowed at the waist, gesturing to the hallway. “After you, ladies.”

When they reached the parking lot, Liz jumped into the front seat the moment Ian held the door open. When Mercy slid into the back, he couldn’t resist drawing in a lungful of her intoxicating scent. He dipped his head close to her ear, and whispered, “You could have warned me.”

She gave him an apologetic shrug. “She wanted to surprise you.”

He felt like he was being set up. The chatter on the way to the restaurant was light and simple. What Liz bought on her shopping trip. What the weather would be like for Mercy’s trip. Ian wanted his conversations with Mercy back—sharing moments from their past, swapping jokes. Diving past the superficial.

“Are you all right?” Liz asked at one point.

He glanced in her direction while they waited for the light to change. “Fine. Why?”

“Your knuckles are white from gripping the steering wheel too hard.”

That explained why his fingers ached. “Still tense about driving conditions.”

Things didn’t improve much once they reached their destination and were seated. The biggest difference was, now that the two women faced each other, he could see the shared looks, the clamped lips, and the occasional, almost imperceptible shake of Liz’s head, in response to a question in Mercy’s gaze. Even if he hadn’t spent half his teenage years watching them do this, he’d know they were hiding something.

Was it about Mercy and him? They should have discussed whether or not they were telling Liz. Whatever this was, though, it was Liz’s secret though. “What else is new?” he asked her.

“I was only gone a day or so.” Liz spoke from behind her drink, the wine glass muffling her words, and she wouldn’t make eye contact. “I’m still single and heartbroken. But tomorrow I’m looking at condos, so at least I won’t be homeless.”

“You’re looking at condos. In a ski-resort town in February.” He let disbelief slide into his words.

She fiddled with her ring finger, which was sans engagement ring. “I’m not an idiot. They’d bleed me dry on rent. I’m looking at places in Salt Lake, maybe even Ogden. I’ve got work prospects.”

Mercy tightened her jaw, and Ian raised his brows.
Interesting.
“What’s going on?” He made sure not to direct the question at anyone specifically.

Mercy glanced at Liz, who finally looked at him. “Nothing. Coping with reality. I have to do it sometime, you know?”

“I have to make a business call.” Mercy stood so abruptly, her chair legs scraped across the tile. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but it’s urgent and I forgot.”

The bread had just arrived. Fuck, Ian couldn’t do this all night. “What are you two hiding?” he asked Liz, instead of giving into the impulse to watch Mercy’s ass as she strode away.

“Nothing.” Liz was back to studying her butter knife. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

In the background, the soft clatter of silverware against china filtered in to fill the silence. “Liz.”

“What? It’s— I mean— Nothing.”

She was mourning. She was left at the altar less than a week ago. A woman had a right to her secrets. That didn’t stop Ian from being grateful when his phone buzzed. “It’s Jake. I’ll be back in a few. Start without me if Mercy and the appetizers get back before I do.” He was scanning through the messages as he strode away, not waiting for Liz’s response.

Jake’s text was standard information.
Woodhouse’s flight is in. I’ve dropped him off at the hotel. We’re set for tomorrow
.

Ian didn’t have to walk away to talk, but it was as rude to text at the table as it was to take a call. Besides, he needed some air. Something was fucking with his head, testing his patience when he didn’t have a right to be irritated, and he needed to eliminate it. He sent Jake back a quick,
Thanks. See you in the morning,
and set his phone to Do Not Disturb, so only calls and messages flagged as
priority
would come through.

The restaurant had their wine racks and a pastry counter in a room separate from everything else, on the other side of the lobby. He didn’t want to leave Liz alone for long, but he saw the perfect solution to unfogging his thoughts. At the far end, out of sight of everything but the entrance, Mercy stood next to the window, staring into the night.

He strode up behind her and wrapped an arm around her waist. She started, and then leaned into him. “I was about to head back.” Her quiet words mingled with the music drifting from hidden speakers.

“You two are hiding something.” That wasn’t what he meant to say. A trend he noticed more and more when she was around.

She turned to face him, and he encircled her hips, resting his hands against her back. She draped her arms around his neck. “You and I are hiding something from her, too. That makes everything even.”

“No. That means you know all the secrets.” He nipped at her bottom lip. “Speaking of, why are
we
a secret?”

She pressed closer and glided her nails along the back of his neck. “What do you propose we say? She already thinks we’d be bad for each other.
Jaded
meets
cynical
, and all that. I’m not sure,
Hey, we’re screwing and maybe more but maybe not
, is going to change her mind.” She kissed him, mouth soft and yielding, the faint tart of wine still on her lips. He spun her and guided her to the wall, so he could lean into her.

It was so easy to lose himself in this. She shifted her weight, rubbing against his cock, and he glided his hand lower, over her ass and past the hem of her skirt.

She laughed against his mouth. “Not in here.”

“Car’s outside.”

“Liz is waiting for us.” She tilted her head and sighed when he kissed down her throat.

He skimmed over her collar and met skin again when he reached her shoulder. “Speaking of. What’s she keeping from me?”

“You’ll have to ask her.”

He teased along the inside of Mercy’s thighs with one hand and twisted the fingers of the other in her hair. He crushed his mouth to hers, hungry, wanting to dive into her. He was rock hard and digging into her stomach.

His phone vibrated in his jacket pocket. She nudged him away, disappointment in her tiny laugh. “I should get back to the table.” When she brushed past him, she traced his shaft through his slacks. “See you in a few minutes.”

He whirled and rested against the wall.
Hey, we’re screwing and maybe more but maybe not.
It echoed in his thoughts. Why hadn’t he thought things through better, before doing any of this with Mercy? She had a way of making him forget consequences mattered. Instead of bothering him, the notion made his pulse race and his adrenaline climb. She had a good point about telling Liz, though. He’d told himself that first night he wouldn’t be a rift in their friendship. Wouldn’t hurt his sister. And he would stand by that decision.

He forced thoughts of bitter cold, tax season, and FCC audits through his head, until his erection ebbed enough that he could walk without adjusting himself every step, then checked his phone to see what kind of emergency waited for him. It was a message from Liz.
You all right?

That was one way to kill a hard-on. He didn’t reply. Both women were back at the table when he returned. He needed to be a better sport about the evening. He and Liz had always been close, and he didn’t want to jeopardize that.

“How’s work?” Liz asked.

“Same as always. Speaking of—you said you had prospects? I didn’t know you were looking.”

Mercy sighed. “Just tell him. It’s not a celebration if one member of the party doesn’t know.”

Liz twisted her napkin in her lap. “I’m not looking. I found something.”

“That’s fantastic. Doing what?” Fleeting concern ached behind his ribs.

“Whatever Mercy needs me to.”

That explained the shared looks. “You could have come to me. You know—
Thompson Advertising
?
Your
name’s on the logo, too. We have an office we can put you in—”

“I have a job.” Liz clipped off each word. “Starting in accounting and moving up from there.”

How had he gotten backed into a corner so quickly? And why did he care who she worked for? Because Mercy was the competition. Except she wasn’t, and the furrow of her brows said she didn’t like the turn the conversation took. He glued on a smile. “That came out wrong. I meant to say
congratulations
. I think it’s a fantastic reason to celebrate.”

“Really?” Liz hopped from her chair, leaned over, and gave him a huge hug. “Thank you. I’m really excited about it.”

Mercy’s smile didn’t come so easily. She fiddled with a piece of bread, not looking at either one of them.

Finding out if he and Mercy could have more was going to be a lot more complicated than he thought, and it had been less than a day.

Liz had her door open almost before Ian’s SUV stopped rolling, when he pulled up in front of the hotel. Mercy felt like a teenager, and not in a good way, at the quick hug Liz and Ian exchanged. This was a bond Mercy would never come between.

When she slipped into the conversation Liz didn’t approve of anything happening between Mercy and Ian, she tried to fight her disappointment, and failed. Mercy wanted him to say it didn’t matter what Liz thought. She knew better, though. Childish expectations, all over again.

She hopped from the car.

“Mercy.” Ian’s voice made her pulse skip and her heart patter. Damn him. “Can I borrow you for a moment?” He stood next to the driver’s side of the vehicle. “I have a business question.”

Mercy glanced at Liz, who waited near the hotel entrance. “Five minutes,” Mercy said. “I’ll be right up.” She waited until Liz was inside and out of sight, before joining Ian.

Ian grabbed Mercy’s hand and pulled her close, mostly hidden from view of the building, and her heartbeat cranked another notch.

“This is a bad idea.” He settled his hands at her hips.

“Making out in the freezing cold?”

“Hiring Liz.”

Her building blood pressure ratcheted for a new reason. “
We
—you and I—don’t talk business. Also, this isn’t your call.”

“I don’t mean—” He clenched his teeth and sucked in the air through them. “If you want to keep us a secret, that makes it harder to do. I’m not trying to butt into your business or her life. My hesitation revolves around you and me.”

Mercy had her doubts, but there was no animosity in his words. “What are we going to tell her? That we’re fuck buddies for the next two or three days?”

“Do you really think that?”

She had to. What other option was there? Anything else was unrealistic. An immature fantasy she wouldn’t let distract her if he was anyone else. “I can’t think of it as more.”

“Why not?”

“Don’t make me answer that.” How was she supposed to explain?

He brushed his lips over hers. A feather-light graze that sent pleasant chills over her skin. “I’m not asking you to define anything,” he said. “Just to not write us off yet.”

“I leave for my meeting with KaleidoMation Monday morning.” She stepped back but still held his hand.

He gave her fingers a final squeeze before letting go. “I know. The clock’s ticking in my head, even without the reminder. Good night, Mercy.”

Confusion mingled with irrationality, while she rode the elevator up. When she left home, the theory was there in her head—sex and love could be separate. Not interested in the local guys, she’d never put it into practice, but she knew she could do it. Until she hooked up for the first time. Lost her virginity to a stranger in a bar in Venezuela. She knew she was in love. It didn’t help that he muttered things like,
I love you, baby
, every time they fucked, for almost a week straight.

When he left, reminding her it was just a fling, she curled in on herself for about half a day, until she remembered that wasn’t her. Now she was inches from making a similar mistake with Ian, because of who he was—tied to a memory and a portion of her past she thought she’d shed years ago.

She reached the room and was surprised to see most of the lights out. The door to the bedroom was closed, no glow spilling from underneath. She knocked.

“Sleepy. Tomorrow?” Liz called back.

“Yeah.” Mercy settled on the couch, not bothering with lamps or changing out of her dress. She tugged her knees to her chest and tried to make sense of the jumble inside. It didn’t matter how many arguments part of her presented, she always ended up at the same end point. Ian was temporary. There were too many reasons for him to never be more.

Which didn’t stop her from hating the way she left things with him. She pulled her phone from her purse, and sent him a text.
Good luck with Jonathan tomorrow.

Might as well get some sleep. His answer buzzed through seconds later.
Is that all I get?

She smiled, in spite of herself. The only other thing she could think of was,
I miss you.
Going down that road was dangerous. Instead she settled for,
Did you have something else in mind?

I believe there was mention of pictures
.

She never should have told him those existed. There were no photos. She hated having her picture taken.
Your mention, not mine.

That’s fair. And it’s my mention again
, he replied.
But I won’t see you until Sunday. Send me something to keep me company.

Her chaotic thoughts twisted another degree toward out of control. His request thrummed through her veins, pulsing with excitement and the wickedness of it all. How did he do this to her? One minute she doubted every aspect of their relationship. The next, with a single request, he made her wonder how much she was comfortable showing him. Hesitation and self-doubt won out. Her text said,
Not tonight.

I understand. You’ll be in my dreams anyway.

She stared at the message far longer than she should. What was she doing?

* * * *

“How do you do it?” Liz picked at the leftover blueberries from her now-gone muffin. They sat at a table outside the hotel coffee shop, watching the afternoon tourists walk by.

Mercy paused her drink, straw halfway to her mouth. “Manage payroll for all of seven people? I think you’ve got the basics down.” They were discussing an accounting timeline and what Liz needed in order to slide into the position. The conversation included Liz looking at the budget and making suggestions on ways to get her salary paid. She might be okay with working for free, but Mercy wasn’t going to allow it.

“Spend time with a guy—any guy—sleep with him, talk to him, enjoy his company, and then walk away when it’s all done, like nothing happened.”

“Sometimes it’s harder than others. Depends on the guy.” Mercy whispered a short prayer that this wasn’t heading toward a very specific conclusion.

“How difficult will it be with Ian?” Liz looked up, eyes wide and innocent, the rest of her expression blank.

And there it was.
More difficult than it should be.
“I don’t know. How long have you…?”

“I had a feeling after the whole I-spent-the-night-and-we-have-dinner-plans thing. Your lipstick was smudged last night when you came back to the table. And on his collar.”

That actually happened? Mercy didn’t notice before. She also had no idea what to say.

“Do me a favor?” Liz said.

“Always.”

“Please don’t let him break you this time.” Liz crumpled her empty wrapper and napkin into a tiny ball and stood.

What the hell?
Irritation and curiosity spilled through Mercy. She grabbed Liz’s wrist and rose, as her friend walked by. “You don’t walk away after a statement like that. I’ve got this.”

Liz’s shoulders rose and fell, and she turned back to Mercy. “I was there the first time. I watched you swoon over him and worship him, and withdraw when he left. For a long time, I thought I lost you. After you left, you started to come back around. I watched you change through the emails and the phone calls, and who you were shone through again.”

“Are you sure that’s what your problem is?” Mercy should have let it go, but every time Liz had slipped in something passive aggressive over the past few days flitted back to taunt her. “Not that I’m not good enough for your brother?” Forcing the question out scraped her throat raw. She didn’t want to believe it or even think it, but now she’d said it, she realized it had lingered in the back of her mind since the morning after the failed wedding.

Was that really only five or six days ago?

“No.
Heavens
no.” Liz twisted her hand until she was holding Mercy’s instead of being her captive. “I meant what I said at the bar. I don’t know how you let the world rush around and over you, while you stand unflinching in the middle. I worship you. I adore you.”

Mercy struggled to process the confession. “I don’t—”

“I’m not done. You built your business from the ground up. You’re strong. You’re independent, and before Ian dug into your head as a teenager, you took the world at face value. Ian will destroy that. Again.” There was no venom in her words. Only sadness and surrender.

“God, Liz. He’s your brother.”

“He is. And I love him dearly. I trust him with my life and with everything else in the world. Except you. Because I love you more.” Liz rose on her toes and kissed Mercy on the lips. Tentatively and softly, but then with more power.

Shock pushed everything else out of Mercy’s head. The kiss was good. On a physical level, it sang to her senses and shoved the rest of the world aside. The spark wasn’t there, though. And holy fuck, what had Liz just said? Mercy assembled enough sense to break the contact and gently push Liz back. “Where did this come from?”

“You’ve been with women before.”

Mercy shook her head spinning her thoughts up. Making sense of the situation. Realizing she’d have to tell Liz she wasn’t interested. How had she not seen this coming? “That’s not what I asked.”

“I’ve thought about it before; it’s not new.” Liz furrowed her brow and twisted a strand of hair around her finger—a nervous habit she’d had forever. “But I never wanted to accept I might like more than just men. This crap with George, though, and having you here… We’ve been there for each other since we met. You love me too. You’ve said so.”

“I do, but not like that, hon.”

“So you love Ian instead?”

“I don’t know. No. Probably not.” Mercy struggled to find the words to make things right. “What happened with George has to be hard. You haven’t mourned yet. I know you’ve let yourself cry a couple of times, but not really.”

“
Damn it.
” Liz’s tone drew glances from nearby patrons. Pink flooded her cheeks. “Don’t talk down to me like I don’t get it.” Her voice was softer again.

“I’m not. I’m just…” Mercy was going to have to be blunt and keep pushing until Liz got it.
Please let us recover.
“I don’t feel that way about you. I’m sorry. You’re still my best friend, and you mean the world to me. There’s nothing romantic there, though.”

“Then, the kiss?”

Mercy shook her head. “You’re a good kisser.”

“Fuck.” Liz stared at her feet. “I guess that’s something. Are you going to fire me now?”

“No. You’re welcome to resign, but I hope you don’t. What we accomplished today? More than I’ve gotten done in a month. And I mean that. I also won’t pretend this didn’t happen.”

Liz stepped back, still studying the ground. “I think I need to go.”

It wasn’t a resolution, but Mercy didn’t know what else to say.

“Is this the part where I run up to the room and you go spend the night with Ian?” Liz’s question was so soft, Mercy had to strain to hear.

“I don’t know. I hadn’t thought past hoping this doesn’t cost me your friendship.”

Liz glanced up. “I need some time. I’ll email you if I have work questions.”

“Yeah. Okay.” Mercy sank into her chair as Liz strode away at high speed. What now?