Shameless, page 2
Too true. But what about the cop? What did he want?
He answered that for me when he shoved the mouse away and strutted towards us, stopping right in front of me and staring down with his intense brown eyes. “Come with me, miss.”’
Emily looked up, eyes wide. “That’s it? Shit. It was just getting good.”
“I had to stop working on it. Karen, the manager, left me the day log to sort out. It has all the notes left by housekeeping, stuff that has to get done overnight. I have to get it done before eleven when the night guy comes in.”
“That kind of sucks.”
Truth was, Jenn could have had the small job done in about thirty minutes, but she was taking her time—a way to avoid finishing the blog. Writing that sexy stuff was making her realise the pathetic state of her sex life. “No big deal, really, because”—she paused when another round of laughter came from the bar, this time loud enough to echo across the teak wood floor of the lobby—“I don’t have to have the post sent to Kitty until six.”
“Six in the morning?”
“She and Damian are leaving early with Georgia and Tommy to go to a Kinbaku exhibit in New York, so she needs me to get it to her before they leave. No big deal, I can always finish it when I get home tonight. I’ll have all night.” All night to conjure up images of that hot cop and how much fun it would be to peel his midnight-blue uniform right off his rock-hard body. Do all cops carry handcuffs? Because she would be totally okay with him securing her to her bed and torturing her with his wickedly sexy mouth. Slowly. All night long.
“Staying home and doing a blog post is not enough for a Saturday night.”
True, but she didn’t have much choice. Before Emily could say anything in response, the fax machine started to whir. After a long series of clicks, it churned out a beige sheet of paper that fell onto the counter beside the computer keyboard.
“There”—Emily pointed to the message—“a penthouse party at The Adams Square Hotel. That’s what you’re doing,”
“I can’t go to that. This says it’s exclusive.”
Emily picked up the sheet and read a section aloud. It advised the hotel manager to pass the invitation on to one or two of the very best guests. “Your manager isn’t around.”
Jenn rolled her eyes.
Emily set the paper on the counter. “Nobody there will know you. They’ll have no idea you work at the hotel. Go, have fun.”
“You’re crazy, you know that? Ever since Gino’s costume party you’ve gone wild.”
“I know! I love it. Why did I waste all that time not doing what I wanted?”
Jenn remembered the exciting couple of days that had followed the costume party where Emily had hooked up with Daniel, her new boyfriend. Following the party, Emily had talked non-stop about how much the experience of going after what she wanted had changed her life. “But that’s you. I’m not like that.”
“It can be you, too.” She pointed to the invitation. “Be crazy for once. Be somebody else if you want. Make up a name. Make up a life. Think of it as a chance to perfect your craft.”
Jenn picked up the sheet of paper. It did sound tempting. Writing a blog post was one thing—but actually doing something wild was something else entirely. “It’s in the penthouse.” She looked down at her drab green sweater and black skirt. “I’m not dressed for the top floor.”
“You are so gorgeous that no one will care what you’re wearing. The borrowed invitation thing worked for me, it’ll work for you.” Emily looked at the stack of notes. “Get your work done, put on some red lipstick, then go.”
“What about the blog post?”
Emily tapped the edge of the counter. “Stop making excuses!” Backing up, she waved at the laptop. “You can do it later.” Then, right before spinning on her heels and heading out, she said, “Maybe you’ll have something even better to write about after the party. If you know what I mean.”
* * * *
Even though it was only a bit before midnight, the party had already spilt out from the penthouse into the hallway. The couches and chairs in front of the elevator were filled with people and the decorative tables were overflowing with glasses and paper plates. Dance music rolled through the halls and a couple of girls were dancing near a window, their arms slicing through the air. One of them had taken off her shirt and was dancing in only her bra and mini-skirt. Four guys were standing nearby, watching.
Jenn stepped away from the elevator. Should she head for the penthouse? Or use an old trick from college—walk around pretending like she was looking for a friend she was supposed to meet there. But after a minute of standing there feeling stupid, she realised she was stressing for no reason, because no one was paying any attention to her. Getting past security with her stolen invitation had left her jittery and nervous and standing there was making it worse.
Crap. Why had she listened to Emily?
Ever since Daniel had come into her life, Emily was a different person. Confident and kind of rowdy. And their friend Kitty? Same thing. She’d done something totally out of character and got a hot guy of her own in the process. And Jenn had to admit, they were both happier. But neither of them had said anything about how stressful it was doing something crazy and unpredictable.
Jenn glanced back at the elevator doors. One press of a button and she’d be out of there, heading back to her apartment. For what? she chided herself. Another night of watching old episodes of Downtown Abbey? No, those weren’t going to do the trick, not now that she’d been fantasising about handcuffs and torture by orgasm. She’d have to dig out her Secret Diary of a Call Girl discs and dream about having an outrageous life in London. Nobody would know she’d chickened out on staying and she could spend the night writing dirty stuff and—
As if on cue, Jenn’s cell vibrated. She pulled it out and groaned. There was no sneaking out now. After tapping the screen, she chirped, “Hello,” to Emily in her best British accent.
“Jenn?”
Keeping up the accent reminded her of that sexy cop. Yum. Imagining his hands pulling her away from the crowd, Jenn replied, “So sorry, she’s gone off with a fella.”
“Are you pretending to be British?”
“What, what?”
“Just tell me, are you at the party?”
Warming up to her fake accent and the memories of him, Jenn said, “Yes, but of course.”
The noise of the post-election party filled the background. “Are you having fun?”
“I’ve only just arrived, Miss Watson.”
Emily laughed loud enough to block out the background. “You know not everyone from England sounds like a stuffy old lady, right?”
Jenn looked down at her deep green cardigan she’d unbuttoned before getting off the elevator and laughed.
Her friend kept talking. “As long as you don’t act stuffy, I’m okay with the accent. Stay there and have a very, very good time. Got it, Mary Crawley—or whoever you’re pretending to be?”
“I’m not an earl’s daughter. I’m just a commoner, here to enjoy a night out.”
Emily let out a fit of laughter, but managed to say goodbye. Jenn clicked off and slid her phone into her bag. When she looked up, she spotted a girl in a black mini-dress waving at her from one of the couches. “Did you just say you’re an earl’s daughter? That’s fucking awesome.”
The girl beside her sat up. “Have you met Kate? I love her. She’s gorgeous. And classy.” She pointed to Jenn’s plain sweater. “Like you.”
Jenn moved closer, trying to figure out what they were talking about. “Kate?”
“Kate Middleton, Prince William’s wife.”
Jenn started to explain that her accent was a joke, but the two girls cut her off by asking a slew of other questions about the royal family, double decker buses and tea. If they weren’t so excited, she would’ve thought they were rude idiots. Finally they stopped, fell silent, and sat there staring at her like she was a museum exhibit.
Seriously? She was going to spend her night pretending to be British? Jenn justified her behaviour by reminding herself that Emily had suggested she pretend to be someone else. That was, after all, how both she and Kitty had snagged their guys. Hanging on to her accent, she said, “I haven’t met Catherine, personally, but two of my cousins played tennis with her over the summer.” Shame rolled over her, but the words were out of her mouth, and she couldn’t snatch them back in. The next thing she knew, she started replying to the other questions, making answers up as she went.
When Jenn finally paused, the first girl cooed, then said, “I love your accent, it’s so sexy.”
A couple of the guys who’d been watching the dancers by the window had come over and were leaning in, watching her. “Say something,” one of them said.
Good grief, now she was blushing from all the attention. “An accent can’t be that unusual here in DC, surely you’ve heard one like mine many times before.”
“It never gets old. Say some more things. Anything.”
Jenn opened her mouth and more lies tumbled out. Reasons for being in DC and thoughts she had about the fabulous US monuments. Those lies were followed by made-up answers to questions about favourite foods, like bangers and mash, and scones with clotted cream. She invented a name, Olivia Pierce, and told everyone she was from West Kensington. No harm in having fun. She was just taking Emily’s advice. Right?
Chapter Two
Liam stood at the window, arms folded across his chest, with his gaze fixed on the lights of the city. Behind him, music boomed and dozens of people danced. In front of him was an entire city, filled with possibilities, including all the things he could have been doing instead of hanging around at this party Davi had talked him into. He could have gone to a couple of gallery openings or to the midnight showing of the museum’s latest foreign film. Neither one of those would have required him to be around people when he was in such a sour mood. Seeing Jenn hadn’t helped his state of mind either. Now he was reliving all those fantasies he’d had about watching her pretty mouth suck on his cock.
So far all he’d done at this ‘fantastic party’ was wander around. Going along with Davi’s game was juvenile, no doubt about it. But the guy always knew how to get under Liam’s skin and get him to do things he wouldn’t usually even consider. Just as he was thinking about sneaking out, Davi appeared with a trio of women in tow. “See, here he is, my lonely friend.”
All of them said hello—nearly shouting at him the way people do when they’re speaking to someone who doesn’t speak the same language. He offered them all a smile and a nod. Then he pretended to not understand when they started telling Davi it was too bad they couldn’t talk to him because he was so cute. Davi frowned, grabbed Liam’s arm and dragged him away from the window. “I’ll be right back,” he yelled to the three women as he hauled Liam away. “Wait right there.”
Liam whispered in Davi’s ear, “Can’t handle a little competition? Worried I’ll prove you wrong?”
Still pulling him out of the suite and into the hall, he said, “You aren’t competition. I’ve just realised what a distraction I am. As long as I’m standing there, no one is even going to notice you.”
“What are you doing?” He started pulling back. “Kicking me out?”
They reached the end of the hall and Davi gave him a giant shove. He stumbled forward and nearly collided with a bald guy with massive arms. The guy grabbed Liam’s shoulders and steadied him. “Sorry, man,” Davi yelled. “I think my friend’s had too much.”
Liam cast Davi a dark look.
“It’s cool,” the guy said, pointing to an empty seat on a couch. “Have my seat.”
Davi stepped over, shoved Liam down, then explained to the group that his friend was visiting from the Netherlands and didn’t speak any English. Then he made a big deal out of the fact that poor, sad Liam hadn’t been able to understand a single thing anyone had said all night. And so he’d had too much to drink. The lies were ridiculous.
All of the group except one stared at Liam. While they were all inspecting him, a woman leaned towards Davi. “If he only speaks Dutch, how do you talk to him?”
Liam instantly recognised her smile, but not the voice. He indulged in a head-to-toe assessment. Jenn? It sure as hell looked like her. But he could’ve just conjured her up with his dirty fantasies.
She spoke to Davi again, “If you speak Dutch, why don’t you interpret for him?”
Good questions—why hadn’t anyone else already asked them? Yep, it was definitely her. Smart and sexy, just like he remembered. But why was she using the accent?
Davi ignored her questions and replied with a gleam in his dark brown eyes. “You will take good care of him, then?” He backed away, waving. “I’ll be back after a while.”
The conversations around Liam picked up where they had left off before his interruption. Soon he realised that everyone—guys and girls both—was giving Jenn their attention because of her accent and the lies she was telling them about her life. He settled back, folded his arms across his chest, watched and listened. Apparently, he was the only one to recognise the accent was not real. Not a bad imitation, really, but obviously fake. Every so often, she took a break from her stories and looked his way. Each time she did, she pulled her gaze away as soon as he met her eyes. Her replies started getting shorter and shorter until she was barely talking at all.
The attraction that had returned while he was at the hotel bar had more than doubled and he couldn’t stop wondering what she was up to. And why. After only a couple of minutes, Liam’s heart was hammering and his nerve endings were on fire. Their gazes connected and again she looked away, her chin turning from him in a sharp jerk. “Can anyone tell me where I can find the loo?” she asked the group, looking around at everyone but him.
After a round of laughter about how cute her accent was, one of the girls pointed. “The penthouse is at the end of the hall.”
She offered a stiff and formal thank you and excuse me, then got up and hurried towards the penthouse. Liam didn’t give much thought to following her, he just leapt off the couch and went.
The music from the penthouse grew louder as Jenn hurried to escape. Couples leaned against the walls and groups lingered about. The body heat thickened the air, the scent of aftershave and perfume mixing with the musky smell of sweat. As she moved forward, the crowd grew thicker and thicker until eventually she had to start pushing her way through. People were so packed together that by the time she neared the penthouse door, gentle pushes weren’t working. A polite excuse me didn’t make a bit of difference. A fake accent didn’t help if nobody could hear it.
Two steps later she was completely stuck. Bodies pressed in from all sides. She tried to shove the guy in front of her, but he didn’t even notice. Right after she pulled her hands back to try again, another pair of hands appeared from above and shoved the guy harder. He turned around, his eyes connecting with somebody behind Jenn. The guy from the couch—Liam, the gorgeous cop—and he was using his thumb to tell the guy to get out of the way. The guy moved forward and made a space for Jenn to pass through.
Inside the suite, the only floor space that wasn’t filled with people dancing was along the wall, so Jenn headed there. She crept forward, towards what looked like the bathroom. After a few steps, she glanced over her shoulder. Liam was there, smiling. She felt her face flush with embarrassment. He nodded then pointed to a guy coming out from behind a door.
She didn’t really need the bathroom but she didn’t want to stand there with the hot cop staring at her, so she went in. The space was a disaster. Towels were in a heap on the floor and there was a pile of empty beer bottles in the tub. She splashed some cold water on her face, hoping to cool the redness of her humiliation. But he had some explaining to do as well. What was up with him pretending to be Dutch?
Jenn found some hairspray under a pile of empty Doritos bags and spent a few minutes smoothing down some strays and trying to make her bangs behave. Then she put on a fresh coat of lipstick and checked her phone. Nothing going on, not even a text from Emily. Lucky girl—she was probably having a great time with Daniel. Jenn didn’t want to interrupt to ask for advice about how to handle the odd turn of events.
Maybe Liam was undercover and he’d followed her to the bathroom to ask her not to blow it. He didn’t need to worry about her making a scene. Jenn had had enough for one night. The smouldering way he kept staring at her was making her want to drag him into a closet and rip his starched white shirt off. But he hadn’t been interested in her last spring, so he wouldn’t be interested in her now. Nope, she was ready to call it a night. She opened the door and came face to face with him.
“Can I have a moment?” He gestured towards the interior of the bathroom and asked the question again.
“In here?” Jenn asked, hearing the squeak in her voice.
He nodded. She backed up. He followed her in and shut the door.
Jenn stepped back again and bumped into the counter. She leaned against it and tried to ignore the skittering of her heart. “Hello, Liam. What can I help you with?”
A quirk pulled on his mouth. “Start by dropping the accent.”
“Whatever do you mean?”
He lifted one of his eyebrows. “Are you having fun, Olivia?”
“Okay, so you caught me. So what? You’re lying about who you are, too.”
He was braced against the door, his body motionless as he looked her over. When his eyes met hers, a hot wave of lust rolled over Jenn. “Do you want something?” she asked, hoping like hell the answer was ‘yes.’
He shifted his feet, shoved his hand through his black hair and took his time replying. “I’ll do you the favour of keeping your secret if you do me a favour in return.”
“Do I have a choice?”
“You do. You could just leave.”
Damn curiosity. And lust. Now she didn’t want to be anywhere but right where she was. “Okay, what do you want?”
