Tempted and Taken, page 5
“It doesn’t matter if you use it later in life or not. What you need to do is concentrate on passing this week’s test. You’re doing so well. We just have to stay on top of it.” The first thing Ashley had done when Liza arrived this morning was pull out her report card and show her the C she’d received in the class. That second-quarter grade, combined with the first quarter’s F, pulled her semester up to a D, aka passing. Halle-fucking-lujah.
Liza was determined to see the girl finish the year with at least a C in the course, though given Ashley’s progress lately, she didn’t think a B was entirely out of the realm of possibility. She’d said that aloud after hugging Ashley for the good report card and promising to bring her a surprise next week as a reward.
“You really think I could end up with a B in this class?” Ashley was clearly warming up to that idea.
“I do. You’re kicking algebra’s ass,” Liza assured her.
Ashley laughed, and together they cleaned up the table, putting the study guides, textbook, and notebook away.
“All finished?” Arnold walked into the rec room. Four kids were hunkered down on the couch and chairs surrounding the television, trash talking loudly as they played Mario Kart on the new gaming system someone had donated to the house over the holidays. There were eight other kids sitting around the same large table where she and Ashley had been, working on homework, doing crafts, or playing cards.
“Yep,” Liza replied. “I was about to stop by your office to see if you needed me to do anything else. Because if not, I think I might take off early this week.”
Arnold studied Liza’s face, frowning. “You look tired.”
Liza considered denying it, but why would she? Tired had been her permanent state since the Snowflake Gala. Sleep appeared a luxury she could no longer afford because it had been shut off due to lack of payment.
Night after night, she found herself tossing and turning, torn between frustration, self-recrimination, and overwhelming horniness.
She wanted Matt Russo, but she didn’t want to.
It was as simple and as difficult as that.
She gave Arnold a weary smile. “I didn’t sleep well last night.”
Or the night before. Or the night before that one. Or…
Liza had been volunteering at the Promise House for just over a year and during that time, she’d become very close to the home’s director, Arnold Jackson, as well as his life partner, Johnnie. The three of them had begun their own little dinner club, meeting up at a different restaurant or each other’s home two or three times a month. Liza looked forward to those nights more than she could say, which was a testament to how lacking her social life was. Now that most of her girlfriends were in relationships, she found herself eating dinner alone at least ninety percent of the time.
She hated eating alone.
She, Arnold, and Johnnie hadn’t had dinner together since before the Snowflake Gala because of all the hustle and bustle associated with the holidays. Their next date was Tuesday night, and they had invited her to join them at their house because Johnnie had some new recipe for curry chicken he’d found online that he was dying to try.
“You sure you’re not coming down with something?” Arnold asked. “The flu has been making the rounds ever since New Year’s.”
“I’m not sick,” she reassured him.
“Hey, Liza,” Devonte said as he entered the room, spinning a basketball on the tip of his finger. She’d never seen the boy when he wasn’t wearing his beloved Celtics jersey or without a basketball in his hand.
“Hey, Devonte.” The two of them fist-bumped, their standard greeting.
“You up for a game of hoops?”
She shook her head, grinning. Most Saturdays, she took him up on the offer, but she couldn’t summon enough energy for a lousy game of Horse right now, let alone the one-on-one she and Devonte usually got into. She’d played on the girls’ basketball team in high school, but that experience did not help her when it came to playing against Devonte. “Not today.”
“Yeah, you probably don’t wanna take me on now that I’ve got these sweet KD16s.”
Liza glanced down at Devonte’s new tennis shoes and whistled. “Damn. Nice shoes. Santa bring you those?” she teased.
Devonte shook his head. “Nope. Matt gave them to me. Got us all new shoes. Let us pick out whatever we wanted.”
“All of you? You mean every kid here?”
Devonte nodded, grinning widely.
“Wow. That’s super nice.” Liza glanced over at Arnold. She knew everyone on staff, as well as the counselors and volunteers, and she’d never met anyone named Matt. “Is Matt new?”
Arnold nodded. “You could say that. He’s been by the place a few times since the gala. Apparently, your presentation really impressed him.”
It took a second before Liza could process what Arnold was saying. Because there was no way…
“Matt Russo?” she forced herself to ask.
It was Devonte who answered him. “Yeah. Dude is rich as shit, but he’s aww-right.” He drawled the word alright, making it clear he thought Matt was totally cool. “Not too bad on the court either, but he can’t keep up with me and my mad skills, y’know.”
“He’s played basketball with you?” Liza didn’t mean to sound so shocked, but dammit…she was.
“Coming back again next week.” Devonte was obviously excited to see his new friend. “Gonna help me break in my new kicks.”
“Come on, Liza. I’ve got something in my office I want to discuss with you,” Arnold said before Liza could question Devonte further.
The two of them walked together, stopped several times along the way by teens who wanted to say hello to Liza or ask Arnold a question.
Once they reached his office, Arnold gestured toward the “seen better days” couch before shutting the door. She sank down on the faded but comfy cushion, as Arnold took the overstuffed armchair across from her.
“I’m worried about those dark circles under your eyes. It feels like we haven’t talked in ages,” Arnold started.
“It’s only been a few weeks and I’m coming to your house on Tuesday. We can chat then.”
Arnold’s eyes crinkled with an amusement that confused her until he explained. “Oh, my dear Liza. You and I won’t have the opportunity to say anything Tuesday night. Johnnie is full speed ahead on the wedding plans, so please, for the love of all that’s holy, come armed with strong opinions on everything from flowers to color schemes to menus. Because apparently, my feelings regarding all those things are either wrong or too lukewarm. I’m counting on you to pick up my slack.”
After twenty-five years as partners, Arnold and Johnnie were finally tying the knot at a destination wedding in Hawaii, and Liza couldn’t be happier for them. Johnnie had grown up on the islands and most of his family—apparently as big as hers—still lived there.
“Yes, sir.” Liza gave him a salute. “Operation Groomzilla is underway. I’ll do my best to soothe the beast.”
“Got your plane ticket?” Arnold asked.
“Fully booked.” She was living for the trip, which was only about a month away. She’d been delighted six months earlier when they’d asked if she’d like to attend. Arnold had mentioned it one night over dinner, telling her they would understand if she couldn’t afford it, either financially or timewise. It hadn’t taken her five minutes—she’d needed to check her vacation leave at work—to accept.
The idea of a week soaking up the rays and drinking fruity cocktails in Hawaii rather than being stuck here, freezing her ass off—mid-February in Philly was relentless—sounded like bliss.
Now the trip had an added bonus because she was hoping the break from reality would be just what she needed to stop obsessing over Matt.
“So about these dark circles…” Arnold was like a dog with a bone.
“I’m just tired,” she lied. “Truly.”
Arnold didn’t look like he bought it, but he let her off the hook. At least, until he unwittingly changed the subject…to the same damn subject.
“I know that you and Matt Russo have a somewhat contentious relationship,” Arnold said.
Liza didn’t hold back whenever she and Matt butted heads, which meant she’d found herself bitching about him often to Johnnie and Arnold over drinks and dinner.
“We did. Do,” she quickly amended, not because she thought the past tense was wrong, but rather Arnold would be expecting the present tense.
“I hope his presence here at the Promise House won’t be an issue for you.”
“He really is coming back?”
Arnold smiled. “I will admit, I didn’t expect to see him after that initial visit. He’d emailed to request a tour, which I’d been perfectly happy to give. Then he asked what immediate needs we had, and I knew he meant financially.”
Liza gave him a crooked grin, perfectly aware of where this story was going. Arnold had roped her into volunteering in a similar fashion. After being promoted to director of the Initiative, she’d visited the Promise House intent on raising funds to help the teens living here. She’d asked almost the exact same question. What do you need?
And Arnold had answered, “You and as much time as you can spare for these kids.”
“And because you’re you, you roped him into volunteering.”
Arnold chuckled. “He wasn’t that hard to rope in, if you want the truth. I gave him his tour, told him what the kids needed more than anything was a positive male role model, someone willing to spend time with them. Then I threw him out there on the basketball court with Devonte and a few other kids. You should have seen him in his six-hundred-dollar Brunello Cucinelli dress shirt, sleeves rolled up, sweating his ass off.”
Liza laughed. “Oh my God. I would have paid good money to see that.”
“He thanked me for the tour and game when he left, and I figured I wouldn’t see him again. Didn’t expect him to show back up on New Year’s Eve, asking for every kid’s shoe size and their ‘sneaker wish list.’ He’s been going the extra mile since then, challenging Devonte to a rematch after every game.”
“Bet Devonte is loving that,” she added.
“I swear to God, that boy would sleep on that ratty old court using the ball as his pillow if I’d let him.”
Truer words were never spoken. Liza wished there weren’t always a million more pressing needs at the Promise House because she’d love to raise enough funds to renovate the “makeshift” gym. It was an old storage room with concrete floors and a dozen or so dented, folding metal chairs serving as bleachers. There wasn’t a damn thing regulation about the basketball court, the hoops hanging up on opposite ends of the space, the size of the room dictating the distance between. The hoops didn’t even have nets.
“As Devonte said, Matt’s promised to come back, and I have no reason to believe he won’t follow through on his commitment.” Arnold stood up and picked up an Amazon box from the edge of his desk. “This showed up this morning. No name, but I can figure out who sent it.” Reaching in, he pulled out two crisp white basketball nets.
Liza leaned back, trying to find something to say. When she did open her mouth, what fell out wasn’t what she’d intended at all.
“I slept with Matt Russo the night of the Snowflake Gala.” Liza held Arnold’s gaze, waiting for his stunned reaction.
She was sure he’d be shocked and probably even amused. Arnold had a wicked sense of humor, so finding out she’d had a one-night stand with her so-called arch nemesis felt like the kind of thing that would tickle his funny bone.
What she didn’t anticipate was his calm nod. “Good for you.”
There was no censure, no astonishment, nothing except…approval?
“I don’t think you heard what I said.”
“You slept with Matt Russo.” Arnold repeated what she’d considered a big bombshell as casually as if he was telling her they were having grilled cheese and tomato soup for lunch.
“Seriously? That’s all you have to say? Good for me?” Liza hadn’t told a soul about her and Matt. It wasn’t like she was going to bring it up to any of her Moretti relatives, and while she had plenty of girlfriends to talk to, they all had a bad habit of falling for her cousins and brothers, which meant telling them would basically be the same thing as confessing it to her family. It was a vicious circle.
In the back of her mind, she’d been considering bringing up the subject to Arnold and Johnnie on Tuesday night at dinner because she really—REALLY—needed an objective opinion. But until she just blurted it out, she’d still been on the fence about telling anyone at all, thinking perhaps it was a secret best kept just that…a secret.
“What were you expecting me to say?” Arnold put the nets away, walked back to his chair, and sat down again. “I was there the night of the gala, Liza. I saw you and Matt together, saw the dance you shared. Johnnie commented on it when we got home, said there were so many sparks flying between the two of you, he was shocked the ballroom hadn’t gone up in flames.”
Liza had been so swept up in that dance, she hadn’t even considered the fact there’d been witnesses.
“Regardless of that,” she started. “Don’t you think I made a mistake?”
“Do you think it was a mistake?” Arnold was a licensed therapist, so she wasn’t new to his infuriating habit of answering questions with questions. Questions meant to make her think about her feelings and do a bunch of introspection and other shit she sucked at.
“Of course, I do,” she said hotly.
“Why?”
Liza scoffed and threw her head back against the couch, her gaze focused on the ceiling. “Because our families hate each other,” she spat, giving him the cop-out response.
And because Arnold knew the Moretti/Russo stories—she tended to overshare after a few glasses of wine—he called her on it. “Try again, because that feuding family bullshit is getting old. A lot of what you’re pretending to be pissed off about is ancient history, sins perpetuated by people who aren’t even still alive.”
“Matt pulled some of the shit,” she countered, though she knew her argument was weak.
Arnold smirked. “When he was eighteen. Everyone is an asshole at eighteen. So try again. Why was it a mistake?”
Liza fell silent because this was what she’d been struggling with ever since Christmas. Immediately following the gala, she’d tried to tell herself it was a mistake, and she’d failed. How could something so earthshaking and incredible be wrong?
For a few days, she’d toyed with the idea of calling Matt and suggesting a second-night stand. And maybe a third, a fourth, etc., just to see where things took them.
Then Penny had shown her the pictures of Matt with Patricia the day after what she couldn’t stop thinking of as the best night of her life, and, well, dammit, her pride had been tweaked. Because while she’d been reliving every freaking second of their night together, Matt had been making plans to go out with Queen Bitch.
Less than fifteen hours after Liza left his hotel room, he’d moved on. Or actually, back. Which told her it hadn’t been as amazing for him…and that had hurt her as much as it had pissed her off.
Under the guise of making herself feel better, she’d recalled all those “old stories” about Matt stealing Tony’s girlfriend, Adriana, seducing her and making sure Tony found them, to prove to herself that he was still the same old dog employing the same tricks.
Unfortunately, that ploy didn’t work because in the end, all it did was make her feel stupid. Like she should have known better, like she’d let herself get played by the playboy.
God. She hated feeling stupid. She’d spent the week between Christmas and New Year’s Eve determined to forget him completely.
Until that kiss at midnight.
She realized Arnold was still waiting for an answer, but she didn’t have one to give him. “I don’t know why it was a mistake.”
“Does Matt agree that it shouldn’t have happened?”
Liza sighed because she wasn’t looking very intelligent in this conversation. “I don’t know. He and I haven’t talked about it.”
“What did he say in the morning?”
Liza bit her lower lip, hating her response to that question. “I snuck out in the middle of the night.”
Arnold’s eyes softened. “Oh, Liza. You haven’t seen him since?”
“Actually, he kissed me on New Year’s Eve,” she confessed.
“So it wasn’t a one-night stand?” Arnold asked, clearly confused.
Liza waved her hand. “No. It was. The kiss came at midnight and that was all it was. Just a kiss.” A kiss that had left her nipples so hard and her panties so damp that she’d left the bar immediately, headed home, and gone three rounds with her vibrator.
“And you didn’t talk to him then either?”
She shook her head.
“Do you want this thing with Matt to be more than a one-night stand, Liza?”
That was the million-dollar question, wasn’t it? And the one that might be moot because…
“The thing is, Matt may have a girlfriend-slash-fiancée.”
“May?” Arnold asked.
“The night after the gala, after we were together, he was photographed at a restaurant with Patricia Eddington.”
The way Arnold crinkled his nose pleased her, grateful to know she and her dear friend were on the exact same page regarding the obnoxious socialite.
“This date happened before the New Year’s Eve kiss?”
Liza nodded.
“I can’t see Matt with Patricia,” Arnold said. “He’s not stupid and he’s not shallow, and a man would have to be both of those to deal with her for any amount of time.”
Liza couldn’t argue with that. “The pictures were on one of those online gossip sites and pretty damning. They looked really chummy.”
Arnold snorted. “You should know better than to believe everything you read in the tabloids. How do you know they were taken when they say they were? They could have been old, rehashed material, used to jazz up a slow news day.”
Liza shook her head. “Patricia was wearing a bracelet that Matt had intended to give her the night of the gala. They had a fight, and she left the Ritz without it. She was wearing it in the pictures.”
