Licked (L.A. Liaisons Book 1) (11 page)

“The new Boca Lounge is opening downtown. Let’s get you smashed.”

PAIGE HAD DONE her friendly duty and handed me more shots than I could remember doing in a long time, so I had enough liquid courage in me now to probably attack Cameron in person if he’d been around.
 

After kicking off my heels, I flopped onto my bed, the room spinning slightly. If I was going to do this, it would have to be now, otherwise the night was a waste and I’d pass out in two minutes flat.

Reaching over, I grabbed my cell off the nightstand and scrolled to Cameron’s number. Hitting the call button, I sat up and leaned back against my headboard as I waited to see if he’d answer.

Two rings, and then, “Ryleigh?”

“That would be me,” I said with a hiccup. Covering my mouth, I waited to make sure another one wasn’t coming before saying, “Are you busy?” I hoped the answer was no, but I couldn’t remember what time it was there, and I wasn’t about to count on my fingers to figure it out.

“I just got back to the hotel to grab a few things before our dinner meeting.”

“So you’re in your hotel…alone?” I asked.

“I am.”

“And what are you doing aaaaall alone?”

I could hear the amusement in his voice when he said, “Nothing that can’t wait. Is there something I can help you with, Miss Phillips?”

“I wish you were here,” I said, the alcohol pushing me out of my comfort zone.
 

“Oh yeah? You want to take advantage of me?”

“Mhmm.” I scooted down the bed until I was lying flat on my back. “Or maybe you could take advantage of me.” Even though I could hear the words coming out of my mouth, I couldn’t believe I was actually saying them. Damn those chocolate cake shots.

“Where are you right now?”

“On my bed. You wanna join me?”

His voice was husky when he answered, “I’m on my way.”

I sighed. “Tease.”

“I won’t be teasing when I get back and we pick up where we left off.”

A shiver ran through me, and I ran my hand over my stomach. “I’d like that. Maybe we could play now?”

I heard the background noise fall silent, as though he’d turned off the television, and then he was back. “Are you still in one of those sexy dresses you always wear?”

“For the moment. Is there something else you’d prefer?”

“No, stay just like that. I’d want to pull it off you myself.”

Oh hell yes.

“You should do that,” I said. “You should definitely do that.”

When I closed my eyes, I imagined Cameron’s face hovering above me, his fingers trailing down my neck, between my breasts, over my stomach, and then lower…

“I want to touch you,” he said, and I moaned.
 

“I want that too.” My voice came out breathy, and I moved my fingers lower, pretending it was his warm, rough fingers reaching down to cover my—

My eyes flew open and I moved my hand away. Fuck. Those were not Cameron’s fingers I’d been thinking of.

“Where’s your hand, Ryleigh?”
 

My hand was…not where he wanted it to be. Dammit, why was his stupid roommate invading our attempt at phone sex?
 

Mentally flicking off Hunter, I ran my fingers between my thighs and called to mind Cameron’s face once more. Only I couldn’t find it. It was like his file had been replaced with a gorgeous, but right now pain-in-the-ass, dark-headed man that had no right to be there.
 

Images flipped through my mind like a carousel: Hunter’s grin when he caught me watching him at the mixer, the way his hair flopped over his forehead as he concentrated. I tried to shut him out, but he was like a fungus—he just kept fucking growing.
 

“Ryleigh?” Cameron said. “Did you fall asleep?”

I was gonna kick my own ass for this tomorrow. Or in about one minute. Holding up the covers to the receiver, I ran it across so that it hopefully sounded like static on his end, and said, “Sorry…bad…connection…we’ll try…again,” before hitting the end button.
 

“Ugh.” I threw my phone across the room and kicked my legs, tantrum style, not believing I’d just ended what should’ve been a hot night with Cameron because I couldn’t stop visualizing someone I definitely did
not
want. Someone who purposely went out of his way to antagonize me. Someone getting in the way of hot phone sex with my dream guy.
 

“Screw off, Hunter Morgan,” I said in the empty room. “Screw the hell off.”

YOU ARE AN idiot of the highest order,
I told myself for the tenth time in the last hour. It was Saturday night, and as I stood on the doorstep of the last place I expected to be, I debated whether to knock. Maybe I could tell him something came up at the shop and we’d have to discuss things tomorrow, or that I hit an old lady with my car and had to spend the night in the ER waiting room.
 

No. Bad karma.
 

With my arms crossed tightly over my chest, I chewed on my lip and debated my other options. I could knock and go inside, and then…well, we’d work like we’d discussed at the shop today. And then I’d go home. And that would be that.
 

But something about that option had me jittery as hell. I’d been staring at the black door with the numbers 986 in silver for at least five minutes, and soon the neighbors would probably start peeking out of their blinds.

No. This was a bad idea. Turning on my heel, I went back to my car. Yes, this was a very bad id—

“Ryleigh?”

Shit.

Pivoting slowly, I gave a halfhearted wave. “Hey, Hunter.”

“Not leaving, are you?” he asked.

Busted. I headed back up the sidewalk. “No, I was just…going to get something out of my car.”
 

“Ah, okay. I’ll wait.”

“You’ll wait…” I said, and then shook my head. “Nah, it’s not important.”

“You sure?” he asked.
 

“Positive.”
 

He held the front door open for me to pass, but didn’t move, which meant I had to brush against him to get inside. I could feel the heat of his body through his shirt, but I wasn’t about to stop and linger.
 

Damn, damn, damn, this was so not good.

I walked in to see the blueprints laid out across the circular oak table in the dining area. So I
was
here to work. Well, that was a relief. He wasn’t going to tear my clothes off after all.
 

“Can I get you a drink?” Hunter asked, grabbing two wine glasses that hung from a rack in the kitchen. There was no way in hell I was drinking with him here on his turf.
His and Cameron’s turf,
I reminded myself.
 

When I shook my head, he frowned and then put the extra glass back. “Suit yourself.”
 

“I never pictured you for a wine guy,” I said when he sat down across from me at the table and set his glass of red down.
 

“What does a wine guy look like?”

“Suave and debonair, maybe a sophisticated businessman—”

“Like Cameron.” Hunter’s jaw ticked.
 

“Well…yeah.”

“He hates wine.”

“Oh.”

He took a long gulp of the ruby liquid. “So what do I look like, then? Wait, let me guess,” he said, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Bud Light or PBRs, right?”

“I would’ve said maybe Corona. Or rum and Coke.”

Hunter shook his head. “And what is it the boozy shake queen likes? Other than ice cream with her alcohol.”

“It’s the best of both worlds, which you’d know if you tried one.”

“I might just have to do that,” he said. “Can’t hurt to have a taste.”

As the glass went to his lips again, I swallowed hard. Maybe letting him have a taste wouldn’t be such a great idea. He’d probably become addicted, and then I’d never get rid of him.
 

Of course, my brain wasn’t just thinking about the boozy shakes then.

Returning my focus to the plans laid out on the table, I cleared my throat. “So you said there needed to be changes. You mean incredibly minor ones that won’t be any issue at all, right?”

“Mhmm. Practically nonexistent.”

“Then let’s get started.”

“We’ll have to make the bar a few inches longer to accommodate the plumbing.”

“And?”

Hunter scanned the plans and then shrugged. “That’s it.”

I gaped at him. “That’s it? I came all this way for a few measly inches?”

When he burst into laughter, I flushed, realizing how he took it. I didn’t mean
those
inches.
 

With a growl, I said, “You could’ve gone over these things with me in the shop.”

“You’re right, I could’ve. I had an ulterior motive.”

My heart thumped in my chest. Okay, so he was a little bolder than I thought. It was time to have my Louboutin Summerissima sandals hauling ass out the door.
 

“Look, I don’t know what you thought—”

Hunter stood up. “Just wait here,” he said, then threw back the rest of his wine before disappearing into his bedroom. If he came back out with a box of Trojans, my knee was going to make sure he didn’t have an appendage left to use them on.
 

When he returned, there was a stack of what looked like scrapbooks in his arms, and he dropped them on the table in front of me with a loud thump.
 

My brow knitted in confusion. “What’s this?”

“Designs to look through before we meet with Mitch.”

“But I already have ideas in mind. The ones that should’ve been ordered.”

“And those were fine, but I have a feeling you want something a little more…you.”

“Those are me.”

Hunter cocked his head to the side. “Would you just look at them?”

With a sigh, I opened the book on top of the pile and flipped to the first page. My eyes widened at the array of lacquered black stools with magenta cushioned seats. They were even set against white and black checkered tile flooring, just like the kind in my shop. The effect was visually stunning.
 

“I thought you might like those,” Hunter said, a smile creeping onto his lips.
 

I wasn’t about to let him have the satisfaction of being right.
Hell no.
“They’re not bad.”
 

“Not bad? Your eyes just popped out of your head.”

Flipping the page, I saw more barstools, this time in a mirage of some of my favorite colors—aqua, yellow, and amethyst. Totally up my alley. The next page had funky tables and booths; the next had different designs for the high-top tables and chairs. All bold. All eclectic. All me.

When I looked up, Hunter was watching me. “Where did you find this stuff?” I asked.

“Do you like it?”

Dammit. I did not want to admit defeat, but the truth was that these pieces blew mine out of the water and made them look plain in comparison. Blowing out a breath, I said, “Fine. Yes. They’re amazing.”

Hunter gave me a dazzling grin, stood up, and grabbed his glass. “Look at the book underneath that one. It’s got some great ideas for lighting.”

As I was flipping through that one and oohing and ahhing over everything, Hunter came back with a full wine glass…and one for me.
 

“Tell me you don’t like it,” he said when he caught my disapproving look.
 

“I don’t like it.”

“Try it and then tell me.”

“You’re rather pushy, you know that, right?”

“Maybe I know what you’d like.”

“Maybe you don’t know me at all.”
 

As I glared at him across the table, he stared right back. “I haven’t been too far off base with anything yet.”

And dammit, he was right. I hated that he was right. I wasn’t even sure why I wanted to prove him wrong, but since I wasn’t a huge red wine fan, I’d do it now. Picking up the glass, I held it up in a mock salute, and then took a small sip. The instant the flavors of blackberry, chocolate, and vanilla landed on my tongue, I knew I’d lost this round.
 

“For fuck’s sake,” I muttered, while Hunter gave a victory smile. “I don’t even like red.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.”