Red Hot Obsessions (62 page)

30

Piper managed to make it back to her apartment and pack her bags with time to spare. She had been lucky to get a flight when she did, despite the influx of travelers drawn to the conventions. Luckier still it seemed that anyone had yet to notice that she was gone. They would, soon, but it would already be too late.

With only one thing left to do, she slumped down on the couch, pulled her laptop over and flipped it open. Calling up a fresh document, she began typing.

“Jesus, what did you do put in this thing, a dead body?” Shelia appeared in the living room dragging one of her overstuffed bags behind her. She dropped it beside the door with a dramatic huff.

“You know as well as I do that the bodies go in the incinerator,” Piper responded, while continuing to type.

“I never should have let you watch
The Bad Seed
.” Shelia shook her head and walked over, placing herself in the armchair across from her.

“I’m easily influenced,” Piper agreed.

A moment passed in silence, Piper’s fingers clicking away as they flew over the keys. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

Pausing, Piper glanced up at her friend. Her face was lined with concern. “I don’t see any other way. I can’t keep working with him. Not after…” She let her words die. What more could she say that hadn’t already been said?

Shelia’s head went up and down. “I know. I know,” she sighed, getting to her feet. “It just seems so…extreme.”

Piper stared at the glowing screen in front of her, at the words that spelled her future. The damage was done. There was no going back, no changing the past. This was the only way. “It’s not that extreme,” she hedged. “People quit their jobs all the time.”

“But this was the best one you’ve had so far,” Sheila pointed out. “You said it yourself. How are you going to pay your bills? How are you going to put gas in your car?” Her eyes widened. “How are you going to buy drinks when we go to the club?”

“I’m breaking my lease,” Piper said, holding out her hand and ticking off a finger. “I’m moving in with you, and I’m returning the car. The lease is too expensive and it’s cheaper to walk or take the bus, which is all I’ve done lately anyway. And, I never have to buy my own drinks. Not if I don’t want to.” She winked playfully. “Everything will be fine. Just you wait and see.”

Her words sounded so hopeful, so confident, but inside, Piper was anything but. She was terrified. She’d never been without a job before, and she really didn’t have any skills worth noting to fall back on. The fact that she was quitting meant that she really couldn’t use her time spent at Bookish Temptations as a reference, either. Just the idea that she would be sleeping on someone else’s couch, regardless of whether it belonged to her friend or not, made her feel like she was floating out to sea without an anchor. It was like Paula Abdul said: take two steps forward, take two steps back.

Opposites attract.

Freaking Tate.

In the back of her mind, she knew there was only one real solution to her problem, but she wasn’t ready to consider that just yet. She needed to give herself a little time, and maybe, with any luck, she could pull her life back together, fast. The alternative was just too extreme.

“I hope you’re right.”

“I am.” Piper finished typing the last of her document, attached it to an email, and sent it off. There really was no going back now.

Sliding her computer into one of her bags, making sure to tuck some of her clothing around it so it wouldn’t get damaged in transit, Piper headed for the door.

“I feel like I’m aiding and abetting,” Shelia muttered as she stood up.

“Did you remember to keep the getaway vehicle running?” Piper smirked.

“Damn it.” Shelia snapped her fingers. “I knew I was forgetting something.”

Piper opened the door as Shelia scooped up a couple of her bags and lugged them out the door ahead of her. “Remember to stick to the shadows.”

“Like a ninja.” Sheila paused in the hallway while she waited for Piper to lock up. “So, do you think he’ll try to contact you?”

Would Tate try to contact her? Maybe, but she wouldn’t hold her breath. But if he did…“If he’s knows what’s good for him, he’ll stay the hell away from me,” she muttered. Hauling her remaining luggage, one over her shoulder and one in the opposite hand to balance her out, Piper closed the door on her life and on her past.

*

Tate was troubled to find that Piper wasn’t in her hotel room the following morning. She wasn’t downstairs in the lobby, nor was she in the kitchens. He couldn’t find her anywhere. When he finally thought to check with the woman at the front desk, he was informed that Piper had checked out early that morning. How early, he couldn’t be certain. No amount of money or threats could shake that kind of information from the staff. It did, however, earn him the threat of being kicked out on his ass. Since he needed access to his room and time to regroup, he didn’t push it.

Now, Tate was standing among a group of weary travelers, watching as the conveyor piled high with luggage rolled by. His shouldn’t be too hard to find. It was only, what, the hundred thousandth black canvas on rollers to pass in the last twenty minutes? No problem.

As soon as he got home, he was Goodwill-ing it.

Next time he left town, it would be with something totally obnoxious, like Dayglow green.

Finally, he spotted his bags. Wrenching them from the belt, Tate took off for the exit. His only thought was of Piper. Where had she gone? What was she doing? Was she still mad? Why had she run off like that?

Pulling out his cell phone, he hit a button to speed dial her number. Like all the times before, it rang endlessly. “Shit,” he cursed under his breath as he tucked the phone away again. Was she not answering her phone because she knew it was him? Or maybe she wasn’t even home. What if she was in trouble?

He picked up his pace. Bursting through the gap provided by the sliding glass doors, Tate jerked back when his bag failed to clear them. It took a moment to get back on track. Once he did, he made a bee line for the parking lot where he’d stored his car—he never took a cab if he didn’t absolutely have to.

Once behind the wheel, Tate had to slow his pace as he tried to make sense of the congested parking lot and convoluted signs that might as well be written in Greek for all the help they offered.

Half an hour later, he was finally on the open road, speeding down the highway and weaving in and out of traffic like a madman. He was a madman, he supposed. His heart was pounding in his chest, a light sheen of sweat had his skin feeling clammy, and if the granny in the Gremlin didn’t get the hell out of his way pronto, he was tempted to roll right over the top of her.

He didn’t know why he was in such a hurry. So Piper bailed early. She was probably sitting in her living room, watching television in her PJ’s, eating a bowl of cereal.

So she was pissed. Once he explained everything to her, she wouldn’t have any reason to be anymore.

So why did he feel panic eating away at him? Why, every second that passed, did he feel like he was losing ground? Why did he feel like his entire future was hanging in the balance?

A small opening formed in the next lane and Tate swung into it, punching the gas pedal. He would not let Piper run from him. Not until he said his peace. And if she decided she didn’t want him, even after he spilled his heart out all over her carpeted floor…well, then he would deal with it. But he wouldn’t rest until he knew that he had done everything in his power to make her his.

Everything.

*

A short time later, Tate sat outside Piper’s residence, stewing. He’d spent several minutes buzzing her apartment with no answer. Eventually, a woman carrying a child in one arm and a stroller in the other breached the entryway and Tate jumped on the opportunity. He’d held the door open for her, and while he would have normally helped her with her burden, he knew if he let the door close, so too would his window.

So, like the royal ass that he was, he slipped inside and made his way up to Piper’s without looking back.

There, he spent an untold amount of time—centuries, possibly—banging down her door and calling to her through the hollowed wood, until one of her neighbors, an older gentleman with a balding head and a pot belly, was kind enough to poke his head out of his apartment and inform him that the “lady left more than an hour ago” and to “get the hell out of here” before he called the cops.

So he was waiting. On her doorstep. Like an idiot.

He tried calling her cell phone again, but predictably, it went straight to voice mail. “Piper, it’s me…Tate. Ah, I’m at your place….I think we should talk. Call me.”

He’d lost track of how many messages he’d left. Dozens, easy. He didn’t have the slightest bit of hope that she would call him back. So when his phone suddenly rang, Tate jumped.

Fumbling with the thing like it was a hot potato; Tate managed to answer the call on the third and final ring before it switched to voice mail, not bothering to check the caller ID. “Piper?” he asked hopefully.

“Not Piper,” Felix growled. “What the hell have you done?”

Tate frowned and his stomach dropped in dread. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“I mean, why the hell am I looking at Piper’s resignation letter in my inbox? What in Sam Hill have you done to scare away this one? Do you know what I had to go through, the sheer amount of crap I had to wade through, to find her?”

“Look, I’m sorry, but—”

Felix raised his voice, cutting him off. “Oh that is just like you. Don’t take any responsibility. I suppose it was all her fault. What did she do, take too many paperclips? Add sugar to your coffee when she knows you take it black? You fix this,” he growled. “You fix it or I swear to you, I will kick your ass straight into tomorrow. Capisce?”

“Jesus, yeah, I got it.” Tate combed his fingers through his hair. It wasn’t like he didn’t want the same thing. He was trying to find her, but no matter what he did, he was always one step behind. “Did she really turn in her resignation?”

“Hell yeah she did! First thing I saw when I got home and checked my email. You really fucked up this time, man.”

Tate didn’t have to tell the man how true that statement was. They both knew that this was his fault. “Do you know how I can get a hold of her?”

Felix paused, his bad mood momentarily forgotten, and when he spoke next, he sounded confused. “You mean her number? I thought you had that already.”

“I do, but she won’t answer my calls. I stopped by her place too,” he continued before Felix could suggest that he try that route, “but I just missed her. I don’t know where else to look.”

“Have you tried that chef she hired—what was his name? Revina?” he asked quietly.

He hadn’t, actually, but up until that point, he’d been trying to avoid having to go that route. If she was shacking up with the guy already, then that meant he didn’t stand a chance. He didn’t think he could stomach showing up at the guy’s business only to see her all cozied up with him, but he didn’t see where he had much of a choice. He had to know.

“I’ll check it out.”

“See that you do. Let me know how it goes.”

Tate nodded and ended the call. He really didn’t want to do this, but sometimes life didn’t leave you with any options.

31

Piper rolled out of bed—off the couch, rather—and stumbled into the kitchen. Bending over the sink, she flipped on the faucet and opened her mouth to let the cool stream of water pour inside.

She felt like crap. Her eyes were puffy, her throat dry, she had a headache from hell, and every muscle in her body hurt. Then again, days living as an insomniac and attempting to sleep on a lumpy couch from the eighties that probably should have been left on a curb somewhere would do that to a person.

Shuffling into the bathroom, she went through her usual morning routine of showering and brushing her teeth, then redressing in her crumpled pajamas.

Hey, at least she bathed.

Without a job to go to, she really couldn’t see the point in fussing over her appearance. It wasn’t like she was trying to impress anyone, least of all Mr. Chow, Shelia’s Siamese cat.

After fixing herself a slice of buttered toast, Piper made her way back to her bed, a.k.a the sofa, and plopped down. As she brushed crumbs from the KISS t-shirt that she’d stolen from Tyler –because she liked it and it was his favorite and every time she put it on she experienced a thrill of devious pleasure imagining him rooting through his closet for it—she turned on her phone.

There were several messages waiting for her.

She scrolled through them, ignoring the twenty or so new ones from Tate, skimming quickly past the one from Felix. She stopped on Tom’s name and pressed her thumb into the button to relay his message. As she chewed the last few bites of her breakfast, she listened.

Since Vegas, Tom had become the friend she had hoped he would be. He checked in with her daily and even brought her treats from time to time. She didn’t even care if the cupcakes looked more like muffins or if the soup was a tad too spicy. It was like an adventure for her taste buds, and pretty much the only source of excitement she was getting these days.

Shelia seemed to take a liking to him, too. Not that Piper could really blame her. Hell, if she had her head screwed on straight, she would have snagged him up for herself when she had the chance, but if anyone was going to stake a claim on the man, she couldn’t think of a better soul than her best friend. Shelia was in desperate need of a good guy in her life, and Tom fit that bill to a T.

Unfortunately, the more nights she spent with the budding couple, the more she realized that her living arrangement was going to have to change, soon. Already they were staying up to all hours of the night, which was probably one of the reasons why she was losing so much sleep. The other reason was obvious—she couldn’t shake Tate from her mind.

Regardless, if she didn’t find a job and a new place to live a.s.a.p., she was truly worried that she might wake up one night to find herself pinned beneath two naked, undulating bodies, and that just wouldn’t do. She loved her friends, just not enough to become their mattress.

Tom’s words were the same as yesterday: predictable. “Tate stopped by again. I told him I don’t know where you are and that I haven’t heard from you, but you really need to get a hold of the guy. He looks like shit. And it would save everyone a lot of headache if you just let him know what’s up. Apparently, dead silence isn’t enough of a clue. Call me.”

Piper sighed and dropped the phone into her lap.

Days had passed and still Tate refused to leave her alone. She quit her job for crying out loud. Wasn’t that enough? Felix had tried calling her a couple of times, and even though it felt wrong to ignore him, she had. Although she felt guilty for having left him with the difficult task of finding a replacement, a resignation letter was all she really owed him and she had a feeling that his relationship with Tate was what was really driving him to pursue the matter. Any other boss would have either called once to see if the problem could be resolved, or simply accepted it and moved on.

It was just one more example of Tate pushing his weight around. Why couldn’t he just leave her alone?

Keys jingled outside the front door. Shelia was home from work. Had the day passed by so fast? A quick glance at the clock hanging in the corner over the squat bookshelf told her it was already lunchtime.

“Hey, you’re up!” Shelia flounced into the room and dropped her purse and keys on the spindly table propped by the door. Slanting a look that warned Piper to brace herself, she positioned herself on the cushion beside her. “That’s good; because I think it’s time we had a little chat.”

“I’ve already put in a few applications,” Piper rushed out, ready to defend her position. Just a while ago she was thinking about how she needed to move out, but with the prospect standing outside her doorstep, a margin of panic rose up, telling her that she wasn’t quite ready to move in that direction yet. She just needed a little more time.

Shelia patted her on the knee. “Don’t work yourself into a tizzy. I’m not telling you to move out or anything. I like having my best girlfriend to come home to. You cook nice dinners.”

“I haven’t cooked
any
dinners,” Piper said plaintively.

“Ah, but you will,” she said, turning a hopeful grin her way. Piper squirmed when she jabbed her in the side with her knobby elbow. “Buck up. Turn that frown upside down.” When Piper didn’t immediately comply, Shelia twisted to face her and attempted to manipulate her face by force. “Smile, girl. Smile!”

Piper batted her hands away, finally giving into the smile and belly aching laughter her friend was searching for. “Alright, I give! I give,” she shouted breathlessly. As her attacker backed off, Piper righted her clothing and smoothed down her hair.

“So what did you want to talk to me about?” She had a feeling she already knew.

“Your boss. Tate Larson to be specific.” In a rare show of maturity, Shelia crossed her legs and regarded her with a serious expression—she even had one eyebrow arched, so Piper knew she meant business.

“Alright…” she said slowly, bracing herself for the inevitable.

“I’ve been talking about this with Tom—”

“Why am I not surprised—”

“And he tells me that Tate has been asking around about you, like, daily.”

“Because he’s a stalker.”

“He’s concerned.”

“Only because he lost his prey.”

“Would you shut up and let me talk?” She paused, waiting for Piper to give her the signal before she continued. Just to be stubborn, Piper waited a few beats before nodding her head. “The guy is a total mess. Tom said he can’t even be sure the man has bathed. Who does that?”

A person who is desperate, Piper’s inner dialogue supplied. She shrugged the thought away, determined not to fall into whatever trap Tate was weaving. “Maybe he finally got screwed by the wrong woman.”

“Maybe.” Shelia eyed her, the message she was trying to convey returned to sender. “You can’t keep avoiding him,” Shelia pressed. “He’s determined to talk to you, and that means you’re going to have to talk, whether you like it or not.”

“And if I don’t want to talk?” Piper challenged.

“Then don’t. Write him a letter; send him a text, an email. Anything! Just let him know where you stand.” She sighed. “I’m just sick of seeing you mope around over the guy. You need to confront this head-on. Be honest with him and with yourself. Even a total douchebag deserves that much.”

Piper glared at her, her breaths coming in short bursts as her anger bubbled to the surface. “Even if that douchebag kissed you like you were the only woman in the world and then jumped into bed with the first woman to come along hours after you had sex with him.” She flew up off the couch, her hands finding her hips. “Even if that douchebag followed you around just to rub his floozy in your face. Even if that douchebag ripped your heart out and stomped it into the ground. Even then, Shelia?” Her voice cracked and she felt a warm tear slide down her cheek.

Piper slumped back into the cushions, folding her arms over her chest, as if that would be enough to keep her from crumbling apart.

“Does he know he broke your heart?” Shelia whispered.

Taking a deep breath, Piper tried to calm herself down. As much as she wanted to deny his effect on her, there was no point. She’d showed her cards. “No,” she growled. “And he never will.”

Sighing, Shelia gave her knee a gentle squeeze and pushed to her feet. “Well, I think you should tell him. How else will he ever know how you feel?”

“Where are you going?” Piper sat forward, drying her cheek with the back of her hand. Despite their little tiff, now that Shelia was home, Piper wasn’t eager for her to leave.

“I’m on lunch. I just thought I would stop by and try to knock some sense into you.” She looked tired, defeated, as if it were her heart that was beating outside of her chest and not the other way around. “Think it over,” she told her.

Piper stared at the door long after Shelia left, the woman’s words floating through her head on an endless loop.

What should she do? It was obvious what her friends thought she should do—call the asshole. She wasn’t sure if that was a wise decision. What had started out as a simple hook-up had morphed into something far stronger—something she wasn’t ready to give voice to, because if she did, she might well and truly crumble.

As she stared at the phone in her palm, Piper’s heart felt heavy, her mind clouded with too many thoughts, too many doubts. Her thumb hovered over the screen, daring her to do what she knew she wanted to do, but wasn’t sure she had the strength for.

Taking a deep breath, Piper quickly dialed the number tattooed in her brain before she could chicken out. It started to ring and Piper’s hand shook with the effort it took not to hang up.

“Hello.” Tate’s rough, worn voice was like a balm to her soul. Piper closed her eyes, committing it to memory. “Hello,” he repeated, then perked up. “Piper, is that you? Baby, answer me.”

Piper chewed her lip. The military could strap her to a chair and shove bamboo under nails and she would never admit it out loud, but she absolutely loved when Tate called her that.

“Piper? Are you all right? Do you need me—”

“I’m here. I’m fine,” she croaked before he could continue down that path. Before she blurted out that she did need him. One thing she’d learned early on in life, you couldn’t take words back.

There was silence, and then, “Good. I’m glad.” Tate sounded subdued, no anger or resentment in his voice. Sadness, maybe. She couldn’t tell for sure.

Before things could get any more awkward than they already were, Piper forged ahead. “I heard you’ve been looking for me?”

“Uh, yeah.” He cleared his throat uncomfortably. “I wanted to talk to you. About what happened in Vegas. At the hotel.”

“With Casey, right,” Piper said irritably. “I think I know all I need to about that, so no need to rehash the past. If that’s all you wanted—”

“You quit.”

“Excuse me?”

“You quit,” he accused. “You didn’t say anything, just quit.”

“Not that I need to explain myself, nor is it any of your business, but I turned in my resignation to Mr. Sinclair. Besides, if you’re worried about finding a new assistant, I’m sure your girlfriend would be more than happy to take my place.”

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Tate snarled.

“Sex slave, booty call, whatever. Look, I need to go. I don’t have time for this. I just wanted to tell you that I’m fine and to stop harassing my friends.”

“Piper—”

“Goodbye, Tate.” Piper ended the call and threw the phone down. Less than five minutes and she was ready to have a meltdown. Tate affected her that way—extreme emotions, irrational responses. Always had, but before their relationship had been more antagonistic with a heavy focus on lust. Now, it was all about the hurt feelings and heaps of anger and resentment.

And yet, Piper still found that she craved him.

She was pathetic.

Staring out across the room, Piper bleakly took in her surroundings. Nothing here, save the suitcases leaning against the far wall, belonged to her. Not the outdated tube television. Not the bookcase housing a total of four romance novels and an army of dust bunnies, and most certainly not the zebra print rug tickling her bare toes.

Just then, Piper had never felt so far away from home. So lost and alone. She had friends, yes, and she knew they would do just about anything for her, but that didn’t replace the hollow feeling in her chest.

Sitting there, all alone in the deadly silence, it slowly dawned on Piper what she needed to do. It was the only solution, and no matter how hard she had fought against it, no matter how extreme it might be, it was a long time coming. She didn’t even know why she had bothered to deny it when it had been standing right in front of her face all along.

Shelia wasn’t going to be happy, but after a lot of arguing, Piper knew her friend would support her decision.

Piper went in search of her phone. Finding it lying between a yellowing potted plant and an old, crusty hairball, she began making all the necessary calls.