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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.