Getting Dirty Page 4

  My eyes flick back to his and I see my double take reflected back at me.

  ‘How did you find me?’

  Not quite the response I was hoping for...

  ‘Jackson gave me your address.’

  Fire sizzles beneath my cheeks. Please, God, let my make-up do its job and stop me from looking crimson. I’m blonde, I’m freckly, I go red at the drop of a hat.

  ‘It’s not like I tailed you or anything. I’m not some stalker.’

  I swear his skin pales. Shit. He thinks I am some stalker.

  ‘Jackson thought you could do with me swinging by.’

  ‘Jackson should mind his own bloody business.’

  He scans the street, clearly on edge, and I feel the situation rapidly running away from me.

  ‘Look, it’s okay if you’re busy.’

  ‘I am.’

  ‘Going somewhere nice?’ I try for a smile and gesture to his outfit. He has the same number of buttons undone at the collar, the same hint of hair...

  ‘You shouldn’t be here, Coco.’

  I realise I’m staring. Right at his chest. My palms are tickling with reignited memories. I pull my gaze back to his face and swallow past the desire-shaped wedge taking up camp in my throat. I hear his words, register their negativity, but there’s also his tone, and the pulse working like crazy in his jaw...

  Is he really freaked out by me turning up? Or is he fighting the same forceful attraction?

  Please let it be the latter.

  ‘No, you’re probably right...’ I take a breath and give him another smile, wanting to test the water. ‘But I can’t get our last meeting out of my head.’

  His mouth tightens, his throat bobs. He says nothing, but his eyes tell me he’s reliving it too and I push on, my confidence returning. ‘I thought maybe we could...you know...see each other again?’

  ‘See each other?’

  It rasps out, but his tough-guy exterior is at odds with the widening of his eyes. The rabbit-caught-in-the-headlights look makes him seem boyish and I give a soft laugh.

  ‘Don’t worry, Ash. I’m not asking you for a relationship...or even a real date...’ Although the truth was I’d take the date. ‘Only sex.’

  I straighten on the last word, my chin jutting just a little, like I’m trying to convince him as well as myself.

  ‘You mean more distraction?’

  ‘Yes, if that’s what you want to call it.’

  ‘It’s what you called it.’

  ‘I did.’ I step closer and he tenses, backing away. ‘I’m not about to go all clingy on you, if that’s what you’re worried about. I’m not like that.’

  ‘That’s not what I’m worried about.’ He shakes his head. ‘You shouldn’t be here,’ he says again.

  ‘No? Where should I be, then?’

  His eyes move over me, hesitant, probing. ‘Seeing a counsellor, a professional—someone who can help you deal with what you’re going through.’

  I laugh. I can’t help it. Is he for real? ‘I don’t need a therapist.’

  ‘I didn’t say you did. I’m just telling you I understand.’

  He says it like he knows it. Like he’s lived it with me. And confusion, a sudden surge of sadness, has my temper sparking. ‘How can you possibly understand? I came to hook up with you again, not to be lectured. But of course you won’t get that, will you? Since I’m just a spoilt little rich girl?’

  ‘No, Coco, that’s not... You’re not...’ He rakes his fingers over the back of his head, turning away in frustration, tension thrumming off him in waves. ‘You just shouldn’t be here.’

  ‘Why?’

  He stares back at me, the nerve in his jaw pulsing. He looks like he wants to say so much and yet nothing is coming.

  ‘Ash, what—’

  ‘You need to go.’ He raises his palm to me and avoids my eye.

  ‘Are you going to tell me the other night wasn’t fun?’ I’m going to make him acknowledge this, if nothing else. ‘Because I thought it was.’

  His eyes flicker in my direction, that nerve in his jaw ever more pronounced.

  ‘I particularly loved the feel of you in my mouth.’

  He sucks in a breath and damn if his cheeks don’t heat. The sight has my belly tripping out and the telltale warmth is quick to spread, killing off the sadness, the confusion, the anger. He’s like my on-and-off switch and I’m not ready to give up on him.

  ‘Coco, don’t do this.’

  ‘What?’ I say in mock innocence. I let my eyes drift over him, wetting my lips. ‘Or did you prefer sinking your fingers into me?’

  ‘Coco.’

  He’s so tense, and I’m getting off on it now. Goading him, pushing him where I want him.

  ‘I’m not the man you think I am; you can’t play those games with me.’

  ‘Games?’ My smile is seductive, calm, the perfect front. ‘Who’s playing games? I’m being a straight shooter and telling you exactly what I want.’

  His breath shudders out. ‘Go home, Coco. Before we do something we both regret.’

  ‘Regret?’ I frown. ‘How can we possibly have regrets? We’re just two strangers hooking up. What’s wrong with that?’

  ‘Everything’s wrong with it.’

  ‘Am I missing something? Do you have a girlfriend—or a wife?’

  He’s shaking his head at me but I feel like I’m missing something huge and I can’t begin to imagine what.

  ‘Is that your car?’

  His sudden change in tack has my frown deepening and I follow his gaze to where Derek waits for me.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Come on. I’ll walk you.’

  Hell, no.

  My laugh is harsh, almost manic. I glare back at him, confusion morphing into anger at his condescension.

  ‘Forget it. I’m not a child. I don’t need you to hold my hand. You don’t want me—that’s fair enough. But don’t patronise me while you reject me.’

  I spin on my heel and force my stride to be steady as I head for the car. I won’t give him the satisfaction of racing off and letting him see how his words, his contradictory behaviour have hurt me. And I certainly won’t let him see the tears that come from nowhere.

  Because they aren’t about him. They’re about everything else. His rejection has only served to trigger the whole damn lot.

  ‘Coco...’ he calls after me. ‘I’m sorry—I didn’t mean to upset you.’

  And now he’s offering out pity? I shake my head. No fucking way.

  I’ve heard enough. I don’t turn. I don’t break stride. I head to my car and get in. I don’t dare look back at him until I’m safely locked away behind the privacy glass and the car is moving. Then I look and I see him standing there, confusion in his eyes.

  ‘Where to, my lady?’ Derek asks.

  The last thing I want is to go home like this. I spent the morning with Granny, chatting with her doctors, the nurses, trying to mask the pain, to be strong. This foolish seduction was to have been my solace, my hope. Now that has failed, and I’m even more messed-up than before. The tears were living proof.

  ‘Blacks...please.’

  CHAPTER FOUR

  WATCHING HER DRIVE away was hard. Really. Hard. But I’d done the right thing, so why did it feel so wrong?

  Because you want her. Like you’ve only ever wanted one other: Jess. And that’s why you need to get as far away from her as possible.

  But, fuck, there’s something about her—that tantalising contrast of vulnerable, innocent do-gooder and hidden temptress.

  Philip Lauren’s words come back to me full force: she’s no innocent and I want you to prove it.

  Yes, I can prove it all right—but not to that bastard.

  No, tonight I walk away from him, the job, her.

  Defin
itely her.

  She spells trouble. Messy, heart-screwing trouble.

  I squeeze my temples with my thumbs and forefingers. With Jess I was young, foolish and naive. I wasn’t foolhardy enough to let it happen again. Nowhere close.

  But Coco Lauren...

  Damn it, I should have turned away the second my gut told me to. I swore I would never let anyone get close after Jess. My job has become my lifeline—it’s pulled me out of the darkness, given me the drive to move on. I’ll never forget, I’ll never forgive, but I won’t dwell on it either. And I sure as hell won’t let myself care about another woman again.

  I take a breath and head for my car, reconsidering my choice of vehicle almost immediately. I need the motorbike. A hair-raising blast on two wheels to clear my head before I face off the other Lauren and put this madness behind me once and for all.

  But the ride doesn’t work.

  I’m still mentally delivering my walk-away mantra half an hour later, as I meet the man I’m unfortunate enough to call my client.

  ‘Seriously, Livingston...?’ Philip Lauren eyes my casual get-up with distaste and it only makes me grin.

  We’re in a high-end bar—the kind that insists on a blazer—and the fact that my outfit has already pissed him off is a bonus. ‘Don’t get your knickers in a twist, Lauren, I don’t expect to be stopping long.’

  He visibly balks. His princely expression is pained. I swear even his blow-dried golden locks stand perfectly on end at my disrespect. But I don’t have time for it. Nor do I care.

  ‘Ah...’ His eyes spark now, as though he’s had some grand revelation. ‘So you have what I need, then?’

  I lean back in the rock-hard Chesterfield armchair and raise my leg so my ankle rests over my knee, all casual and to him increasingly disrespectful, I’m sure.

  ‘Nope.’ I flick a hand at him. ‘There’s nothing to give.’

  His eyes narrow, his cheeks streak. He’s angry. And my gut loves it.

  ‘Look, Mr Livingston, I’m paying you good money to dig this dirt.’

  He lowers his voice on the last word, leaning in as he scans the nearby tables, not wanting to be overheard. But I don’t even flinch.

  ‘There’s no dirt to dig.’

  He shakes his head fervently. ‘Like hell there isn’t.’

  He’s so certain. Desperate, even. And not for the first time I wonder at his goal, the endgame, why he’s so eager to ruin his sister. What does it matter to him that Coco likes her sex on the wild side?

  ‘What makes you say that?’

  ‘A leopard doesn’t change its spots, and a whore like her definitely doesn’t.’

  His words hit me like a slug to the stomach and I fight to keep my expression neutral. The slice of pain coming from my tightened right fist tells me I’m losing the battle, my nails piercing the skin of my palm. I unclench it slowly and rub my jaw, as though I’m considering his words and not staving off the need to kill him.

  ‘If you’re so sure, why do you need the proof?’

  ‘Because without proof I can’t get my hands on what I need.’

  ‘Which is...?’

  ‘None of your goddamn business.’

  He quiets when he sees our drinks approaching and the waiter slipping me a questionable stare.

  So I don’t fit into your la-di-da club? So sue me.

  I happily stare the waiter down, and to my amusement he almost spills the drinks as he sets them down before scurrying off.

  ‘I don’t pay you to ask questions,’ Philip Lauren pipes up again. ‘I pay you to get evidence of her sexual proclivities.’

  ‘And I’m telling you there’s nothing to report. She’s above reproach.’

  He laughs and leans back in his chair, whisky in hand. ‘You’re lying. What I can’t work out is why...’

  I shift in my seat and take up my own drink for a swig. ‘What makes you so certain?’

  He eyes the glass in his hand, all thoughtful. ‘She and my wife boarded together in their teens.’

  ‘They were friends?’

  I want to know more; I can’t help it. I’m not one for digging into my clients’ reasoning. They give me a job and I deliver. But this case is different. I need to know.

  ‘To an extent.’

  He lifts his eyes back to mine and they flash with an angry fire that tells me he isn’t letting this go—that, whatever his reasoning is, he will keep pushing until he has exactly what he needs. It wouldn’t be hard for another PI to retrace my steps. I followed her movements and discovered her visits to Blacks pretty quickly. A few enquiries in the right places and he’d soon have what he needed.

  ‘But that was years ago. Maybe she’s changed, maybe she’s saving herself for marriage or destined to become a nun—who knows?’

  He laughs again. ‘You’re funny, Livingston. I’ll give you that.’

  I’m not trying to be funny. I’m trying to put him off—to bring an end to this mission he’s so determined to see through. I don’t want to care. I don’t want to protect her. But I can’t stand by while her brother desecrates her reputation for his own gain.

  ‘There’s no way she could have changed,’ he says, sobering, and his voice is so serious I wonder if he’s trying to convince himself of that fact—if his need for her to be as he suspects far outweighs whether he considers it true or not. ‘She’s just being very careful about it.’

  ‘Doesn’t matter how careful she’s being. If she was at it—’ I hate the words as they form, feel acid riding high in my throat. There’s guilt at my lie, at my part in her potential downfall, as well as anger at his conviction. ‘I would know. I’d have the evidence.’

  ‘Or maybe you’re not as good as everyone says—yourself included.’

  He gives me a shit-eating grin and I want to swing for him. He’s fucking lucky we’re in public. I take a breath instead, flexing the fist that is so determined to ball up, and ask the other question that’s itching to be answered.

  ‘Tell me, why is it you want to ruin your sister’s reputation so much? I mean, I have a brother—I get how annoying siblings can be—but this...’

  ‘Again, it’s none of your business.’

  ‘There’s clearly no love lost between you...not on your part at least.’ I see the flash of something—possibly guilt—and jump on it. ‘So, tell me, does she really deserve this?’

  He downs his whisky in one. His eyes water at the hit of booze and lines mar his face, ageing his perfect veneer.

  ‘I don’t have to sit here and listen to you question my reasoning, Livingston. I’m paying you to get me evidence, and if you can’t do that, then I’ll find someone else who can.’

  My neck prickles. So much for hoping he would let it go.

  But why is it your problem what he does after you’re gone? Just walk away and forget you ever met him. Met her.

  ‘Suit yourself.’ I start to rise, to leave, to get the hell away, but he shoots up, halting me halfway to standing.

  ‘Wait—just hear me out.’

  I look at his pleading gaze. Is he going to open up? Do I really want him to if it means I have to stick around? But what if it means understanding his intentions towards Coco?

  I’m already dropping back into my seat, my inner messed-up stance driving my decision.

  He lowers himself once more and forks his fingers together on the table, leaning in again. ‘Truth is there’s no one better than you at this. I know that. You know that. And I need this. Believe me, it’ll be worth your while.’

  ‘I charge a flat fee. We’ve—’

  ‘Double. I’ll pay you double.’

  I don’t react visibly, but inside the adrenalin rush has my every sense on high alert. My fee is already substantial—to double it would be laughable. No amount of information is worth that.

  Questions ha
mmer ever more acutely through me. What does he hope to achieve? How low will he sink? How much danger is Coco in?

  ‘I mean it, Livingston—man to man now,’ he insists.

  I swallow back the rising bile. In my mind he lost his man status the second he showed his true nature.

  ‘You get me that evidence and I’ll pay you double—maybe more if it’s juicy enough and you can deliver it in the next two weeks.’

  I have to swallow again and force my hands to relax their death-grip hold over the arms of my chair. ‘Why the rush?’

  ‘Time’s running out.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘You need to stop asking so many questions.’

  ‘And you need to try answering some.’

  ‘I’ll tell you what you need to know and no more.’ He reaches into the inside pocket of his blazer and pulls out a folded piece of paper, which he slides across to me. ‘Try this place. I hear she’s a regular...’

  I take the sheet and bite back a curse. I know what I’m going to see before I even unfold it. But seeing Blacks in scrawled handwriting has my gut in knots.

  I throw back my drink and pocket the piece of paper.

  ‘Well?’ he presses.

  I get to my feet and look down at him just long enough to say, ‘Consider it done.’

  Then I walk away, recounting what I know now.

  Time isn’t on Philip Lauren’s side and he won’t stop until he has what he needs. And if he knows about her presence at Blacks then he already has contacts who, with the right persuasion, will give up what he’s asking for. Hell, he might even try to gain access himself—not that Jackson will let him anywhere near the place once I’ve spoken to him.

  I’m Coco’s last hope. So long as I’m on the job and he’s not going elsewhere I can ride this out.

  And if he does decide to employ another PI, they will fail, because I’ll see to it she stays out of trouble.

  And what about you?

  Seems I’m destined to walk straight back into trouble...

  But in my case, who said trouble couldn’t be fun? If keeping her safe means sharing more of what she asked me for earlier this evening, out of the public eye—or, more specifically, out of her brother’s eye—then where was the harm?