Taking Him (Lies We Tell) (16 page)

Yeah, he’d been a little upset. Liz was toxic and he didn’t want her particular brand of poison anywhere near Ellie. But it wouldn’t do to let her know that. “I wasn’t upset. Pissed that you’d think telling her crap about the past is a good idea, but not upset.”

Liz took another step toward him and suddenly all he could smell was her perfume, thick and cloying, the same one she’d always used. He remembered how he’d turn his head into the pillows of his bed so he could smell it.

“I can’t imagine why you’d feel angry about a few funny anecdotes,” she said softly. “Unless, of course, you thought I’d tell her about…other things.”

He could feel his jaw getting tight, everything getting tight. The urge to get away from her was almost overpowering but he resisted it. Fought it. Refused to let it affect him.

“Other things?” He put his hands in the pockets of his trousers, his fingers automatically searching for the drawing pin. But of course it wasn’t there. “Tell it like it is, Liz. A few blowjobs, right?”

Her mouth curved in a deeper smile, one that looked predatory. “Oh it was more than that and you know it.” Her gaze dropped to his throat and she raised her hands, fingers reaching to do up a button on his shirt. “You wanted to run away with me, don’t you remember?”

His heart slammed against his chest as she touched him, and he had to hold himself very, very still to stop from shoving her away from him. “No,” he said, trying to keep his voice level. “I don’t remember.”

An expression of irritation crossed her features. Her fingers slipped a little, brushing over his bare skin, and his jaw ached with the effort of keeping himself in check, of betraying nothing. He’d never hit a woman, never felt the urge. Until now.

Liz flashed him a look from underneath her lashes. “Are you sure? Perhaps you could use a little reminder?”

“Why would I want a reminder?”

She gave a soft laugh. “Oh Hunter, you do such a good job of pretending you’re not affected by me. But you’re such a liar.”

Her hand moved, the merest brush against the fly of his trousers and all the old feelings came rushing back in a flood that nearly choked him. Desire. Shame. Guilt. Disgust.

His fingers curled into fists in his pockets as he struggled not to move. Jesus, once again his fucking cock had no sense at all.

“Go back to your husband,” he said, unable to prevent the edge of rage that coloured his voice. “I’m not interested.”

“Really? Would you like me to prove again exactly how uninterested you are?”

“I’m not seventeen anymore, Liz. My cock doesn’t make my choices for me. Not these days.”

Her smile vanished. “You’re still punishing me, aren’t you?”

“For what?”

“For refusing to leave your father.”

“I’m not punishing you. I merely don’t find desperation attractive.”

For a second the polished mask slipped, a spark of fury glowing in her pale blue eyes. “Desperate? It’s not me who’s desperate, Hunter darling.” And slowly, giving him plenty of time to pull away if he wanted to, she rose on her tiptoes, her mouth inches away from his.

And he did want to. More than anything in the world he wanted to put distance between them. But that would mean playing directly into her hands, giving her the reaction she was desperately trying to get, and that wasn’t going to happen. She would get nothing from him. Nothing at all.

So he only stared at her as she closed the gap, putting one hand on his chest to steady herself, palm flat against the cotton of his shirt. He stared as she leaned forward, brushing her mouth against his. Kissing him.

He kept his eyes open, looking straight into hers. Masking his loathing and disgust and the terrible part of him that shivered in response. Making sure all she saw was complete and utter indifference.

But her smile didn’t falter, not even for a second as she pulled back from him. “You think you hide it so well, darling,” she murmured. “But you and I know better, don’t we?” Her hand remained on his chest for a moment then she let it fall. “Come and find me later. I can give you what you need, Hunter. Not that little girl you’re currently grooming. Remember that.”

Hunter said nothing. He couldn’t trust himself to speak. He only stood there and watched her walk away, feeling as if he’d taken a bath in something filthy. The feeling got stronger the longer he stood there and eventually he had to move.

But he didn’t go back into the ballroom.

He turned and walked out of the hotel.

Ellie stood in front of the mirror in the ladies’ loo and fiddled with a square of tissue paper, dabbing at the mascara that had started to flake. Stupid, cheap crap. She touched her hair, checking on the pins that held it up in the messy bun she’d put it into. Lots of it was coming down but she rather liked the effect.

Checking out your appearance? Man, what’s got into you?

She sighed. Shit, she didn’t normally stand in front of a mirror for hours, primping herself like an airhead. At least, her kind of primping had more to do with making sure her armor was in place and less to do with wanting to look good. But not this time. This time she did want to look good. For Hunter.

Hell, he’d turned her into a silly teenage girl again, the way she used to be when she’d first started crushing on him. Spending hours deciding what clothes to wear whenever she knew he was coming round. How to do her hair. Whether to put on makeup or not. Jesus, how pathetic.

Chucking the tissue in the bin, she turned to leave at the same moment as the door opened and Elizabeth Chase came in. Ellie felt instinctive tension tighten between her shoulder blades. What
was
it about the woman she didn’t like?

Elizabeth’s eyes glittered, her cheeks flushed a very pretty shade of pink. She smiled and for a second, Ellie could only stare at her because damn, the woman was flawless.

“Why hello again,” Elizabeth said. “If you’re looking for Hunter, he’s outside waiting for you.”

Something about the other woman’s expression made Ellie want to grimace with dislike. She looked smug, as if she had a wonderful secret she wanted people to ask her about.

“Oh, okay. Thanks.” Ellie made to go past her to the door.

“It’s not you he wants,” Liz said quietly, unexpectedly. “You do understand that, don’t you?”

“Excuse me?”

“I know you’re hoping you’ll be the only one for him, that he’ll fall for you the way you fell for him. But he won’t, darling.”

Ellie stared at her. “Look, I really don’t know what you’re—”

“There’s only one woman in his life, Ellie. And it’s not you.”

A little trickle of ice slid down her spine. She didn’t want to ask and yet still she did. “What woman?”

Elizabeth’s secret little smile didn’t falter. “Ah, well, that’s something you’ll have to ask him. I wouldn’t want to reveal any of Hunter’s secrets.”

Hunter’s secrets. Which implied he had them. And that this woman knew what they were.

Why did that sound so terrible?

“Yeah, great,” Ellie said, not bothering to moderate the unfriendliness in her tone. “I’ll keep that in mind.” She put her hand on the door to push it open.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you, darling,” Elizabeth murmured as Ellie left.

Outside the bathroom, Ellie restrained the urge to shake herself, creeped out by the sense of veiled threats in Elizabeth Chase’s sensual voice. God, she really needed to find out what problem the woman had and why she seemed to give off the impression that Hunter was her territory. Because that’s certainly how she’d come across to Ellie. It was unnerving.

Looking around the foyer, she expected to see Hunter’s tall figure waiting, but there was no sign of him. Either Elizabeth had lied or he’d gone back into the ballroom. As Ellie went past the hotel’s entrance, she heard the unmistakable sound of a motorbike starting up. Turning instinctively to look, she saw Hunter, astride his bike, putting his helmet on. Bloody hell, was he leaving without her?

A surge of anger had her dashing out the hotel’s main doors, yelling, “Where the hell are you going?”

His hand dropped from the throttle, his black-helmeted head turning in her direction as she stormed up to him.

“You were going to leave without me?” she demanded, knowing she was still yelling and not giving a shit. “Without even telling me where you were going?”

Hunter lifted his visor. There was a curious blank, detached look on his face. The same look he’d had when she’d watched him study the blood that dripped from his hand that day in Fox Chase’s office. As if it were happening to someone else, not him.

“If you want to come with me, put on your helmet and get on.” His voice was as expressionless and blank as his face.

Ellie opened her mouth to ask him what the hell was going on, but the look in his eyes stopped her. There would be no pushing him, she could see that. So she swallowed the questions, letting them sit in her chest alongside the lump of ice that had formed back when Elizabeth had confronted her in the bathroom. She picked up the helmet that sat on the back of the bike and put it on. Then got on behind him, wrapping her arms around him.

She’d barely gotten settled before they were off, the cold wind whipping around her arms and legs as they sped through the city night traffic. Hunter was warm though, so she leaned into him, tightening her arms around his waist. Everything else about him radiated distance but when she touched him it felt as if that distance was small. A mere crack in the pavement she could step across, not an ocean she had to sail for months to see the other side.

She closed her eyes, concentrating only on the feel of his body against her front, the heat of him between her thighs.

It’s not you he wants. There’s only one woman in his life and it’s not you.

Ellie screwed her eyes shut even tighter. No, she wasn’t going to think about Elizabeth Chase’s bitchy comments. Or why they should hurt so very much. Or about all the moments when she’d looked into Hunter’s eyes and known it wasn’t her he saw.

That it was someone else.

She was concentrating so fiercely on not thinking that when the bike began to slow, she almost didn’t notice it. Then it stopped and she looked around, frowning. They hadn’t been riding long enough to be back at his house. In fact they seemed to be in a dodgier part of town, full of late-night booze shops and seedy-looking strip joints. A few scantily clad women hung out on the pavement, tottering around in too-high stilettos, smoking cigarettes. One of them called something out to Hunter, but he gave no sign of having heard, parking the bike and taking off his helmet.

“Where are we?” Ellie asked as she took off her own. “I thought we were going home.”

He didn’t look at her. “Not yet. But if you want to go now I’ll call you a cab.”

“Why? How long are you going to be?”

“I don’t know.” He kicked down the stand. “If you want a cab, tell me now. I’ll wait with you until it gets here.”

“Why? Where are you going? Please don’t say you’re going to a strip show.” Since that was all that seemed to be open.

Hunter got off the bike. “Well? A cab or are you coming with me? And no, I’m not going to a strip show.”

Like she was going to go home without him. “I’m coming with you.”

“Come on then.”

Frowning, Ellie hurried after him as he headed toward the doorway of a dimly lit shop. Bloody hell, here she was again, chasing after Hunter, not knowing what was going on or what he was doing. She must be some kind of freaking masochist.

And then she saw the sign. A tattoo parlor.

Hunter pushed open the door. It was an oddly homey
-
looking place, given all the seediness that was happening outside, a long black couch along one wall, magazines spread on a coffee table nearby. The walls were plastered with blown-up intricate examples of what presumably was the parlour’s tattoo work. A couple of dentists’ chairs were occupied by guys, the tattoo artists currently working on them sitting beside the chairs. One of the artists looked up as Hunter and Ellie entered.

“Hey, bro,” he said to Hunter, obviously recognising him. “You need a few more?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. Nearly finished here.”

Ellie looked at Hunter. “A few more what?” Though she had a feeling she knew already.

He didn’t answer, his gaze opaque. But she saw suddenly what she’d missed before—he looked tired. Like a man fighting a battle. A battle he was losing.

Her heart constricted inside her chest and she wanted to put her arms around him, hold him. But she couldn’t, not here. Instead she reached out and took his hand, lacing her fingers through his in wordless comfort. He stiffened, his black gaze coming to hers. But he didn’t pull away.

And when the artist gestured at him to come over to the long table at one end of the room, he kept hold of her hand so she came with him, only letting it go when he took off his jacket. Ellie’s heart beat a little faster as he pulled off his shirt too, revealing the lean, powerful lines of his body. She ached to touch him, stroke him, run her hands over his tanned skin. And not for the sex, though that was part of it. She wanted to touch him to get closer to him, to take away that weary look in his eyes. Help him in any way she could.