Bad Friend Read online

  “Thank you,” he said, unsure about what to say. Was she just fucking with him at this point? Did she expect him to flirt back in front of husband? “I’ll wait to hear from you, Bill. Appreciate your time.”

  He strode out of the bar and glanced at his watch. He’d told Brit he wouldn’t be home for another hour or so, to be on the safe side, but turned out he’d be there sooner. Brit. Maybe he could bring her dinner. What food did she enjoy? A jolt of anticipation traveled through him, kicking his heartbeat up a notch. The image of the sexy sway of her hips unfurled in his mind again, and he shook his head. He’d grab a bite to eat on his own then head home. He had two kids to have care of, a busy lifestyle and a cause he was passionate about to get off the ground. A relationship was the last thing in his plans… no matter how tempting she was.

  2

  Brit eyed the collection of domestic and imported beers in the fridge in the four-car garage. What would Damian say if he got home and found her drinking one of them? She’d have to Uber home anyway—after the kids went to sleep, she tried to start her car again without any luck.

  What the hell. She opened the fridge and grabbed one, with a golden and dark blue label. It said something in German. Why shouldn’t she live dangerously for once? Noelle, a dear friend who had died tragically in a car accident almost a year prior, always instilled spontaneity in her and her friends. Noelle had been fun, wild, and carefree—even though she had two kids and a husband, who ended up moving from Tulip. She made it all seem possible and attainable.

  Brit grabbed the beer and twisted it open, and chugged it down without fear. The taste, too strong and acidy for her palate, almost made her choke. She gulped it if only to get rid of it, but the sour aftertaste didn’t help. “Shitty overpriced crap,” she said, closing the fridge.

  “That’s not my favorite either,” said a deep male voice behind her, and she jumped, yelping, her heart in her mouth. The baritone of his voice reverberated through her. The beer sloshed from the bottle, quickly splashing her shirt. “Oh shit. Sorry,” Damian said, his imposing physique too close for comfort.

  She placed her hand on her heart, cursing it for beating like it was about to gallop out of her chest. “God.”

  “Are you okay? I parked my car outside and came through the front entrance. I saw the door open to the garage, and—”

  She nodded quickly. “I’m good. I don’t want you to think I was about to get drunk while watching the kids. They’re all sleeping.” Heat still flushed her cheeks.

  A smile she didn’t see often formed on his lips. “Not at all. I know you’re responsible. Which is why I wanted to propose something to you. Do you want to come to the movie room so we can talk?”

  “Sure.” Made sense. The state-of-the-art home theater with three rows of stadium seating was soundproof, so if he wanted to chew her ass out, this was the place to do it. Tension trickled down her spine. She missed Violet, and helping out when she could made her feel somewhat close to her friend—even if a small part of her resented Violet for leaving without saying goodbye.

  He grabbed a couple of beers, also imported, and handed her one. “These are much better.”

  She took it, and when her fingers accidentally brushed his, an electric response shot up her arm, quickly spreading through her system. She retreated a step, to avoid looking at him, and turned to start heading in the direction of the movie room.

  She felt his presence walking behind her.

  Once inside, she chose an oversize chair at front, facing the blank projection canvas. He picked an ottoman and pushed it so he sat in front of her. Damn it. Staring into his hazel eyes would make everything so much harder.

  “I’ve been thinking on the way back home about how wonderful you’ve been with the kids.”

  She swallowed. That’s how these conversations always start. “Thanks.”

  “I’ve taken you for granted. I guess I was on survival mode, being the main caretaker after Violet left. I can afford help, but the kids love seeing you more than the housekeeper or regular nanny.”

  She waved him off, adamant on not telling him how the kids abhorred all the old-fashioned rules the regular nanny Mrs. Smith put in place. She figured she’d talk to the old lady and give her some pointers without getting her in trouble. “Hey. No sweat.”

  “So I’d like to make it up to you. I’ll write you a check with a ballpark figure of all the hours you put in.”

  She shifted on her seat. Maybe she was broke, but not enough to accept charity after he’d seen her dead car. Embarrassment flowed through her, warming her cheeks and neck. “Absolutely not. Listen, I helped as Lara and Nikki have. Violet was—is—one of us, and we love your children.” Accepting money now would negate all the help she’d done to her friend. Worse, would make her an official charity case.

  “Brit, please—”

  She swallowed, feeling her pulse drum at the base of her throat. “This is about my car, isn’t it?” she asked him even if the question clawed her heart and then clenched it tighter for good measure.

  “I want to help you as you’ve helped me.”

  She bit her inner cheek. “I appreciate, but I’m okay. My hours have been cut at the store, and—”

  He touched her elbow, forcing her to look at him, and the light brush of his fingers on her bare flesh sent a scorching sensation up her arm then to other places she’d rather forget. At least for right now. When she arrived home and took a bubble bath, she’d certainly remember it.

  “Well, then I have another proposition for you. Why don’t you give me those hours you lost and work for me when you’re available?”

  She withdrew. “Work for you?”

  “Yes, as my personal assistant. I’m behind in a lot of things on my life, and I’d love someone as reliable as you to help me out. It may be with the kids, or involve some filing paperwork at the clinic which my current medical assistant doesn’t seem to ever get done.”

  “Oh. But my hours—”

  “I’m flexible. And you can drive the Land Rover while you work for me. Used to belong to Violet. I need to make sure you’re safe while running errands.”

  She stared at him, her lips parting but no sound escaping them. A lump lodged in her throat, pulsing with anticipation. The idea wasn’t that bad… he’d probably only need her temporarily, maybe just until the same time the movement picked up again at the store. And she could use the money to pay for the conference she’d been dying to attend. When he yanked her from her thoughts to announce her hourly rate, she almost fainted. “That’s a lot,” she said. She didn’t know how much assistants charged these days, but the number he gave her was more than double what she made at the store.

  He winked at her, and her insides melted like snow under the hot sun. “I’m a demanding boss.”

  She bit back a smile. “All right. Thank you for the opportunity, I’ll take it.”

  “You’re welcome.” He clinked his beer bottle on hers, then lifted it to his mouth and took a swig.

  She watched him, her glance turning into a lingering gaze. His long fingers held the bottle, and the way he drank… she mentally pinched herself. What the hell, girl? The guy just gave you a good chance to get back on your feet. Why did she always screw these moments up with inappropriate thoughts?

  She lifted her bottle to her lips and sipped. The taste, less acidic and more embodied than the other one, rolled down her throat. Much better.

  Women probably threw themselves at his feet, but she hadn’t seen him go on a date or mention anyone. Was he still hung-up on Violet? He didn’t act like it, but at the same time, tonight was the only time they sat and chatted. Usually, their conversations were brief and about the kids.

  “I like this one.”

  “Good.”

  She smiled. “How was your meeting?”

  “Good, but I didn’t nail the deal yet.”

  “I’m impressed you find time for meetings outside of work. It seems like you’re always coming and going.�
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  He sighed. “Yes. You can say that again.”

  “Can I be honest? Your profession is kind of intimidating.”

  “How so?”

  “I don’t know… because you probably deal with people who are always seeking improvement. Makes the rest of us look bad.”

  He chuckled. “A lot of my patients are cancer and burning victims. They want to reclaim their bodies and feel more comfortable.”

  His tone made her uncomfortable. She shifted in the seat, leaning closer. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to diminish what you do.”

  “No, I was just explaining.”

  “Of course. I guess it’d be worse for women in general if you were an OBGYN. I wouldn’t date someone who knew my vagina better than me.”

  He glanced down at his bottle. “Why not? They can have all kinds of tricks up their sleeve.”

  Her gaze strayed to his strong forearms. “That’s a valid point.”

  “Who are you dating these days?”

  She gulped down a good amount of the beer, then sat it on the coffee table. “Myself.”

  A slow smile curled at the corner of his lips. “That’s quite a catch.”

  A chuckle floated up her throat and she made no effort to suppress it. “Sure. An underpaid makeup artist, single mom who drives a car that makes it impossible for her to make it to the gym consistently.” Hmm… Maybe I should revise my dating app profile. No wonder she didn’t get many hits.

  “Let’s try this again… a caring, funny woman who’s the best mom I’ve ever met.”

  “Thanks for the pep talk, but still not super sexy.”

  “I wasn’t done,” he said, his voice dropping an octave.

  The energy around her shifted, and she sucked in a breath, deep and long like all the air had been sucked from the room. Flecks of green flickered in the rich irises of his hazel eyes, his gaze carrying a message she didn’t dare interpret. Suddenly, her throat felt thick and dry, and when she drew in another breath, her breasts rose up her chest.

  A hot stir swirled behind her nipples, now taut and hard, pressing against her bra.

  “You have the most adorable dimples I’ve seen.”

  She swallowed. A part of her wanted to move, but she didn’t manage to. She stared into the depth of his eyes, needing his gaze on hers like a drowning woman needed a lifejacket.

  He lifted his hand, and before she protested, he touched her dimple with his index finger. The caress belted little currents of electricity beneath her skin. Goose bumps raised on her arm and she quivered like someone had poked her with a feather.

  There was nothing light about this touch though… it heaved on her, on her shoulders, on her heart. Because it’s wrong, a little voice inside her warned. She parted her lips, desperate to find words to jerk him away and shut the door of promises closed. Rings of grey flecked around his irises, his pupils dilated and big.

  He lowered his index finger to her lips, and outlined them. Her weak mouth trembled, like the rest of her. She willed herself to move, to smack his face, and perhaps her own first. A treacherous moan escaped from deep within her lungs, cutting the menacing silence around them. God. Did she just produce that sexy sound, unexpectedly?

  The sound of sin. She startled, jerking away and clapping her hand to her mouth. Her blood ran cold with disappointment, but her heart still raced wildly. “Sorry. Uh, I have to go. I’ll grab Libby and call an Uber.”

  He stood, glancing around them like he was naked and had to pick his clothes, even though he was fully dressed. “Brit, I’m sorry—”

  She held up her hand to keep him from talking. “Oh, no, please. It’s been a long day for both of us.” She smoothed her hand over her clothes, as if she’d been thoroughly fucked with her sweatpants pulled down. The image warmed her bloodstream again, and she shook her head, brushing it aside. “I need to go.”

  “I’ll take you home. Libby can sleep over if you’d like.”

  He stepped forward, but she passed by him without a glance. “No, I’ll call an Uber.” Many times her daughter slept over their house or vice versa, but tonight, she wanted to nudge Libby and take her home with her—to avoid picking her up in the morning and seeing him again, so soon.

  “I insist.”

  “So do I,” she said, dashing out of the forbidden movie room.

  “I transferred the data from your laptop into your work computer,” Brit said, fidgeting her fingers. “I’m getting with Adriana about the other stuff she needs help with.”

  Damian nodded, taking an old specialized book from one drawer into the other. “Thanks.”

  “No problem,” she said, and when she left his office, he lifted his head from between the volumes of books he needed organized and gaped at her fine ass. A thrill of desire ripped through him, and he sighed.

  Two days.

  Two days ago, she’d marched out of his house, taking with her a sleepy Libby and refusing to let him pay for the ride. Her attitude made it obvious she didn’t want to talk about that moment etched in his brain. He’d almost kissed her—almost. A simple word that had filled his brain with erotic images of her for the past forty-eight hours. Not to mention a painful boner.

  A fling with Brit would further complicate his already chaotic life. He needed to consider her child and his own. Libby was old enough to get attached to the idea of her mother finding someone—and Amanda, to look at Aunt Brit as a replacement to her mother. Then what? After the excitement wore off, he’d deal with frustrated and heartbroken children who deserved better.

  He rocked back in his chair. Ever since Violet left, he hadn’t had the urge to have sex with anyone. Hell, even with his picture-perfect wife, during the last few months of their marriage they hadn’t been intimate. She’d blamed exhaustion from raising two children and postpartum hormones still hovering, and he had been content with her excuses and didn’t try anything.

  Reliability had been a promise he’d offered since day one of their relationship. Unlike his father, who had left his mother after she lost her looks, he’d promised to take care of Violet and their family. Bile rose up his throat. If only she had done the same…

  He swallowed. She wasn’t the woman he’d thought she could be. She, like his father, hadn’t put family first. Whatever emotional crises she juggled, why didn’t she consider the small children she’d leave behind? Parenthood left no room for selfishness.

  You hold yourself up to a crazy standard, Violet had shouted during one of their fights. No one can ever be on the same moral ground you occupy.

  He shut the file door so harshly, the credenza vibrated. Maybe she’d been right, but right now he could judge her all he wanted. He’d earned that right the instant she walked out of the door in the middle of the night, leaving him a ridiculous note which explained nothing. If she had deep depression, why couldn’t she get treatment in their town of Tulip, California? Why run away to the East Coast?

  The sound of a couple of voices followed by laughter coming from outside his office yanked him from his bitter thoughts. He blinked, standing, and glanced at his calendar on the wall. No surgery for another hour or so, and he’d done his morning rounds. No appointments until the afternoon. Who could it be?

  Before he opened the door, it swung open and Bill O’Donnell entered, followed by Brit, who chuckled like the man had told her something funny. “Hi Damian, I was getting coffee and this gentleman asked about your office. I thought I’d bring him here by for you.”

  Bill strolled inside, looking at the several awards and diplomas on the wall. “I hope it’s okay. I always enjoy dropping in for a visit on those I may work with. I called the receptionist earlier and she said you were in the building.”

  “How nice to see you,” Damian said, walking up to him and exchanging a firm handshake. “Please have a seat.”

  “I can grab coffee for you both. How do you like yours, Mr. O’Donnell?”

  “Black and no sugar.”

  “Sounds good. Will be right back.
”

  Bill sat in front of him, and waited until she closed the door to face Damian again. “Very helpful assistant. I noticed she called you Damian and not Dr. Forrest.”

  “Brit is a great friend who has been an angel to our family. My kids love her,” he said, omitting the fact Brit was also one of Violet’s best friends. Apprehension clogged his throat, but he pushed down the lump. Did he not share it because it made him feel guilty? Or because anytime he mentioned Violet, her leaving him resurfaced? He cleared his throat. “She was kind enough to help me here at the office too. She’s a single mom and needs to supplement her income.” He picked a pen from his desk and played with it. Why the hell was he giving so much explanation like he’d been caught with his pants down?

  Bill scratched his chin. “Of course. She seems like she needs a night out. Why don’t you bring her to my party?”

  “Oh, hmmm, I’m not sure it’s a good idea.”

  “I’ll personally invite her. You know, my mother raised me all by herself. Single moms don’t get enough credit.”

  “No they don’t,” he agreed, feeling the collar around his neck tighten. Bill probably thought inviting her to his catered party would be a great honor. Damn it. “I’ll be happy to take her if she wants to go,” Damian added.

  Bill changed the subject, and within a few minutes, Brit walked in carrying his and Bill’s coffee mugs.

  “Hope I’m not disturbing,” she said, giving Bill his first. “Here you go.”

  “Not disturbing at all,” Bill said, lifting the mug. “You’ve been so kind. I told Damian I want him to take you to a party I’m throwing this weekend.”

  She handed Damian his mug, with a quizzical look on her face. “Oh, thanks for the invite, but I’m not sure—”

  “We’ll love to see you there,” Bill insisted, taking a sip.

  “Hhmm… sure?” she said, her gaze searching for Damian’s. What do I do? Her eyes quietly asked.

  “We’ll be there,” Damian said to Bill, but gazed at her. Hopefully his slow nod and stare would carry the message this was a work related, non-date event. And hopefully he’d be able to believe that message himself.