O Face, page 8
Chapter Nine
Liam
Getting blown up notwithstanding, Cassie was going to be the death of me. The more time I spent with her, the more I wanted her. The look on her face when I’d touched her in the truck last night, the way her body had practically hummed underneath my touch as I ran my fingers over her skin had been more erotic than anything I’d ever done—and we hadn’t even kissed. I’d come home and taken a cold shower, but even that hadn’t diminished the ache. When I’d finally fallen asleep, I’d dreamt about her eyes again, but this time, the ice in them had melted, replaced with a heat like liquid fire. I’d woken harder than I’d been in a long fucking time. Even after I’d taken care of myself, all I wanted was her.
In the light of day, though, all I could think about was what she’d been about to say when she’d put the brakes on. I’d shut down, thinking at first it was personal, but that had been knee-jerk. And mostly it had been about my own feelings getting too big for me to understand.
I’d freaked out on her. And then she’d freaked out on me. And now, I had no idea how to come back from it without sounding like a lovesick high schooler all over again. All I could do was wait for her to call me. I had a feeling after the way I’d acted it wasn’t going to be anytime soon. In the meantime, I had the worst case of blue balls I could remember.
Today was going to be a long day. And tonight would be even worse.
I needed a distraction.
“Sophie,” I called as I finished breakfast.
A door opened upstairs. “Yeah?”
“I’m headed to the shop if you need me.”
“Okay. I’m off to work in a few, but I’ll see you for dinner?” she called back.
“Uh.” I hesitated. “I’ll let you know.”
There was a pause and then, “Does this have anything to do with Cassie Franklin?”
I smiled to myself and grabbed my coffee. “With any luck it will. Love you!” I didn’t wait for an answer before I slipped out the back, adjusting myself as I went.
Chapter Ten
Cassie
I woke the next morning with more regret than my last hangover. And that included skinny dipping in a stranger’s pool. I groaned as I fumbled with the alarm and rolled over. It was Saturday. And that meant a full day out of the office with nothing else to do but continue living my own lie. It also meant another day with Liam Porter. I wasn’t even sure I still wanted to see him after last night. He’d been pushy and rude and nosy and—
Who was I kidding?
I definitely wanted to see Liam Porter. And if I was being honest, I wanted to touch him too. To pick up right where we’d left off in that truck. Before I’d ruined it all with my second-guessing and Liam had shut down over it. Maybe Jess had a point though. Maybe I liked him better when he didn’t talk.
I snickered and got up, heading for the kitchen where I knew my coffee machine had already started my coffee. While I sipped, I checked emails and read the Business section of the local newspaper on my open laptop. Summerville didn’t have a lot of business, so it mostly covered Charleston, focusing on anything relating to Summerville’s residents. A headline on the sidebar caught my eye, and I clicked on it with a growing sense of dread. Skimming it, I felt my stomach drop to my knees as I read all about the company’s tenuous position—and my botched attempts to fix it—through the eyes of a stranger.
“Franklin Industries’ Trouble in Paradise: Cassie Franklin’s Frozen Heart to Blame for Financial Woes”
I read quickly, and when I got to the part about how I’d hired Liam to be my boyfriend in a sad attempt to appear likeable, I sucked in a breath, shaking my head to try to block out the reality of the words and how many people must have read them already. I shoved the laptop away and lowered my head to the counter, squeezing out a few hot tears before giving in and dropping my forehead against the cool granite.
This could not be happening.
My phone rang. I ignored it and got up from my stool, retrieving the bottle of whiskey and adding a double-shot to my coffee before sitting again.
This time, when my phone rang, I picked it up. “Hello?”
“Miss Franklin? This is Rowena Bennett from the Summerville Sun. I’d like to get a statement from you regarding today’s story about—”
I hung up.
In the silence, I gulped more spiked coffee and stared at my phone, my anxiety already sending my heart racing. When it continued to ring, I considered going to get a hammer and put the thing out of its misery. My panic and my temper were both at full blast. Nothing reasonable, like shutting the thing off, felt good enough. It had to be destroyed. Just like my life.
When it rang again, I looked down.
The display showed one short word: Dad.
Instead of answering it, I picked it up and chucked it as hard as I could against the far wall. It hit a glass-coated canvas of the Bermuda coastline from my trip there last year. Both the phone and the glass shattered.
I stared at it, finishing off the last of my coffee.
My insides churned as I debated what to do next. There would be no date with Liam now. No deal with the investor. No saving the company. Whoever had leaked—and written—this story had made sure of that.
And how the hell had they known about everything?
It had to be someone on the inside. Someone I knew. But I’d only told one person the entire story.
Liam.
I finished off the coffee and hurried to get dressed. Suddenly, I knew exactly what I was doing next. It started with “M” and rhymed with “Herder.” Because if I was going down in flames, I was taking Liam Porter with me.
Liam’s house made me think of waffles. I’d driven by it countless times over the years on my way to see Jess who lived another two miles down. Every time I did, I thought of waffles or pancakes. Probably because it looked a little like the log cabin on the label of the syrup we’d always bought when I was a kid. Usually the connection gave me warm fuzzies or some twinge of nostalgia for a time when everything felt easier. Happier. Now, though, the sight of it only made me more pissed.
I pulled to a stop, kicking up a cloud of dust thanks to my speed, and shoved the car into park. Heartbeat thudding in my ears, I stomped over the soft mulch and up the steps, banging hard on the front door. New rocking chairs had been added to the porch, I noted. And a welcome mat that said ‘Come In’ right side up and ‘Get Out’ upside down. Cute.
I waited, drumming my fingers on my elbows where I’d crossed my arms over my chest. The rash that had almost disappeared in the last day or so was already itching again, but I ignored it. Finally, the door opened, and I blinked at Sophie, Liam’s little sister. The last time I’d seen her was the funeral for Jess’ parents. She already looked older than she had then—maybe because she wasn’t crying and holding on to her dad this time. Four years behind us, she was what—a freshman in college now? I’d heard she was taking a year off to save up for law school, but she greeted me in a sweatshirt with Charleston University printed across the front.
“Cassie. Hey...” she said, obviously shocked to see me here.
“I need to talk to Liam,” I said, working to keep my voice civil.
“He’s out in his shop,” she said, pointing at a large building to the left of the house. The big bay door was closed, but the small side door stood open. From here, I could just make out the distant whir of a power tool.
“Thanks.” I whirled and marched toward it.
Sophie mumbled something and then shut the door behind me.
The power tool shut off, and I picked up the pace, picking my way carefully over the gravel and onto the grass beyond it. A scraping sound reached my ears and grew louder the closer I got to the open door. When I finally stepped inside, my feet landed on a fine layer of sawdust coating the floor, and I stopped, blinking until my eyes adjusted to the darkened space. Several pieces of furniture all half-finished littered the room. A worktable lined the far wall and Liam stood bent over it, shoulders hunched, as he sanded a long, narrow strip of wood.
I narrowed my eyes and stalked over. When he still didn’t turn, I tapped him on the shoulder and said, “We need to talk.”
He whirled, yanking earbuds from his ears with jerky movements. I jumped back as his eyes widened at the sight of me. He clutched his chest. “Holy shit! Are you trying to stop my heart, woman?”
“Your heart’s not my concern,” I snapped, my temper returning full force now that he was in front of me. God, I was an idiot. Taken in by a handsome face and a charming smile. Because obviously Liam was still exactly what he used to be. No, scratch that. Now, he was worse.
“I can offer some other suggestions if you are interested in one of my organs,” he said.
Heat crept over me and I told myself it was rage. Nothing more. How could I be attracted to him after what he’d just done to me? “You’re a real piece of work, you know that.”
His smile faltered as he took in my expression. “What’s wrong?”
“Oh, nothing. Just my theories about users proven right. Again. You are so lucky you didn’t sign that contract, or I’d sue your ass to Hell and back for this.”
“Sue me? Cass, what’s this about?” He reached for me, and I nearly fell over a sawhorse jumping clear of him. “Whoa,” he began, trying again to close the distance and help me regain my balance, but I moved out of his reach, unsteady on my feet but determined not to let him touch me.
“This is about your little stunt with the media. I don’t know who you spoke to, but I promise I’ll find out, and when I do, that underwater explosion will look like a fucking training exercise compared to what I’ll—”
“Okay. Hold on. What the hell happened?” His voice boomed over mine, instantly hardened at my threat. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I felt guilty for using his injury to get him to take me seriously. But I was too pissed to care right now.
My heart was thudding hard enough to shake my shoulders and echo in to my temples. I sucked in a ragged breath, itching everywhere and feeling like my skin was too tight. “I...”
“Take a deep breath,” he encouraged, watching me closely.
But my breath was too fast. My head spun—
“Shit.” Liam’s muttered curse came a split second before I fell.
My knees buckled, and I went down. Liam’s arms caught me just in time, barely saving me from crashing to the floor. In one fluid movement, he dropped the sandpaper and scooped me into his arms. His expression as he stared down at me was full of concern and worry—and I hated it.
“Breathe, Cassie,” Liam instructed.
Opening my mouth, I tried sucking in a deep breath, attempting to steady myself and end whatever this was. But instead, to my horror, a sob escaped, and I burst into tears.
“Okay, let’s take a time out.”
He strode out, still carrying me as he headed straight for the house. I wanted to argue, but words were impossible now. My breaths came in short wheezes no matter how hard I tried to even them out.
When he opened the back door, Sophie’s voice rang out almost immediately. “What happened?”
I shut my eyes, burying my face in his neck against the onslaught of tears that shook my shoulders and left me even more breathless than before. Worse than losing my shit in front of Liam was losing it in front of his little sister.
“Is she okay?” Sophie demanded when Liam didn’t answer quickly enough.
“She’s having a panic attack. Can you get her some water? I’m going to take her into the living room.”
“I’m on it.” I heard footsteps hurry deeper into the house. A second later, the back door slammed shut behind us thanks to Liam’s booted heel.
A moment later, he stopped and lowered me gently down to the couch. I clung to him, forcing him to come with me as I landed lightly against the cushions. Liam scooped me up again, this time sitting first and pulling me onto his lap. I clung tight to his neck, too embarrassed now to do anything else but use him as a shield—and a pillow.
“Here.” Sophie returned.
“Thanks.” Liam paused, and I could tell they were both waiting for me. “Cass, can you sit up?”
I wasn’t bawling anymore, but I damn sure wasn’t ready to face them. Like a complete coward, I remained silent.
“Soph, can you give us a minute?” Liam asked quietly.
“Sure.” Footsteps sounded against the hardwood and then faded.
I tensed, waiting for Liam to say something. But he was quiet, stroking my hair and holding me close, his lips murmuring comforting words as the moment passed. After what felt like an eternity, my breathing returned to normal. My heart rate slowed.
I swiped at my wet cheeks, positive my mascara had painted my face into something scary, and reluctantly sat up. Liam’s expression softened at the sight of me. Somehow, that made everything worse. A new round of tears threatened; this time out of self-pity.
“You want to tell me what’s going on?” he asked gently.
I sighed, suddenly too exhausted to form the words. “Where’s your phone?” I asked.
“Here.” He handed it over without question, and I pulled up the article I’d read earlier.
I waited while he read it, watching as his expression shifted from confused to shocked to angry. By the time he looked up at me again, his jaw had hardened and his eyes glinted.
“I didn’t do this,” he said flatly.
“You’re the only one I told, Liam.”
He seemed to debate something. “Look, I know what you must think. And I really can’t blame you for suspecting me. You don’t know me well enough to trust me. But I’m also not going to bend over backward convincing you. It wasn’t me.”
I climbed off his lap and shoved to my feet, needing to put some distance between us. “How can you say that?” I asked, my voice a whisper to keep from it breaking.
“Look at you, Cassie. You had a panic attack just now over this thing. And your rash isn’t any better, I see. You’re a mess.”
“How do you know about my rash?” I asked.
He gave me a withering look, and I realized he was a lot more perceptive than I’d given him credit for—on a lot of things. I tucked my reddened arm underneath the other one, crossing them awkwardly over my chest. “My rash is none of your business.”
“You’re right. It’s not. But I’ve seen this kind of stress before. If you don’t do something about it now, it’s going to get worse. You can’t keep this act up forever.”
“It’s not an act. I’m losing my company. My life—”
“That company isn’t your life. And if it is, that’s sad.”
I fisted my hands, furious all over again. “I can’t believe I confided in you.”
He snorted. “You didn’t tell me shit.”
“Of course I did—”
“Facts. You told me facts about your circumstances. The only real thing I know about you is what kind of cookies you like and how you felt about not being able to eat them.”
“Well. I don’t know shit about you either,” I pointed out.
He rose, stalking over to me so that we were close enough for me to smell the sawdust on his skin. It was delicious and sexy, and I hated how much I liked it. Or him. “I dreamt about you when I was overseas,” he said and all thoughts of his sawdust-scent evaporated.
“What?”
“When I was in Africa, I dreamt about you. It was mostly just your eyes but still. I couldn’t shake them. Always watching me. Judging me. I pretended they wanted me, but it was probably lack of sex and too much sun frying my brain.”
“You thought about me that way?” My voice was small, much smaller than the confidence I was always trying to fake. But I couldn’t wrap my head around what he was saying and pretend I had it all together.
“I’ve thought about you that way since high school,” he admitted.
For a moment, I forgot I was angry. I forgot why. Liam Porter had a crush on me? This was not the way I’d expected this conversation to go. “I...” Before I could form the words to tell him I’d had a crush on him too, his expression went flat.
His dark eyes flashed with irritation and regret as he looked from my face back down to my rashy arm. “But after the last few days, getting to know you, I see now that you’re not any different than you were then. And it’s catching up with you.”
“I don’t know who else to be,” I admitted, and the words were so unlike me, I almost didn’t recognize my own voice as I said them.
Admitting I didn’t know something, especially something as simple as my own identity was—
“Go out with me.”
“What?”
Liam grimaced. “Not the best timing,” he muttered. “Or delivery. But go out with me.”
“But the article—”
“That’s my point. You don’t have to do this anymore. The article proves that. Go out with me because you want to, Cassie. Let me see you. Not the person you want me to see but the real you.”
“They’ll talk about you,” I warned. “The article will only make it worse. They’ll take our pictures. Spread gossip. Ask you personal questions that you don’t want to answer.”
“I don’t care.”
I bit my lip, trying in vain to think of some other reason we shouldn’t do this. But in the end, I couldn’t. Just the idea of telling him no made me feel like a prisoner. I’d been trying to be who they wanted for so long now and Liam was right. It was catching up.
“I’m scared,” I admitted, hating how it felt to say that out loud.
But Liam didn’t look surprised. “Of what?” he asked and in those two words, I heard the challenge. What could Cassie Franklin possibly be afraid of?
“Of everything,” I yelled, losing it and letting the words just tumble out. “Of being seen, being judged, being disliked, being liked. Of getting close. Getting hurt. I could go on.”
Liam reached for my hand. “Cassie—”
But I wasn’t done. There was one more thing I had to say. “I’ve never had an orgasm.”
