Liam bursts out laughing. “You know,” he says, Maybe you better come back to my apartment and remind me.”
I grin at him. “I can do that.”
25
Eliza
“Who wants margaritas?” I call a couple of weeks later, stepping out onto Liam’s rooftop patio with a pitcher in one hand and a sleeve of clear plastic cups in the other. Even at the end of September, it’s still warm enough to swim, so we’re taking full advantage of one last summer day at the pool on top of his building. The patio is huge and lushly landscaped, with carefully tended flowering shrubs and twinkle lights offering the illusion of a private hideaway right in the middle of the city.
“I do!” Poppy calls back. She’s lounging happily in a float shaped like a flamingo while Wes and Dylan toss a volleyball back and forth.
“Me three!” Katie is sprawled on a deck chair in a gauzy cover up and giant heart-shaped sunglasses, excitedly making notes for her newest book.
I pass out a round of drinks, then pour one for myself and sit down beside April, who’s perched on the side of the pool in a vintage floral-print bikini and an enormous floppy hat. “So, you decided to stay in town, huh?” she’d been asking Liam.
“I did,” he says with says, smiling at me. “It turns out New York has some qualities to recommend it.”
“This pool, for one,” April points out, wiggling her painted toes in the cool blue water.
“Among other things,” Liam says, with a wink in my direction.
“He’s consulting for a bunch of cool companies,” I tell April, slipping into the pool with a quiet splash. “Helping startups grow their business and enter new markets, that kind of thing. And nobody even has to get fired.”
“Who could ask for anything more?” April laughs. “What about you?” she asks me. “How’s the new gig?”
“It’s kind of amazing,” I admit, cutting a glance at Liam. The truth is, to my utter shock, I actually kind of love working under the MediaCorp umbrella. I’ve got a corner office and an actual marketing budget, and my success with Verity has made me a sought-after editor among other big romance authors—though I’ll always be her biggest fan. I was able to promote the old receptionist, Rachel, to a junior editor, and although half the Sterling staff left for new gigs elsewhere, it’s been great bringing fresh blood and new ideas into the fold.
And best of all, Liam’s been right there with me—at least, with me during lunch breaks, and late-afternoon calls, giving me all the insider tips to navigate the cutthroat corporate culture, so I could hit the ground running with my authors.
“It turns out, not all big publishers are soul-sucking bland Death Stars,” I admit. “Plus, the coffee in the break room is way better!”
Liam laughs, pulling me in for another kiss.
* * *
We spend the afternoon snacking on Poppy’s famous guacamole. I float on my back in the deep end, enjoying the bonus sunshine on my face. Eventually I hop out of the pool and dry off a bit, then head inside in search of dessert. I’m just arranging half a dozen bowls of candy on a tray when Liam pads barefoot into the massive kitchen. “I thought I saw you come in here,” he says, wrapping his arms around me from behind. He’s naked except for his swim trunks, his chest broad and smooth and damp against my back. “Can I help?”
“Want to grab the ice cream out of the freezer?” I ask, turning my head to peck him on
the mouth. Water droplets cling to his eyelashes. “I bought a bunch of stuff for a make-your-own sundae bar.” Liam raises his eyebrows, and I shrug inside his arms. “What?” I ask. “My preferred entertaining style is 13-year-old’s bar mitzvah, okay?”
Liam laughs. “I like that about you,” he admits.
“You like a lot of things about me,” I remind him with a grin.
“I do,” he agrees with a nod, ducking his head to nip lightly at the sensitive spot behind my ear. His mouth travels along my jawline until it finally meets mine, our damp bodies melting together as we sink into a long, slow kiss. He trails a hand down my rib cage, fingertips just grazing the skinny little tie on the side of my bikini bottoms, and I shiver.
“You know the only thing that would make this better?” I murmur against his mouth.
Liam rocks his hips against mine in a way that makes it clear he can think of at least several things. “What’s that?” he asks.
“Ice cream,” I remind him cheerfully, pulling away and pulling a couple of cartons out of the stainless steel freezer. I ignore his groan as I pry the lid off the pint of Phish Food and dig out a chocolate-y spoonful, holding it out for him to taste. “Admit it’s the best,” I order.
Liam makes a face but he does it, swallowing obediently before he smiles a slow smile, the one that turns my knees to Jell-O. The one I won’t ever get enough of.
“Okay,” he admits grudgingly. “It’s the best.”
And it is.
THE END
Thank you for reading. The fun isn’t over yet!
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Very Irresistible Playboy
Billionaire Bachelors #1
CHAPTER ONE: HALLIE
The only thing worse than showing up late for the wedding you’re supposed to shoot? Showing up late and finding the groom banging a bridesmaid in the bathroom.
I freeze with my hand on the door, not believing what I’m seeing. Mr. Newlywed and Miss Teal Taffeta are so busy going at it they don’t even notice me. He’s got her up on the sink counter, and if adultery was an Olympic sport, I’d have to give them at least a 6 on the difficulty scale. And with that poofy bridesmaid dress practically swallowing him whole? A solid 7 out of 10, for sure.
Minus 15 for the whole “nasty cheaters” side of things, I mean.
I’m just thinking about sidling on past to reach a stall when his pale ass bobs over the waist of his tuxedo pants. I reel back. Okay, I don’t need to pee that bad.
I stage a hasty retreat, back into the garlands and glitter strewn around the Central Park Boathouse. Now that’s a much prettier view. We’re set up by the building, with five crystal-bedecked white tents overlooking the lake. Even the trees are dripping with crystals, alongside bundles of white roses by the dozen, as the wedding guests sit down for their lavish meal. This has to be the most fancypants wedding I’ve ever been to, but I’m not a guest—I’m on the job today, ready to capture these beautiful memories in pictures that will last a lifetime.
Minus the banging, of course.
I look around for my boss for the day, aka the most in-demand wedding photographer on the East Coast. I’ve become Frederico’s go-to person when his usual assistant decides to play hooky, and despite the fact he’s a fiery bundle of Spanish artistic temperament, when he called me up this morning I couldn’t afford to turn the gig down. Literally. I just signed over the last of my savings to cover this month’s rent check.