Page 18 of City of Liars

“Say something,” he said, and it sounded like a plea.

How had we gotten here—from doing the deed on his piano to intimate personal revelations and bitter arguments, then back again? I wanted to ask him if he’d been drinking, but he’d just apologized, then given me a much-needed self-esteem boost. I settled for, “First of all, that doesn’t sound particularly level-headed. And second of all, it’s just sex, Theo.”

“Sure,” he said in that throaty rasp of his. “Doesn’t change that I want you.”

Goosebumps rippled up my arms. If I put this morning’s disaster aside and just focused on the physical—yeah, I wanted him, too. But he was right. It was a terrible idea. The worst.

“Talk to me, Liv,” he coaxed. “Tell me you’ve been thinking about me too. Or...not, and I’ll quit making an ass of myself.”

The wind blew through the hundred-year-old oaks that bordered my backyard, its cool touch soothing my fevered skin. I tipped my face up to it, as if the breeze could carry my words away. “Even if I had been, what would be the point of talking about it?” I did my best to sound businesslike, and not like I was envisioning him on the chaise next to me, his body warming mine in place of the blanket. “Nothing’s changed, has it?”

It was his turn to be silent. At last he said, “I guess not. But I’m not accustomed to having problems I can’t solve. Which makes me exceptionally motivated to do something about this one.”

“I’m a problem?”

“No. The fact that I can’t stop thinking about you is the problem, given the unique obstacles we’ve encountered during the short tenure of our relationship thus far.”

Now I did start to laugh. “You make it sound like a business merger gone wrong. We don’t have a relationship. Unless you count having awesome sex four times, discovering a feud between our families, and having one of us stomp out of the other’s house. If that’s your definition of a relationship, then, sure.”

He gave a deep chuckle. “Awesome sex, huh?”

“Do you disagree?”

“Not in the least.” His voice took on an edge that had me shifting on the cushions of the chaise. “Just glad to hear we’re on the same page.”

Oh, God. “But I don’t see how that changes anything. You’re still a Dressler. And I haven’t changed my mind about giving my grandmother the shock of a lifetime for what might be no reason at all. Which leaves us where? Pretending this weekend never happened? Because from where I’m sitting, that looks like the safest option.”

Something clinked on the other side of the line—a glass? Maybe he was drinking. “Humor me a minute, Liv. Let’s start over. Imagine we’re not destined to be mortal enemies and tell me why you were so pissed off when you answered the phone.”

Wrapping the blanket around my body, I shivered against the cold. “I’d just hung up on my ex-husband. I thought you were Gray, calling back to make amends.”

“Your ex, huh?” His voice was wary. “Can I ask what you were fighting about?”

Maybe this would be the deal-breaker that would make him decide I wasn’t so irresistible, after all. Nothing killed romance for a certain kind of man like single motherhood, and I had the failed first dates to prove it. “Our daughter, actually.”

“A daughter,” he repeated. “How old is she? And you and this ex, do you have any plans to reconcile?”

I got to my feet, on edge. “She’s eight. And heck no. He’s a liar and a cheater. I’ve had enough of that in my life.”

“So have I,” he said, biting out the words.

“Oh? Do you have an ex-wife lurking in the shadows?”

“Me? Ha.” He laughed, but this time it was bitter. “No wife. No kids. Not even a vengeful ex desperate to get her hands back on me, sorry to say.”

“I have a hard time envisioning that.”

“It’s the truth.”

I drew a deep breath. He’d made an effort, wanting to delve beneath the surface. I could do the same. And he hadn’t run for the hills at the first mention of Chloe, even if that might’ve been for the best. “Tell me about you, then. If you don’t have an ex or a kid, what do you have?”

I could almost see him shrug. “I have my work.”

“The bar?”

“Ah, no.” He sounded sheepish. “The bar’s a side business. I’m a venture capitalist. I own property in New York, and down here. I’ve backed a lot of startup gaming and tech companies and done well at it. So now, I have the freedom to split my time between the city and my beach house. I enjoy my work. And frankly, I’m good at it.”

I sank down onto the built-in bench that bordered the deck, trying to integrate this information into the picture I’d formed of Theo. He wasn’t just a business owner; he had serious dough. Which meant whatever poverty the Dresslers had come from, he’d worked his butt off to get out of it. Unlike Gray, he had no interest in or need for my money. That pleased me, more than it should. What difference did it make in a one-night stand?