Dirty Favor (The Dirty Suburbs Book 4) Read online

  I steal a glance at him out of the corner of my eye and I just about have a heart attack when I find that his gaze is already there. He's staring at me.

  His eyes are warm and almost shy as he throws an awkward smile my way. "Hey…"

  "Hey..."

  "You did really good tonight."

  I lean against the arm of the couch and watch him. “I think Marquette really likes you,” I say.

  He nods with restrained excitement coloring his expression. “Yeah, things are going really well. I’m almost positive that he’ll hire our firm.”

  “That’s great,” I say, biting down on my lip to keep from smiling too hard. I love the fact that I may have played a small role in getting the businessman interested in Prescott and his law office.

  His hand drops to my thigh as his eyes zero in on my mouth and his tongue rolls across his own lips. His chest rises sharply and I hold my breath.

  He’s going to kiss me. Oh my god. My pussy trembles. The entire body paralyzes with anticipation.

  But then his eyes swerve up to mine. He gives me a guilty look and disappointment crashes about in my chest. Prescott turns back to the movie, plopping his head back on the overstuffed cushions behind him as he rakes his hand through his hair. “Just a few more days of this charade and we can go back to our lives.”

  My heart sinks to the floor at the reminder that this life that I’m becoming accustomed to is about to be taken away from me. And it hurts like hell to realize that Prescott is actually looking forward to it.

  Chapter 11

  I glance at the pile of dresses hanging on the clothing rack and I feel a migraine brewing behind my eyes. This is truly a tomboy’s worst nightmare.

  Taffeta and organza in every shade imaginable. Sequins. Rhinestones. Venice appliqués…Shoot me now.

  “Spin around for me?” Sanaya is sitting in one of the boutique’s plush velvet chairs, legs crossed at the knees, holding a champagne flute by its stem.

  Effortlessly chic.

  “I really like this one.” She speaks slowly as she tilts her head to the side and studies the dress attentively.

  I examine my reflection in the polished wrought-iron mirror again. “It’s nice.” Coral-toned lace molds to my every curve, emphasizing the form of my ass, and intricate beading covers the halter bodice, drawing attention to my heaving cleavage. Is it too…much? I silently wonder if Prescott would like it. Would he think that I look beautiful?

  How much does this thing cost, anyway? I reach for the price tag.

  Sanaya leaps out of her seat so fast it causes champagne to spill over the rim of the glass. “Don’t worry about the price,” she says swatting my hand away. “The law firm’s paying. Live it up!”

  I laugh, though I still find it ridiculous to spend that kind of money for one dress, for one night.

  Just then, an attendant ushers Prescott into the room. He’s clad in one of his panty-melting business suits with a lock of hair dripping over his brow and stubble fuzzing up his strong jaw. His eyes instantly find mine in the mirror. He stares at me wordlessly, seemingly frozen in place.

  “Hey boss,” Sanaya says as she sets her champagne flute down on the glass table next to the tray of canapés she’s been enjoying. “We’re still trying to decide on a dress but I have to go get your tux from the tailor’s and they’re closing in thirty minutes…”

  “Go, go,” Prescott tells her but his eyes never leave me.

  “Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Sanaya gathers her purse and coat. “Annaleigh – choose this one,” she tells me with a wink over her shoulder. “This dress is a winner.” And then, she slips out the door.

  Prescott is standing in the same spot, his eyes still glued to me, lips still shut.

  I spin slowly to face him, holding out my arms at my sides to give him an unobstructed view of the gown. "Do you like it?" I ask hesitantly.

  He takes way too long to answer. He just stands there, his eyes scanning me from head to toe. Fuck – he hates it. I turn back toward my reflection in defeat, silently cursing my enormous ass. I really need to lay off the chicken wing flavored corn chips.

  In the mirror, I see him approaching over my shoulder. I hold my breath and wait as he takes unhurried strides to close the gap between us. Now he's standing close. So close I can feel the pulsing energy of his body, I can feel his warm breath in the space between my shoulder blades. I have to restrain myself from tossing my head back against his chest and moaning.

  His muscular arms reach around me and gently lift my glasses off of my face. His eyes stay on mine as he slowly folds the glasses and places them in my hands. I shiver when his palms gently cup my shoulders before skimming down my arms. Now, I’m covered in goose bumps.

  He leans into my ear and growls. "I like it, Annaleigh. So much." My sex clenches at hoarse strain in his voice.

  I turn around, putting some distance between us. My brain doesn’t work when his body is this close to mine. My eyes leave his and travel to his lips, then down his throat. I take in the broad shoulders stretching the fabric of his suit jacket. My gaze continues down his long, lean frame. And that’s when I see it – the erection pushing against his zipper. My pulse spikes.

  He wants me. Prescott Brooks wants me.

  One of his arms loops around the curve of my back and draws my body nearer to his while his other hand finds itself tangled in my hair. “I’ve tried my best to keep my hands off you, Annaleigh,” he groans in a hoarse tone as his thumb caresses the back of my neck, “because I didn’t want to be the asshole who takes advantage of a delicate situation. But I can’t resist you anymore.”

  All I can do is mewl as his lips move down onto mine and his manly smell floods my senses.

  Prescott Brooks is kissing me.

  Soft, tentative, restrained.

  He’s kissing me. And just like that, every other kiss before this one ceases to exist, every other man besides him ceases to be relevant.

  A current of arousal zings through me, making me light-headed. Something possesses me to clasp my hands on his cheeks, holding him there. I won’t let him change his mind this time.

  His mouth presses hard against mine, coaxing my lips open so his tongue can slide inside. I’ve imagined this moment so many times and now that it’s actually happening, now that Prescott is actually kissing me, my heart is beating hard enough to fracture my ribs.

  I don’t ask myself what it means. I don’t wonder about what comes next. All I allow myself to do is feel.

  My breath shakes its way past my swollen lips as he pulls away. His eyes are scorching hot caramel as they search my face.

  “Prescott…” I moan.

  The attendant enters right then. The energy in the room shifts as Prescott and I stumble away from each other. Seemingly oblivious to what she walked in on, she addresses him politely. “Can I get you a drink, sir? Espresso? Champagne?”

  He clears his throat, pulling the knot of his tie away from his neck. “Water, please,” he croaks. “Cold water.”

  Chapter 12

  Sanaya tugs up the side zipper of my gown as Blakely helps me slip into my heels. Looking into the full-length mirror on my bedroom wall, I can hardly believe that it’s me. Tonight, I’m not just Annaleigh, the geeky chick with the tomboy style and the thick-rimmed glasses working her ass off to become a lab tech. Tonight, I look like a lady.

  Even my dead-beat mother would be proud.

  Sanaya grins as she stares at my reflection. “You look like a pageant queen right now,” she says seeming rather proud of her handy work.

  I try to smile and accept the compliment in a way that says ‘confident, elegant woman’. “Thank you.”

  “But you'd better be tousled, hickeyed-up and bowlegged next time I see you,” she adds with a smirk. “Then I'll know that I've done my job."

  Blakely snickers quietly in the background.

  "Prescott sees me as a little sister,” I argue even as I think back to the kiss he stole when we were
in the dress shop. Maybe it was misunderstanding. Maybe he was just staying in character.

  Maybe it meant nothing at all.

  Sanaya chuckles. "Don’t go saying that in public. That kind of shit gets frowned upon in these parts."

  I roll my eyes.

  Blakely interjects in a soft voice. “Seriously, Annie. You look amazing. You’re going to blow Prescott’s mind.”

  “Seriously,” Sanaya says, nodding in confirmation. "He's gonna fuck the shit out of you tonight. I hope you know that."

  I sigh as I pick up my purse off of the table and give myself a final onceover. “No, he’s not, Sanaya. Prescott doesn’t see me that way.”

  Sanaya turns to Blakely and speaks as if I’m not standing right here. “Every time he looks at her head-on, she does this thing where she holds her breath and her face goes red like she’s about to pass out…Kind of freaks me out a little bit.”

  I nearly smack Blakely when she nods in agreement, a knowing smile shaping her lips. She’s supposed to be on my side.

  “Keep deluding yourself, honey,” Sanaya tells me as she picks up her phone and snaps a few pictures of me. “When you find yourself bent over doggy-style behind the trellis gazebo at the edge of the mayor’s garden, don’t say you weren’t forewarned.”

  I turn up my nose at her. “You’re ridiculous.”

  I’d love to stand here and argue with her about whether or not Prescott and I will end the night shagging in the bushes but my phone dings right then, notifying me that I’ve received a text message.

  I take the phone out of my clutch and read the text.

  Prescott: I’m running late. Won’t be able to pick you up. We’ll meet at the venue. But I’ve made arrangements for your transportation.

  Disappointment floods my chest. I’d been looking forward to riding to the mayor’s home with Prescott tonight. I’d been excited about walking into the room on his arm.

  What the hell is wrong with you, Annaleigh? This isn’t a Bachelorette Rose Ceremony. This is a business arrangement. Tonight is about advancing my career and Prescott’s. There’s nothing romantic about it. That kiss has my perspective all screwy.

  I tap out a quick reply to him.

  Annaleigh: Great. I’m almost ready :)

  Prescott: The driver will buzz when he arrives. See you soon.

  “Okay, I’m ready to leave,” I announce to Blakely and Sanaya. They give me an over-the-top last minute pep talk which falls somewhere between awkward ‘birds and bees’ speech by well-meaning parents and cringe-worthy relationship advice from our small town newspaper.

  I slip into my coat then open my purse to do a final check for the essentials – keys, lip-gloss, breath mints. But something crinkles loudly and scratches the inside of my palm. I gasp horrified when I pull a string of condoms from the depths of my clutch.

  I did not put that there!

  My gaze shoots to Prescott’s half-crazy secretary. "Sanaya, why are there condoms in my purse?"

  The corners of her lips tip upward. "Because when he sees you in that dress he won't be able to keep his hands off of you." She says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

  Even as I'm blushing, I scoff. "And how do you know I'd let him? "

  "Hun, have you seen him? The man is freaking gorgeous. My great-grandmother would let him."

  Blakely giggles, covering her mouth with her hand.

  "You’re ridiculous!" I groan.

  But Sanaya isn’t done yet. "And don't worry, I put condoms in the inside pocket of his tuxedo coat, his pants, the glove compartment in his car. I have a feeling you'll be needing all of them tonight."

  I growl at her.

  But she isn’t deterred. She casually leans in and brushes lint from my coat. "You'll be thanking me in nine months when you're not pushing a ten-pound Prescott junior out of your birth canal."

  “You are not sane,” I mumble.

  She mutters under her breath about her thankless job before she wanders off the use the washroom. Blakely and I stand alone at the front door. She glances over her shoulder to make sure that Sanaya is out of earshot. She leans close to me. “You shaved, right?”

  Seriously? What is it with the two of them? You’d think I have ‘whore’ stamped across my forehead.

  “Blakely, Prescott and I aren’t having sex tonight. This isn’t a date. We aren’t a couple. I’m just doing him a favor and he’ll do me a favor in return. That’s all.”

  Blakely laughs softly, her eyes lit with amusement. “Keep telling yourself that.”

  Just as I open my mouth to argue with her, the doorbell rings. A wave of nauseating uncertainty hits me when I realize that this is the moment of truth. “I’ve gotta go,” I say mustering all of my courage.

  She puts her hand on my arm and I pause, bringing my eyes to hers. “Remember, Annie – you’re the heroine of this story. And nobody likes a spineless, whiny heroine…Go get that prince!”

  I chuckle softly. And then, I slip out the door.

  Chapter 13

  My stomach rumbles nervously as I gather the skirt of my dress in my fist and climb the stairs to the entrance of the mayor’s mansion. The doorman helps me through the door and I smile in a show of gratitude. As I step into the venue, the grand ballroom just takes my breath away. With its Renaissance-era paintings, crystal chandeliers and gold-plated ironwork, it’s like something from out of a storybook. And it’s teeming with elegantly-dressed, sophisticated people.

  But when my eyes finally find Prescott mingling in the crowd, the beauty of the room ceases to matter. One look at him in that sleek black tux and it's clear – I've fallen in love with my best friend's brother.

  And just like in a movie, he looks away from his conversation and up toward the spiral staircase at the perfect time. Our eyes lock. It's an electric moment. He smiles and – god – how are my wobbly knees supposed to hold me up all night when he's smiling like that? I take shallow, wispy breaths, attempting to stabilize myself.

  I stand on the landing, holding tight to my clutch as he makes his way up the sweeping staircase to meet me. And the way he looks at me, you'd swear that all this was real. That he really does want me. That he wants to marry me and make me his wife and never let me go.

  He’s standing in front of me now. Even in my heels, he’s much taller than I am. I have to tilt my head back to look into his eyes.

  “Annaleigh…” he breathes my name and goosebumps rise across my skin. I can almost hear the air crackling around us as his hungry eyes roam my frame. "You look ethereal, otherworldly."

  I fidget, brushing my bangs away from my eyes. I scoff. "Yeah, like an alien."

  He laughs softly, stepping closer. "No. Like an angel."

  Swoon.

  The urge to deflect the compliment rises within me, but I push it away. Tonight, I’m going to drink in his attention, I’m going to soak it up, pretend that this is all real. Because in just a few hours, it will all be over. “Thank you,” I say in a small voice. I bite my bottom lip to deal with the jitters.

  "You're nervous," he observes quietly, the tiniest smile on his lips.

  “No, I'm not, " I say in a small but defiant voice.

  He ignores my weak denial and brushes his fingers across my bottom lip. My whole body responds. My nipples tighten, my breathing hitches and I feel a zing of arousal between my thighs. "Don't be nervous,” he whispers against the lobe of my ear. “We've got this."

  He threads his fingers through mine and carefully leads me down the stairs to a table of well-dressed couples all older than we are. I fill my lungs with a steeling breath and straighten my shoulders, trying to look like a woman who belongs on Prescott Brooks' arm.

  His hand slides possessively over my hip as he introduces me to each person in turn. My whole body is tingling as I descend gracefully into the chair that he pulls out for me.

  ‘Cause tonight, I’m not clumsy tomboy Annaleigh. I’m a lady, goddammit!

  Chapter 14

  G
emma tips back her flute, slurping down the last of her champagne. We’re both still choking on laughter at a story she just told me about her days as an airhostess before becoming Mrs. Harvey Marquette.

  I slip my phone out of my clutch and realize that it’s already been two hours since we’d slipped out the ballroom’s side doors with a bottle of Veuve Clicquot. Gemma had managed to charm it away from one of the servers. We found seats on the stone stairs leading down into the garden and we’ve been chatting and laughing like old girlfriends. She’s dished out marriage advice, secret family recipes, and she even gave me tips on making Botox look natural. In the back of my mind, I feel bad that I’ve been misleading her about my relationship with Prescott.