A Friendly Arrangement Page 4

  The pounding in her chest subsided, and she grinned. “I’m here to do your bidding, Hot Neighbor Guy.”

  Holly rushed out the door, still wearing a smile. Already she had her jeans unzipped and was wiggling out of her tee as she entered her apartment. She kicked the door shut, slid out of her shoes, and flung the shirt on the sofa as she stepped out of her jeans on the way to her bedroom. With a quick flick of the wrist, she yanked the Wonder Woman costume off the back hook of the bedroom door and moved across the tidy room until she stood in front of the full-size mirror. Her smile fell away as she met her reflection.

  She touched the edge of her mouth, licking her lips, tasting the salt from Roth’s skin. Her attraction to her bestie could overpower her if she wasn’t careful. From the way his lips moved when he talked—in that deep, throbbing voice—to how his eyes brightened when he teased her. Even the way his Adam’s apple worked against his throat when he swallowed. Lately everything about him seemed sexy.

  A wave of heat roared over her. She better push her lewd thoughts aside. Her bestie had come to her rescue, and she didn’t need to confuse gratefulness with attraction, because that’s certainly what she was doing.

  Right?

  Roth Esterly tugged at the nylon clinging to his skin. If he truly were Superman he’d have his suit made out of something other than nylon or spandex. Whatever the hell this material was, wasn’t the way to go. Maybe Hot Neighbor Guy needed to look into that.

  In this room full of people, he didn’t want to attract attention as he shifted his weight from one leg to the other in an effort to loosen the grip of the fabric suffocating his boys. Superman’s reign as the Man of Steel probably had more to do with his patience than his strength. Roth didn’t know how much more he could endure before he got downright rude and tugged. No matter who watched—and that included the mayor off to his right who was dressed as President Kennedy, and his wife playing the role of Jackie rocking a pink pillbox hat.

  Several minutes ago Holly had made her way to the bar to get them another round of drinks. She’d left him with one request, and that was to grab the first table that became available. They’d already been here more than thirty minutes and not one table had opened up. Why’d she think once she left him alone one miraculously would?

  He shifted his weight again, trying to nonchalantly roll his hips in an effort to gain a few seconds of comfort as he eyeballed the tables filled to capacity. He’d have to continue waiting someone out.

  Maybe as payback for this uncomfortable costume he’d ask Holly to wear that red dress she hated when she went with him next weekend to Chicago. The one with the plunging neckline. She’d have about as much fun keeping her girls under wraps as he had making sure his boys had breathing room. The thought of retaliation only gave him a brief glimmer of humor. In her defense, she had no idea how uncomfortable this suit would be.

  But shit, he was getting annoyed.

  The moment a nearby table emptied, he grabbed a seat and sighed heavily as he sat down. He lifted his butt slightly and tugged at the material strangling his thigh and, in effect, his groin. He released his breath as the pressure between his legs eased. Too bad it wouldn’t last long.

  He made eye contact with Holly as she turned from the bar and gave him a playful wink. Almost as if she knew what he’d just done. More than likely she did. She didn’t miss much.

  Hell, he hated how ornery he’d become, but he didn’t feel very Superman-like—and at the moment he didn’t feel much like Hot Neighbor Guy, either. All the bodies packed tight made the room an oven, and the uncomfortable suit sucked all moisture from his skin.

  To make matters worse, he hadn’t eaten since his red-eye from L.A. He could do with a few appetizers. Maybe a hot dog wrapped in bacon, or a fucking cracker with spray cheese. Each time a waiter passed by, his tray either held empty glasses or empty plates that Roth imagined had been filled to the brim with appetizers only moments before.

  Maybe if they spotted Alan before dinner, Holly could get things straightened out, and they could make an exit. Grab a burger or something on the walk home.

  Everything crowded around him and pushed on his chest. He took a deep breath and glanced up at the ceiling, counting to ten. He needed to find a bright side.

  At least you don’t have to worry about the incessant phone calls from Omar.

  Roth touched his phone inside the pocket conveniently sewed on the side of the suit and hidden by his cape. He’d turned it off completely on their walk to DeVos Place.

  After the conversation with his mother earlier that week, Roth knew Omar’s news, but that didn’t mean he wanted to connect with his brother. They’d been fine just the way they were—distant.

  Roth didn’t like where his mind veered. His mood was already sour enough from his uncomfortable costume, lack of eats, and heat. Adding thoughts of Omar or his dad just made it worse. He swallowed his bitterness with the last bit of his drink and then slapped his empty glass on the table. He twisted in his seat, pulling at the seam along his outer thigh. All he could think about was another drink and ripping himself the hell out of this damn costume. Where was a phone booth when you needed one? Of course, Superman used those to get into his suit, so that defeated Roth’s purpose.

  He glanced up, and his gaze instantly connected with Holly across the room. She held two drinks overhead as she nodded to Sonny and Cher and said a short greeting to Martha and George Washington. She’d only managed a few more steps before a bad Elvis impersonator with a white rhinestone-encrusted suit and an even worse black bouffant wig stalled her progress. He leaned to whisper something in her ear, and she tossed back her head as she laughed, revealing the tantalizing column of her throat. Her sound floated across the crowd and settled around him, erasing his foul mood.

  God, she was beyond beautiful. He could watch her all night, but if he were smart, he wouldn’t.

  When had he ever claimed to be smart?

  She had the biggest brown eyes, the most luxurious lashes, and when she stared into his eyes—like she did now from across the room—with a little bit of mischief behind the brown flecks, he felt like the center of her world. Even though she had Elvis at her elbow.

  Roth flicked his dry tongue over his lips and imagined how the delicate skin on her neck would taste, smell. Sweet, salty, sexy. He felt drained, weakened, as his mind filled with thoughts of Holly. She’d suddenly become his Kryptonite.

  Hell, she’d been his Kryptonite for a while now. Especially earlier when they’d hugged. He hadn’t been able to retreat to his room fast enough out of fear he’d do something foolish. Which he almost had when he’d practically fallen on his ass. At least he hadn’t taken the opportunity to turn her innocent kiss into something more meaningful. Something that involved tongues and groping hands.

  He swiped his hand over the top of his head and sighed.

  Shit. You’re a fucking mess.

  Although she had the complete package—looks, personality, and smarts—and a few other things he couldn’t pinpoint right now because his mind couldn’t stray from the way the material of her costume stretched taut over her perfect breasts, he’d never stepped over the friendship line. Not that he hadn’t thought about it a few times. Especially when they were curled up on the couch, inches apart, watching a movie or playing video games. So close her body heat warmed his flesh, and her soapy clean scent filled his lungs.

  He didn’t know how much longer he could fight his attraction. For the last year he’d kept his interest hidden. Clark had been a major deterrent, because Roth would never make a move on another man’s woman.

  But now that he was out of the picture…

  Fuck. He ran his fingers through his hair again. Not to mention their damn arrangement. How could he slap his libido down when he’d be required to touch her in public, act affectionate, look like they were a couple—hell, gaze into her beautiful eyes—without taking a sample of her plush mouth?

  What the hell had he been thinking whe
n he’d suggested they become each other’s plus one?

  On the other hand, their arrangement was genius, and he didn’t want to screw it up. He slumped into his seat with the realization that instead of fending off unwanted offers from well-meaning friends who wanted to set him up with the perfect woman, he’d have to fend off his mild obsession with Holly.

  He pinched the skin between his eyebrows.

  He had no intention of putting their friendship in jeopardy, or their new arrangement.

  But that didn’t stop the fact he couldn’t take his eyes off her. He followed the smooth lines of her body north to south. She didn’t even know how she teased him as she licked her lips and left behind a light sheen, or how each time she took a breath and that damn material stretched across her breasts, his fingers ached to touch her. But the worst part was that damn gold belt. Cinched at her waist, it accentuated the flare of her hips and drew his attention lower to her long legs. The perfect accent to any dress—or in tonight’s instance, a short little patriotic skirt. His already dry mouth became a desert.

  Hell. His gaze skimmed back up to her face until their eyes melted together and sent his mind racing further with thoughts of them naked, limbs entwined, and heavy breathing.

  This time he readjusted the discomfort between his legs for another reason. Good thing the table covered the effects of his lewd thoughts. He needed to get his fucking mind out of the gutter. But hell, how come everything about her had become erotic?

  Roth dragged his gaze from her to do a little people watching. At least in theory. He pushed his empty glass around the table’s surface, trying to give himself a mental cold shower.

  He hated his foul mood, but all the noise, heat, and this damn suit—not to mention the X-rated thoughts of Holly—were wearing his nerves thin. What the hell had he gotten himself into? He’d wanted to help her out, but he hadn’t expected so many people squeezed into one room. Or the way she affected his mind and body.

  He plastered on a smile as she pushed her way through the sea of people to get to their table. He stood to offer her his seat, but she shook her head.

  “No, thanks. I’d rather stand.” She scanned the room wide-eyed. “I almost regret not getting us each an extra drink. Next time it’s your turn to battle the crazies and a slightly inebriated Elvis.” She laughed when someone jostled her from behind and a little of her drink sloshed over and wet her hand. She licked off the liquid and held out his glass. “Here you go, one martini, shaken, not stirred.”

  “Thanks. If you change your mind about the seat, say the word.” Roth sat as he tugged at his side seam. He took a mouthful of the liquid and closed his eyes as it slid down his throat. “Perfect. Nothing hits the spot like a martini. I guess I should’ve come as James Bond instead of Superman.”

  “And who would I have been?” She met his eyes over the rim of her champagne flute.

  “You easily could’ve been Holly Goodhead—”

  “Moonraker, 1979,” they said at the same time.

  She scrunched her nose against the champagne bubbles filling her glass. “I’m more than a comic book geek, aren’t I?”

  “At least I’d give you a run for your money with Bond film trivia.” He took another large swallow of his drink, hoping the burn would wash away his discomfort, thoughts of Omar, and images of Wonder Woman stripping down to her panties. Would they be red, white, and blue? Or stars and stripes? Maybe a combo? A shiver ran through him, and he coughed. Time to change the route his mind had taken. He cleared his throat. “Moonraker is my favorite Bond movie.”

  “Mine, too. I blame my love of Bond on my dad. He’s the biggest fan I know.” She took another sip of her drink as her gaze traveled the room quickly before landing on him again. “Although Holly Goodhead is a cool name, I’d want something a little more over the top. How about Octopussy, or May Day, or Pussy Galore?”

  Roth laughed out loud. All the tension evaporated. Holly could always make him laugh. “All well and good, but how would you dress the part? Especially Pussy Galore.”

  Her mouth twitched with mischief. He could stare at her lips all night long, imagining the places her perfect mouth could travel over his body.

  Down, boy.

  Heat punctured his spine when she laughed—that upbeat, tingly sound that drew him in until he laughed right along with her.

  “Don’t even get me started.” She waved at the air between them. “I have a feeling anything I said would…”

  Her voice trailed off, and the teasing light left her eyes. “There he is. I was just starting to think he hadn’t shown up.” She bit her bottom lip. Her rosy complexion grew ashen, and tension rolled off her as she stood tall. Roth swiveled in his seat to follow her gaze over his shoulder.

  He’d only heard about Alan, had never seen him. Not that he’d see the real him tonight, either. Rhett Butler strolled toward them. He came complete with purposeful strides, a steely glint in his eyes, and an unlit cigar compressed between his lips. All the people in his path parted as if obeying a silent command. He shrugged his left shoulder repeatedly as he tried to rid himself of the hand of the man doing double-time to keep up behind him. The other man dressed in a Superman costume and who resembled Clark. Right down to the scar above his left eye.

  “Holly?” Rhett’s voice held an edge of disbelief and uncertainty. Although Holly didn’t wear a mask, her wig and heavy makeup gave her a different look.

  An uncomfortable silence filled the space crowding around them. Clark’s eyes held pain when he looked at Holly, who gripped her glass until her knuckles turned white, and anger emitted off Rhett in sheets.

  Holly cleared her throat and rubbed her free hand down the side of her skirt until she fisted the hem. “Hello, Alan.”

  Roth didn’t miss the uneasy tone in Holly’s voice, or the way her hand shook as she set her suddenly empty champagne flute on a tray whizzing past in the capable hands of a harried-looking server. She then nodded toward Clark who responded with a stiff half smile. Both of them looked miserable. Tears brightened Holly’s eyes, and she blinked several times. The lines around Clark’s mouth showed his stress and discomfort.

  This situation had to be more than awkward for each of them. Clark really was a nice guy, and the sadness in Holly’s eyes every time she mentioned him told Roth how guilty she felt about how things between them had ended.

  “What are you doing here?” Alan stopped inches from Holly. His jaw ticked as his gaze raked over each of them before finally settling back on her.

  “Let it go.” Clark’s tone sounded apologetic as his gaze shifted from Holly to Roth.

  Alan shrugged him off with a bold look that would melt ice. “I will not. If you can’t handle it, Clark, I suggest you take a walk.”

  Clark’s shoulders slumped, but he didn’t budge.

  Holly’s chin lifted, and she took a step toward Alan. “I wanted to talk to you. Our discussion wasn’t over—”

  Alan held up his hand. “First off, we said all we needed this afternoon. You remember this afternoon, don’t you?”

  Holly’s throat worked double-time as she swallowed. “Yes, but—”

  “No buts. Our contract is up for renewal within two weeks, anyway. During our discussion I informed you that I no longer needed your services after what transpired between you and my brother.” The dark-haired man’s gaze flicked over Clark before returning to Holly.

  The differences between the two brothers could fill a book. Where Clark was light, Alan was dark; where Clark had an easygoing manner, Alan was all business. One was tall, one was even taller. The list seemed endless.

  Alan cleared his throat. “And if I remember correctly, which I know I do, I also informed you that since you are no longer my employee your presence tonight wouldn’t be required. That you had the nerve to show up without an invitation is the equivalent of stealing.”

  “Stealing?” Holly squeaked. “I’ll pay for a ticket.”

  “We’re sold out.”

&nbs
p; She sighed, her bottom lip quivering. “I just need to talk to you. Maybe if you’d listened instead of hanging up on me, I wouldn’t have felt the need to show up here. I deserve to have my say.”

  Clark’s attention shifted from the floor to Holly. “Holly, I didn’t know he’d fired you. I’m sorry. None of this was supposed to happen.”

  Holly’s mouth opened, then closed. All she could manage was to squeeze Clark’s arm. He rewarded her with a lopsided grin before he cast his eyes to the floor again. Apparently he didn’t stand up to his brother, either.

  Roth had heard about enough. Alan’s tone shot a river of steam through Roth’s veins. All thoughts of his hunger and discomfort fell to the wayside. Clark and Holly—especially Holly—didn’t deserve to be treated with Alan’s condescending arrogance. Roth pushed off his seat to stand beside his friend. He didn’t want to go off half-cocked, but he wanted some answers. Hell, his friend deserved some answers, and if he could help her get them, he would.

  He cleared his throat, determined to keep his cool as Alan rambled on about Holly’s lack of manners and professionalism.

  “Excuse me.” Roth’s voice boomed, and all three snapped their attention in his direction. “For one, we’ll be making a sizable donation to the hospital even though we couldn’t get tickets—”

  “Because we’re sold out.” Alan puffed out his chest. “That doesn’t excuse either of you for being here without invites. And who the hell are you anyway?” His gaze scoured over Roth.

  He didn’t even flinch, merely gave him a shit-ass grin. “I’m Holly’s friend, and I’m not finished speaking yet.”

  “The hell—”

  “Second, why can’t you calm down long enough to let Holly say her piece, and really listen? She’s been a good employee. An asset to your business. You owe it to her. Afterward, if you still feel the need to end your contract, then at least everyone has had an opportunity to be heard. Nobody wants to be brushed aside.” Roth rested his hand on the small of Holly’s rigid back, giving her his support.