More, Please (Please Series Book 3) Read online

  The next day I poked my head into the spare bedroom Hunter used as an office. He sat hunched over the desk with his hands clasped and his arms flexed.

  “You okay?” I asked softly, only my head visible. He’d had an outburst a moment before, something he only did when dealing with the contract with Blaire.

  He looked up and unclasped his hands. A smile adorned his face. “That waiver will hold up in court if my father takes it that far. Blaire’s father had already backed out, and the small print was written with Blaire having absolutely no power of her own. It’s resolved. I’m free of it.”

  Delight bubbled up through me. I stepped further into the room. “Are you relieved?”

  “Very.” He sighed. “It’s amazing. It’s like a weight has been lifted. I had no idea it had affected me this much. I have you to thank.”

  “Meh.” I waved him away, leaning against the wall and crossing my arms. “Just call me private eye.”

  “For that, too, but I meant…for helping me see that there was more to life than a shallow contract and a stressful domestic setting.”

  “Stressful domestic setting? I don’t think that does what you’ve been dealing with justice. I mean, finding strange, naked men on your coffee table must have traumatized you.”

  “Come here.” He held out a hand. I took it and let him pull me onto his lap. He put his arms around my waist. “Nothing really traumatized me, no. But it was a constant nuisance. I didn’t like going home.”

  “Again. Don’t blame you. She’s very pretty, but insane.”

  He gave me a squeeze. “My dad knows you drugged him. He says he’s going to fight that waiver.”

  I froze in Hunter’s arms. He gave me another squeeze. “He’s not going to get proof for his suspicions. You have nothing to worry about.”

  I let out a sigh of relief. “But you said the waiver would hold up—how else would he fight it?”

  “I told him you had a recording, both video and audio, of your dealings with him. He said a lot of things he wouldn’t want anyone to hear last night. With that document in excellent shape, and his signature legit, he’s got nothing. He can’t even hold over me that he was with you—I told him about the lotion.”

  “Wait…” I turned so I could see Hunter’s face. “How do you know what was said?”

  “I watched the transmission. It’s saved on your computer.”

  My mouth dropped open. It hadn’t been edited. Rodge had signed the paper because I said I loved Hunter. Which, yes, was redundant to the other video, but this time I’d said it. It’d come out of my own mouth.

  “I don’t think it’s healthy to sleep as much as you do.” He winked and stood me up.

  “But…” I blinked down at him. “You’re not mad? Or weirded out about things…that were said…”

  His eyes softened. “I’m not sure. And I’m battling some things that still haunt me from the past, but no. I won’t fire you for breaking that rule.”

  The love rule, he meant. He was okay with me loving him.

  The warmth that had been growing these past weeks flooded me. I’d dropped the L-bomb prematurely before. It hadn’t worked out well.

  I smiled like an idiot. I didn’t even care that he had no plans to say it back yet. He was okay with it. The rest would come. “Okay, then.”

  “Remember, next Friday is the dinner party with my mother. Blaire is going to be there, so…we’ll have that to deal with.”

  Hunter turned back to his laptop as if he hadn’t dropped a huge bomb in the middle of this conversation.

  “Blaire? At your mother’s?”

  “My mom sent the invite to my house with both of our names on it. She doesn’t agree with my dealings with Blaire, but she’s the type to ignore unpleasant things—it’s how she coped with my father for so long.”

  “Does Blaire know you’re definitely out of the contract?”

  Hunter leaned against the desk again, bowing his head. His shoulders flexed in irritation. “Yes. I’ve given her a month to move out, and she’s responded with a great many threats. She’s going to turn up wherever I am. I have no idea who she’ll bring to my mother’s house, if anyone, but her sole focus will be me. She doesn’t like losing.”

  “Is that who you were yelling at?”

  “I don’t yell, Livy. Although I do, occasionally, loudly state important facts.”

  “Ah.” I smirked and made my way to my office, which was a storm of boxes. Janelle had done a great job bringing everything over from my old apartment. She’d even gotten help, she’d said. Jane had stayed out of the way or opened the door, always smiling pleasantly. Those months when I didn’t have much money obviously strained her view of me, and she was another woman who could hold a grudge.

  I pouted as I read the rooms of the house written on the side of the boxes. There were three total—bedroom, bathroom, and kitchen. The kitchen only had one box, and within it, two appliances. Or so the detailed description noted. I had a feeling the appliances were things Jane wanted to get rid of, because I didn’t remember having anything.

  I moved three bedroom boxes out of the way so I could get to the first bathroom one I’d seen. Tearing into it, I found soap and face wash and things I’d already bought to tide me over. I didn’t find my three unopened packs of birth control pills.

  Frowning, I looked for the next bathroom box. “Why are they all on the bottom?” I asked in exasperation.

  “What’s that?”

  I jumped and spun around. Hunter paused in the door with raised eyebrows.

  “I was talking to myself. Butt out.” I turned back to the stack of boxes.

  “I was thinking of going out to dinner, and then stopping by my house and getting a few things. When can you be ready?”

  I blew out a breath, blowing my hair away from my face. “Now, if you help me get these bathroom boxes out when we get back.”

  “Sure. Let’s go.”

  “Pushy.” I smiled and followed him into our—my—room.

  I hadn’t thought of this flat as being solely mine since I’d moved in, and neither had he. I wondered what would happen when Blaire finally moved out of his place. Would I stay with him again, or would he continue coming here when he wanted to see me?

  The shower started. “Come in here, Livy. I need to fuck you.”

  All the thoughts fell out of my head. I’d have to revisit my desire to skip toward the bathroom. That couldn’t be normal. “Yes, sir.”

  The week went by quickly. Hunter stayed over every night, setting off before me in the mornings, as usual, but often leaving the office with me. He worked out, ate, and finished up a few things from “my” building. Mrs. Foster now had a key to the flat and made breakfast for us, with Janelle doing the late shift and making dinner. Because of the shift changes and the two assistants combining efforts, Hunter and I got a fresh meal whenever we wanted it. Between them, they cleaned, straightened, and organized our whole lives.

  I really loved my life. Money might not be able to buy happiness, but it could sure ease the troubles and promote laziness.

  The only thing that was still going horribly wrong was Blaire. The woman would not let it rest. She’d found out where the flat was, and waited for Hunter a few days a week. Once she got face time, she was slinky and sexy and ready to seduce him at a moment’s notice. She’d even reached for his zipper on the street like a crack-whore needing a fix and willing to do anything to get it. The whole situation was madness.

  “You have that dinner tonight?” Brenda asked as I was packing my computer up.

  I glanced at the clock. It was still only four, leaving me three hours to get ready. I’d probably need all three, too, because Blaire would be there, looking drop-dead gorgeous.

  “Yeah.” I slung the pack over my shoulder. “With the mother.”

  “She’s a sweet lady,” Brenda said, swiveling in her chair and facing me. “Mind your manners, though, because she’s very…wealthy.”

  “Like, proper
?”

  Brenda gave one large head-bob. “Yes. Prim and proper at all times. It stresses me out.”

  “When did you meet her?”

  “She’s come through here a few times. Usually for Hunter’s birthday. She’ll take him to lunch or dinner.”

  I stepped into the doorway to Hunter’s office. “I’m headed out.”

  He looked up from his computer, nodded, then turned back to his work. He didn’t balk at the extra time it would take me to get ready. He knew the score.

  “You’re supposed to say goodbye…” I waited for a reaction. I saw his lips quirk upward, but he ignored me. He would start saying please, thank you, and goodbye, so help me God. He might even give me chocolates and flowers. Why not? If I was going to put the effort in, I might as well go big.

  Just not today. I had to beautify.

  “Okay. See you on the flip side,” I said to Brenda as I passed.

  “Yup. Have a good weekend.”

  Bert was waiting for me by the curb. It then took an hour to get home. Those seven miles were a killer. I really hated living so far away from the city center.

  As we pulled up, Bert let out a low whistle. “That’s not good.”

  I glanced up from my phone where I’d been looking at code. It took a second for my eyes to adjust. When they did, I saw what Bert was looking at. Scrawled across the garage in bright pink spray paint was the word “Bitch!”

  “Great,” I muttered, looking hard at the door. It was still closed, thank God. Hopefully that meant she hadn’t been able to get into the house. I had no doubt that this had been done by Blaire. She was a sore loser.

  “Do you want me to go in with you?” Bert asked.

  “Yes, please,” I said in a small voice. “It looks like Blaire wasn’t thrilled Hunter got out of the contract.”

  Bert clicked on the hazards and got out of the car. He came around and opened my door before shadowing me through. The walls in the hallway looked fine, and the door to the flat itself was untouched.

  “Here, Livy, let me.” Bert took the keys from my shaking hand and opened the door. He stepped in first, the giant muscles on his body flexing. His huge arms drifted away from his sides, ready to fight.

  I blinked at him for a moment. I’d never seen him get aggressive. He’d always been sweet around me. But as he walked into the kitchen with nimble feet, perfectly balanced, it was like seeing a complete stranger.

  “What did you say you did before being Hunter’s driver?” I asked with a dry mouth. I knew he would never hurt me, but truth be told, I worried about what he would do to whoever he found.

  “I did a little boxing before playing in the NFL.” He passed me by, having looped around through the living room, and was now headed toward the back of the flat. “I think it’s okay, Livy.”

  I stared after him. “The NFL? And you need a job?”

  A moment later he walked toward me again, his body seemingly deflated and his happy-go-lucky outlook back in place. I wasn’t fooled, though.

  “It’s clear.” He smiled and handed back my keys. “I was second string in the NFL. I didn’t make millions like some of the others.”

  “Uh huh.”

  “Mister Carlisle pays well.”

  “Uh huh.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  I started and tore my eyes away from the man I really needed to get to know better. “Sorry.”

  “Anyway, I’ll see ya, okay? Knock ’em dead!” Bert gave me a pat on the shoulder before leaving.

  I glanced around the empty flat. That was nuts.

  Without waiting any longer, I hurried into the shower. A quick scrub later and I was in front of my closet. The doorbell chimed.

  “Who…” I stayed still, listening. It chimed again. “…is that?”

  Worried that it might be Blaire, I hurried to the front of the flat and edged closer to the window. I peeked out and saw an unknown car in the driveway, blocking the garage, and a brunette with a rolling suitcase waited at the door. It wasn’t Blaire.

  In confusion, I went to the speaker system as the door chimed again. I pushed the button to talk. “Who is it?”

  “Olivia? It’s Pat. I’m here to do your hair and makeup.”

  Pat! She had been the mastermind behind my appearance when I went to the first business meeting with Hunter.

  I eagerly pushed the button to buzz her in and opened the door. I heard her clomping up the steps. She was looking around with appreciative eyes when she reached the landing. “Nice place. You’ve moved up in the world.”

  “It’s Hunter’s. This is his solution to not wanting to spend the night in my old place.”

  “Don’t blame him. That apartment was a disaster.” She wheeled her suitcase into the living room and whistled. “This is definitely Hunter. Look at all this space. You’re a lucky girl.”

  “So he doesn’t trust me to do myself up for his mom, huh?” I asked with a grin.

  She brought over a chair from the dining room and placed it in the living room area. She lowered her suitcase so it was lying flat before unzipping it and removing makeup items. “He just said you needed help preparing for a special occasion.” Preparing, in Pat language, was relaxing. “Get the champagne flowing, girlie, and grab your dress. I want to see what I’m working with.”

  “I don’t think we…” I opened the fridge as the front gate clanged. The door opened a moment later, admitting a red-faced and bustling Janelle.

  She looked around, smiled at Pat, and then hurried into the kitchen. “I’m so sorry I’m late,” she called. “The bus just stopped for no reason and told us all to get out—I had to walk eight blocks!”

  “I didn’t even know you were supposed to be here.” I wandered to where I could see her. Her upper half was behind the door of the fridge.

  “You have my schedule.” Janelle took out a bottle of champagne and some chocolate-covered strawberries.

  “Have it, yeah. Look at it, no.”

  “C’mon, let’s go,” Pat said, shooing me toward my room. “I want to see what you’re wearing.”

  I led her to the back of the flat and left her standing at my bedroom door as I pulled out a sophisticated dress in deep, sparkly blue. I laid it on the bed as I pulled out some jewelry to go with it.

  “Shoes?” Pat asked, analyzing the selection.

  I pulled out some black heels, and then a pair of strappy sandals. “One of these.”

  “Black heels. It will age you just a little. You don’t want to seem too young and hip with a parent. Okay. I think I got it.”

  “Did Hunter have any directions?” The last time Pat had helped me, Hunter had a very precise way he wanted me to look. Turned out his ideas were perfect and looked awesome. He knew how to look the part better than anyone I knew.

  “Nope. He’s pretty laid-back about this one. It surprised me.” She glanced at my robe. “Put on something not so fluffy and meet me in the living room. Let’s get started.”

  It took Pat an hour and a half to get me looking like a million dollars. The woman was a genius of the highest degree. Hunter arrived halfway through the transformation, grabbed a glass of brandy, asked Janelle to make him something to eat, and escaped to the bedroom.

  “And the finishing touches…” Pat fastened the jewelry on and dropped the shoes at my feet. When everything was ready, she and Janelle stepped back.

  “Lovely!” Janelle exclaimed, smiling.

  Pat smiled, too. “Perfect. You’ll knock ’em dead.”

  “I’ll get Mr. Carlisle,” Janelle said, walking toward the back of the flat.

  Butterflies filled my stomach at what came next. “Oh God, I’m going to meet his mother.”

  “Relax. You’re smart and sweet—you’ll do fine.” Pat sat on the couch with a glass of champagne.

  Hunter came into the room wearing a casual dress shirt without a tie. The deep cream hugged his cut chest and cinched down his trim waist perfectly before tucking into black slacks. I closed my eyes as h
is delicious smell hit me, his cologne mixing with his natural scent, distinctly man. Safe, protective, and mine.

  I smiled as he stopped in front of me. His gaze took in my dress, my accessories, and finally stopped on my eyes. “Perfect. You look beautiful.”

  “Thanks,” I said, reaching forward and slipping my hand in his.

  He held it for a moment, squeezing before checking the time. “Shall we?”

  The butterflies came back in force. I blew out a breath and gulped down the last of my champagne. “Okay.”

  “Here.” Pat hopped up and handed me a nude shade of lipstick. “Remember to reapply.”

  “Got it.” I took my clutch from Janelle before turning so she could drape a wrap over me. Hunter shrugged into a leather jacket and waited for me by the door.

  “You ladies going to just hang out?” I asked as I made my way to Hunter.

  “Yeah. There’s all these appetizers Janelle made, not to mention champagne—” Pat resettled on the couch.

  I looked at Hunter. We always had Janelle and Mrs. Foster in the flat, but it was weird for Pat to assume she could hang when the owners were gone.

  Hunter answered my reservations by winking and slipping his hand around my waist. “Ready?” he asked quietly.

  I shrugged. “Sure.” I waved at the ladies and let him guide me down to the garage and into his car.

  “You’re driving this time, huh?” I asked as the garage door opened and he started the car.

  “Yes. There is plenty of parking.”

  “And you don’t mind Pat staying in the house when we’re not there?”

  “No. I’ve known her for a long time. I trust her, and I trust Janelle. They’ll look after things. It’s no different than leaving Kimberly behind.”

  That made sense.

  He paused in the driveway as the garage door closed. I could see his lips thin as his eyes trained on the pink scrawl. He didn’t say anything, though, just waited until the garage was fully closed before backing out.

  Hunter’s mother lived across the Golden Gate Bridge in a stupidly wealthy area where a large house would be priced in the millions. Not a mansion, just a large house. It was the area where all the wealthy people, who worked in downtown San Francisco in extremely well-paying jobs, lived.