Full Disclosure (Homefront: The Sheridans Book 2) (22 page)

~ KIM ~

My heart flutters in my chest as I press
Logan’s floor number. Holding a stack of papers in front of me, I’m hoping the
people in this elevator will just think I’m running a few résumés up to his
department. It’s something I’d normally do anyway.

I’m almost glad for this distraction in
my day, even though I’ll never admit it to Ryan. Somehow, the long hours of
sitting behind my desk have become more painful since I started picturing
myself working with Allie for the rescue.

There’s something great about being a
part of the HR department, I keep telling myself. As a single mom, I know what
it’s like to be barely making it, scraping by on an hourly wage with little or
no benefits. Here at JLS, it’s a very different lifestyle we offer employees. They
get competitive salaries and generous benefits. A job at JLS can literally
change a life. I know this first-hand. And I should be content working here,
even if I am just a small cog in the vast HR machine.

I’m a part of something great here, I
repeat in my head like a mantra. But the role I play is so miniscule, and
literally,
anyone
could do what I do. At Allie’s shelter, I could play a
bigger role in something I believe in. I could feel like I’m making a direct
impact.

But that’s just a pipe dream. I should
just be content to have all that I have.

Just getting by… content with any scraps
thrown my way.
Ugh, I
hate that I hear Cass’s voice in my head again, as I remember what she told me
before she left for New York.

I step onto Logan’s floor and it’s dead
quiet. Even the receptionist is gone. Letting out a long breath, I make my way
toward Logan’s office. I’ve been here once before when Logan and I went down
for coffee together in the cafeteria on my first day of work. With my best
friend involved with him, it didn’t raise any eyebrows and I’d needed a friend
that day. JLS was a pretty intimidating place to work, especially those first
few days.

I tap on his door and it opens. But it’s
not Logan behind the door. It’s Ryan.

“This better be important,” I warn him,
even though my eyes have been aching to see him all morning.

“It is,” he answers, stepping aside to
let me in, and then shutting the door behind him. He glances down at the papers
in my hand, eyebrows raised.

“They’re my cover,” I tell him, setting
them down.

“Smart lady.” He sits on the edge of the
desk. “Listen, there’s a photo circulating of me and it doesn’t look good.”

My eyes bulge slightly. “Well, now,
that’s a heck of a way to start a conversation. Don’t tell me you’re wearing
ladies underwear or something.”

He cracks a smile. “No. nothing like
that. And it’s harmless, believe me. But I just wanted you to hear it from me. At
the benefit the other night, I ran into a woman I once dated.”

Immediately, my gut tightens up. I had
even pictured something like this happening that night, hadn’t I? Ryan must be gorgeous
in a tux, and with a suite at the Plaza… of course, he wouldn’t be spending the
night alone.

“Nothing happened,” he says quickly. “But
a photographer snapped a picture just when she was giving me a kiss on the
cheek in greeting. With the angle and the… um… proximity of our bodies, it
looks like we were a lot more
together
than we actually were.” He hands
me his phone and I stare at the photo.

My first reaction isn’t jealousy or
anger. It’s more like sheer disbelief. She’s utterly beguiling—as
gorgeous as Cass. And she looks so perfect, so right standing next to Ryan in
that picture that I can’t help wondering what the hell he’s doing with me.

“You don’t have to explain anything to
me, Ryan. Even if you went with her to the benefit, it’s not my business. You
asked me first, and I couldn’t go. You have every right to do… whatever you
want… with her.” I almost cringe as I’m saying it. I’m just not sure what I’m supposed
to say in a situation like this.

I mean, she’s gorgeous. If I were a guy,
I’d completely go for her.

“It
is
your business, Kim. We’re
in a relationship, you and I. And I told Aimee about you when I saw her.”

“Aimee.”

“Aimee Peters. That’s her name. She
completely backed off as soon as I told her I was with you now. Look, I have no
interest in seeing anyone but you. And I—I hope that you’re feeling the
same way about me.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that I’d really rather you didn’t
see anyone else either. Well, if that works for you.”

I raise my eyebrows at him. His face
looks almost boyish right now, hopeful and innocent, even though it’s a stark
contrast to the expensive tailored suit draping his hard body that reeks of
worldliness. I can’t help the laugh that escapes my mouth. “Ryan, I’m a single
mom living in Newton’s Creek. I think you’re safe.”

A smile touches his lips and he reaches
for me, tugging me closer. “I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”

“Oh, you do, do you?”

“Mmmhmm.” Still leaning against the edge
of Logan’s desk, he opens his legs slightly, pulling my body closer to him,
wrapping his firm arms around my torso. I feel his breath against my neck and
it tickles me, the moment before his lips are on me, pressing against the skin
just below my ear. My entire body shivers with awareness.

His hands move to my sides and then to my
chest, thumbs grazing across my nipples through the material of my blouse as he
moves his mouth to just above the opening of my shirt.

“Ryan.” I had intended my voice to scold
him. This is the last thing I should be doing right now. But my breathy, needy
tone made it seem more like a request for more.

Fortunately, he has more sense than I do
at this moment, and his lips move away from my body, leaving a unintentional
chill in their wake.

His eyes are lustful. “God, how am I
supposed to go through my day knowing that you’re in the building and I can’t
do more of this with you whenever I want?”

“Tell me about it,” I complain,
breathless, with my chest practically heaving from unspent desire. How can just
a touch from this man send my entire body into such a licentious state?

We just stare at each other for a long
minute or two, both of us knowing exactly how much we’d like to make use of
Logan’s empty office. And both of us knowing we shouldn’t. Couldn’t. Absolutely
won’t.

Couldn’t, shouldn’t, won’t
. The words whir in my head—an
annoyance, like the high-pitched buzz of a mosquito in my ear that I just want
to smack. My conscience chastises me for what I want to do with him right now, feeling
the hard ridge of his erection with me pressed against him like this.

He channels his fingers into my hair and
I instinctively tilt my head, savoring his touch.

“You better get back to work.” His voice
is hard, commanding. “Now. Unless you’re willing to give me about an hour of
your morning.”

I cock my head. “So you really didn’t
call me here for a quickie?”

Slowly and deliberately, he shakes his
head. “When I get you alone next, I’ll be far from quick about it.” He takes
one of my hands and moves it to his lips. “Dinner Wednesday?”

I smile coyly. “Since when is Wednesday a
proper date night?”

“Since I started seeing someone who makes
it impossible to wait till Friday.” He pushes himself off the edge of Logan’s
desk and towers over me. “And there’s nothing proper about what I want to do
with you. Believe me.”

“Right back atcha, boss,” I whisper, just
as his lips take me again, the salty essence of him entering my mouth as he
slips his tongue past my lips for a sample of the pleasures that await me later
this week.

It’s going to be a long day.

~ KIM ~

I can’t help wondering why he’s with me
when he could be with her.

I hate that I’m still asking myself this,
even two days after he showed me the photo. I hate that I even looked up the
photo online later that day, just to torture myself, examine the woman who so
far exceeds me in looks, money, power. She’s a contract lawyer, I’ve since
discovered, thanks to Google. From a well-heeled East Coast family with a
summer home in the Hamptons.

Aimee Peyton Peters. Aimee, spelled with
an
i
and a double
e
simply because a woman who looks like that
couldn’t possibly settle on an ordinary spelling.

And I should know. I’m Kim. Not Kym.

“Mom?” Connor peeks around the corner into
the bathroom. “Hannah said her grandparents have an indoor pool. Will I get to
swim tonight?”

I stare at him momentarily. He’s such a
cute kid. That’s one thing I have going for me that Aimee Peters doesn’t have. Yeah,
if I were a man looking for a woman with a little boy to round out his family
photos, I’d totally go for me, because Connor is ineffably cute. “An indoor
pool,” I repeat quietly, remembering Ryan had told me about that before. They
live in a totally different world than mine, that’s for certain. “Well, if you
want to pack your swim trunks just in case, then you can. But you can only go
in the water if you’ve got a life jacket on.”

He nods, smiling. “Promise. I’ll wear
Hannah’s old one again.”

I watch him spin on his heel and dash out
the door. Even if my relationship with Ryan proves to be short-lived, I really
hope that Connor will stay friends with Hannah. The age difference doesn’t seem
to bother her and he seems to like having a sort of big sister role model
around. Every once in a while, Connor tells me that Hannah goes to aftercare at
school like he does when her grandma can’t pick her up from school at three.

Connor loves how Hannah helps him stay inside
the lines on his coloring pages on those days, and teaches him important things
like how to make cootie catchers and origami swans.

I adore that little girl for that.

I hear the Imperial March coming from the
phone in my purse. “Still going out with Ryan tonight?” Cass has texted me.

“Yes,” I text back simply.

She texts back a smiley face emoticon.

I grin, remembering how she told me she
nearly put a hit on Ryan after she saw that picture of him and Aimee the other
day. Obviously, she’s satisfied with his explanation and he’s fallen back in
her favor again.

I go back to the bathroom and put on some
lipstick, then sighing when the Imperial March sounds again. When I’m done with
my makeup, I check my phone. “You need to tell him,” she’s written.

I think it’s the fifth time I’ve been
told that by her. The tenth time if I factor in Allie’s constant texts.

Tell him, a voice inside my head nags
even as he picks me up and takes our kids over to his parents’ house. Tell him,
it nudges, despite the butterflies in my stomach at seeing their stunning home
for the first time.

Tell him, I hear it whisper, even as his
wonderful mother gives me a hug good-bye. My phone in my purse sounds again,
and I know it’s probably going to tell me the same thing.

Tell him
.

Nervously, I toy with my napkin as I sit
across from him at Francesca’s, Newton’s Creek’s best restaurant. Our candlelit
table overlooks Anders Street, and I feel like we’re announcing to the entire
town that we’re together.

“Logan called me this afternoon with news
about the person who threw those stones in your window.”

My eyes widen. “Really?”

“Yeah. Right after it happened, he’d
gotten a low-ball bid on the townhome next to you. The guy was a flipper,
looking to take advantage of the bad press.”

“That’s awful.”

“But that’s not the end of the story,” he
says, nodding to the waitress as she brings us our entrees. “I had Leverty do a
little checking on this guy, and turns out the last four flips he did had the
same thing happen. There was a little vandalism next door to a house that was
for sale—a few broken windows, or in one instance, some graffiti. And
then this guy would make a low offer on the listing. He’d buy it, wait a few
months, and flip it for a profit after people forgot about the vandalism.”

“That can’t be a coincidence.”

He shakes his head. “Definitely not. We
passed Leverty’s files over to the police and they got the FBI involved since
it’s happened in three states. That scared the guy enough that he confessed to
doing it.”

“Holy crap. What’s going to happen to
him?”

“Who knows? But I have a feeling he won’t
be doing that again.”

I shake my head. “I can’t believe someone
would do that just for a little profit.”

He shrugs. “Money makes people do crazy
things. I’ve seen a lot of that. Hell, that’s why we’ve got Leverty on retainer
for JLS.” He takes my hand. “I’m just sleeping a lot better now that I know you
weren’t the target.”

“You didn’t really think that, did you?”

“I know you told me that Connor’s dad
didn’t even know he had a son, but I still couldn’t help worrying. And since
you never talk to me about it—”

“I’m sorry about that,” I interrupt. Guilt
bites at me at the thought of Ryan worrying all this time that Connor’s father
might have been involved, and right on cue, I hear my cell phone sound off with
an incoming text. I don’t bother reading it. I know it’s just Allie or Cass
kicking me in the rear to tell Ryan everything.

And now I’m starting to agree with them.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says. “I know
some things are hard to talk about. You’ll tell me when you’re ready. Do you
need to check your phone?”

“No,” I mutter. “It’s just a text. I’d
turn it off, but I’m kind of on edge about Connor. He’s never stayed with
anyone but my mom or Allie and Cass before.”

“He’ll be fine, I promise. He’s probably
in the pool right now, playing Marco Polo or something.”

I smile at the image. “I’m just worried
that he’ll get too used to that kind of lifestyle. Indoor swimming pools and
all.”

“Let him get used to it,” he urges
softly, his fingers interlaced with mine and his thumb brushing along my skin
lightly.

My eyes locked on his, I open my mouth. The
words are there, lodged in my throat, the truth about Connor’s father and the
night that changed the course of my life. But again, a voice of
practicality—of reason—demands my silence.

I cannot tell him. I cannot tell him.

I repeat it in my head, even as I feel
myself losing the last vestiges of control I have over my heart.