Amy Bensen 01 Escaping Reality (15 page)

around his shirt, wrinkling the fine material. Direct is all I have left. “I don’t

want to go to my apartment.”

“We aren’t.” This time he firmly sets me aside, and before I can so

much as yelp, he has my hand in his, and we are in pursuit of the exit.

I follow eagerly, trying not to look around me, and spot attentive

observers of our exchange. For a supposed recluse and a woman on the

run, I’m pretty sure we’ve made our second scene of the day together and

I’m not looking for a third. We pass the sliding glass doors and I avoid the

gaze of the doorman.

Liam cuts us away from my apartment to the sidewalk on our right,

where people stroll here and there, and thankfully the wind is milder and

my skirt stays at my knees. I cast Liam a sideways look. “Where are we

going?”

He stops abruptly and faces me. “The phone’s in your name. You

have to talk to them about the service.”

“Oh.” Disappointment hits me hard and fast. I’ve become

complicated. He’s ready to cut all ties. His "not going anywhere" vow sure

didn’t last. But…he’s holding my hand. Why would he hold my hand if he

was cutting all ties? It’s not like he’d worry I’d bolt and he loses the phone.

He’s a freaking billionaire.

“Oh?” he prods.

“Oh,” I repeat to keep myself from saying something like "can we go

back to the hotel and start this night over?" when I need to stick to my

plan. Saying goodbye is the right thing to do. “I’m not phone savvy,” I finally

manage. “If you need me to go with you I will.” My gaze manages to flicker

to our connected hands and the quick pinch in my chest that has me jerking

my eyes back to Liam’s. “Where is it?”

“Two blocks.” This time, his gaze drops and not to our hands, but to

my feet, where it lingers and then rakes hotly up my body. Jared’s

inspection this morning had been a bit too familiar. Liam’s is downright

wicked. And oh my, I am hot all over and tingling in places I shouldn’t be

tingling in public. He knows, too. I see it in the quirk of his lips, the gleam in

his eyes as he asks, “Can you walk that far in those shoes?”

“After walking around New York for years, my feet are oblivious to

pain. I can walk.” Or I might stand here in the beam of his scorching gaze

and melt in my shoes. He still wants me, but it will be cold comfort in my

empty bed tonight. I’m letting him go. He’s letting me go. I’m complicated.

I’m always complicated.

I start to turn, to get this over with, but his fingers curl on my elbow

and he pulls me close, his legs pressing to mine, sending waves of heat

through me. And just like that, everything but Liam fades away. There are

no people walking about, no doorman a few steps away, no horns honking.

There is just me and this man, and I tingle with awareness, alive when I was

barely living before meeting him. There are many things I want to say to

him but cannot. I am confused and conflicted in all ways possible with this

man, stuck between right and wrong.

“Liam—”

“Amy,” he says softly, his tone just sharp enough to be warning, a

command of silence, and maybe he simply wants me to stop arguing with

him, but in my mind, he is saving me from something I might say and we

both will regret.

“Yes,” I say as if he’s actually issued the warning, and wishing he’d

say whatever he stopped me to say. Wishing it would be something magical

that made everything all right. “Let’s go to the store, Liam.”

I do not know why I said his name. Why I felt the absolute need to

say it, or why it lingered on my lips almost wistfully, but his eyes narrow, his

head tilting slightly and there is no question he’s noticed. I hold my breath,

not sure what he will say. Not sure what I want him to say. Not sure what

he intended when he pulled me close. But when he finally replies, I get

nothing more than, “Yes. Let’s go to the store.”

Air trickles from my lips and I am both relieved and disappointed by

his non-response.

But he does not allow distance between us, drawing my hand in his

again as he turns us forward.

Easily, comfortably, we fall into step together, silence settling

between us and I find myself obsessing about our fingers twined together.

About what that means about his intentions and even mine.

Too quickly we are at the store and Liam releases my hand to open

the door. I freeze with a jolt of reality. We are not one but two again, and

he may never touch me again. Once we are done here, we are…done.

Emotion wells in my chest and I can feel Liam looking at me, willing me to

look at him, but I can’t. Not without forgetting why I have to do this.

Feet heavy as lead, I walk into the store, the cool air conditioning

adding to the chill I have suddenly developed. Hugging myself, I stop just

inside the entrance and see phone displays in the center of the store,

accessories hanging on the walls and a small service counter in the back.

Liam steps beside me, and as if washing away my fear he will never touch

me again, his hand settles on my back. The touch is electric, sizzling down

my spine and washing away the cold.

“Hi, folks.” The greeting comes from a lanky guy no more than

twenty, with dark, wavy hair and black, thick-rimmed glasses, wearing a

store t-shirt, who stops in front of us. “I’m Scott.

Can I help you?”

“We need to have you look up our account information,” Liam states.

Scott shoves his glasses up his nose and indicates a counter in the

back of the store. We follow him there and Liam does not remove his hand

from my back. We stop at the counter and Scott walks behind it, pulling a

keyboard closer to him. “What can I help you with?”

Liam sets the phone on the counter. “Can you confirm the name on

the account and who has access?”

Scott’s face pinches. “Only if I’m talking to the person who owns the

account, and surely they would know this information already.”

“Not if a good friend set the account up for them,” Liam corrects.

“Then I need the ID of whoever is on the account,” Scott replies. He

obviously takes his job seriously and I have to respect the guy, considering

how I value my privacy.

Liam glances at me. “He’ll need your ID.”

I’d seen this coming, but as I open my purse a sliver of unease ripples

down my spine as a thought hits me. Is this Liam’s way of seeing my driver’s

license? I remove my driver’s license that reads Amy Bensen and it hits me

that it is a Colorado license. Liam is a smart man. This is going to make him

ask questions.

I slide the card forward face down and hold my breath in hopes that

Scott is discreet. He lifts it and sets it on a keyboard beneath the counter,

out of sight, and I let out a breath. He keys in my information. “What phone

number do you have a question about, Ms. Bensen?”

The way he says it, like I have another one on file, is curious. I barely

stop myself from asking. “I don’t have it memorized.”

“303-222-1018,” Liam supplies by memory.

“You remembered it that quickly?”

“I’m a numbers guy.”

The mental image of all those numbers trailing from his belly button

down to some delicious destination I’ve yet to explore and never will

thickens my throat. “Yes. I suppose you are.”

“Got it,” Scott informs us. “What do you need to know, Ms. Bensen?”

“She needs to know if anyone else is on the account,” Liam answers.

Scott looks at me for confirmation and I’m not sure where Liam is

going with this but I’d like to get there with him sooner than later. “Is

there?”

“Nope,” Scott answers. “Just you.”

“And the bills go to her directly?” Liam asks.

Scott glances at me. “You can speak freely. Please tell him whatever

he wants to know.”

“The account is paid for a year in advance. Statements do go to you

directly, Ms. Bensen, and any extra charges would therefore be payable by

you.”

“Does the account have a password of any type?” Liam asks.

Scott punches a key on his computer. “No password set up.”

Liam opens the box and takes the phone out. “Throw that away.”

“What about the paperwork?” Scott asks.

“That’s why we have the internet.” Liam’s attention shifts to me but

he speaks to Scott.

“Walk her through setting it up.”

Scott starts speaking, but I tune him out, focused solely on Liam. His

eyes hold mine and I feel the connection between us. He never intended to

return the phone. This was never about things getting too complicated. He

held onto my hand to hold onto me. I should have seen that, but let my

state of mind and inexperience with a man like Liam make me a little crazy.

He steps closer to me, sweeping a strand of hair behind my ear, his

fingers brushing my skin and sending a shiver down my spine. “You need

the phone,” he says softly. “Set up the password. You can change it at any

time.” He glances at Scott. “And she can change her number if she needs to

as well, correct?”

“Yes,” Scott agrees. “If there is a reason she needs to change it she

just needs to call in and provide account validation.”

Liam leans down, his hand settling possessively on my waist,

branding me. I want to be branded by this man. “If you ever really want to

get rid of me,” he whispers, “you can always change your number.”

If
I ever really want to get rid of him. He didn’t believe my lie. I didn’t

either.

***

A few minutes later, I’ve tucked my cell phone into my pocket and let

Liam hold the door for me to exit the store. Pausing, I wait for him to join

me, instinctively scanning the still-busy sidewalk illuminated by a

combination of moonlight and street lanterns.

“How about that dinner?” Liam asks, stepping beside me, and just

that easily I’ve forgotten my surroundings and there is only him.

“Earlier,” I start, “back at the hotel. Liam, when I said what I said. I…”

Still need to say goodbye, but I can’t seem to get the words out.

He steps closer to me, sliding his hand to my face. “If you tell me you

don’t want to be with me. I will listen. I won’t like it, but I’ll listen. I need

you to know that. But when you say you ‘can’t’ be with me, like some

obstacle out of your control is stopping you from seeing me, I’m not going

to listen.”

I am stunned and happy and confused and freaked out all at once. It

is as if he has reached inside my head and ticked off every possible thing I

could need him to say but it also means he sees too much. And yet…not

enough. I have never wanted to bare my soul to anyone and I do now to a

man I barely know.

“Liam—”

He brushes his lips over mine, and while I have no idea what was

going to come out of my mouth, I think this is another case of him saving

me from saying something we both might regret. “Let’s go eat, baby.”

Let’s go eat, baby.
I like how familiar this sounds. How not alone it

makes me feel. “Yes,”

I whisper, willing accepting the reprieve I am certain he has

intentionally offered me. “Let’s go eat.”

His eyes light with approval, his fingers lacing with mine, and in silent

agreement we begin to walk and my mind replays that first time I’d seen

Liam in the airport. Even from across a room, he’d spoken to me. I think of

making love to him. I think of him picking me up today from the store and

then kissing me in front of the hotel. I think of every second I’ve spent with

this man, so absorbed that I blink and we are stopped at a restaurant a few

doors down from Liam’s hotel. Suddenly, I realize that for all of my thinking

I managed on this walk, remarkably, there’s one thing I
haven’t
had on my

mind. Godzilla. I have not thought about what monster is watching or

lurking around the corner. And Liam did that for me.

He holds the door to the restaurant open for me and for a moment I

just stare at him, this brilliantly talented, amazingly generous man, who

epitomizes tall, dark, and handsome, and I think I am crazy. Crazy for him.

And I’m selfish. So very selfish because I have been alone and now he is

here and I don’t know how I can walk away from him. I don’t deserve him

and he absolutely does not deserve me.

Chapter Eleven

Ten minutes after arriving for our reservations at North, a chic

modern restaurant with frosty dangling lights and steel and glass tables,

Liam and I are sitting inside a high-backed half-moon-shaped booth that

seems to hug us in privacy. Our twenty-something attractive blonde

waitress takes our orders of pasta and salads, batting her eyes at Liam in

the process, clearly smitten with him, but then so are most of the females

in the place from what I could tell on our arrival. He, however, is a perfect,

suave gentlemen, neither disrespectful to her nor encouraging for that

matter, casting me warm looks in the process. I am charmed and

remarkably at ease with her flirtation considering my inexperience and his

good looks.

Reluctantly the woman tears her eyes from Liam and departs, and a

waiter appears by our table with the insanely expensive bottle of

champagne Liam has ordered for us. Once the top has been popped and