Amy Bensen 01 Escaping Reality (17 page)

continues, and I set down my glass, saved from my past by my interest in

his.

“I hate math.” Although his tattoo could make me change my mind.

My lips curve. “You seem rather fond of it.”

His eyes gleam with understanding. “Alex used tell me there were

infinite possibilities in life and architecture. The tattoo represents that to

me.”

Infinite possibilities in life. I am not sure I like that idea. How many

people will I be before I die?

“Of course,” Liam adds, “as a kid I just wanted to draw buildings. Alex

said that’s what you call an artist, not an architect. I fought the math, and

ended up doing the whole wax on, wax off thing like in
Karate Kid
.”

I laugh. “
Karate Kid
? But that was to learn karate. What did that have

to do with math?”

“It’s hard work. My punishment for not getting the math right and

complaining about having to try.” He laughs, but it’s laced with a hollow

sadness. “And he liked the movie.” He smiles, shifting out of the past to the

present. “I don’t like the movie. I do, however, like math now. Funny how

mastering something makes you change your tune about it. By the time I

was in college I was a whiz.”

The waitress takes my plate and I am shocked to realize it is all but

empty. A few minutes later, we are enjoying coffee and I sigh in

contentment, more relaxed than I have been in a very long time. “What did

your parents think about Alex?” I ask, not ready for this dinner to end.

“My mother adored him.”

“And your father?”

His expression turns somber. “He wasn’t around to have an opinion.”

“I want to ask. I’m not sure I should.”

He gives me a wry smile. “And that’s about as honest as it gets.”

He’s right. It is and it feels good, but what I sense in him does not.

“Do you want to tell me?”

“He ran out on us when I was eight,” he says easily. Almost too

easily. “Told me he was going to the store and never came back.”

“You grew up poor.” There is so much more to this man than

billionaire architect. “That’s why your mother worked two jobs.”

“Yes. Until Alex came along. He took care of my mother.”

“Did they date?”

He gives a quick shake of his head. “No. They were just close friends

and when she came down with cancer, Alex paid for her treatment.”

I blink. “What? Cancer?”

“Cervical. She didn’t have the money for regular checkups so it was

caught late, but she beat it twice.”

My throat thickens at the obvious. She didn’t beat it three times.

“How old were you?”

“Fifteen. Alex adopted me.”

“Alex lost his kids and you lost your parents.”

“Yes. Exactly.”

“And Alex? You said you lost him, too?”

“He had a heart attack while I was chasing pyramids a couple of years

back.”

He cuts his gaze and reaches for his coffee, and I sense his internal

emotional battle and do not know the right thing to say or do. I just sit

there until his gaze lifts and collides with mine.

And I see the truth in his eyes. “You don’t talk about this.”

“No.”

“But you did to me.”

“Yes. Now ask me why.”

“Why?”

“Someone has to go first.”

It is what he said to me on the plane. It is his offering of trust, and I

know I was right.

There is something happening between us, something I may never

experience again, and ironically that means lying. Now, this moment, is my

chance to tell him Amy Bensen’s story. To make sure he doesn’t dig around

to find out on his own.

I open my mouth to relay my fake life per my Amy Bensen file, and

snap it shut with a stunning realization. My story is Liam’s story. Her father

ran out on her when she was a kid and her mother died of cancer. How can

this be? It’s impossible. I am not telling this lie to Liam. I can’t. I won’t.

“I need to go to the ladies’ room,” I say, and I do not wait for his

reply. I scoot out of the booth and take my purse with me, but Liam is out

the other side and standing in front of me, and I see the worry in his eyes.

It’s like he senses my instinct to bolt. He thinks I’m running away, and I

am—but not from him. From the me I don’t even recognize as me.

“Amy—”

I lean into him and press to my toes, brushing my lips over his. “I still

want to lick your tattoo. Remember?”

But he doesn’t laugh. He leans back and gives me an intense look.

“Hurry back and let’s get out of here.”

“Yes. I’d like that.”

His hands slowly ease from my waist where they have settled,

reluctantly it seems, and I like that he does not want to let me go. And I do

not want him to either, but I have to find a way to make this work.

I rush away from Liam, and the waitress directs me to the bathroom,

a fancy three-stall room with mirrors on the door, and I rush inside the

farthest one and lock myself inside. All too soon, I am back where I was two

nights ago, leaning on a bathroom stall and fretting. But this time Liam has

found me and I do not want to lose him or put him in danger. I tell myself

lies protect him and I should embrace them and him while he is in Denver.

But deep down I feel this man inside me and I do not want to limit our

possibilities. He knows I’m running and if I really want to be with him, I

have to ensure he does not dig into my background. If I don’t give him

something, he might go look on his own.

The air shifts in the bathroom and I push off the wall. I didn’t hear

the door open but I hadn’t heard it at the museum either. My hand goes to

my throat and I do not dare breathe. I listen and I do not hear anything.

Wait. Do I? Time seems to stand still and I can’t seem to make myself move.

What if I go outside the stall and there is another note? What if I have to

run?

The cell phone in my purse starts to ring and I jerk at the sound. It’s

Liam. Of course, it’s Liam. He is the only one who has my number. How long

have I been standing here? I shake myself and open the stall, steeling

myself for whatever I find outside. Eager to just know what waits on me, I

rush forward and stop dead in my tracks as I bring the sinks into view.

“Meg? What are you doing here?”

She whirls around from where she stands at the sink primping her

long blond hair to lie on her shoulders, a contrast to her short red dress.

“Oh my gosh. Amy! What are
you
doing here?”

“I…” My phone starts ringing again.

“Oh good.” She lights up. “You got your phone working. I can’t

believe we’re both here.”

“I…yes. Very small world.”

“That’s what I love about this little area of Cherry Creek. You can live,

eat, shop, and play here and get to know everyone like it’s a small town.

Only we have Chanel and Gucci in this small town. We’re the high-society

chicks. Well, not that I can afford that kind of thing, but maybe I’ll find me a

sugar daddy.”

I cringe considering Liam and his billionaire status and think that

while her comment is playful, he must deal with real-life money chasers.

“Are you on a date?”

“My boss brought me. And he’s certainly a hot property himself.

What about you?”

“Yes. A date. Who I should get back to.”

She grabs her purse and pulls out her phone. “Let me grab your

number before we forget.”

I can’t get out of this. Dang it. I remove my phone from my purse and

glance at the numbers on the screen and my throat goes dry. One is from

Liam. The other is unknown.

Chapter Twelve

I stare at the unknown number and my mind races. It could be a

wrong number. It
has to
be. No one has this number but Liam and my

handler has never called me.
That’s not true
, I remind myself and my mind

flashes back.

The phone is ringing and I jerk to a sitting position. There is no one

left to call me. No
one I love. It has to be one of them. Someone is alive. This

is all a mistake. I grab the headset
and my hand shakes so hard I all but

drop the receiver. “Dad?”

“Listen and listen quickly, Amy,” a stranger says. “They are coming for

you. Get up and
get dressed and get the hell to the back door of the

hospital. I’ll be in a cab waiting for you.”

“What? Who are you?”

“There isn’t time. Get the hell out of the fucking bed. Now!”

“Okay, ready,” Meg announces. “What’s the number?”

I blink through spots, and damn it, my eyes are prickling and my

forehead pinching. Meg waves her phone in front of me. “I’ll type it in my

phone so I can’t lose it.”

“Right,” I croak and try to smile, though I imagine I look like I just

swallowed a rock the lump in my throat is so big. Somehow, I lift my phone

and punch in the screen to see my number, then read it to her.

“Perfect,” she declares, and if she notices I’m rattled, she doesn’t

show it. “I’ll call you tomorrow and we’ll make a date.”

“Great. Yes.”

She heads towards the door and I follow her into the hallway, where

she has halted, a stunned look on her face. And I know why. Liam is leaning

on the wall, looking to her, I am sure, like some sort of magazine model or

romance hero who has miraculously popped off the pages of a novel. His

eyes meet mine and I feel the connection inside and out, radiating. To me,

Liam is what he has seemed since our plane ride. Salve on an open, aching

wound.

He pushes off the wall the instant he sees me and pulls me to him. “I

was worried about you.”

“He’s with you?” Meg asks from behind me, and there is no missing

the shock etched in her voice. I refuse to read into it.

Liam answers for me. “Yes. I’m with her.”

Meg whistles and I turn in Liam’s arms, comforted by the way his

hand settles on my stomach and pulls my back to his chest. “Amy, honey,”

Meg declares, “I need to know where you shop. I’ll call you tomorrow.” She

darts down the hallway and I stare after her, fighting the urge to follow her

to ask her boss about my new boss, unsure I am steady enough to even try.

“She’ll call you tomorrow?” Liam asks, and I turn to him.

“She’s the secretary at the leasing office. She wants to do coffee or

drinks.” My hand settles on the hard wall of his chest and warmth travels

up my arms and over my chest and shoulders.

“Then why do you look like you saw a ghost?”

I laugh but it sounds choked. “I guess ghosts are like lies. They swim

like sharks all around me.” What was intended as a joke holds so much

truth that I am shocked I have allowed such a telling statement to fall from

my lips. I am even more shocked that I cannot seem to regret it.

He studies me, his eyes probing, and I sense he wants to ask

questions, but he doesn’t.

Damn it, he doesn’t and I want him to ask, just as I want to answer.

“Sharks only have the power you give them, baby. Own them. Don’t ever

let them own you. And they’ll have to fight me to get to you anyway.”

Suddenly, I am swimming in one part fantasy, one part wicked, hot

desire. His declaration checks every box on my fairy tale desire list and

strokes my need for him to a full on fire. And while his words might be pure

seduction, I choose to grant them the possibility. I choose the fantasy. The

escape he has proven he can be for me in a way no one else ever has been.

He leans in and pressed his mouth to my ear. “I’m going to take you

to my room now, and fuck you until neither of us can walk anymore.” He

eases back, searching my face for a reaction, his blue eyes blazing hot

through the dim lighting of the hallway. “Any objections?”

“No,” I whisper, and am shocked at how unabashedly I reply to his

wicked declaration.

“No objections whatsoever.” Not only do I want this man, I have no

doubt, for at least tonight, he can make me forget the phone call. He can

make me forget everything but him.

“Then let’s get out of here.” He caresses a path down my arms,

raising goose bumps on my arms and I am anything but cold. In fact, the

only time I am not cold is in this man’s presence. His fingers lace with mine,

and as he leads me forward, this intimate act of hand-holding that is

becoming familiar, creates a burn in my chest and a moment of fear. I could

get used to this. I could get used to him in my life, by my side.

Entering the main dining room, I am momentarily jerked back into

the world where he is not all there is and where the ghosts that swim like

sharks at my feet, and in my head, live. I scan for Meg and her boss, but I do

not see her, or him. Relief washes over me. I do not want to think of

anything right now but Liam’s wicked promise.

***

The walk to the hotel is silent. We don’t have to speak. The air

between us is both electric and soothing, a contrast that speaks to my soul.

This is what I need.
He
is what I need. I refuse to let anything else in. I will

not melt down in a haze of pain and heartache, or fear over a phone call. I

can worry about that tomorrow. Locked in Liam’s room I am safe, and in his