Playing with Piper (Menage MfM Romance Novel) (Playing for Love Book 3) (11 page)

I
go
through the rest of the week on auto-pilot. Though I exchange emails and texts with Owen and Wyatt about a million little details, I don’t see them. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what they’re doing. They’re giving me space.

I don’t want space, and I don’t want to be logical. I want passion.

Saturday night, when I get home after a long shift at the restaurant, Bailey’s sitting on the couch, reading something. Jasper’s at her side, half-asleep as usual. “Hey,” I say, surprised to find my roommate at home. “How come you aren't with your guys?”

“Because I need to work,” she replies with a grimace. “I’ve got an inch-thick stack of papers to read, and I’m too easily distracted when I’m with Daniel and Sebastian.

I grin, taking in the huge arrangement of pink flowers on the coffee table. Roses, lilies, and daisies spill out of a clear glass vase. “They sent you flowers because they couldn’t bear you being away for one night? That’s both sweet and excessive.”

Her eyes dance with amusement. “They aren’t for me.”

“What?”

“The flowers. They aren’t for me.” Her smile widens to a grin. “Anything you want to tell me, Piper?” she teases. “Who’s sending you flowers? My money’s on those hot partners of yours.”

I cross over to the bouquet, and search for a card. There’s a small white envelope tucked among the blossoms. My heart beats in my chest as I rip it open. It’s been a very long time since someone’s sent me flowers.

You’re special to us.

“What does it say?” Bailey’s voice is curious. “Come on. Spill.”

I hand her the note silently. I don’t know what I thought it would say. Some flirty reference to tomorrow night. Not this. Tears well up in my eyes.

“Are you going to cry?” Bailey sits up, alarmed. “Shit. Piper, sweetie. Come here. I’ll find vodka.”

That makes me laugh. “No vodka,” I say, holding up my hand. “Vodka is what started this.” I plop myself on the couch, and scratch Jasper behind the ears.

“So Wyatt and Owen think you’re special. Special in a
Piper’s A Very Talented Chef
kind of way?”

“Special in an
I Have A Date Tomorrow Night With Them
kind of way.”

“Oh.” She digests that silently. “Both of them?”

I nod.

“Oh,” she repeats. “Are you going on this date?”

I exhale. “I think so.” Bailey’s in a threesome herself. I thought she’d be more enthusiastic. “You aren’t judging me, are you?”

She shakes her head immediately. “Of course not,” she says, biting her lip. “Okay, this is going to come out wrong no matter how I word it, so I’m just going to blurt it out. Are you sure you’re up to this?”

“What exactly are we talking about?” I ask cautiously. “Because if you are going to talk sex positions, I’m going to need that vodka first.”

Her lips twitch. “No sex positions, I promise. I’m talking about people’s reactions when they find out.” She makes a face. “Did I tell you Daniel’s sister and her fiancé broke up because Daniel, Sebastian, and I are in a threesome?”

“Really?” I look up, shocked by her revelation. “When did this happen?”

“A week ago.” She waves aside my concern. “It’s a good thing. Graham was a douchebag. But Piper, be honest with me. Can you see yourself introducing Wyatt and Owen to your parents?”

God no.

She interprets my expression correctly. “I thought so,” she says. “It all seems like fun and games, but people can get hurt. The world is not used to three people in a relationship.”

“I think you’re getting way ahead of yourself here.” Jasper’s fur feels warm and soft under my fingers, and he purrs as I pet him. “I’m not getting into a relationship with them. I’m just going to dinner.”

Bailey gives me a knowing look. “Just be careful. There’s no shortage of guys in New York. You don’t have to pick something so complicated.”

I’d like to be angry at Bailey, but she’s absolutely right. I can’t see myself introducing Wyatt and Owen to my parents. Even imagining their reaction makes me shudder.
Well-behaved Southern women definitely do not date two men at the same time.

Then I look once again at the card in my hand.
You’re special to us.

“You know something, Bails?” My voice is soft, but I’m more certain than I’ve ever been. “I’m not good at standing up to my parents, and I admit that the idea of telling them makes me want to throw up. But you know what I’m sure of? I’m going on that date tomorrow night.”

Bailey grins widely. “In that case, in the immortal words of my roommate, go forth and fornicate.”

I
t’s pouring
rain Sunday evening. It’s a good thing the restaurant is almost empty because I’m so nervous that my hands shake as I cook. A couple of times, I almost send out a dish without seasoning it. Finally, Josef’s had enough. “Chef Jackson,” he says exasperatedly, “You should leave early and get some rest.”

Rest is not what I’m planning on getting, my friend.

“Do you mind?”

He shakes his head. “There’s just three tables here,” he says. “We’re less than an hour from closing. We’re done for the night.”

I don’t protest. I don’t want to show up at Owen’s condo smelling like fried chicken. If I leave now, I’ll have time to go home, shower and change into something sexy.

I can’t believe I’m actually going on a date.

With two guys,
a voice inside me whispers.
Slut.

A wonderfully hot shower later, I’m calmer. I know Owen and Wyatt well enough to know that nothing will happen if I don’t want it to. For the moment, I’ve even silenced the condemning voice in my head. I dress in a purple sundress that’s been pushed all the way to the back of my wardrobe, and I head out.

Even though it’s stopped raining, I opt to take a cab to Owen’s building. I’ve been on my feet all day, and I’m fighting exhaustion.
This is why you don’t date,
I remind myself. But I can’t stop the prickle of excitement skittering up my spine.

Owen’s building is a five-story brick mid-rise in the Upper West Side, with a bakery at street level. I look around for an entrance to the residences upstairs, but can’t find it. Fishing out my phone, I call him.

He answers on the first ring. “Don’t tell me you’ve changed your mind, Piper.”

“I’m downstairs,” I tell him. “I just can’t figure out how to get in.”

“I’ll be right there.” In two minutes, a door next to the bakery entrance opens, and Owen comes out. “There you are,” he says in greeting, his eyes heating up as he takes me in. “You look great.”

My insides tighten. “You’re just saying that because I’m not wearing chef’s whites,” I quip, trying to ease the butterflies in my stomach.  

Perhaps he senses I’m nervous, because he smirks in a very familiar way. “You’re probably right,” he agrees. “Come on in.”

There’s an elevator, thank heavens. Owen punches in the button for the top floor, and we’re whisked up. “Penthouse?” I tease. “That’s fancy.”

He chuckles. “I like my peace and quiet. There’s just two apartments on the top floor.”

“Your neighbor isn’t a drummer then?” That’s not the brightest thing to say. In my defense, I haven’t been on a date in years.

He gives me a surprised look. “My neighbor’s Wyatt. I thought you knew that.”

I shake my head as the elevator doors open into a small hallway with two doors on either end. Owen turns right and pushes a door open. “Here we are.”

“Wow.” I stop in my tracks as soon as I walk in, and look around. Owen’s apartment is spacious and colorful. There are windows everywhere. The walls are covered with contemporary art. A grey sectional dominates the living space, accented by red and cream cushions. “This is not what I expected.”

“What did you expect?” he asks, quirking an eyebrow at me.

“I thought it would be more monochromatic.”

He laughs. “That’s Wyatt’s place you’re describing. I’m sure he’ll give you the tour at some point. Since the rain’s stopped, I thought we’d eat outside.”

“Outside?”

“Wyatt and I have exclusive access to the roof. Come on.” He leads the way to a balcony, and we climb up a metal staircase to the rooftop patio.

The scene that greets me takes my breath away. There are candles everywhere. A vase on the coffee table overflows with flowers. Music is playing through hidden speakers, something soft and melodious, and Wyatt’s sitting on the L-shaped couch, holding a bottle of beer in his hand. He rises to his feet as I approach. “I’m glad you could make it.” His dark eyes hold me captive.

I shift my weight from one foot to another.  I’m nervous all over again. “This is very lovely,” I stammer.

Wyatt’s lips twitch. “You’re being formal again, Piper. I thought we were past that. Would you like a drink? Champagne?”

Flowers, candles, music, and champagne. I’m a little overwhelmed. “Yes please.” I sit on the sectional with a sigh of relief, kicking off my shoes.

“Long day?” Owen hands me a flute of champagne, and sets down a tray of cheese, crackers and olives on the table.

I snag a piece of Cheddar and munch on it as I reply, focusing on work as a way to avoid thinking about the night ahead. “Lunch was busy. Dinner, not so much. The weather kept people at home.”

He sits down on the other side of me. “I’m not surprised, it rained cats and dogs.”

I take a sip of the excellent champagne, sighing in pleasure. Today was a scorcher, hot and humid, but the thunderstorm has cooled the air. As I drink the champagne, I sink back in my seat, finally allowing myself to relax. Wyatt pats his lap. “Put your feet here,” he orders.

“Why?”

He rolls his eyes. “Obviously, I want to torture you by tickling your feet,” he says dryly. “I’m going to give you a foot massage, Piper.”

“Foot massages lead to sex.” Those words escape my lips before I can stop them. I clasp my hand to my mouth in horror, but it’s too late. “Damn it, I wasn’t supposed to say that out loud.”

Owen chuckles. Wyatt is struggling not to laugh. “I promise you,” he says solemnly, “that my intentions are pure as snow. You’ve had a long day on your feet. I’m trying to ease the ache.”

The ache that demands to be eased isn’t in the balls of my feet.   

“Piper.” Wyatt’s gaze is steady. “I’m not going to deny that I’m hoping you’ll spend the night.” He glances at Owen. “We both are.”

“But,” Owen says, picking up where Wyatt left off, “if you don’t want that, then we’ll just eat dinner. You’ve been working far too hard. Take some time off. Relax. Eat a meal someone else made for you.”

As Owen speaks, Wyatt’s fingers knead away at my feet. His hands are firm, his touch sure. He works on me until I’m limp and relaxed. “Thank you,” I murmur.

“You’re welcome.” His eyes linger on my face. “Shall we eat?”

O
wen has made
a shepherd’s pie and salad. Both dishes are delicious. “Classic Irish comfort food,” he says, with a grin. “It’s a little intimidating cooking for you, Piper.”

“Are you kidding?” I pause, my fork poised in mid-air. “I wish someone would cook for me every day. This is delicious. You made this?”

He nods. “My parents owned a pub in Dublin,” he says, his expression nostalgic. “As soon as I was old enough to reach the counter, my ma put me to work.”

“My mother hated when I entered the kitchen,” I confess. “Cooking was for staff. Wyatt, do you cook?”

He shakes his head. “I survive on microwave meals.”

There’s obviously more to that story. Wyatt works in the restaurant industry. I’ve never met someone in the business who didn’t cook to some degree or the other. “How come?”

He doesn’t meet my gaze. “I don’t do well with messes.”

Of course. I’ve put my foot in my mouth. I’ve seen Wyatt’s office, neat to a fault. He’s always impeccably dressed. If I go to his apartment, I’m willing to bet that there won’t be one item out of place. All in response to the way he grew up.

Time to change the topic. I shift the conversation to
Can You Taste The Heat?
. The first round is next week. Yelp has already featured each participating restaurant on their website, and has invited customers to check us out. Like most reality TV contests, the winning restaurant will be chosen based both on popularity and the judges’ opinion. “Do you know when the judges are coming to eat?” I ask Wyatt.

“Thursday,” he replies. “But the public can vote until noon on Saturday.”

I nod in understanding. I have to be on my A-game all three days. I’m ready for the challenge.

We wrap up dinner and Wyatt refills my glass of champagne. The night air is cool. Up here, I can still hear the sounds of the city, but I feel removed from the hustle and bustle. A breeze blows, and goosebumps break out on my skin. “Are you cold?” Wyatt asks, his voice low and warm. He moves closer to me, while Owen gets up to turn on the electric fireplace. “Would you like us to warm you, Piper?”

This is the moment of truth.

My hands tremble. “I’ve never done something like this before.”

They stay silent, waiting for me to continue. Owen’s thigh brushes against mine, the contact making me shiver. Underneath my dress, my nipples harden.  

“I don’t have a lot of experience with men. I’m not very adventurous about sex.”

“What do you want, Piper?” Owen’s voice caresses my soul. “Do you want to be adventurous tonight?” His fingers trail up my bare arm.

It seems safer to confess my desires at night. Thoughts tumble out in the dark, things I wouldn’t dare say in the brightness of daylight. I can’t look at their faces. “I'm not here because I want a threesome.”

Owen’s fingers stop their wandering. Both of them go very still. Their eyes are wary, watchful.

“I never wanted a threesome,” I correct myself. “I never wanted two guys to take me at the same time. But…” I swallow the lump in my throat and force myself to continue. “I’m here because I want you. Wyatt and Owen. I have fantasies about the two of you.” I place my hand on Wyatt’s thigh. “I imagine the two of you touching me, and I can’t stop wondering what it would feel like.”