Playing with Piper (Menage MfM Romance Novel) (Playing for Love Book 3) (21 page)

As soon as the door shuts behind us, Greg opens his mouth. “What’d you guys want to talk about?” he asks bluntly. “Forgive me for hurrying you, but I was on my way to the hospital.”

“The hospital?”

He takes a deep breath. “Can you guys keep something quiet?” he asks. “Max Emerson came to my kitchen last week and told me to throw Maisie Hayes’ contest.”

“What?” I lean forward, shocked.

He nods. “Of course, I told him to fuck off. As if I’m going to let a punk like Emerson tell me what to do. Then on Friday night, hours before the judges showed up, some guy ran a red light and t-boned my wife’s car.”

“No.” Wyatt sounds horrified. “You think Max is involved?”

“I don’t know,” Greg admits. “But after the accident, I had to take him seriously. Donna broke two ribs and a leg.” He spreads his hands, looking helpless. “What would you have done in my place?”

Cold fear grips my heart. After her outstanding performance in the first round, Piper is the front-runner in
Can You Take The Heat?
. I can’t be worrying about Mendez’s shadow threats right now, not when there’s a real risk that Emerson might hurt Piper to win the contest.

“We have to tell her,” I tell Wyatt. “We can’t keep her in the dark.”

Wyatt looks grim. “You’re absolutely right.”

B
y the time
Sunday rolls around, I’m tired, cranky, and completely miserable. I haven’t heard from either Owen or Wyatt since Friday morning, and I have only myself to blame.

I could call them. A thousand times, I’ve picked up my phone to dial their number, but my shame prevents me from following through. Without Wyatt and Owen, I’d be teetering on the verge of failure. I owe them everything, and this is the way I reward them?

There is, however, a silver lining. After our talk on Friday, Josef is a new man. He’s raised his game considerably. On Friday and Saturday, the kitchen ran like a well-oiled machine. So much so that when my mother calls and suggests eating lunch together, I agree without too much reservation, and meet my parents in a pretentious little bistro on the Upper East Side, steps from their five star, six-hundred dollars a night hotel room.

Once the three of us are seated at an outdoor table, my mother smiles warmly. “The restaurant was busy Thursday,” she remarks.

“It was.” My voice is neutral. Wyatt’s accusation echoes in the back of my mind. “Thank you again for your help.”

She waves aside my thanks. “Angelina said you wrote to her telling her you couldn’t be a bridesmaid.” Her lips turn downward into a frown. “That’s disappointing.”

Ah. We’re on much more familiar ground. I’m used to my mother’s unhappiness. “She wanted me to fly to New Orleans every second weekend from now until May,” I reply, scanning the menu instead of facing her accusing glare. “I just can’t afford to do that.”

My dad changes the topic. “I read about the contest on that woman’s blog this morning. What’s her name? You know, the one who’s in charge of the show?”

“Maisie Hayes.” I’ve been so depressed the last two days that I’ve completely forgotten that the official results would have come out this morning.

“Right, that’s her. She was very impressed with your restaurant.”

“Was she? I haven’t read her blog post yet.”

“Really?” He raises an eyebrow, pulls out his phone and hands it to me. “Why not? You’ve officially moved to the next round.”

“I’ve been busy,” I mutter, not ready to discuss Wyatt and Owen.

I skim the article. Maisie’s raved about the food, declaring it to be the best meal she’s eaten in a long time. She says a lot of flattering things about the decor at
Piper’s,
and the atmosphere, warm, friendly, and unpretentious. She closes with advice for her readers.
As soon as the world discovers Piper’s,
she writes,
there’s going to be a months-long wait to get in. So go now, citizens of New York! Go before the crowds show up, and enjoy Chef Piper Jackson’s inventive twist on Southern comfort food.

My heart jumps at that last line. We’re going to be busy this week, thanks to Maisie Hayes. I want to text Wyatt and Owen to ask them if they’ve read the article.

Then my smile fades. I can’t do that. “That’s a nice review,” I say flatly, handing the phone back to my dad.

My mother gives me a piercing look. “Your partners, Owen and Wyatt,” she says, her voice deceptively casual. “You seem close to them.”

Panic fills me. Lillian Jackson has always been good at ferreting out the things I’m trying to hide from her. If she suspects the nature of our relationship… I can’t let that happen. I just can’t. Even though I’m an adult and I don’t need my parents to approve of my relationships, when I even think of revealing the truth, the words freeze in my throat.

I settle for a half-truth. “Their help has been invaluable.”

“You mean their money,” she says. Her nose wrinkles in distaste. In Lillian Jackson’s world, talking about money is just not done.

“Actually, no.” To my surprise, I contradict her. “Anyone could have invested money, but they did so much more.” Owen and Wyatt have been with me every step of the way. They cheer me up when I’m down, deliver bracing words of encouragement when I doubt myself, and when I need their support, they’re always there with a shoulder for me to lean on.

They’re more than my partners, and they’re more than just friends. Though I wanted to slap them the first time I met them, I can’t imagine my life without Wyatt and Owen in it.

I think I’ve fallen in love with them.

Shit.

“They’re quite unsuitable, of course,” my mother sniffs. “I’m assuming you know that, Piper.”

I ignore the warning in my mother’s tone. We finish our lunch in silence.

A
fter that strained meal
, I’m ready to talk to someone normal. It’s Sunday. I’m assuming Bailey is doing something with Daniel and Sebastian. Gabby is a two-hour drive away and I don’t own a car. Katie’s busy with the monster twins and Miki’s in Houston.

I call Wendy and beg her to hang out with me. An hour later, the two of us are huddled in a booth in a bar in West Village, looking at a beer list that’s three pages long, trying to make up our minds what we want to drink. “I really shouldn’t,” I say regretfully, looking longingly at the pints of beer on the tables all around us. “I might have to go back to work.”

Wendy grimaces. “Me too.” We order glasses of orange juice, ignoring the eye-roll the waitress gives us. Once she’s gone, Wendy gives me a piercing look. “You look glum,” she says. “Which is odd, because I read what Maisie Hayes had to say this morning. You should be over the moon.”

“I’m having boy troubles,” I say moodily.

“How come? The three of you looked pretty close on Thursday.”

I look up at her. “You noticed that too? My mother remarked on it today.”

“I’m not surprised,” she says. “Neither Wyatt nor Owen could take their eyes off you. So what happened between Thursday and now?”

“I did something really stupid.” I take a sip of my orange juice and wish it were something stronger. Drowning myself in drink might not solve anything, but it will at least numb my misery. “I said something really mean to Wyatt.”

I tell Wendy the story of the ruined gravy. “Wyatt and Owen thought it was my mother who did it,” I finish. “I lashed out at Wyatt.” I grimace. “I was so angry, but that’s no excuse. I shouldn’t have.”

Wendy frowns. “Didn’t you apologize to him? You don’t typically sit on your high horse when you’re in the wrong.”

“I apologized right away. But I haven’t talked to them all weekend.”

My friend shakes her head. “In other words, each one of you is waiting for the other to call,” she says dryly. “That’s very grown-up of all of you. Why are you avoiding them?”

“What if they want nothing to do with me?” Gulping nervously, I voice my deepest fear. “I really like them. I don’t want it to be over.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake. Don’t be ridiculous. Call them now.”

“What?” I look up at her. “I can’t do that.”

My phone’s on the table. Before I can react, she grabs it, finds Wyatt on the list of my contacts, and dials his number, ignoring my outraged squawk. “Stop that,” I say indignantly, but it’s too late. Wyatt’s picked up.

“Is that Wyatt Lawless?” she asks. “This is Wendy, Piper’s friend. We’ve met before. Piper wants to talk to you.” She hands me the phone. “Do it.”

My hand trembles as I reach for the instrument. “Hey,” I say, crossing my fingers behind my back. “I’m so sorry. I should have never said what I did. Please don’t be mad at me.”

Wyatt’s voice wraps around me like a warm embrace. “Okay,” he says.

“Wait, what?” Of everything I expect to hear from him, this isn’t it. I’m prepared for a cold shoulder, or angry words of recrimination. I’m not ready for a calm
okay
.

“Okay,” he repeats, and this time, there’s a note of amusement in his voice. “Okay, I won’t be mad at you.”

“If you aren’t angry, why didn’t you call me?” The moment those words leave my mouth, I want to take them back. I sound like a whiny girlfriend, and God knows I don’t have any claim on either Wyatt or Owen. We’ve had sex twice. That does not give me the right to make demands of them.

Wyatt doesn’t seem to think my question is out of line. “I’m sorry about that,” he says regretfully. “I was just about to call you. Are you at
Piper’s
right now?”  

“No, Josef’s working today. I’m taking the afternoon off.”

“Good.” He sounds relieved. “Owen and I need to talk to you. If you don’t have to be at work, can you come over?”

“Now? I’m having a drink with Wendy.”

Wendy rolls her eyes and snatches my phone from my hand. “No, she’s not,” she tells Wyatt. “She’s finished here. She’s heading over right now.”

I glare at Wendy, but my outrage lacks conviction.

B
oth Owen
and Wyatt are at the curb waiting for my cab. The instant I pull up and open the door, they jump forward. Wyatt encloses me in a hug, while Owen pays my driver. “Hey, I can do that,” I protest, to no avail. “What’s going on? You guys are being weird.”

“Come upstairs,” Wyatt replies. “We’ll explain.”

Something is wrong. An old lady rides the elevator up with us, preventing me from questioning them. I wait impatiently until we get to the top floor.

Owen pushes the door open to his place and gestures me in. The instant the door shuts behind us, Wyatt’s tension seems to drain away. “Hello, Piper,” he says, his voice low and intent. “I’ve missed you.”

The way I see it, I have two choices. I can either demand that they tell me what is happening, or I can fall into bed with them and have some mouth-watering sex first. Falling into bed wins by a landslide.

“I’ve missed you too.” I’m wearing a short sleeved button-down shirt, and I reach for the first button, and undo it. My lips quirk into a smile at their reaction. Wyatt sits down on the couch and leans back with sharp interest, his eyes fixed on the slivers of skin slowly coming into view.

Owen is more proactive. He takes a step toward me. “Do you like your shirt?” he growls.

“I hate it.” I sound like I’ve been running a race. My voice is breathless, layered with need.

“Good.” His fingers grip the fabric, and he rips. Buttons fly everywhere, and I gasp as he yanks the shirt free. The bra follows. I stand in my pencil skirt and my pumps, lust raging through my blood.

“Two nights,” Owen says, his voice controlled, his breath tickling my ear, “we slept without you. Tell me you want to make it up to us.”

The violence of my need almost causes my knees to buckle. “I want to make it up to you,” I whisper.

“Get on your knees.”

I sink to the floor, my eyes on Wyatt, loving the way he’s watching me. I’m prey and these men are the predators, but though my heart hammers in my chest, I have no desire to be anywhere but here.

“Crawl toward him.” Owen’s instruction almost makes me combust. My insides tighten. On my hands and knees, I move to Wyatt.

When I reach him, I sit up on my haunches and my fingers find his belt. “I want you,” I say boldly.

His eyes darken. “I’m all yours, Piper,” he replies as I undo his belt and unzip his trousers, almost tearing his clothes away so I can touch him. His cock jumps out, hard and ready, and I close my hand around him, sliding up and down on his thick length before taking him in my mouth.

“Fuck, Piper,” Wyatt groans, his head thrown back on the couch, his eyes closed.

I love this reaction. I can feel my pussy drip; I’m so turned on.

Owen comes up behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist. “I missed these breasts,” he growls into my ear as his hands slide up my chest to cup my globes. “I missed these nipples.” He rolls my erect nubs between his thumb and forefinger, then he pinches them hard. I gasp onto Wyatt’s cock as a slice of raw heat cuts through me.

He grabs the hem of my pencil skirt and tugs up, smoothing the fabric over the curve of my hips until it’s bunched up at my waist. He yanks my panties down to my knees. “Part your legs for me, baby,” he urges.

His fingers slide deep into me. “So wet,” he marvels. “I’ve been starved for this pussy, Piper. You offered us a feast and you took it away.” His other palm smooths over my ass, then he spanks me.

Oh, that was nice. We
have
to do that again.

I pull my mouth from Wyatt’s cock. I lick the underside of his shaft, and cup his balls gently. “So fucking good,” he moans, staring down at me. “So fucking beautiful.”

Owen’s fingers find my clitoris, and he pets me in little teasing strokes. “More,” I gasp out, trying to push back into him so there’s more contact, more friction. I need this; I need them. Before I met them, I went without sex for five years. Now, I can’t seem to last five hours. My desire, so long on the back-burner, is now ablaze. I quiver and tremble for their touch.

“You’re in full sight of the window,” Wyatt says, staring at me with hungry eyes. “It’s daytime. Anyone can look in and see you on your knees, with your pretty little lips wrapped around my cock.”

“I don’t care,” I say defiantly. “Let them look.” Right now, it wouldn’t even matter if people were standing in a circle around us, staring down at the tangle of bodies. All I want is for Owen to stroke me, just a little harder. My thighs tremble as my climax dances, just out of reach.

“You don’t care?” Owen asks. “Really?” His tone is deliberately casual. He’s plotting something.

Wyatt’s lips curve into a smile. “Get up, Piper.”

Owen helps me to my feet. I strip off my panties while Owen’s fingers work at my skirt, undoing the button and sliding the zipper down. “Step out of it,” he orders.

If this is a test, then I’m going to ace it, because I will do anything to for my orgasm. If they ask me to spread my legs and touch myself in front of them, I will. If they order me to fuck myself with a dildo, I’ll comply with pleasure. I ache with throbbing need; I’m trapped in a net of powerful lust.

Wyatt strips efficiently, unembarrassed by his nakedness. I shamelessly check him out. Owen disappears for a minute and returns with condoms and lube. He removes his clothes as well, and wraps his hands around my wrist. “We’re going to push you against the window and take you in full sight of the city, Piper.”

I bite my lower lip, but my pussy floods at the thought. “Okay,” I whisper.

Their eyes blaze with heat. “What a naughty girl,” Wyatt says, his hands gripping my wrists as he inches me back toward the glass.

“She is,” Owen agrees. “I should pull you over my lap, Piper, and spank you hard.”

There’s no doubt; my body likes the sound of that. I watch with greedy eyes as they roll condoms on their cocks. Owen slicks a generous amount of lube on his shaft, and fists himself, pumping up and down to coat every hard inch.

Wyatt reaches for me. I lift my right leg off the floor and wrap it around his hip, standing on tiptoe as his thick length penetrates me. “Fuck yes, he says through clenched teeth. “You are so tight, Piper.”

Owen’s dick nudges at my bottom. I gasp as he penetrates me, filling me completely. My body tingles as they thrust into me. At first, they hold on to their control, but it doesn’t take long before they unravel. Their strokes get harder, faster. “Touch yourself,” Owen rasps. “I want to feel you come, Piper.”

My fingers strum at my clitoris. I’m not gentle. My body is shaking with raw desire. I rub myself, pleasure radiating from my core. I’m so close. Just a little more, just a little harder…

And I’m there.
My climax washes over me in a thunderous wave. I see stars; I touch the skies. When my quivering tremors have barely begun to subside, Wyatt and Owen groan out within seconds of each other as they explode, their fingers digging into my flesh.

“So tell me something,” I ask them, as we collapse on the carpet, the fibers tickling my skin, “did the whole of New York just watch us?”

Wyatt chuckles. “You liked the idea of that, didn’t you?” he teases. “No, the glass is coated. You can’t see in.”

“I thought as much,” I lie, but neither of them falls for it. Their gazes are knowing, and my cheeks flush. I’m turning out to be some kind of sex-crazy fiend.

But I like it.  

“
A
re
you going to tell me what’s going on?”

The sun is lower in the sky. The bright lights of the city are flickering on as the daylight recedes. It’s as quiet as it gets in Manhattan, as people start the Sunday night routine of getting ready for the week ahead.

Wyatt takes a deep breath. “Where should we start?” he asks Owen.

Owen looks nervous, which startles me. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Owen Lamb at a loss for words. “Can I ask you something?” he says to me.

“You’re freaking me out.”

He doesn’t crack a smile, though he takes my hand in his. “Where do you see this relationship going?”

“Are you breaking up with me?” I ask bluntly.

Wyatt snorts. “Oh for fuck’s sake, Owen,” he says with fond exasperation. “Piper, Owen’s trying to tell you he’s in love with you.” He rolls his eyes in Owen’s direction. “He’s doing an excruciatingly bad job of it.”

Owen glares at Wyatt. “I don’t see you saying anything,” he points out. “It’s harder than it looks.”

I look from Owen to Wyatt, disbelief and the beginnings of joy warring in my heart. “Wait, you’re in love with me?” I ask Owen. “Is that true, or is that something Wyatt made up?”

“It’s true.” His clear blue gaze never leaves mine. “I love you, Piper Jackson. And I know we haven’t talked about the future, and I know a threesome is unorthodox, but I also know that the last eight weeks have been the happiest of my life.” He turns toward Wyatt. “Your turn.”

Wyatt actually blushes. The look on his face tugs at my heartstrings. “You probably know where this is going,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “I love you too Piper. I think I’ve loved you from almost the first moment I met you.” He reaches for my other hand, the one Owen isn’t holding, and he continues, his voice soft with memory. “You put your hands on your hips, and you demanded to know why we’d eaten at your restaurant for the last two weeks. You were so feisty and so spunky that I couldn’t help but fall in love with you.” He swallows. “I was hurt by your words on Friday,” he admits, “but when you left, I realized that it didn’t matter. If we fought, we’d make up, because I can’t imagine my life without you in it.”

I grin widely. “I love you too,” I reply, sitting up straight and throwing my arms around them. “I love both of you so much. And I know a threesome can be complicated, but two of my best friends are in them. If they can make it work, so can I.”

My mother’s face dances before me, her eyes blazing with anger and disapproval. I shake my head and push it away.
I don’t care what my parents think,
I tell myself defiantly.
I’ll find a way to make it work.

But there’s a small voice inside me that’s calling me a liar, and I think that voice might be right.

“
H
ang on
,” I say, after another extended round of cuddling that predictably, leads to sex, “That’s not the reason you guys were acting so strange when I pulled up.”

Owen sits up with a sigh. “It’s a long story,” he says. “And you might be furious with us once you hear it. You remember the day we first met? You asked us why we picked
Aladdin’s Lamp
.”

I nod. “Because Sebastian told you to, right?”

“Wrong.” Wyatt shakes his head. “Sebastian just suggested we try your food. And we did, for two weeks. But I was pretty convinced
Aladdin’s Lamp
wasn’t a good fit for us.”

“There’s a cop called Eduardo Mendez,” Owen continues. “Mendez and his wife were my foster parents when I first moved to America. I’ve helped him out with his cases from time to time.”

Wyatt lifts a single eyebrow, but doesn’t interrupt. “Anyway, Mendez is investigating a gang that’s operating in Hell’s Kitchen, using local restaurants as a front. Drugs, mostly.
Aladdin’s Lamp
was on his list of suspects. I promised him I’d look into it.”

“Wait a minute.” My mouth falls open. “That’s why you invested in my restaurant? Because you thought I was dealing drugs?”

Owen squeezes his eyes shut. “Only at the start.”

“Your innocence was obvious to both of us in less than a week,” Wyatt adds, giving Owen an exasperated look.

“So hang on,” I say slowly, “when you helped me paint, did you think I was guilty?”

“No, of course not.” Owen’s gaze is tender as he looks at me. “You remember the night we sealed our friendship over the better part of a bottle of vodka?”

How can I forget that night? It was the first time I’d wanted them. I’d gone to bed, my body aching with longing, desperate to feel the press of their bodies against mine. “Yes.”

“I knew you were clean that night,” Owen says.  

“So everything that came after, the painting, the sign, all the help you gave me, that was real? Not because of your investigation?”

“No, Piper. We didn’t lie when we said we were there for you.”

“Okay.” I lift my shoulder in a shrug. “We’re cool. Continue the story.”

“What?” Wyatt props himself up on his elbow to stare at me. “You’re okay? You’re not furious?”

I shake my head. “I thought you were assholes when we met the first time,” I tell him. “I wanted to punch both of you. First impressions aren’t always right. Besides, you didn’t know me, and
Aladdin’s Lamp
had lost money for a very long time. I’m not surprised the cops suspected me of illegal activity.”

Wyatt gives me an astonished look. Owen kisses my cheek. “Thank you,” he mutters into my ear. “Back to the story. I’ve been checking out the restaurants on Mendez’s list. One of them is participating in
Can You Take The Heat?
.”

They fill me in on their conversation with Greg Tennant. “So you see,” Wyatt finishes, his voice serious, “why we were worried for you this afternoon.”

I hug my knees to my chest, feeling chilled to my core. Restaurants aren’t above sabotaging each other, of course. It’s a brutal and competitive world.

But Wyatt and Owen aren’t describing a simple act of sabotage. They’re talking about someone deliberately targeting Greg Tennant’s wife. Hurting her, sending her to the hospital with broken bones.

“Surveillance cameras will be installed tomorrow,” Wyatt says. “Both outside the building and inside the restaurant.”

I’ve almost forgotten the original reason Wyatt wanted cameras in the kitchen. The incident of the salted gravy seems trivial now. “Can we afford it?” I ask automatically.

“Yes,” Owen replies. “You’re getting a new landlord soon. They’ll be covering the cost.”

“Are you buying my building?” I demand. They’re very rich, I know and I wouldn’t put it past them. “I don’t want any special favors.”