The Client 11: In Which She Hits A Brick Wall (Of Hard, Male Muscle)

My mother once told me that when I was young, my father would dress up as Santa most Christmases and I'd always tell him to cut the c.r.a.p because that fake white beard and pillow-for-belly s.h.i.+t hadn't fooled me for a nanosecond.

So why the h.e.l.l had I fallen for Wyatt Parker's Santa act? Why had I believed his story in the end?

Simple: It just sounded plausible and it had nothing to do with the strong hatred I harboured for Brenda. If Reed's father had been as depressed as Parker claimed he'd been, suicide was believable.

But Reed had obviously heard this story many times before and wasn't buying it, even on discount.

“Lena, he's been singing the same song since…since forever,” he told me, moving away from me in what he probably figured was an imperceptible manner. Except that I acutely felt the sunlight-filled chasm between us.

“Fine. I get it. Who would want to believe that their –”

“My father didn't kill himself,” Reed snapped.

“What reason does Wyatt still have to maintain his innocence, Reed?” I calmly responded. “He's out of jail. He has nothing to gain by saying this.”

Reed closed his eyes, breathing heavily. “I don't want to talk about this, Lena. Don't make me. Please.”

Without thinking, I reached for his hand and squeezed. For a long time, that was all we did – hold hands – until I found something to say. “We can talk about other things. Like…well, like how do you know I don't have as much bacteria in me as a Petri dish?”

Reed's eyes opened. His brow creased. “Bacteria?”

“STDs,” I amended.

His lips twitched. “Do you have as much bacteria in you as a Petri dish?”

“No, but my point is, you didn't know that before. You have to be careful, Reed. Diseases are everywhere.”

“I know. It won't happen again.” He was drawing circles on the back of my hand with a finger. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.” I braced myself.

“Would it freak you out if I told you I'd wondered what it would feel like to be inside you with nothing between us?”

I put my hand over his, stilling his finger. “Reed…”

“But I would never have done it on purpose,” he insisted, instantly looking uncomfortable. He averted his eyes. “I swear.”

“Well, I see why most pregnancies are unplanned and why there are so many STD-riddled people out there because…stupid s.e.x feels amazing.”

His head jerked up. “Really?”

“Really.”

He chewed on his lower lip before flas.h.i.+ng me a grin. “Awesome.”

“Won't happen again, though.”

“Didn't count on it.”

“Awesome,” I parroted, sinking back under the covers. I felt Reed lay back beside me. “I'm not used to talking after s.e.x. Dawn calls it my wham-bam-thank-you-man tendencies. I call it common sense.”

Reed was playing with a strand of my hair, twirling it around an index finger. “Then I'm honoured that you're talking to me.”

I laughed out loud. “I don't mean that I just…lie there in silence after. I simply don't stick around for that kind of awkwardness.”

“So you've never had a boyfriend?”
The ceiling was starting to look awfully interesting. He so didn't need to know about my less- than-stellar past. “Once, I think. In kindergarten.” I had to laugh at the memory. “Ethan Something. We shared his sandwiches every playtime, until some s.k.a.n.k stole him from me and they moved into the Wendy house together. Now that I think about it, I was only in it for the ham-and-cheese. His mom made a mean sandwich.”

Reed's soft laugh made me turn onto my side to look at him.

“What about you?” I asked him. “Did you…date? I mean, I know you said you hadn't done anything s.e.xual before but that doesn't mean there aren't any girls in this world who believe in just hand-holding and beach-walking.”

His eyes travelled down to where our fingers were interlaced between us. “I was homeschooled and didn't get out much, so…no,” he said softly. “Besides, who would've wanted a blind guy that was too scared to go to college? To do anything?”

“Stop it. You've done so much already, Reed,” I told him. “How many people can say their paintings get auctioned off at millions of dollars apiece? Artwork that they created when they couldn't even see? You have more talent in your big toe than I possess at all.”

He gave me a tight smile. “You don't have to stroke my ego, Lena. I'm a big boy now.”

“Don't I know it,” I mumbled to myself, unable to resist running my fingers down his arm. Gooseb.u.mps instantly dotted the skin there.

Reed gave me a slow, lazy smile. “Filthy, filthy mind.”

“Proud of it,” I proclaimed. “My turn to ask you something.”

“Knock yourself out.”

“If you were content to stay the way you were, why'd you go for the eye operation?” It was something he'd never exactly explained and I'd been wondering for a while now.

“One word: Nathan,” he confessed with a wry smile. “My brother's very convincing. I just went along with it to shut him up, didn't expect it to be successful. But it was and…well, he thinks my life started almost two years ago when I got my sight back, but it didn't. To be honest, I think it started when I met you.”

“Please don't say that. I'm not –”

He pressed a finger against my lips, silencing me. “Just listen to me for a second. It's not the s.e.x, though that's golden. It's the fact that I've never met anyone like you; someone so bold, someone so full of life she's overflowing,” he p.r.o.nounced, dropping his hand. “You might not know this but you rub off on people, on me. So what I'm trying to say is…is that I'm glad to know you, Lena.”

There was nothing I could say to that but the silence that followed wasn't awkward. It was comfortable, even after how close we'd come to getting into a fight. I felt callous for bringing up Wyatt Parker to Reed, especially on this day, but I didn't feel stupid about believing the guy. If there was even an ounce of truth to his story, it was up to me to prove it.

“Is something wrong?” I asked after my moment of musing ended and I noticed the way Reed's face was scrunched up in concentration.

He sighed. “No need to sound so worried all the time, Lena. I was just thinking… Turn around.”

I frowned. “My stamina's excellent but one round with you is enough to knock the freaking Energizer Bunny out cold.”

He rolled his eyes at me. “Just trust that I will control my voracious appet.i.te, and turn.”

My nostrils flared. “Fine. Sure.” I rolled over onto my other side, facing the windows. Sunlight streamed through, creating a liquid gold square on the carpet.
I stiffened when Reed wrapped an arm around me, easily dragging me into the coc.o.o.n of his warm, hard body.

“I just realised that I've never cuddled in bed with anyone,” he whispered in my ear, his warm breath tickling me.

His arm was banded around my stomach and, from the juxtaposition of softness and hardness against my a.s.s, he was sporting a semi. Judging by how my heart was beating frantically against my chest, I was about to have a panic attack.

Because of cuddling, Lena? Really? Pusşy.

h.e.l.l, yeah.

I didn't know how to be this woman Reed clearly wanted me to be – a woman who cuddled and talked and made sweet, slow love to someone. I was getting food poisoning just thinking of the salmonella that was also known as love.

“You're so stiff,” Reed remarked, slightly loosening his hold of me. “Relax.” He circled a fingertip in the indent that was my navel and for some reason, that calmed me down.

I let out the breath that I had been holding. “Sorry. This is just weird for me.”

“Oh. Well, I'll just…” He was already letting me go and my hand quickly moved over his, keeping it on my stomach.

“It's fine. There's a first time for everything, right? Just call me the cuddle virgin.”

I felt his chest vibrate with soft laughter. “Did we just lose our cuddling virginity to each other?”

“You're such a sap, but yes, I guess we did.”

He leaned over me and brought his lips to mine, soft enough for me to think I was imagining them. I slanted my head for better access and my hands automatically sought his hair as my lips parted for his tongue. He groaned softly, sliding it into my mouth, grinding his pelvis against my b.u.t.t. I sighed when his hand on my stomach moved lower and his fingers began to rub my cļit, a new flood of wetness leaving me.

“What did you mean earlier?” His lips broke away from my mouth and moved to my neck now, kissing their way down my pulsing jugular. “When you said I'm yours?”

I pushed his hand right where I wanted it, struggling to keep my eyes open, twisting onto my back. “Just… Oh, G.o.d… Please…”

His fingers stopped moving. “Tell me.”

“I'm being selfish,” I breathlessly replied, hating this new line of questioning. “It was just s-something I said in the moment.”

“I kind of like the idea of belonging to you.” He placed a reverent kiss on my breast. “I feel like I should say I am Lena's; only Lena's. Maybe have it tattooed on my chest. It's only fair and I know you'd secretly like that.” He chuckled softly to show that he was joking.

But G.o.d help me, I was a perverse little creature for liking the idea a little too much. A sharp spurt of searing need went through me and I clenched my stomach. I tried to fight it – because come on, he was a human being, not an object, and I had no right to claim him as mine when all we had between us was s.e.x.

“You're so silly,” I whispered. My breath caught when he lowered his head and drew my nipple into his mouth, sucking hard.

“You make me silly,” he said against my skin, his fingers beginning their slow torture once more. “From the first moment I saw you, I've been fucķed up.”

“You and me both,” I said on an exhale.
That was the last coherent thing that left my mouth because while Reed was definitely talented with his mouth, his hands were very stiff compet.i.tion.

***

It was much, much later – after a pretty great shower for two – when I unlocked my door and went out, only to b.u.mp into Brenda. By the guilty look on the older woman's face, she'd been listening at the door for G.o.d-only-knows-how-long.

I was astounded. “What the h.e.l.l?”

“I could ask you the very same thing!” she snarled back at me.

“I'm not the one who's just been caught spying on two people having s.e.x!”

She flushed a deep red from the roots of her silver-and-coal hair to her stocky neck. “The… noise you were making rivals that of a zoo animal,” she hissed, actually vibrating with anger. “Reed is your client. Of course, since you have zero experience whatsoever, this was undoubtedly the only reason you came here. Are you even a bodyguard, or are you just an escort? I have every right to report you –”

I snorted in a most unladylike fas.h.i.+on, interrupting her. “Report me to Nate? Oh, go right ahead. In fact, use my phone – because he already knows.”

Her mouth hung open like a drawbridge.

I took a step forward until we were a hair's breadth away from each other. “There's a special place for mother figures who eavesdrop on their so-called sons' s.e.xual antics. It's called h.e.l.l.” I paused. “Reed and I are fucķing. Get over it and get a life instead. Maybe get out the Bay Area and see the world.”

“You…you insolent, vulgar little –”

“And one more thing, Brenda, Wyatt Parker is very chatty. About unrequited love and possible cover-ups and women so vile, they'd let an innocent man rot in prison for a crime he didn't commit,” I added. “So, aside from Reed, you are my reason to be here. I don't trust you or anything that comes out your toxic mouth.”

Her eyes became slits. “I'm not surprised you spoke with that criminal. If you were hoping to threaten me, you simply don't know what I'm capable of.”

“And just what are you capable of, Mrs. B?”

Brenda's eyes slid over my shoulder to where the question had come from. Her eyes momentarily widened before reverting to the look of pure adoration she had whenever she so much as caught a whiff of Reed Lancaster. Probably more so because he was in his towel, still damp from his shower in my room.

“Why, anything to protect you, sweetheart. Now that we've established that this one” – she gave me a pointed look in case I didn't know I was the “this one” she was referring to – “is only here for…pleasure, and with your father's murderer on the loose –”

Reed interrupted her with a short bark of laughter. “You're sixty-two, Mrs. B. The only thing you can and should protect is your Southern-style fried chicken recipe – which, by the way, Lena, is out of this world. Mrs. B.'s recipes are closely-guarded secrets.” He threw a bare arm around my shoulders, earning an immediate scowl from Brenda.

I was more than convinced that her secret ingredient, if it ever came to cooking for me, would be cyanide, lots and lots of cyanide.

“I hope you know what you're doing, Reed,” she warned, before flouncing off.

I glared after her before turning to glare up at Reed. “This is nuts. Either she wants your dicķ, or she doesn't want me finding out what she's hiding. I'm going with both.”
Heat crept up his neck until his face was stained completely red. “Does everything have to be so sordid in that mind of yours?”

“She just fed you an immense pile of bulls.h.i.+t, Reed. Why? Because she's a manipulative geriatric liar and probably mentally ill.”

“Lena,” Reed said in a warning tone, staring me down. He ran a hand through his damp hair. “She's been like a mother to me ever since I can remember. She gave up her life to stay in this house, taking care of me. She's just overprotective. Don't talk s.h.i.+t about her.”

“You're asking way too much from me,” I bit out. “How can you be so blind?” I wished I could swallow the words back the second they hung in the air.

Foot in your mouth, Lena, scolded the little voice in my head. Foot in your mouth.

Reed laughed long and loud, clutching his stomach. “You should see…your face,” he choked out between laughter. “Christ, it's okay to say blind. I told you this.”

I smacked his arm and he grabbed me, pulling me in for a devastating kiss. Seconds or minutes pa.s.sed – I didn't know – but I almost bit down on Reed's tongue at the roar of “Happy birthday!” that came from behind us.

Reed groaned, releasing me. “What the h.e.l.l are you doing here, Nate?” he grumbled.

I slowly turned. “Mr. Lancaster,” I said by way of greeting. “I was under the impression that you'd returned to the UK after your opening.”

“You two look freaking great together,” Nathan commented, grinning from ear to ear. “I swear, I should get my own dating show on TLC. Nate's Dates – catchy, huh?”

“If you'll excuse me,” I muttered at the same time Reed mumbled, “Can I get dressed?”

“Where do you think you're going, Lena? Can I call you Lena?” said Nathan before s.h.i.+fting his attention to his brother without waiting for my answer. “And you – no need to sound like such an angsty teen. I have a great birthday surprise for you.”

“You should've called.”

“And you should look up the definition of surprise, baby brother. I come bearing an English rose who certainly didn't smell like one after her flight in yesterday.”

Heavy footsteps came down the hallway. “Hey, I heard that!”

It was Imogen, of course, and she looked exactly like she did in the one picture I'd seen of her – a willowy, blue-eyed blonde with a wide smile that could probably stop traffic. The four of us standing out in the hallway was already making me feel claustrophobic. Before I could even think of attempting to make another excuse, Reed slid his hand around mine and squeezed.

“Happy birthday, Reedy!” Imogen suddenly screeched, throwing her arms around him in a wide, all-encompa.s.sing hug. She was almost as tall as he was. “G.o.d, you are reedy. Feels like hugging an electricity pole with a heartbeat. Has Brenda not been feeding you, or are you taking the starving-artist cliché to new heights?”

“Immy,” said Reed, sounding genuinely affectionate, “so nice to see you, but you should have called. You know I hate surprises.”

She pulled back and pouted. “Maybe if you at least attempted to get on a plane to see me, or even just got on b.l.o.o.d.y Skype once in a blue moon, I wouldn't have to make these impromptu visits.”

“OK, I'm getting tired of ignoring your nipple stand, Reed,” Nathan declared suddenly. “Go put a s.h.i.+rt on. This isn't Jersey Sh.o.r.e.”

“Fucķ you. It's cold out here,” Reed muttered, but he was, thankfully, already heading next door to his own room.

Nathan laughed. “I would, bro, but I'm neither gay nor incestuous. Besides, it looks like Lena here has just done the honours.” Reed slammed his bedroom door shut in response.

Imogen punched her husband's arm, so hard I winced along with him. “Stop being such a t.w.a.t,” she scolded before fixing that megawatt grin of hers on me. “Hi, you must be Reed's bodyguard. I'm Imogen.” She stuck her hand out.

I shook it. “Lena.”

“Please don't mind my husband. He's notorious for being an immature little s.h.i.+ţ.”

“Noted,” I dryly responded, although her immature little s.h.i.+ţ of a husband was barking with laughter.

“I'm not sure if Reed has made any plans for the day…” Imogen's voice trailed off when she peeked over my shoulder and into my room. The bed was still dishevelled, sheets tangled and all. It was pretty d.a.m.n obvious what had recently taken place in it. I couldn't even muster any mortification. At this point, I didn't give a d.a.m.n.

“Oh. My. Fucķing. Brotherfucķer,” Imogen continued, clapping her hands together like a kid in a candy store. “They are fucķing.” Tears were actually glistening in her eyes.

“Calm down, baby,” said Nathan, casually leaning against the opposite wall. He winked at me. “You'll scare the poor girl.”

And I was. Scared, I mean. I wasn't used to the feeling constricting my throat but that was exactly what it was. Fucķ buddies didn't meet their fucķ buddy's only living relatives. The lines were getting blurred and the only thing I could hold on to was that there was a work-related reason for me to be there, even if Reed kept getting in the way.

“It's just…I thought he'd never… I mean, he's so good-looking and clever and sweet, but it looked like he'd never find anybody. He's the sibling I never had and I love him so much,” Imogen sobbed – actually f.u.c.king sobbed. Her eyes sparkled with tears as she took my hands in hers. “And I'm sorry if I come off as a creep, bawling my eyes out because my brother-in-law finally connected with someone in that way…but I'm a month along and I cry when someone comes last in Come Dine With Me, even though someone has to come last and it's silly to cry for them when they live in such fancy houses and it's not a life-or-death kind of show.”

“Sorry? What was that?” Nathan yelped, pus.h.i.+ng off the wall. He came up next to me, eyeing his wife. “Did you just… Did you just say you're a month along?”

“Did I? Well, s.h.i.+t. I was going to tell everyone at dinner tonight.” She giggled. “Though between puking my guts out and eating my weight in food, you'd have thought this smart a.r.s.e I'm married to would've put two and two together.”

My eyes went to her flat tummy beneath her black OVOXO T-s.h.i.+rt. I always stayed away from pregnant women because, irrationally, I felt like pregnancy was contagious. Still, I couldn't say that.

“Wow. Congratu-” My best wishes were interrupted by the loud thumping sound beside me.

Nathan Lancaster, immature little s.h.i.+t, had fainted.