Dangerous Exes (Page 5)

Her heel caught on her dress as she stumbled into my arms, her hands gripped my biceps so hard that I found myself flexing to keep both of us steady, and then her eyes heated, and there was one brief moment of insanity where she locked onto my mouth with a wanting gaze before clearing her throat and looking away, tucking her hair behind her ears.

“Deal,” I found myself saying. “So what’s this crazy thing we’re about to do?”

She just shrugged. “Dance.”

My eyebrows shot up. “We’re going to dance?”

She nodded and then grabbed my hand and drew me to the dance floor. The lights darkened and then her hands were on me, and my hands were on her hips as we moved in sync to the music. The music slowed, forcing us closer together.

Our mouths almost touched.

She smelled like sweet wine.

I could sense her want.

It matched mine.

And I was vulnerable to the way she looked at me, the opposite of my ex . . . as if she wanted me more than anything else, and when she looked at me, she only saw me.

And for once in my life, I wanted to hold on to that feeling just a bit longer, selfishly take it so I could remember what it felt like to be with a woman who saw me as a man.

I snorted into my first glass of beer and emptied it just as Colin brought me a second. Yeah, that memory was doing me no favors right now.

“Rough day?” He leaned over the bar, his snake tattoo poking out from underneath his tight black shirt.

“Don’t patronize me with your bullshit.” I rolled my eyes. “You’re not my therapist.”

“Thank God for that.” Colin grinned. “Even I feel sorry for your therapist, didn’t the first one actually fire you?”

I glared. “She quit.”

“Is that normal? For therapists to just quit their clients?”

“Is this you being helpful? Because it feels like the opposite.” I shoved my empty glass toward him and grabbed the full one.

“Seriously, anything I can help with?” He had that look, the look that said he knew what was on my mind but was dating Isla’s best friend and had already told me he wasn’t going to take sides (at least if he could help it). Besides, he was so happy that I felt guilty for even thinking about pulling him back into my life’s drama. He already couldn’t avoid my ex-wife since they were blood relations.

I drank deep and placed the glass back on the bar. “No.”

“Uh-huh.” Colin’s eyes narrowed. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with you hanging outside Dirty Exes all morning like you were part of a stakeout, would it?”

“Blaire needs to keep her mouth shut,” I grumbled. “And I was trying to be intimidating.”

Colin choked on a laugh then nodded seriously. “Good call, I always think stalkers are intimidating, especially ones who wear three-piece suits and drive Teslas. What did you think would happen? You’d smolder her to death? Look, I know you’re pissed—”

“No.” I clenched my fist. “They ruined everything!”

Colin’s smile disappeared.

“Everything.” I said it again as rage pulsed through my body. “I had the perfect trajectory, things were finally calming down. My wife signed divorce papers, I was free from her brand of crazy and ready to move on with my life, hell, I was gonna get a dog!”

Colin’s jaw nearly came unhinged. “You’re not even a dog person.”

“I was branching out,” I grumbled. “The point is, the minute everyone found out that Vanessa had Dirty Exes investigating me, my credibility went to shit. My reputation is completely fucked because of them.”

Colin moved the beer to the side and leaned over the bar. “Look, it’s going to blow over, this shit always does. Until then, just lie low. You’re only going to make it worse by camping outside their place of business and taunting them. Plus, you can’t really do anything by watching her through binoculars.”

I smirked. “Yes I can . . . I’m in her head, and soon . . . I’m going to be the only thing she sees, everywhere. She thinks it’s bad now? The war hasn’t even started.”

Colin held up his hands. “Just leave me out of it.”

I snorted. “I wouldn’t expect you to help me anyway.”

“Why’s that?”

“You’re getting laid.”

He nodded. “Solid point, you’re on your own.”

“Some best friend you are.”

“A best friend who’s getting laid on the regular by a goddess with a fascination for tugging my hair? Um, yeah, hard pass.”

I groaned in red-hot envy and downed the rest of my beer, my brain going a million miles a minute.

It was the only solution.

Shutting her down, proving to the world and all those shitty reporters that they weren’t even a legit PI agency.

One more wrong move.

And she’d be forced to close her doors forever.

Blaire and Colin would live happily ever after with his millions.

And Isla?

She’d be on the street wondering where the hell she went wrong.

And I’d be there waiting with a smug-as-fuck smile on my face.

I grinned as I paid my tab.

Even though my insides churned.

Tit for tat.

She deserved everything she had coming to her.

Chapter Five

ISLA

The universe was plotting against me. It started when I spilled coffee on my new white blouse, continued its downward spiral after I nearly got clipped by a motorcyclist and then dodged a bird who was clearly hell-bent on suicide, making it so I had to park across from my great-aunt’s retirement home and jog across the busy street in heels.

A warm breeze picked up.

I shivered.

And paused.

The damp stain chilled my skin as my teeth chattered for a few seconds. I scanned the parking lot. Something felt wrong, out of place, off.

Foreboding washed over me. Why were there so many cars? I always visited on Tuesday afternoons and I’d never had trouble finding a spot before.

The wind swirled and moaned around me again.

I was being ridiculous.

Paranoid.

And I’d had maybe three hours of solid sleep last night—ever since Jessie’s kiss I’d been consumed by the heat of his mouth until I woke up moaning like he was in my bed ready to pounce.

It was unfortunate that I hated him.

And that he hated me just as much, possibly more.

My heels clicked against the concrete as I quickly made my way into the LA Hills Hollywood Retirement Plaza. It was an upscale retirement community for older movie stars and industry professionals.

It had four pools.

A freaking Starbucks.

And basically anything an old rich person could possibly want except for cabana boys—apparently that’s where they drew the line no matter how many times my aunt had her friends sign a petition.

They almost won last year.

She went as far as putting up posters of Efron to Hemsworth around the retirement community and inviting Bieber to do a benefit concert to help their efforts. Shockingly, Justin said no.

I couldn’t imagine why it wouldn’t be appealing to perform half-naked in front of eighty-year-olds. Where was the kid’s sense of adventure?

I grinned and waved at Henry, the sixty-year-old volunteer receptionist who asked me out for coffee and the early-bird special every weekend.

Sometimes I took him up on it.

Best dates I’ve ever had were with Henry.

And we always split the bill.