Page 6 of Sleeping with the Frenemy

She spoke between clenched teeth. “Yes, you were.”

“Wasn’t.”

Katherine’s lips twitched.

I winked at her.

Victoria lifted her chin, giving me a nice view of the creamy skin of her neck and the little pulse point pounding on the side. “If you don’t leave, I’m calling the cops.”

“You mean the ones having lunch at the Valenti Hotel bar?” I looked at Katherine. “We give police and EMTs free meals at all of our hotels. You never know when you’ll need to remove a rowdy guest.” I pulled my phone from my pocket and swiped my thumb over the screen. Then I looked at Victoria. “Want me to call them for you?”

For a moment, she just stared at me. Then she muttered, “You’re a real asshole, you know that?” before spinning and stalking into the cabin.

I met Katherine’s gaze. “Guess that means I can come in.”

She bit her lip and stepped back.

The cabin was in worse shape than I imagined. As I passed Katherine and made my way inside, the floorboards seemed to sink under my weight. Seven years ago, the lodge was shabby but clean, and each unit was fully furnished.

That wasn’t the case anymore.

Victoria went to a beat up dining room table and leaned against it. She was dressed simply, in a navy blue pencil skirt, cream blouse, and pointy heels that made my heart rate kick up a notch. It was a sensible outfit. Professional. On another woman, it wouldn’t have turned any heads. But Victoria Parker wasn’t any other woman. The blouse clung to her tits, which were—if memory served me correctly—fucking magnificent. The skirt did the same to her hips. I was making my way down her legs when Katherine cleared her throat.

“I should go.”

Victoria straightened. “What? No. You just got here.”

“I have rehearsal at five today.” Katherine made a face. “The director still makes us attend even if we’re injured. With the snow and everything, who knows how long it’ll take me to get back into the city. New Yorkers can’t drive.” At the last, she shot me an anxious look. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that as an insult.”

I stuffed my hands in my coat pockets and rocked back on my heels. “None taken. I’m not from New York.” I wasn’t from anywhere, really. Although, depending on how you looked at it, maybe I was from everywhere.

Kat offered me a polite smile. “Oh… I thought your family’s headquarters were in the city.”

“They are. My father has a place there but he doesn’t use it much.” Which never failed to confound me, given the “place” was a penthouse overlooking Central Park. As a kid, I begged him to let us stay in the city for the Thanksgiving parade. His response was always the same.

I have work to do.

Victoria spoke, her voice hard. “You were too busy roaming the country, invading small towns and running their hospitality industry out of business.”

“That’s true,” I said, and the faintest surprise flashed in her gaze. Clearly, she hadn’t expected me to agree. But her assessment of my family’s business model was fair. A little too simplistic, but nevertheless accurate.

An awkward silence descended, the cabin filled with nothing but the sounds of wind, creaking wood, and snow pelting the windows. I kept my gaze on Victoria, which was hardly a chore. She was the best looking thing in the room. By a country mile, as they said in these parts.

“Well,” Kat said, stretching the word out in the uncomfortable stillness. “I’ll be on my way.”

“Need help?” I gestured to the plastic boot on her leg.

“Oh! No.” She waved me off, her cheeks pinkening. “It’s not as bad as it looks.” As if to prove her point, she thumped quickly to the door.

“I’ll walk you out,” Victoria said, already brushing past me and trailing a soft, clean scent that made my cock stir. She ushered Kat outside, murmuring something in her sister’s ear as they went.

I pretended to study the wood paneling even as I kept my attention tuned to their muted conversation. The wind stopped me from overhearing more than a couple of words—“call you later” and “let me know.”

Once Kat was safely down the steps, Victoria wasted no time shutting the door and rounding on me.

“Why are you here?” she demanded, her hands in fists at her sides. We faced off like a couple of gunslingers, each one waiting to see who drew first.

Well, she was waiting, anyway. I had no problem making the first move.

---