IOU Sex

His deep voice interrupted my wayward thoughts. This really was dangerous territory to enter.

“Yes, I’m still here. Just…” I shook my head. Clearly, I was stalling. For God’s sake, ask him already. “Look, I’m calling because I need a favor.”

“You don’t say?” I didn’t miss the amusement in his voice.

“It’s a big one.”

He was quiet for a moment. I heard a soft rustling in the background and imagined him in his living room, settling on the sofa, propping his booted feet up on the coffee table. “Come over and ask me in person.”

Oh, how he tempted me!

“Michael.” Leave it to him to make this more complicated than it needed to be.

“Fiona,” he countered.

“Fine.” I caved so easily it made me want to kick myself. Way to stand your ground, girlfriend. “I’ll stop by the loft after work. I have a bottle of twenty-five-year-old Glenlivet for you.”

He whistled under his breath. “That’s a fairly serious bottle of Scotch. Is this favor an illegal one?”

“Of course not.” I laughed nervously. Though my family’s parties really should be outlawed. They gave new meaning to the terms excessive and over-the-top. And the bickering that went on. I’d find it hilarious to watch if I wasn’t always a prime target for their snide remarks. I would forever be, as my mother regularly pointed out, vastly different from everyone else. The anomaly tended to get the most abuse.

But to skip a Carlisle event…that’d be sacrilege in her eyes.

“I’ll tell you what I need when I come over.”

“I’ll have the glasses ready.”

“See you around six.” I hung up.

He was definitely going to push my willpower to its limits. When he wanted me to come to his loft, it was never just for a glass of Scotch.

He’d been upfront lately about his intentions. He wanted to sleep with me again. A flattering thought, but also a disconcerting one. A girl could only resist temptation for so long. Especially when it was wrapped in a devilishly handsome package and complemented by a steadfast constitution. He was one of the best friends I’d ever had, even after we’d slept together, which made him even more dangerous to my heart.

But I’d set the wheels in motion, and I knew I couldn’t turn back now. Instead, I dove into my work, trying to take my mind off tonight. I’d barely gotten through a PowerPoint presentation for a charity function when Jane came into my office to deliver some files and the mail. She set two large envelopes under a smaller one already sitting in my inbox. I caught her frown.

Lifting the champagne-colored packet, she said, “This has been here for over two weeks.”

“It’s the engagement party invitation.”

“Oh.” Her expression changed as though she’d just sucked on something tart and distasteful. She held the offensive package with finger and thumb like it

was a smelly diaper, making me laugh.

Leave it to Jane to brighten a dark moment. She knew all about the sordid situation that involved my sister and me, and one very prominent, thirty-year-old attorney named Seth Corbett III. Also known between us as The Lying, Cheating Bastard.

Not only had the unexpected threesome been played out on the Society pages of the newspapers and in the tabloids because of the two last names attached to the scandal, but it had also happened just as I’d hung my shingle last year. I’d hired Jane at that time, and she’d been caught in the crossfire of phone calls and office visits from my family and Seth. The conversations had been civil, yet laced with snarky undercurrents. Such was the way of the Carlisle family. Jane proved she was a stand-up gal by sticking with me those first few months.

She said, “You didn’t bother to RSVP for the party. Way to make a statement.”

“I really shouldn’t even go. In fact, I’d prefer not to, but you know my mother.”

Her blond brows lifted. “Indeed, I do. That is one woman I would not want to cross.”

Unfortunately it was too late for me to employ that cautionary tactic. I’d defied her my entire life, much to her extreme exasperation.

Still holding the unopened envelope as though it turned the very air we breathed foul, Jane asked, “Want me to toss this?”

I gave it some thought, then shook my head. Reaching for the packet, I looked carefully at it for the first time since it had arrived, studying the raised black lettering, the elegant script. Call it sadistic, but I grabbed my letter opener, slid the sharp silver tip under the flap of the envelope and extracted the note card nestled inside. My heart stammered and my blood ran cold.