Sleeping with the Enemy (An Enemies to Lovers Collection)

“How about two adopted grannies?” Sarah echoes, not to be outdone.

“Two it is!”

“I hate you,” I whisper-scream at him. “I think you might seriously be a wizard in sheep’s clothing. All the good things that happened to you have been wasted on you!”

“So you keep saying, but I’d have to disagree. I’ve done lots of good things with my money. My company makes small businesses’ dreams come true, and that’s just the start of it all.”

Sarah and Marla sigh dreamily.

“You’re no freaking saint. Don’t talk about dreams and wishes and bullshit. You’re a dream wrecker. That’s what you are.”

“Is that like a homewrecker?” he asks playfully, not affected in the least by my bitter tone.

“You’re a…a business fucker. A business mucker. A mucker fucker!”

Hal’s grin just keeps growing. “Sounds delicious. Like a mother fucker with a little bit of extra seasoning.”

“Argh!” I ball my hands into fists, but Hal knows me, and he knows I’m barely capable of swatting a mosquito to death, so he’s less than intimidated.

“You know what you need? You need a date.” He drops it so matter of factly that all the bluster I can muster goes straight out the…uh…duster? No, that doesn’t make sense. I guess nothing good rhymes with that.

“What are you talking about?”

“She does!” Sarah and Marla both yell together.

“You need a date. Some guy to take you out and make you happy. You haven’t been happy in a long time, and your sad state is leaking into the rest of your affairs, affecting them. I wouldn’t even be surprised if people could taste your tears when they eat your cakes.”

I can feel my right eye twitching like mad. It does that when I’m enraged, like now. “That is just a true asshole thing to say! My love life is none of your business.”

“Well, I know you’re single, thanks to your good old brother. I’m sure he’ll love whatever dirty image you placed on those cupcakes you brought over. By the way, I’ll likely hear all about it soon. I’m surprised he hasn’t called me yet. Probably still dealing with the fallout. I can see him trying to wrangle those cupcakes away, prying them out of clenched fingers and away from lips about to devour them.”

Don’t smile. Don’t freaking smile. So what if it’s a funny image? Do. Not. Smile.

“My singleness has nothing to do with my business.”

“I think I should arrange a date for you. You’re not capable of choosing a good boyfriend, as we both know.”

“Monster!” I try to stomp on Hal’s toe, but he quickly moves his foot out of the way. Not that my work runners would have had much effect. They’re non-marking, so they wouldn’t have even marred his stupidly expensive leather shoes.

“Your choices have always been crap. Luckily Sam and I were around to save you from half the trash who wanted to take you out. You have this incredible energy, a sweetness. You’re a nice person, and dirtbags like to take advantage of that.”

“Yes, I seem to attract all the dirtbags. Even when it comes to business partners.”

Hal’s stupid green eyes rake over me in the most disconcerting way, and my stomach feels floppy now. God. I might actually have to go to the hospital. There is something clearly not right with my body. I felt perfectly fine this morning, but I seem to be having attacks right now. Kidney stones? Gall bladder stuff? Dear lord, I hope it’s not my liver.

“Don’t be sullen. Read the email. And I’ll send a blind date over to your apartment tomorrow night at seven, so be ready.”

“I will not!”

“He’ll just stand out there and ring your buzzer for ages and ages then. I’ll tell him to buzz everyone else too, so you get some not so happy neighbors banging down your door.”

“You…you…you slime-talking wizardly bastard!”

Hal sticks out a hand, and my stomach does something awful again. I realize I’m starting to sweat now. Should I call an ambulance? “It’s been a pleasure doing business with you. Let me know your thoughts on the email. Your real thoughts. Not the usual ones. I already know I should go to hell, farge myself, jump off a cliff, just die, and all of that. So, have a great day.” He takes back his hand, turns and faces the back. “I’ll be back with those grandmother adoption papers and who knows, maybe tickets to Maldives as well!”

“Oh! Sweet precious cherub cheeks,” Sarah says. She has a thing for angels—those cute little baby ones. Her room in the house she and Marla share contains an unnatural amount of cherubs, or so Marla likes to complain because she doesn’t like them.

“Maldives, here we come!” Marla sighs dramatically. “We’re finally going to start living, Sarah. Finally. It’s never too late, not even as ancient old biddies.”

CHAPTER 6