Dirty Trick (Perfectly Matched 1)

“Because you’re the worst. When we got this place, the agent told you the asking rental price was twenty-two hundred a month and you were like, ‘We’ll take it!’ before he even got the words out.”

“He said that was his best price,” Grace argued, her hackles rising. She knew as soon as she said the words how ridiculous they sounded.

“That’s his job.” She looked to Trick for backup, and he nodded. “What did you think he was he going to say? ‘This place has been on the market for six months, so make me an offer and you can get it way cheaper?’ You’re so lucky to have me, I swear.”

She was right about that. There was no way to quantify the business savvy that her friend brought to the table. It was probably good for Grace to stay as far away from the negotiating table as possible. Even after all the lies Victor had told her, her nature hadn’t changed. She took people at face value, and if the real estate agent said that was the best he could do, then she believed him. Serena, on the other hand, thought everyone was full of crap. She would go look at that rental property, grab on like a pit bull, and shake until the actual best price was determined.

Grace’s stomach growled again and the decision was made. “Okay, but if you want me to see it, call me. I’ll come out and I’ll pretend I don’t speak English or something so I don’t mess with your flow.”

“Will do.” Serena glided across the room—overdoing the hip sway a little, in Grace’s opinion—and tossed a finger wiggle over her shoulder at Trick. “Make sure you keep that gun cleaned and ready to fire. Wouldn’t want to get caught with your pants down,” she called, stepping out the door and closing it behind her.

“Will do.” He chuckled and turned to Grace. “She never runs out of ‘em.”

“Never,” she said, shaking her head. “What can you do? She’d take a bullet for me, and vice versa. That’s all that matters.”

“Agreed.” He collapsed into the chair Serena had vacated and blew out a breath that sent the honey-colored lock on his forehead dancing. He’d been asking her to trim his hair for over a month now, but she kept putting him off. The last time she’d done it had wreaked havoc on her libido. Sinking her fingers into the short, thick waves, all those breast-to-shoulder incidental touches as she made her way around his big body… She’d woken up to the kinkiest dream she’d ever had, bathed in sweat, and hadn’t been able to make eye contact with him for a week.

Serena insisted that it was because she had a secret thing for Trick, but Grace knew better. It was nothing more than middle school biology. Trick was a fox, and it had been close to two years since she’d been with a man. Hell, even then it had been with Victor. She was way past due for some conjugals, but just because her body was willing didn’t mean her heart was anywhere close to ready. And if it was? It would never be ready for a wildcard like him. Nope, she and Trick were friends, and she could count the true friends she had on one hand, without the thumb. She’d never jeopardize what they had.

“You want Kung Pao or cashew pork?” he asked, brows raised.

She cleared her throat, suddenly parched. “Doesn’t matter. I’d eat the box if I had to right now.”

He pulled two sporks from the plastic bag and passed her a carton. “My mother always told me, when I settle down, it should be with a good eater. She would highly approve of you.”

Grace laughed and rolled her eyes to disguise the annoying tingle that came with his words. Maybe Trick’s mother didn’t know this, but her son was never settling down. “Thanks a lot.” He never pulled punches with her, which was both a curse and a blessing sometimes. Today, after getting dumped and finding herself dateless, it did sting her pride a little, but not enough to get her to turn down Chinese takeout.

“You know I don’t mean it like that. I like that you can eat and enjoy your food. A woman like Serena would drive me crazy. Food is the best—well, the second best, thing in the world.” His eye sparkled with a naughty gleam. “I don’t trust people who don’t allow themselves to enjoy it.”

She should have been used to the sexuality that seemed to ooze from his every pore, but even though it was classic Trick and not a vibe he was intentionally giving off for her benefit, it was hard to ignore. She pushed aside her reaction and forked up a mouthful of chicken, groaning when the spicy sauce hit her tongue. “Oh my God, I love you so hard right now.”

His eyes narrowed for a quick second before his lips stretched into the standard Trick panty-melting grin. “See what I mean? Instant happiness.”

He was right about that. She didn’t know if it was his presence or the food, but she was already feeling a little better. They were quiet for a while as they ate except for some sounds that could have been misconstrued if they’d been recorded. She’d worked her way through half her chicken when he stopped her.

“Want to switch?”

She shook her head regretfully and sank back, giving the plastic utensil one more lick. “Nope. But you can have the rest of mine. I’ve got to squeeze into my dead-cheerleader-turned-ghost costume tomorrow, and I’m not interested in getting mistaken for a marshmallow.” Salem took Halloween very seriously, and if you didn’t show up to a party in costume, you didn’t get in. She patted her happy tummy and smiled. “That really hit the spot, though. So what’s up with you? How come you’re on this side of town in the middle of the day?”

Trick grabbed the white box in front of her and dug in. “We had a weapons training session over at the range, so I thought I’d surprise you.”

She’d figured something like that since he typically didn’t wear his SWAT uniform. Usually, on work days he dressed in plain clothes to deal with his routine detective work at the station. Then, if they got a call to an incident, they’d don their gear. And damn, it was some fine looking gear. Didn’t they have any extra-large t-shirts left in the pile? Jebus, the one he had on looked like it had been applied with a brush.

She tore her gaze away and squeezed out a smiled. “I appreciate both the thought and the grub, seriously. With the party tomorrow, there was no way I was getting out of here for lunch today, and you saved me from this.” She jabbed her thumb toward the bag of trail mix on her desk.

“Glad to be of service. So tell me what happened with Seth?” His eyes were warm with concern, and he gestured for her to come out with it.

“Nothing. I knew things had been going weird…like we weren’t gelling, and then this morning he called. He beat around the bush for a while, but the bottom line was that he thought we should just be friends, and it would be best if he didn’t go the party tonight.” She shrugged, trying not to let the disappointment show. Seth wasn’t her dream guy, but damn it, at least she’d had a date. “On the bright side, though, at least it wasn’t me. It was him. He assured me of that.”

“And as cheesy as it sounds, he’s right. It’s him.” His jaw went tight and he set the empty carton back on the desk. “You’re great. He’s a douchebag with no taste and a stupid job.”

She didn’t know if being an actuary was a stupid job, per se, but she appreciated his support.

“So now no date tomorrow, right?” His intense gaze belied his casual tone and she nodded slowly, unsure where this was going.

“Right.”

“Well, you can stop sulking. I’ll go with you.”

She stared at him hard, searching for the pity in his face. It was bad enough getting dumped, but having Trick bear witness to her humiliation made it even worse.

“We both know you don’t want to do that.”

He scrubbed at his five o’clock shadow and shrugged. “I swear, it’s cool. It’ll be fun.”

She eyed him dubiously. “Will it? You know Chaz is going to be pissy if you show up. And the women there are going to be throwing themselves at you once they figure out that we’re only friends.”

“I highly doubt th—”

She held up a hand. “Stop with the false modesty. I’ve been too many places with you for that to work on me. If they know you’re single, it’s all over. You won’t get a moment’s peace.”

He looked thoughtful for a second and then nodded, as if to himself. “So we won’t tell them. A little hand-holding, some smoldering looks,” he sent her a comically bad sexy-face, and she laughed. “No one will ask, so we don’t have to lie, but no one will bother either one of us.”

He made it sound so easy. But that kind of pretend was way too close for comfort. She’d do something stupid like knock back a few glasses of wine and jump his bones to work off the sexual tension that had been dogging her more and more lately. That would ruin everything. She couldn’t take the risk of peering down the rabbit hole, even for a night, because she might never be able to climb back out.

“I can’t let you do that.” She gave her head a decisive shake. “Besides, maybe tomorrow will be the night for me, and I’ll find a masked stranger who will sweep me off my feet.” Doubtful, since Trick had the distinction of being the only man in the world that had proven himself worthy of her far too freely given trust besides her mastiff, Gandalf. Still, maybe hell had frozen over and she’d meet someone there.

Trick hesitated and something—disappointment?—flickered across his face. It was gone so quickly, she wondered if she’d imagined it. Then he nodded, “Yeah, well, if it’s anything like last year, pay attention and stay on your toes. By midnight, things got pretty out of hand, and I heard he was going even edgier this year.”

Grace had still been pretty new in town and hadn’t been up for much socializing, but stories of the wild stuff that had gone on that night had become legend. Even if only half of it were true, she still expected this year’s bash to be a very interesting evening.

“If you change your mind, give me a call later tonight.” He stood to scoop up the empty cartons. “Alec and I are going out for happy hour if you want to swing by the Brewhouse later.”

They said their goodbyes, and he walked out, closing the door behind him. A pang of regret zinged through her and settled into her stomach, hitting her right in the Kung Pao chicken. She ran an absent hand through her hair and mused to no one in particular. “I just passed on a chance to be the object of Trick Mathews’ undivided attention and affections for a whole night. Wouldn’t the ladies in this town die if they knew?”

She could hear Grandma Astor now…

“Well you’re about a fricking half-wit sometimes, aren’t you, girlie?”

Chapter Two

Trick stood outside Grace’s door, fist extended to rap on it again. He’d forgotten to tell her he’d be home tomorrow to take Gandalf for a walk in the morning if she needed him to. Now that he’d gotten her worked up enough that she was talking to herself in there, though, it didn’t seem like the time.

He grinned and turned away, making short work of the stairs leading out of the small rental space. At first he’d been bummed out that she hadn’t taken him up on the offer to be her fake boyfriend for the night. It was pretty much par for the course for the past year, though. He’d known since he’d met her that she was going to be a tough nut to crack. The fear that had made her leave her native southern California and had brought her to Salem over a year ago was the same fear that kept her from seeing him as anything more than a friend. She didn’t want or need another player in her life. And to be fair, her initial feeling about him was dead-on accurate.

When he’d seen her through the bay window of her little cottage that first morning, high up on a ladder hanging curtains in her raggedy cut-off shorts, his intentions were bad. Or good, depending on where you were standing. He’d taken a minute to brush his teeth, wipe the sleep from his eyes, and unwrap two pre-packaged sticky buns. He stuck them on a paper plate and grabbed a couple cans of soda. A minute later he was at her door, ready with an earnest offering of friendship and—if things were as tight upstairs as they appeared to be on his new neighbor’s bottom half— cunnilingus.