Allure

“He’s… um, he’s unavailable right now. Can I take a message?”

 

Another woman’s voice sounded in the background. There was a muffled noise, an incoherent discussion, a rasp across the phone’s speaker.

 

“Who is this?” the woman asked.

 

“This is Liv.” Unease inched up my throat. “I’m a friend of Dean’s.”

 

“Well, Liv, friend of Dean’s, where is he?”

 

“He’s taking a shower.” The instant I said that, I winced.

 

“Taking a shower?” She sounded as if I’d said he was skydiving.

 

“Is this his mother?” I asked.

 

“Yes, it is. Joanna West.”

 

“I’ll let him know you called, Mrs. West.”

 

“Do that, would you?” she replied. “And tell him to leave his cell phone on.”

 

There was a click as she hung up. I put the receiver down.

 

Shame filled me. What was I trying to do—make sure his family knew I’d staked a claim? That Dean and I were close enough now that I hung out at his apartment and had the right to answer his phone?

 

I shook my head and hurried to finish getting dinner organized. A few minutes later, Dean emerged in a clean, white T-shirt and jeans, his hair damp. My stomach twisted with a combination of pleasure and unease. As powerful as our physical attraction was, it was becoming fraught with a strange undercurrent of secrecy and evasiveness.

 

“Your… your mother called,” I told him as he opened the bottle of wine.

 

He paused. “And you answered the phone?”

 

“I didn’t know I shouldn’t.”

 

“It’s probably best if you don’t again.”

 

“Oh.” I tried to deflect a wave of hurt. “Okay. Sorry.”

 

“Liv.”

 

I didn’t want to be that woman who sulks at a perceived slight, but… really? He didn’t want me answering the phone when his mother called?

 

I turned to set plates on the table. His hands closed around my shoulders.

 

“Liv.”

 

I spun around to face him. “She asked me who I was, Dean. You haven’t told her? I didn’t even know what to say.”

 

Renewed irritation hardened his eyes. “I haven’t told her, haven’t told any of them, because it’s none of their damned business. I don’t tell my family about my personal life.”

 

“You haven’t told me about them, either,” I reminded him. “Is that because it’s none of my business?”

 

“No.” He spread out his hands. “It’s because I like this, Liv. I like having you to myself. And I don’t want you dealing with my family’s crap.”

 

“Why, because I’m too fragile?” The unpleasant thought reemerged. “Or because you’re trying to fix me?”

 

“What?”

 

“Your family all comes to you to fix things, right? I don’t want you to do the same thing with me.”

 

“Because I like what we have, I suddenly want to fix you?”

 

“That’s what you seem to do with them,” I pointed out. “And if your family is such a mess, then why aren’t you?”

 

“What?”

 

“You’ve always been the golden boy, haven’t you?” The differences between us suddenly seemed as wide as a chasm. “Football star, valedictorian, full scholarships, then a doctorate summa cum laude? Best-looking guy at school. Bet you dated the homecoming queen.”

 

“What the…”

 

“I was held back a grade, did I ever tell you that? My mother and I moved around so much that I always struggled to keep up with my classmates. One district wouldn’t enroll me because I tested below my grade level, so I had to repeat fifth grade, and even then I needed extra tutoring because I was so behind. I was lucky they didn’t send me back to fourth grade.”

 

“Liv…” Dean stepped toward me.

 

“There’s a reason I am the way I am, Dean.” I held up a hand to stop him, hating all the old feelings of inadequacy and fear. “There’s a reason I don’t have many friends and I’m so intense about my studies. There’s a reason why I’m still a virgin at twenty-four goddamn years old and why I’ve had such a hard time trusting people. It took me a long time and a lot of therapy, but I finally understood. What I don’t understand is how you can be the way you are if your family is anything less than perfect.”

 

“You think you’ve got me figured out because I worked my ass off to be successful?” His features tightened. “Because I had to? Yeah, the Wests are perfect… so perfect that no one has any idea how screwed up we really are.”

 

A muscle ticked in his jaw. He paced to the windows and back.

 

“My father is a justice on the California Supreme Court,” he said. “My mother sits on charity boards and holds fundraisers in between shopping and traveling. They live in a wealthy suburb of Silicon Valley, are a very prominent couple, and have had a shitty marriage for as long as I can remember.

 

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