Page 86 of Love Contract

Actually, I’m not sure how it’s a surprise at all—I assume Angus told her we were coming.

But maybe not. Because he sure as hell didn’t tell me that he’s back to dating Jessica Kate.

“I’m Sullivan…” Sully holds out his hand.

Jessica gives him hers like she’s bestowing a favor, laying it limply in his palm. But her eyes are sharp as they sweep his face, his suit, his watch, down to his shoes.

Jessica is a shark. Don’t let the aggressive boob job, three-inch nails, or mile-long ponytail fool you—she’s smart and she’s ruthless. The fact that she’s here right now is a huge problem.

Jessica could blow this whole thing out of the water.

And worst of all, she’d love to do it.

Because Jessica Kate is pure evil.

Angus knows it, too. Jessica has been making his life a living hell in a rotating cycle for about three years. He’ll bump into her at some party or drunk dial her when he’s desperate, they’ll launch into another chaotic courtship spanning an average of two to six weeks until it implodes spectacularly. and the whole thing starts over again.

That’s why Angus is giving me a look right now that’s a mixture of guilt, excitement, and smugness—with a dash of terror. He’s got his arm wrapped gingerly around Jessica’s shoulders as they cuddle up in the corner booth.

I can tell it’s going to be bad because she’s already got him dressing in matching outfits. Angus’ shiny green shirt is the exact same material as her space-age minidress. Also, he’s drinking a martini. Jessica holds hers but never actually takes a sip. Like Angus’ outfit, I’m pretty sure its only purpose is to match her dress.

“Jessica just moved back to LA,” Angus says.

“Where were you before?” Sullivan asks politely.

“Dubai,” Jessica says in her bored, drawling tone. “But it was hot.”

“Dubai was hot?” I didn’t plan to be sarcastic, but it slipped out. Maybe because Jessica’s been taking a second and third look at Sullivan, repositioning herself in the booth so her body forms a sinuous curve with her long legs extended.

Unfortunately, Jessica has a highly tuned barometer for even the slightest degrees of shade. Her head whips around, her pale green eyes narrowing in on me.

“I don’t suppose you’ve visited. I can’t remember Angus needing his dry cleaning picked up from the Middle East.”

Sullivan doesn’t like that. It’s subtle, but I catch it—the way his smile stiffens. He shifts his weight within the booth, his arm slipping down around my shoulders.

I’m not as bothered.

Taking shots at my job is one of Jessica’s go-to moves. I’ll admit, it usually upsets me. But tonight, it’s not hitting quite so hard. The warmth and weight of Sullivan’s arm is extremely comforting. And I can’t help noticing how Jessica’s eyes linger on Sullivan’s hand cupping my bare shoulder—the way his thumb strokes across my skin.

Between Jessica’s eyebrows, a place usually as smooth and featureless as fresh-fallen snow, a tiny line appears.

The sight of that small, forbidden wrinkle gives me a devilish bolt of glee.

Ignoring her, I say to Angus, “I don’t know where I’m gonna getthatshirt cleaned…is it made of birthday balloons?”

Angus laughs. “Fuck if I know. Jessica bought it.”

“I can tell.” When she shoots me a venomous look, I add blandly, “Because it’s so stylish.”

I let my hand drop to Sullivan’s thigh.

His flesh is warm and thick and solid beneath my palm. I feel him shift again and, without even looking at his face, I know he’s amused.

Jessica stares at my hand. So does Angus. It seems to irritate them in some subtle way, or function as a challenge.

Angus pulls his girlfriend closer and kisses the side of her neck. Jessica allows it, titling her head to the side to provide access, but otherwise showing no enjoyment whatsoever of his mouth against her skin.

Okay. How about this…

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