Do Your Worst(11)
“Oh, please. No one does an about-face that quickly. The least you can do is own the fact that you’re an asshole.”
“Hey.” He used his longer legs to get ahead of her, spinning around and drawing her up short. “I’m not the one who makes money by taking advantage of other people’s desperation.”
Riley reeled. Was that really what he thought of her?
“I do not take advantage of people.” She charged a fair fee and had a strict moral code about the types of clients she took on. Only a bitter cynic would see it that way.
“How can you say that? I spent hours poring over your website last night. Your only clients are high school kids and desperate singles.”
“Okay, first of all.” She grabbed the railing for leverage and shoved him aside. “The Cherry Hill Bobcats didn’t hire me themselves. Their football coach commissioned me to break the curse causing their ten-year losing streak.”
Clark resumed his pursuit. She could feel the heat coming off his body at her back.
“Second of all, there’s nothing desperate about wanting to remove the supernatural forces keeping you from finding love. Courtney Oberhausen is an amazing woman! Where else was she supposed to turn after the third Tinder date in a row tried to open up a bunch of credit cards in her name?” That poor lady had been cheated on, ghosted, negged, and scammed to an outrageous degree. Even for New Jersey.
They took the steps side by side now, Riley quickening her pace to match Clark’s longer stride so he couldn’t pull ahead. The staircase narrowed as they went up, their shoulders brushing as they fought for advantage.
“And besides, where do you get off trying to claim the moral high ground? You kissed me last night and then turned around and stabbed me in the back this morning.” Her lips still stung from the press of his teeth.
“You asked me to kiss you.” Clark let out a grunt that could have come from frustration or exertion.
“No, I asked you if you wanted to kiss me.” Riley pushed herself forward, her thighs starting to burn. What was this, a staircase to the moon? “There’s a difference!”
“Fine. I’m the villain here.” Clark’s breathing had gone slightly labored.
“Correct.”
Cobwebs hung like lace from the rafters. Riley made a mental note to invest in some kind of hat so the bleached blond of her hair didn’t beckon critters the way it seemed to summon fuckboys.
“I did try to warn you,” Clark said, so softly she almost didn’t hear.
“What, with that poor, puppy-dog-eyed ‘I could be a terrible person’ bullshit? Please!” Riley wouldn’t be surprised if smoke started coming out of her ears. “Next time,” she bit out, “try harder.”
Clark tilted his head in confusion. “Next time I kiss you?”
What? “No.” Shit. Her angry walking turned into angry jogging. “Shut up.”
They came to a landing. Not the end of the stairs, but a tight little alcove with a big window.
When she stopped to catch her breath, Clark followed suit.
He looked unmercifully good in the natural light. Handsome. Chiseled. He could have been a fabled prince reincarnated. Riley was pretty sure she hated him.
She didn’t want him to know he’d hurt her. From this point forward he wouldn’t see the vulnerable, striving Riley, the one who didn’t have her footing on this assignment, or in life. He’d see what she wanted: someone cool, confident, and put together.
Behind him, out the window, a flash of steel in sunlight caught her eye.
“What is that?” She shaded her gaze. “Why would someone park a camper—”
Clark stiffened.
No. No one was that silly. That ridiculous and eccentric.
“It’s convenient.” He folded his arms across his chest. “It allows me to stay on-site when I work.”
“It’s a Winnebago! Parents buy those to take their kids to national parks.”
“It saves time and money during a dig,” he said archly.
Riley threw up her arms. “But this isn’t a dig. You heard the man downstairs. You’re a glorified cleanup crew hired so land developers could dodge historical preservation society regulations.” She stood on her tiptoes, trying to see more of the camper. “Does that thing even have a shower?”
He smirked. “Awful quick to think of me naked, love.”
“Don’t call me pet names.” She warned him, hoping he attributed her labored breathing to the climb. Unfortunately, nothing got her hot like a challenge.
“Look.” Clark put a placating hand on her arm. “Why don’t you give this up now, rather than waste both our time? I mean, seriously, what evidence could you possibly produce?”
“Trust me, sweetheart. It’s like porn.” Riley tapped his cheek twice with her palm. “You’ll know it when you see it.”
Chapter Four
Clark had hoped he might not be attracted to Riley Rhodes after discovering her nefarious business practices last night. Unfortunately, seeing her this morning, pink-cheeked with rage as she dealt him an impressive verbal flaying, proved that at least his body still fancied her.
Indignation rolled off her in waves so righteous that yes, Clark did feel a little bit bad about trying to get Martin to remove her. But just because Riley claimed innocence of any dodgy dealing, he reminded himself, didn’t mean he could believe her.