by Olivia Hayle
I want to be something more than enemies. More than casual, too, and definitely more than friends. I just have to gather the courage to tell him that.
There’s a wry smile in Cole’s voice when he pulls up outside my apartment, the glint in his eyes speaking of his own hidden thoughts. “We’re here.”
“So we are.”
His gaze caresses my face, my cheek, my lips. “I’m proud of you for standing up to your friend like that.”
“Thank you.”
“A simple thank you? I was sure I’d be chewed out for that.”
“I’m not always awful,” I say, wetting my lips.
His smile is a curve of possibility. “Oh, I know that, Skye.”
The silence between us is warm, and heady, and I want him to come up. I want to say all kinds of things, some more sappy and outlandish than I’m sure he thinks me capable of.
But then he nods at my door. “Take your contraband and go inside, Skye, before I push my luck.”
“Maybe I want you to.”
He closes his eyes with a dark exhale. “We’re doing it right this time. That’s my mantra, anyway. And that includes settling things with your business first. We’re not mixing the two again.”
I give a shaky nod. “That sounds like a plan, Porter.”
“I’m trying to have one this time around.”
His eyes are still closed, head leaning against the headrest, the picture of masculine restraint. So I press a soft kiss to his cheek.
His eyes fly open, but I’m out of his car and on the sidewalk before there’s a sound of protest.
“Until tomorrow,” I say.
His gaze lingers, watching as I find the keys to my apartment. The voice that reaches me through the open window is soft. “Can’t wait.”
25
Cole
“We’ve run the numbers,” Tyra says. “Between the Pages was profitable. Not by a huge margin, that’s true. But it was.”
Karli visibly slumps in the chair she’s in, like hearing it from one of my staff makes it real—real in a way it hadn’t been before. Next to her, Skye shoots me a look that’s equal parts triumph and pride. What Chloe admitted is true.
I tap my knuckles on the table. “This means, ladies, that Between the Pages will be incorporated in the upcoming Porter Development build, per our agreement. Congratulations,” I say. “You managed to turn it around.”
Karli releases a shaky sigh. “I can hardly believe this. You’ll really keep the bookstore?”
“Yes,” I say warmly. “You won the bet. Besides, having seen how much the store increased its sales these past two months has made us reconsider. It could be an interesting business venture.”
Skye clears her throat. “And the renovations will begin right away?”
“Yes. My design team drew up two different alternatives for the new hotel, depending on the outcome of this. Kassandra?”
My head designer gives Karli and Skye a huge smile. “Between us,” she says conspiratorially, “I was always hoping for Between the Pages to stay. It’s not Mr. Porter’s usual style, but I think a more Old World-feel to this development could be a fantastic thing. It would diversify the brand.” She pushes over some sketches, the ones she’d shown me before Skye and Karli arrived.
The theme of the bookstore will set the theme for the entire hotel. There’s nothing minimalist about it. No hard lines or brutalist glass. Kassandra’s vision is dark wood, chandeliers, a speakeasy-themed bar in the back.
It takes me a minute to see the brilliance.
Porter Hotels are known for their sleekness, their elegance. It’s a concept we share with many other chains. But this design… well, it’s unique. If it’s received well, it could launch a new line of hotels for us.
Skye inspects one of the images. “The bookstore would be a part of the ground floor?”
“Yes, on the corner. We’d essentially build around you. Tricky, but not impossible.”
Her smile widens as she looks through the sketches. “When did you prepare all this?”
“Weeks ago,” Kassandra replies. “We had both options ready, depending on the outcome of your two-month business agreement.”
And that’s when Skye’s gaze meets mine, her hazel eyes wide and warm, and I know exactly what she’s thinking. That this was in the pipeline from the beginning—that we were always going to honor our agreement. I knew she’d doubted that, and no words of mine could’ve set that fear to rest like Kassandra’s just did.
I can’t say anything to Skye here, not with these people around. So I nod instead, a smile playing on my lips. She looks away with a grin of her own.
That’s right, I think. We’re not over, you and I.
We’re just getting started.
I approach Karli and Skye as soon as the meeting is over, letting the rest of my team filter out behind us. I ignore the curious glances they throw my way and focus on Karli. “Mrs. Stiller, I’d like to apologize on behalf of my company.”
Her eyes widen. “What for?”
“For accepting your initial bookkeeping reports, despite their obvious errors. We should have been more vigilant.”
“Oh. Thank you, but that’s okay. We’re the ones who should have double-checked.” Karli straightens her blazer, a hint of nerves in her voice. “If you feel the need to apologize, then I definitely feel the need to say thank you.”
“Thank me?”
She meets my gaze. “Yes. I know that it would have been easier for you to accept the false numbers and ignore our initial agreement. But you didn’t. Thank you for that.”
My gaze drifts from her to Skye, both of them looking up at me with an emotion I’d never expected to see from them. Gratitude. I reach up and rub my neck. “We made an agreement,” I say simply, “and I always adhere to mine. That reminds me of something—are you in contact with a lawyer for dealing with Chloe’s embezzlement?”
Karli sighs. “No. Skye and I haven’t even spoken about it yet, but we’ll find one.”
“I’ve already made a shortlist of possible firms,” Skye adds.
I want to smile. Of course she has. “I’d like to offer our in-house lawyers. As Between the Pages is now a member of Porter Development, you’re free to use them.”
Karli’s mouth opens. “We couldn’t do that.”
“Of course you can.” I stride to the door of the conference room, holding it open for them both. “I keep them on retainer. Might as well get some use out of them.”
Skye mouths a silent thank you behind Karli’s back, her hand brushing against mine as she walks past. I escort them to the elevator and the lobby beyond, the need for Skye burning inside my chest. To talk about us, about the things we haven’t said. To ask her if she’s willing to turn the page.
Out on the curb, Karli extends a hand to me. “Thank you for this, Mr. Porter,” she says. “We won’t forget it.”
“It’s been my pleasure,” I say, and find that I mean it. “I’ve visited the bookstore several times these past few months. Your grandmother created a beautiful place, Mrs. Stiller. I’m glad it’s still standing.”
Her smile deepens, from civil and professional to something real. “I think we have Skye to thank for that, too,” she says warmly.
Skye’s cheeks flush at the comment, but her smile is warm, too. She extends a hand to me. “Thank you, Cole. We should get going.”
“Actually, Skye, I was wondering if you’d join me for an early dinner.”
There it is. Let her take it or leave it—she’d told me Karli already knew about us. For a breathless moment, my words hang in the air between us.
Karli’s the one who breaks the silence. “I’ll see you later,” she says to Skye, voice conspiratorial.
And then it’s just Skye and me left.
“That was bold,” she tells me, but her voice is teasing. For the first time in weeks, there’s no censure in her eyes—no hidden dislike, no argument with herself.
“I’m a bold kind
of guy,” I say. “Come on. Let’s get some food.”
She falls into easy step beside me. In her patterned dress and trim blazer, she looks professionally artsy. Like a writer—like a bookstore owner. It makes me want her even more.
“Did your staff really like the change of style for your new hotel?” she asks. “That wasn’t staged?”
I smile, despite myself. “Knew you’d ask that. Honestly, yes, some really did. Some didn’t, but they’ll come around. The new style has charm.”
“It’s very different from your usual style.”
“My usual charmless style?”
Her eyes dance, caught in her own words and completely unrepentant. “Yes.”
I laugh, wrapping my arm around her shoulders out of habit. She doesn’t shrug it off. “Well, the Amena was a necessity. I’m not opposed to comfortable, homey living.”
“Like my place.”
“Like yours, all twelve square feet of it.”
She elbows me softly. “So, we’re having dinner, huh?”
“Yes. I figured it was time to have that conversation we’ve been putting off for days.”
“The one you wouldn’t let us have until the business deal was settled.” She looks up at me. A lock of hair has escaped from her bun and it curls gently around her face. “I’d like that.”
The soft, shy smile on her face is my undoing. Skye has been a firecracker since the start—strong-willed and strong of opinion—but I’ve always known there’s vulnerability behind that facade. She’s letting me see it.
My words spill out of me of their own accord. “I demanded an answer from you about us, the evening you came to my apartment. When you’d just been told the store wasn’t profitable.” I tuck the lock of hair behind her ear, the back of my hand lingering on her cheek. “I shouldn’t have done that.”
“It’s okay.”
“No. Pushing you away was the easier option, but it wasn’t the right one.”
“I did the same thing,” she says softly. “Keeping you at arm’s length, because the alternative would have been more than I could bear.”
“Oh?”
“Yes. To actually like my enemy… unthinkable. And I’m sorry for saying I hate you so often. I don’t, actually. I’m sure you’ve already figured that out.”
My smile is entirely genuine, my thoughts running away from me. “I kinda liked that.”
Skye’s teeth dig into her bottom lip. “Well, I can still say it, every now and then. As long as you know I don’t mean it.”
“That’s a deal.”
Her gaze shifts from mine to the building behind us. Her voice is teasing when she speaks. “This is where we’re having dinner?”
Our leisurely stroll has taken us to the Amena, located just a stone’s throw from my work. As ever, convenience had been king when I chose it. “That was not part of the original plan,” I say. “But if you want to stay in, perhaps order takeout…”
Skye’s eyes glimmer in the evening sunset. “Restaurants are overrated anyway,” she say. Heat claws up my spine at her low voice, at the feel of her hand in mine. We walk through the familiar marble lobby and into my private elevator. Her skin feels hot against mine as the doors open, revealing my hallway and the living room beckoning beyond.
“I hate this place,” I say.
The laughter that spills out of her is surprised. “What? Where did that come from?”
“You’ve made me reevaluate things,” I say. “I bought it after Elena, and I’ve barely spent any time here. It’s like one giant hotel suite.”
Skye reaches up to lace her fingers behind my neck. Behind her, the floor-to-ceiling windows offer me a view of the burning evening sky, the setting sun blazing across Seattle. It’s a beautiful view, but this Skye is prettier.
“If only you had more fridge magnets,” she teases. “You’d feel right at home, then.”
“Oh yes,” I say. My hands close around her waist, pulling her flush against my body. “I need tons and tons of them.”
“I’ll go shopping for some tomorrow for you.”
“How generous of you.” I tip her head back, our lips a hairsbreadth apart. “I can’t believe I survived two weeks without kissing you,” I murmur.
She rises up on her tiptoes. “Never again.”
I kiss her. My intention was to go soft, to kiss her gently, to ease back into this. But Skye has never been the one to follow my lead. Her soft lips open for me and draw me in, the warmth of her mouth intoxicating.
She sighs against me, her body melting into mine, and I lose myself in the feeling of Skye. My hands flatten against her back and push her firmly against me. Her breasts are soft against my chest, her fingers winding their way into my hair, tugging and pulling.
“I’m sorry,” I murmur, my lips finding their way down her neck, her cheek.
“So am I.” Her body, as if moving by its own accord, twines itself around mine. My hand fists her dress, pulling it up, my fingers finding the soft skin of her thigh. I hike her leg around my hip.
This has always been an area Skye and I have excelled in.
I lift her up and she laughs, her hair tickling my cheek. “Where are we going?”
I sink onto the couch with her in my arms, her legs neatly on either side of me. “Not far,” I say. “You’re so beautiful.”
She reaches up to undo her ponytail. “Oh?”
“Yes. It was the first thing I thought when I saw you in the hotel bar, and I’ll never stop thinking it.” My hands run up her thighs, sneaking under the hem of her dress. Her skin is like silk.
“We should go back some time,” she says. “Maybe I’ll try to pick you up this time.”
My smile is crooked. “I’d be willing, baby.”
A shudder runs through her as my hands continue upwards, finding her hips, soft and warm under my touch. The perfect handhold. She smells like warm skin and woman and Skye, and my whole body tightens at the overwhelming need that sweeps through me.
She puts her hands on my chest. “Wait. Cole, if we do this again, I can’t do casual,” she says. “I’m sorry, but I just don’t think I’m that kind of person.”
I smile against her collarbone. “I know that.”
“You do?”
“Yes.” I say, my fingers tracing the curve of her spine under her dress. “I don’t think we were ever truly casual. We were just very good at convincing ourselves that we were.”
Skye smiles, and with her flushed skin and the joy in her eyes, she’s breathtaking. “So what does that mean? Are we dating now?”
“Yes,” I say, squeezing her hips for emphasis. “Exclusively, too.”
“Oh, really?”
“Yes. There’s no way I’m sharing you.”
Her laughter is breathless. “Good, because I’m definitely not sharing you.”
Excitement and need and joy pounds through me, all in one heady mix. Her lips are on mine and her body is warm under my hands and for a few long moments there’s no thought. I need her—and she wants the same thing, tugging at my shirt, kissing my shoulders. I pull her dress clean off and feast on her skin.
Undoing her bra takes a few seconds and then her breasts are in my hands, the perfect weight, her nipples growing taut beneath my thumbs.
“Cole,” she murmurs and rolls her hips against me. “Two weeks.”
My hands are lightning quick, undoing my belt, pushing her panties to the side, groaning at the wetness already there. “Skye, fucking hell, baby.”
She rises up on her knees and then sinks back down, both of us groaning as I slide inside. It’s hot and fierce and quick, over as soon as it began. Skye collapses against me with a soft sigh.
“I don’t ever want to move,” she murmurs, head against my shoulder.
I close my eyes in pleasure. For the first time in weeks, I’m perfectly at peace. “Me neither.”
She gives a breathless snort. “Well, at least we don’t have to hate each other to have great sex. Good to know.”
>
“That was never the secret to our sex.”
“No?”
“No.” I lean in closer, letting my teeth graze her earlobe. “Even when you hated me, and even when you drove me mad, we were always clearly meant to be together.”
Her fingers slide into the hair at the nape of my neck. “Cole Porter’s a romantic,” she says softly. “Who knew?”
“You do.” I tighten my arms around her. “Besides, I’d rather be hated by you than loved by anyone else.”
Skye draws back to meet my eyes. There’s emotion in her gaze, more than I’ve ever seen before, and it strikes me speechless. She smooths her fingers down my cheek. “Well,” she says softly, “you’ll just have to get used to being loved by me instead.”
“Sounds difficult,” I say, catching her lips with my own.
“It’s a proper challenge.” There’s laughter and happiness in her voice, breathless in between kisses. “But you love a challenge.”
I kiss her back. “I do. And you just happen to be my favorite one.”
26
Skye
Two months later
I wake up to sunlight and an empty bed. Groaning, I roll over, but Cole’s side is cold. He’s been up for a while already. “Damn it,” I murmur into his pillow. “You’re too disciplined for your own good.”
I contemplate staying in bed and falling back asleep. Despite the sun streaming in through the window, it’s early still, not to mention it’s a Saturday.
Rolling over, I find myself face to face with the pile of books on his bedside table. There’s a few new additions, courtesy of me. I smile at the one on the top. He’s going to love that one—it’s a fast-paced psychological thriller.
Reluctantly, I get out of bed and pull on one of the fluffy robes from the cupboard in his giant bathroom. When I’d asked if anyone else had used them, he’d looked surprised. I have bathrobes? He hadn’t been joking when he said he spent very few waking hours in this apartment.
