by Dana Delamar
“Your silence speaks volumes, Riley,” Carter said, his tone cutting.
I could come just looking at you, he’d said earlier. The words were so close to something Amber had said to me once. Amber, who hadn’t meant a fucking word of the declarations of love she’d whispered in my ear. And Holden? He’d lied too. But then, he was an actor, so what else did I expect?
I looked up at Carter. “You think you want more with me, right?”
“Yeah. At least I did. Now I’m not so sure.”
“Well, I’m not sure about anything. I used to be. But the last year taught me that I don’t know shit. And things that seem solid might be illusions.”
“I’m not Amber. Or Holden.”
“I know that.”
“Do you?”
I met his eyes. “I want to trust you. I do. But I’m not sure I can even trust myself.”
Carter looked away. “Am I just pissing away some time here, or do I have a chance with you?” His voice came out thick, raw.
Goddammit. I didn’t want to hurt him. “I’m not leaving you.”
“Not yet.”
“Fuck.” I rose and stepped toward him. “I don’t know what I want. I don’t know if I need a woman to be happy. Or a man. Or both. I do know that I really like you, and I like what we have together. But I also know something’s not working for me, not entirely.” I paused. “I can’t write.”
Carter’s brow furrowed. “Weren’t you supposed to deliver your next book today?”
I nodded. “I’ve got nothing. And I owe Exotica a six-figure advance if I don’t deliver a draft in three months.”
He whistled. “Shit.”
I almost smiled. “So now you know what’s wrong.”
He touched my cheek, his fingers rasping on my stubble. “Is that all?”
“I have to figure this out. If I can’t write, and I can’t teach, what the fuck am I going to do?”
His hand cupped the base of my skull, its warmth seeping into my skin. It would be so easy to lean on him, to just let myself fall, to stop trying. “You’re not alone in all this, you know. I’ve got the summer off. I could go with you.”
Heat rose to my cheeks. Should I tell him the truth? That I’d signed up for the retreat using his name? “I really need to do this on my own. This has nothing to do with you. With us.”
His gaze narrowed. “Be honest with me. Are we breaking up?”
“Think of this as a hiatus. A little time apart to see where we stand.”
“I don’t want this to be casual anymore.” He squeezed the nape of my neck, the touch gentle but firm. “I’m falling for you, Rye. Hard.”
I sucked in a breath. I owed him the truth. “I want to say the same, but I’m a fucking mess inside. I don’t want to mislead you. I don’t want this to be the end, but I need some time to figure things out, and if you can’t give me that space, then maybe this isn’t going to work.”
He said nothing for a moment, then he sighed. “This have anything to do with their engagement announcement?”
“Maybe. Probably.” I closed my eyes. Fuck. Was I always going to feel this black hole where my heart used to be?
“I’m sorry.” Carter pulled me into his arms. “I’m an asshole for bringing this up now.”
I relaxed into his embrace. “No. You’re not.” I smiled and nipped at his ear. “The timing is a bit shitty maybe.”
“Maybe?” He shook his head and kissed my neck. Then he pulled back and looked me in the eyes. “You really just want time to figure things out?”
“I do.”
“So by ‘figure things out,’ do you mean you’re going to fuck around?”
He wouldn’t like the truth, but I couldn’t lie about this. “We’ve never said we were exclusive. So if the occasion presents itself, sure. I have to find my muse.”
“What the fuck does that mean?”
“Writing and sex are connected for me. You’ve read the books, right?”
“No. I’m probably the last person on the planet who hasn’t, but why would I need to read about Riley Kendrick when I have him in the flesh?”
I smiled. God, he could be so fucking endearing sometimes. Any normal human being would have at least skimmed the novels out of curiosity, if nothing else. “Read the books, and then you’ll understand me a lot better. We can talk when you’re done.”
“I’m not sure I can take reading about you with someone else.”
“It’ll explain a lot to you. Things I can’t talk about now. But I did write about it. It’s all there.”
“Okay.” He held my gaze. “You’ll come back to me?”
I took a deep breath. “I will. I promise.”
But would I come back the same person? That I didn’t know. I hoped not. I hoped I’d come back as someone steadier, less fucked up. Someone who could work again. Someone whole.
PAIGE
My heart pounded with excitement and more than a touch of nerves as I stepped off the elevator and into the beautifully appointed mezzanine above the impressive lobby of the Grosvenor Hotel in London. I’d never stayed at such a fancy place before and certainly never as a representative of Total Indulgence Tours, responsible for the pleasure and well-being of thirty authors and their entourage.
After taking a deep calming breath, I placed my hand on the stone railing and descended the burgundy-carpeted grand staircase into the lobby proper. I stopped for a moment to admire the gorgeous crystal chandelier above me as I stood on an immense Persian carpet, all decorated in shades of white and wine, then I proceeded on toward the concierge’s desk to inquire about my event.
“Hello. I’m Paige Sutherland. Is everything ready for the Total Indulgence welcome tea?”
The concierge, a small, narrow-faced man, nodded. “Of course, ma’am. The Victorian Lounge is just down this hallway.” He snapped his fingers at a young woman working a few feet away. “Darla, please accompany Ms. Sutherland to the Victorian Lounge and ensure that everything is running smoothly for her group’s afternoon tea.”
She stepped out from behind the high desk. “Right this way, ma’am.”
A few minutes later, I was led into a bright, high-ceilinged room. An entire wall consisted of enormous windows, through which streamed the warm afternoon light. The tea room was meticulously decorated in tones of yellow and purple, transporting me back to Victorian times.
I sighed with pleasure as I looked around the room, taking in the couches and chairs arranged around tables suitable for groups of two or four.
Darla walked over to the first section closest to one of the large windows. “This area has been reserved for your group.”
Each table was set with a white porcelain tea service and silverware, along with a three-tiered platter of tea cakes, mini fruit scones, preserves, clotted cream, and traditional finger sandwiches. “Oh, it all looks so perfect.” I turned to Darla. “Please thank the staff for me.”
“It’s our pleasure. We’re quite proud of our Victorian tea room. Did you know that it commemorates powerful women from the era?” She indicated the various portraits adorning the walls. “Here you have Nancy Astor, our first female member of Parliament. And this is Lillie Langtry, a famous actress at the time.”
I pointed to another portrait. “Who is this?”
“Oh!” Darla tittered, covering her mouth. “That’s Cora Pearl, the Parisian courtesan, one of our most famous guests. We have an entire suite dedicated to her.”
“A French boudoir? Now that’s something this group would love to see.”
“I’ll try to get that sorted,” Darla said with a wink. She pointed to a discreet phone on the wall. “Dial nine if you require assistance.”
Left on my own, I stepped up to a large window and stared out at the beautiful city beyond. I’d never been to London before, and I couldn’t wait to begin exploring. Tomorrow we’d be visiting the British Museum, and I’d get to check another item off my bucket list.
I glanced at my watch. Hmmm... pe
ople would start arriving soon. I extracted the list of participants and a pen from my shoulder bag, then looked around for somewhere to stand and something to write on. Oh, right. Digging into my shoulder bag once again, I pulled out my current read, a copy of Riley Kendrick’s Amber’s Fall. Although it was quite a spicy book and the cover rather sexy, no one would see it with the list on top of it.
A couple arrived, so I hurried back to the entrance to greet them. I recognized this author on sight. Smiling brightly, I held out my hand. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Clark. I’m Paige Sutherland with Total Indulgence Tours. I’ll be your guide for the next three weeks.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, dear. Call me Marietta. This is my husband, Tom.”
We shook hands, and I pointed out the reserved tables. “Please, make yourselves comfortable and enjoy your Victorian Tea.”
The lounge filled up over the following quarter hour. Of the thirty authors registered, twenty-seven were women from twenty-one to eighty, and all were thrilled to be participating in such a unique trip. I didn’t tell them, but it filled my heart with pride since this was a tour I’d designed from start to finish.
Of the remaining three authors, all male, one, David Laughton, was married and part of a husband and wife writing duo. The other, Kenji Tamashiro, was quite clearly batting for the other team. It seemed my prospects for a bed partner among the authors were nil. A couple of waiters entered, carrying additional platters and teapots. I eyed them critically and groaned internally. One was too thin, the other too stocky.
Beggars can’t be choosers, a voice echoed in my mind.
“Shut up, Ari,” I muttered under my breath.
“Excuse me?”
The voice, rich, melodious, American, and definitely very male, made me snap my head up and spin around. In front of me stood a truly gorgeous, if understated, man. He had a dark beard, black glasses, and an amused smile that lit up the room. “My name isn’t Ari, and I haven’t said a word.” He raised two fingers. “Scout’s honor.”
Heat flooded my chest, quickly rising to encompass my neck and cheeks. I clapped a hand over my mouth as my eyes remained glued on the man’s humor-filled expression. If a genie were to suddenly offer me one wish, I’d wish to disappear.
Sure you would.
Okay, okay. If I could have any wish in the world, I’d wish for this man in my bed.
Go get him, girl!
Oh God. Ari and her silly ideas had turned me into a hormonally-imbalanced teenage girl. That was the only excuse for my complete lack of professionalism. I held out my hand, and rattled off my spiel. “Welcome. I’m Paige Sutherland with Total Indulgence Tours. I’ll be your tour guide for the next three weeks. And you are?”
Only one name remained unchecked on my list, and this man’s voice matched the one that had intruded on my thoughts too many times since he’d called to book his trip. It wouldn’t do for me to make assumptions though. I doubted it, but he could be some lonely soul who’d wandered into the lounge by accident. In which case, my hopes of a vacation fling would be completely dashed.
He took my hand in his and brought it to his mouth, pressing a soft kiss against my knuckles. “Carter Templeton.” As he spoke, his lips tightened ever so slightly before once again relaxing into a grin.
A grin that made butterflies swoop around my belly.
Taking a step inside the room, I indicated the food and tea. “Help yourself, Mr. Templeton.”
“Carter, please.”
I swallowed, my mouth suddenly dry. “Of course, Carter. Since you’re the last to arrive, I’ll give you a few moments to settle in, then I’ll explain the tour to everyone and hand out our updated itinerary.” I tried to tug my hand out of his, but he seemed determined not to let it go. “Is there something else I can do for you?”
His gaze lingered over my body before settling on my lips. “Oh, I can think of a few things, Ms. Sutherland.”
“Paige,” I said, a little too breathily for my liking.
He licked his full bottom lip. “Paige.”
It should have been ridiculous. A caricature of seduction. Instead, the way he said my name, rolling it off his tongue as though he were relishing a deep dark chocolate, had my belly squeezing. Was this what it felt like to be the sole focus of a man’s desire?
Oh, get over yourself, Paige.
He was definitely too young for me, despite the corduroy jacket with leather patches at the elbows. His professorial attire fit him well, but somehow it didn’t suit him. Perhaps he was something of a method author, one who had to become a character in order to write him. I gave a sharp jerk and pulled my hand free.
Undeterred, he ran his fingers down my arm. I shivered and plastered my copy of Amber’s Fall against my chest to hide the fact that my nipples had to be poking holes through my blouse. Good Lord, the man was potent.
“I don’t know anyone here,” he said, still staring at me.
How would he know? He hadn’t even glanced at the other participants. Still, this was where my experience came in handy. Taking his arm, I led him into the room, glad to once again be in control of the situation. “In that case, let me introduce you to the others.” And as he rested his warm hand at the small of my back, I did my best not to swallow my tongue, although a squeak might have escaped my gasping lips.
I clutched my book and participant list tightly in my fist and waved them in front of my face in a futile attempt to cool the longing searing a path through my veins.
Things were definitely looking up.
I just might get to have that vacation fling after all.
RILEY
With a strange bubbling in my chest like someone had filled me with helium during the night, I entered the Grosvenor Arms restaurant at an ungodly early hour, my feet practically hovering over the thick carpet. The group was gathering for a quick breakfast before our introductory tour of London, including a visit to the British Museum later in the day. I’d been to London before on a book tour, but I’d barely seen any of it. It would be nice to get a chance to explore.
I scanned the restaurant, looking for the woman I’d also like to explore. My eyes zeroed in on Paige Sutherland sitting at a table for two near a window. Had she chosen that table with me in mind? She was reading, and even from a distance, I recognized the book. Amber’s Conquest, book two of my trilogy. Last night, she’d been clutching Amber’s Fall to her perky chest. Shit, Paige read fast. My lips curved into a smile. Must mean she liked what she was reading.
I headed directly for her table, my stomach flipping with nerves. Would she recognize me today? My picture was in the back of the book. Granted, it was black and white, and I was clean-shaven and wearing contacts in the picture, my hair shorter than it was now. But did I really think my Clark Kent-ish “professor” disguise would hold?
I paused at the empty chair across from her. “May I join you?”
She looked up at me, her eyes sparkling and her cheeks flushing a pretty pink. God she was gorgeous. All blonde perfection, like Carter. Except so very feminine. “Please do,” she said, her voice like music in my ears.
What would she sound like, moaning my name?
I took the seat and smiled as she set the book aside. “Looks like you’re enjoying the series,” I said. Jesus, Kendrick, angling for a compliment much?
She blushed deeper and bit her bottom lip. Fuck me. If she kept doing that, I was done for.
“It’s really… good,” she said.
I laughed. “I think you meant something else.”
“You’ve read them, then?”
“Of course. Who hasn’t?”
“Then, you know what’s in them…” Her voice trailed off and she covered her eyes for a second.
“I know. And I enjoyed every minute of it.”
She laughed and met my gaze. “You seem determined to keep me off-balance, Mr. Templeton.”
Fuck. Why had I used Carter’s name again? I’d love to hear “Riley” coming out of those seashell-pi
nk lips. “Call me Carter. Please.”
“I’m still learning everyone’s name,” she said.
“Ouch. Forgotten so soon?” My mojo was off in more ways than one.
“Oh I didn’t mean you. Your name, I remembered.” She looked down and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.
I couldn’t help grinning at her. “Thank you for propping up my fragile male ego.”
The waiter came over and asked for my order. I hadn’t even looked at the menu. “I’ll have what she’s having.”
“Muesli and yogurt?” the waiter said.
I made a face. “Um, how about sausage, eggs, something like that?”
Paige laughed, a gentle tinkling in my ears. I could get addicted to that sound.
“Righto,” the waiter said. “Coffee or tea?”
“Coffee. Cream and sugar.”
“Is there any other way?” the waiter asked, a teasing lilt in his voice. I finally looked at the guy, catching something in his tone, a tendril of interest. He was cute, and normally I would’ve flirted shamelessly with him, but there was only one person I wanted at the moment. And she was sitting right across from me.
“A man after my own heart,” I said, with just enough eye contact to say I was appreciative, but not on the market.
The waiter smiled, his gaze flicking to Paige, then back to me, before he turned to her. “Something else for you, ma’am?”
“No, thank you.”
The waiter left and Paige gave me an assessing look. “I think he was flirting with you.”
I held her gaze. “He was.”
“And I think you weren’t immune.”
My grin widened. “I wasn’t.”
“But…” She trailed off again.
“But?”
“I thought”—she motioned between us—“maybe you were…”
“I was. And I am. Most definitely.”
“Oh.” I saw her doing the math.
“Does that bother you?” I asked.
“No. I’m just surprised.”
