He strode into the kitchen, wearing a killer suit and a grim expression. “You’re still here.”
It took everything she had not to snap at him. Keeping it light, she said, “I don’t have a ride, remember?”
He crossed to her and lifted her face. “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. I came out of the shower and you were gone. I thought maybe you’d left.”
“By stealing your car? Think it out, Sloane. You’ve seen my success rate with getting into a cab.” That had been humiliating, but Sloane had taken it in stride.
“I’d have given you the keys to my car, sugar,” Drake offered. “After the muffins are done.”
“Shut up, Drake. She doesn’t need your car.”
“Yeah? Then why was this gorgeous girl down here while you’re in the shower? What a dumbass.” He snorted. “Good for me, though. I scored blueberry muffins.”
Kat choked on laughter. She liked Drake, she really did.
“Are the muffins done yet?” Sloane drew his thumb across her cheek. “He won’t be able to talk with his mouth full.”
She glanced over at the timer. “Almost.”
“He’s right though.”
“That you’re a dumbass?”
Sloane grinned. “That you’re gorgeous. And yeah, I’m a dumbass.” He swept Kat up, set her on the counter and kissed her.
His warm mouth brushed over hers, driving out everything else, including the fact that they were in his kitchen and giving Drake a front-row view.
Sloane twisted her hair around his hand, tugging her head back and invading her mouth. His taste flooded her, minty toothpaste, coffee and the richer, more addictive flavor of him. She sank her fingers into his hair, tangling her tongue with his.
The sound of the buzzer penetrated her sexual fog. Kat pulled back. “Muffins. Breakfast.”
“I’ll get them,” Drake said. “You two just carry on.”
Sloane’s attention followed Drake as he slowly made his way around the bar.
Kat’s heart hurt at the shadows lurking in Sloane’s eyes, at the heaviness pressing on him. The worry was so evident, she put her hand on his face. “Calories are good,” she said softly. “Any calories he can hold down.”
Sloane’s gaze hit hers, his expression so raw and exposed she could feel his pain. He leaned his forehead against hers. “I’m glad you’re here.”
“Me too.” For once, she was taking care of Sloane.
“I didn’t want you to leave. And I sure as hell don’t want you to catch the attention of the reporters. They’ll hound you.”
“I won’t talk to them.” He didn’t have to pay her to keep her mouth shut. “No matter what happens, even when you piss me off, I don’t operate that way. You don’t have to worry about that.”
“Shit, Kat. That’s not it.” He slipped his hand beneath her shirt, pressing his palm flat to her back. “If they just came into your bakery, you could handle them. But they’ll follow you and corner you when you’re not prepared.”
That would suck, she had to admit. “Okay.”
He pulled his head back from hers, surprise softening his features. “You’re not mad?”
“No.” It was the truth. If a reporter cornered her outside of her bakery, she could have a panic attack. In spite of Sloane’s rough morning, he was thinking of her. “You really don’t have to worry about me. Go to work. When the reporters leave, I’ll get a ride. I don’t have to be at the bakery until eleven.”
Drake cleared his throat. “You can take my car, Kat. I don’t need it.” He tossed some keys on the counter. “Thanks for the muffins. I’m taking a second one to my room with me.” Glancing at Sloane, Drake added, “Try not to be a dumbass.” He shuffled to the hallway.
Sloane sighed and lifted her gently to the floor. “You don’t need his car. I’ll take you home.” He stacked some muffins on a plate and poured juice. “Let’s take this out on the deck.”
Kat followed him out to the large deck spreading along the back of his house. Choosing a seat with a view of the ocean, she didn’t care that the sharp sea breeze tangled in her hair and raised goose bumps on her arms. The crashing waves soothed her jitters.
“Put this on.” Sloane held out a black zip-up sweatshirt.
After slipping her arms into it, she rolled up the sleeves. “Don’t you have to get to work?”
He put a muffin on her plate and dug into his. “Soon.” He held up a second muffin. “You made these. It’d be rude not to eat them.”
“I should have asked if I could use your kitchen. Which is kick-ass by the way. Exactly how I’d design my kitchen right down to the Viking six-burner double ovens and that sweet island—” Shut up. God. She compressed her lips. “Sorry, got off track.”
Covering her hand with his, Sloane stroked the sensitive spot at the base of her thumb. “You can bake anytime you want in my kitchen, Kat. Did Drake scare you?”
“Startled me. But no, I didn’t panic.” Surprise had caused her heart to hammer, not a panic attack. “I like him.” Turning her hand so their palms met, she closed her fingers around his. “I’m sorry he’s sick, Sloane. He said he’s known you a long time. This has to be hard.”
He pulled his hand away and gazed toward the waves. “He saved me. Saved a lot of us. And now they tell me there’s not a goddamned thing I can do.”
The lead balloon of understanding landed in her chest. Drake was dying, and the rigid lines of Sloane’s brutally square face broadcast his pain. Not close to his mother, his sister dead, and now his friend was dying.
Shoving back her chair, she dropped onto his lap and hooked an arm around his neck. Sloane had almost a foot in height on her and a hundred pounds, but she curled her body around him as if she could protect him from this hurt. Laying her head into the curve of his neck, she caressed his massive shoulder.
After a few beats of his heart against her cheek, he softened and wrapped his arms around her. Pressing his face against her head, he combed his fingers through her hair.
“What are you doing to me?”
She closed her eyes, inhaling the scent of him as she fought a surprising prick of tears. He really didn’t know. “It’s called hugging. Comforting.”
He dragged in a shaky breath. “You need to know what those reporters are after. In fact, I’m surprised you don’t know. No one has privacy with Google.”
True. But Kat hadn’t enjoyed the foul-tasting jealousy while looking at the pictures of Sloane with beautifully polished society women, so she’d cut short her Google investigation of him. Her self-confidence didn’t need that kind of battering. “You’re going to have to tell me.” It bothered her to see him like this, tense, edgy, closing off from her. She didn’t want to care this much. But maybe it was a good reminder for her—keep the lines clear.
She’d believed in love and forever once, and that love had died an ugly death. She didn’t need to go down that road again.
Sloane’s chest expanded with a deep breath. “The man who murdered my sister was released from prison this week.”
“Sara was murdered?” Horror sent sick chills up and down her spine.
“Raped and murdered. But she was only a foster kid, a throwaway.” Rage and desolation collided in his eyes, dragging him far away. “The price of her life was thirteen years. And now that motherfucker is a free man.”
Chapter Four
Ending his call, Sloane glanced over at Kat. She was pale and still, looking out the limo window as they headed to her house. A travel mug of coffee was cradled between her thighs.
Things had gotten too out of control this morning. He was slipping, damn it, and letting Kat too close. He kept careful lines for a reason. But how the hell could he remember that when she settled into his arms and hugged him? Comforted him? Sloane had done the only thing he knew how then-he’d gone cold on her. Told her he had things to take care of.
“If any reporters come around, I want you to let me know. I’ll take care of it.” He grimaced at
another thought. “Next week I’m leaving for South America, but my assistant will handle any problems.”
She nodded without looking at him.
Shit. “I’ll pick you up at six on Saturday for the winery event.”
“All right.”
That relieved him a little bit. She wasn’t bailing on her commitment to be his plus-one. He tossed his phone down. “I wanted us to sleep in this morning. I wouldn’t have asked you to stay if I knew it was going to turn into a clusterfuck.” He hated that. She had to get up before dawn most days to run her bakery. And he’d kept her up last night, then his phone conversation had woken her early.
“No problem.”
A burn behind his rib cage ignited at her flat voice. “You really don’t want to do this. Not now.” When she retreated from him, it tripped a switch in him.
Kat turned.
He winced when he saw that her eyes were tired, almost bruised.
“What do you want from me? Things came up you have to take care of. I get it.”
He was a bastard. Kat hadn’t deserved his cold act. It had been easier to focus on damage control then recall about how she touched places inside him no other woman had. He couldn’t think of a time when any other of his plus-ones had tried to comfort him. It was utterly ridiculous. They used him for sex and whatever else they wanted. He was known to be generous.
Except with Kat. He hadn’t given her anything but ugly pieces of his soul. What little he had. He didn’t take her to a beautiful hotel where she could indulge in room service, spa treatments and massages. He dragged her to his house where she baked muffins like she did every damned day at work.
Furious at himself, he said, “I liked it better when you threw yourself into my arms.”
A smile ghosted over her mouth. “I’m not mad at you. You’ve had a bad morning. I’m just getting out of your way.”
Her comment kicked him in the nuts. “Jesus, you’re not in my way.” That was how her parents treated her—as someone to be pushed to the side and ignored.
“Stop. We’re fine.” The limo slowed and turned into her complex. “Thank you for dinner last night and everything. I’ll see you Saturday.”
“You know better than that.” As if he’d drop her off and drive away, like he couldn’t bother to see that she got safely inside her house. He followed her out when Ethan opened the door. “Ten minutes.”
His driver nodded, returning to the car.
Inside the condo, Sloane heard water running. “Is that the shower?”
“Kellen. He’s still on medical leave. Diego is at work.” She went to the sink and started washing the travel mug.
He couldn’t leave her like this. Seeing Kat in his kitchen moving around as if she belonged there had melted the ice running in his veins. But when she’d thrown herself in his arms on the deck, her small body curling around him, he’d caught himself holding on to her. Not for sex, but for a connection. It just…he didn’t know what to do with all that. Especially the way she cued in on how sick Drake was and baked the man muffins. “I’ll book a room at a hotel for us Saturday night. Anywhere you want to go.”
She didn’t look up. “I have to be at work around 4:30 a.m. Sunday. If you want to have sex at a hotel, I’ll meet you there so I can leave when we’re finished.”
“Damn it, Kat.” Frustration clawed at him. “I’m trying to do something nice for you. Take the day off.”
“Sorry, I can’t.”
That dead tone of voice stabbed at his brain. He didn’t know how to make this right. “I’m trying—”
“I don’t want you to try.” Grabbing the edge of the counter, she closed her eyes and tilted her head back. “I just want…”
“What do you want?”
“To be able to handle this.” Her gaze hit his. “Have sex with you and not make it anything more.”
Sloane stared at her, his entire body twanging in reaction. Strength and vulnerability radiated from her.
So beautiful and scarred. Inside and out. Emotion rubbed him like sandpaper. She tugged at his chest and dried his mouth. A dozen years ago, when he’d first seen her, she’d been a child at sixteen, a young beauty he hated for what he perceived as her fairytale-like life while his sister was dead.
But now, the innocence had been stripped away, leaving a fighter struggling for footing on moving ground. She brought out his protective instincts like no one else since Sara.
Sloane went to her, fitting his front to her back, caging her with his arms. Feeling her weight against him, he settled his chin on her head. “Too late. We both know this is more.”
She dug her fingers into the granite. “I don’t know if I can survive when it ends.” She took a breath. “Do one thing for me?”
“What?” Anything. He’d feel better if he could do something for her.
“Don’t lie to me. Just don’t lie. I can deal with this as long as you tell me the truth.”
He should walk away from her now. Leave her. Jesus Christ, Sloane knew it was going to end.
And end badly.
He could keep it from her for awhile, but Kat was too smart not to figure out his goal.
To kill the man who murdered Sara.
But Sloane couldn’t let Kat go. Not yet.
* * *
A few hours of working in her bakery kitchen helped her sort through her thoughts. She couldn’t fix Sloane’s life. But she had something else that bugged her.
Like she’d told Sloane, she believed that whoever attacked her the night of the supposed mugging was still a threat. The new part of her flashback worried her. They hadn’t hurt David, at least not much, but they’d made him watch while they hurt her. Told him Consequences. If they had targeted Kat as some kind of consequence back then, what about other people in David’s life now? She hadn’t heard about a girlfriend, but her brother Marshall was David’s friend. Her parents wouldn’t listen to her, but would Marshall? Should she warn him that she thought David could be into something dangerous?
Taking a sip of water, she continued working on assembling the raspberry heart cookies. They were a huge seller. She spread the seedless preserves on the heart-shaped shortbread cookie, then set on the top outline of a heart and dusted them with powdered sugar.
She assembled the cookies on autopilot, thinking about Marshall. They weren’t really in each other’s lives. He’d chosen David to be in his wedding, while Kat would just be a guest. Yet when she did see him, her brother treated her with his usual distracted affection, just as he always had.
So would he listen to her? Or did he simply believe David?
Ana plopped down on the other stool at the stainless-steel table.
“Taking a break?” Kat finished the first batch and went to work on the second.
“I wanted to talk to you.”
Worry got her full attention. She eyed Ana. “Something wrong?” Please don’t be turning in your notice. Eventually Ana would leave—she was working on her marketing degree and would move on. But Ana was easily Kat’s favorite employee.
“Nothing like that.” Ana picked up the baked heart outlines, carefully fitting them onto the bottom cookies once Kat spread the preserves. “But I have something I’d like to pitch.”
“Hmm.” Ana’s ambition was one of the things Kat liked about her. “A new recipe?”
The girl laughed. “’Fraid not. I don’t have your amazing talent.”
“Why do I feel like I’m being buttered up here?” After setting her knife in the bowl of water, she went to work arranging the cookies on the display tray. “Let’s hear it.”
“I want to make you and Sugar Dancer a project for one of my classes. The assignment is a video promotional campaign with a marketing plan. Please, Kat. I know I’ll do a great job. And if you like it, then we can submit the finished product to some of the TV shows that feature bakers.”
Sinking onto the stool, Kat rubbed her leg. Ana’s eyes glowed behind her trendy glasses, her face flushed with excitement
. Disappointing her was like kicking a kitten. But she had to be realistic. “You want me in the video.”
“You’re the face of Sugar Dancer. I have it all planned. We’ll do two videos. One will be a commercial-grade trailer. We’ll compile that from the longer bio-piece.”
“Bio about me?” Kat couldn’t get her head around it.
Ana nodded. “You are Sugar Dancer, Kat. And the thing is, your story is interesting and inspiring.”
Her lips twitched. She loved Ana, she truly did, but the girl was laying it on a bit thick. “Hardly.”
Ana touched her arm. “It really is. You’ll see if you trust me. You’ll have to do hours of taping, but some of it will be during your regular work when you can just ignore the camera crew. But I also need to get demo pieces of you prepping, baking, decorating and maybe a good one of you setting up a wedding cake at a venue. It’s a lot to ask of you. But I’m asking.”
The idea of it terrified her. Excited her.
“Kat, we’d have good footage to send to the shows.” She slid off her stool, went to the desk and picked up her iPad. After returning to the stool, she set the computer on the table by Kat. “I have three picked out. It’s part of my marketing plan.”
Her head spun, and Kat gripped the edges of the table. “Ana, I can probably do the taping in my bakery. But I can’t go on a cooking show.” She hated her weakness. But this part of Ana’s pitch wasn’t new. The girl had been hounding her about going on a show that featured bakers.
“Cross that bridge when you come to it. You can always say no if—no when—a call comes to have you on a show.” Resting an elbow on the table, she added, “What’s your ultimate goal for Sugar Dancer?”
Kat smiled. “Open bakeries all over the U.S. and make Sugar Dancer a brand right down to premixed packages for baking at home.” Ana had pulled that dream out of her more than once. “But I need additional capital to open more bakeries.” Plus all the issues of scouting locations, finding the right employees and training them, it was a huge time and financial investment.
“You need exposure. Give me this shot. And trust me. If you don’t like the final project, I’ll only turn it in for my grade. We’ll write up a contract that the work can only be used for my grade unless you give approval.”
Possession (The Plus One Chronicles) Page 4
