Sex Addict

by Brooke Blaine

  Crystal laughed. “Jesus, he didn’t have to run. I’m not feeling too stabby yet.”

  “I don’t know,” Reagan drawled as she gave her a quick once-over. “Your face certainly says otherwise.”

  “And your face is screaming of another late-night conquest. Spill it.”

  Sighing, she grabbed Crystal’s martini and took a sip before saying, “It’s that obvious, huh?”

  “Mhmm.” Her friend wrinkled her nose in distaste. “If I recall correctly, you’re wearing your emergency clothes that you keep in your bottom drawer at work, and you’ve got a guilty ‘walk of shame’ look about you.”

  When Reagan set Crystal’s drink back down in front of her, the woman shook her head and pushed it back. “Oh no, you keep that one. No telling where that filthy mouth has been.”

  “I don’t know why I’m friends with you,” Reagan said as she scratched her brow with her middle finger. “How the hell did you even know these were my emergency clothes?”

  “That huge crease running down your shirt is definitely not a dead giveaway.”

  Reagan looked down to the center of her blouse and then aimed narrowed eyes back on Crystal. “Well, we all can’t be as immaculate as you.”

  “Bullshit. Usually you’re put together right down to the color of your nail polish matching your lipstick…but not today. Today you look like you fucked and fled.”

  “Actually, it was more like crawling and creeping out the door.”

  Her friend leaned in across the table, eyes wide. “Why? Was he that bad?”

  “I can’t even remember, does that tell you anything? Plus, I stayed the night. And I haven’t done that since—” She caught herself before she spilled Evan’s name, but not before her friend caught on.

  With a wide smile, Crystal sat back and crossed her arms over her chest. “Oh, I know who you mean. Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome. Did you ever find out his name?”

  Yeah, and he works under me…well, not under me, though I know how amazing that…no, no, no.

  “No.”

  Crystal’s eyes narrowed, but before she could say anything, the waiter came by, and they paused their conversation to place their orders for salads and another round of martinis.

  After he was out of earshot, Reagan tried to change the subject. “So how did it go with the buyer from Saks? Is she interested in—”

  “Nope. No. Let’s rewind a bit, because for some reason, I think you’re holding out on me.” Curious eyes studied Reagan from beneath the longest lashes she’d ever seen, and then understanding dawned. “You found out his name, didn’t you? Wait, is he the creep ’n crawl from this morning?”

  Shaking her head, Reagan said, “Absolutely not. You know I tell you all of my dirty secrets. If I’d seen him again, you’d know.” Her conscience nagged at her that she’d lied twice this morning about her involvement with Evan to two of the closest people in her life, but she swiftly brushed the thought aside.

  “Besides,” she said as she removed the cocktail stick of olives from her glass and slid one off with her teeth, “it’s probably a good thing I haven’t seen him again. The guy was gorgeous, but a total bad boy, two things I know you can’t resist, and I’d hate to have to kick your scrawny ass. Again.”

  “Oh, God.” Crystal rolled her eyes. “First, you didn’t kick my ass, nor could you ever, and second, we agreed after that first night that there would be no fighting over a guy.”

  “I don’t even remember what that guy looked like anymore.”

  “Oh, I do. He was wearing an expensive suit and had tattoos peeking out around his wrists. I’m sure there was probably a wedding band in his pocket, so in hindsight, we definitely dodged a bullet.”

  “I thought you were such a tramp, homing in on my conquest.”

  “Your potential conquest,” Crystal corrected. “We all know had I wanted to, I would’ve won that battle.”

  Reagan shook her head. “Instead, you got the most fabulous friend you could ask for. Aren’t you a lucky hooker?”

  “That’s true. I did get a fabulous friend, but I also got one who is keeping secrets.”

  The denial was right on the tip of Reagan’s tongue when the waiter stopped by their table and lowered a gigantic salad in front of each of them.

  “Holy shit, I thought a salad was going to be a healthy option,” Crystal said as she peered across the table at the mountain of chicken, lettuce, and parmesan in front of Reagan. “There’s no way I’m going to be able to get through all of this.”

  “I’m sure you’ve swallowed more than that in one sitting before.”

  Crystal picked up her fork and pointed it in Reagan’s direction. “I’ll have you know…” She paused and looked down at her plate, and then back over to Reagan before shrugging. “Who am I trying to kid? You’re right.”

  Reagan grinned, and as she placed her napkin across her lap, the phone she’d left on the table started to buzz. When Evan’s name and number flashed up on her screen, she made a quick grab for it. Accepting the call, she brought it to her ear and held up a finger to her friend, mouthing “work.”

  “Hey, Bob.”

  Evan’s greeting had her groaning in frustration. “Really? I think that name needs to be retired already.”

  “Of course, Bob. So, I was out and about and wasn’t sure if you were in a meeting or not, and wanted to know if you required sustenance.”

  “Sustenance?”

  “As in food. You know, us humans eat it to survive.”

  “Why are you sucking up to me? You’re not getting a raise anytime soon.”

  Evan coughed slightly and lowered his voice. “I told you, Reagan, my therapist has me doing new and helpful things for the women around me. You know, instead of just sexualizing them. Using words like ‘sucking’ in sentences pertaining to yourself is not very…beneficial to my success.”

  “Is that also why you’re persisting with that ridiculous name you’ve given me?”

  “No,” he said, and she could practically hear the grin through the phone. “I do that because it irritates you, which in turn makes your cheeks flush. Are they flushing right now?”

  Reagan could feel her entire neck heat all the way up to the cheeks in discussion, and she looked up to see that Crystal’s brows had risen, and she was watching her intently.

  “No,” she said.

  The chuckle that came through the line had her frowning, as did the reply. “Liar.”

  “Is there anything else, Mr. James?”

  “What are you doing right now? I’m not interrupting, am I?” he asked, his tone clearly indicating that he didn’t care one way or another.

  “If this is not a work-related call, then we can have this discussion when I return to the office.”

  “Oh, I see,” he drawled. “Are you on a date?”

  “That’s none of your business.”

  “Shopping for panties? Because we both know you didn’t leave wearing any—”

  “If that’s all, I’m hanging up now.”

  Then she ended the call and tucked the phone inside her purse before reaching for her martini and draining it dry.

  A smirk took over Crystal’s face as she asked, “Someone have you flustered and thirsty?”

  “Just a work call. We’ve got a new guy on board, and he’s a bit…needy.”

  “Ah, yes,” her friend said knowingly as she stabbed another piece of chicken with her fork. “Or maybe someone’s got you feeling a bit…needy?”

  Reagan wanted to deny those words, but instead of lying for the third time today, she replied with, “Just shut up and eat your damn salad.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  “QUIT IT!” SHE screeched as ice-cold water hit the middle of her back. Spinning around on her toes, she saw two wide smiles splitting across her brother’s and his friend’s faces as they aimed the hose in her direction.

  Her father had reminded them earlier in the day that if they wanted their allowances, then they better get to w
ashing his car by the end of the day. Usually, it was a chore that went by without incident, but with her brother’s friend involved, it had turned into pick-on-Jennifer hour.

  She dodged another spray in her direction and ran over to the side of the car for cover. Grabbing a sponge from the bucket of soapy water next to her, she peered over the hood and aimed it right at Troy’s head. It hit him square in the nose, which made him yell while Rocky stood there and laughed at his friend.

  “Nice throw, Jen,” Rocky called out to her.

  Jennifer ducked back down when he grinned in her direction, embarrassment causing her skin to heat even as she shivered from the cold. She’d had a crush on the older boy since the first time he’d come home with her brother after school a couple of years ago…not that he knew it.

  “You better be getting ready to run, J.”

  Her brother’s warning had her looking across the yard to the large tree with the rope ladder. Realistically, if she made it in time, he would still be able to latch on to her ankle, and, with Rocky’s help, pin her to the ground. So, that wasn’t an option. Her eyes then moved to the back door that was slightly ajar, and she wondered if she would make it in time to lock it.

  “You know we’re gonna get you, so you may as well come out.”

  Opting for the door, she turned and made a run for it. She was halfway across the lawn when she felt someone grab her waist and tackle her onto the grass. Squealing, she tumbled down with an “oomph.” She wriggled underneath the frame that landed on top of her and rolled over. Rocky was laughing as she shoved against his shoulder.

  “Get off of me, you buffoon.”

  As he held her down, she spotted Troy coming over with the hose in his hand.

  “Don’t you dare,” she said, squirming to get away. “I’ll tell Mom.”

  “It’s just a little water,” Troy said as a mischievous grin crossed his face.

  Turning her attention back to the boy above her, she pleaded with him, her eyes wide and, she hoped, innocent looking.

  His laughter stopped when he saw the expression on her face, and he sighed, letting her go with one hand to brush the long brown locks off his forehead. She took advantage of his position by pushing against him with all her might and knocking him backward before kneeling on his chest and shouting, “Hah!” in his face. At his look of surprise, she quickly leapt off him and ran for her life, laughing the whole way.

  She bolted through the door, turned, and shut it behind her, clicking the lock into place. The glass window afforded her the chance to witness her brother’s shocked expression of disbelief, while the boy behind him ran a hand through his hair and watched with a look of admiration.

  She wasn’t sure how she knew, but in that moment she was positive that he was impressed.

  “I’M GONNA GET you!”

  The young voice shouting pulled Reagan out of her daydream, and she scanned the park next to her for the source. A group of boys and girls were chasing each other and playing tag, while their parents stood nearby chatting and popping hot nuts from the street vendor nearby. The little girl with brown pigtails reminded her of herself when she was younger, and when she hit one of the boys before running away, Reagan smiled to herself and pulled her camera up to take a picture.

  After a long week, she found her happy place on the park benches of Manhattan, observing the people around her, taking candid snapshots, and dreaming up stories about those she watched. With her camera strap around her neck, she stood and wandered down the path that wove around the outskirts of the park. The sun was warm as it shone down, and she couldn’t help but tip her face up to it, enjoying the rays against her skin.

  She lived for days like this. The quiet times where she could get out of the office and immerse herself in the city she loved.

  As she made her way along the path and back out onto the street, a classic brownstone across the road caught her attention. The iron fence that bordered the basement entryway was covered in ivy that wound up the staircase and covered the left-hand side of the building. The double doors were gorgeous, with brass handles and glass panes that allowed a passerby to catch a glimpse inside to the way the elite might live in the city that never slept.

  Feeling the need to capture such beauty on film, Reagan brought the camera up and placed her eye to the viewfinder, adjusting the lens to get the image exactly where she wanted it. She took several shots, the shutter clicking with each snap of her finger, and as she zeroed in on those impressive doors, one of them opened, and a man stepped out onto the porch.

  Intrigued by the appearance of the owner, she found herself zooming in on him, waiting for him to look up in her direction. He was well dressed, and she had to admit that the back view was impressive.

  As he pulled the door shut, he turned around, and Reagan realized the attractive face now prominently featured through her lens was that of…Evan James.

  She cursed and drew the camera away before he could glance in her direction and catch her snapping shots like a stalker. What the hell were the odds that they were both in the same place in Manhattan on a lazy weekend morning? Wait…that wasn’t his apartment that he was walking out of.

  Oh hell.

  She looked around for something to hide behind, but there was only a wide-open walkway, unless she wanted to jump in the Hudson River. Which she did not. At all.

  She walked to the railing, pulling her camera back out to take a picture of…of…

  “Reagan?” Evan called out.

  …absolutely nothing at all.

  “Reagan,” he said again, and this time she turned around to see Evan strolling her way, his eyes roaming over her in such a way that she felt naked instead of completely covered in yoga pants and a long-sleeved shirt.

  Inwardly, she groaned, hating that he looked so damn good in his walk-of-shame dark jeans and tailored button-up while she’d been slumming it on park benches.

  Not that she’d ever let him see that bit of insecurity come out.

  “Evan?” she asked, confusion masking her face as she slipped into a more unruffled version of herself, one that wasn’t bothered by her unkempt appearance. Then she noticed the way his eyes were still drinking her in…

  “Stalking is still illegal in all fifty states, you know,” she told him when he reached her.

  “I’m glad that you’re aware of what crime you’re committing.”

  Reagan placed a hand to her chest. “Me?”

  “Well, you’re the one standing across from my therapist’s office. Were you taking surveillance photos for Bill?” Evan teased.

  Reagan felt her mouth fall open at the accusation, but she was secretly pleased he wasn’t leaving the scene of a late-night conquest. As quickly as she could, she pulled herself together and shrugged.

  “It wouldn’t be the worst idea. How do we know you aren’t making Dr. Lover up?”

  Evan glanced back over his shoulder to the brownstone and then returned his focus to her. “Wanna come meet him?”

  “No,” she replied, appalled. “I’m not here checking up on you; don’t be ridiculous. This is just some strange coincidence.”

  “Or a happy one?”

  Reagan pursed her lips as if thinking about it. “Perhaps, Mr. James. Perhaps.”

  He glanced at the camera hanging around her neck and then brought his eyes back to hers. “You like photography?”

  “No, I just carry this around so men will look at my breasts.”

  He gave her a disarming grin. “Good news—it worked.”

  “Eyes up here, sir. You just left your therapist’s office.”

  “And ran into you. Either someone up there is fucking with me or this is a sign.”

  With a laugh, Reagan found herself kicking a pebble around underfoot, trying to remind herself she was a grown-ass woman and not the eight-year-old girl she’d been remembering earlier.

  “Where you headed?” he asked, and Reagan raised her eyes back to his amber-colored ones.

  “Nowhe
re in particular. I was just out taking a few photos.”

  “So you do do this for fun?”

  Reagan gave a slow nod. “I do. There’s something cathartic about it.”

  Evan said nothing for a moment as he stood there, and Reagan had the distinct feeling he was trying to see more than what she was willing to show.

  “You’re a hard one to figure out, Reagan Spencer.”

  “Am I?”

  He slipped his hands into his pockets and nodded. “Yes. I would never have guessed you like photography. You don’t have any images in your office.”

  Reagan looked out across the river and replied softly, “Some things are private.”

  “And your photos are one of those things?”

  She glanced over to where he’d moved beside her and said, “Yes, they are.”

  His eyes narrowed slightly, and after several intense seconds, he flashed a smile and bumped his shoulder to hers.

  “Well, since we’re close, personal friends, maybe you’ll let me see a few?”

  When she didn’t respond, except for a look that screamed hell no, he laughed and said, “Okay, okay.”

  “Nothing against you—it’s just I’ve never let anyone see my shots.” Her gaze traveled over the water, mindlessly watching the rowers pass by. “They just tell stories.”

  “What kind of stories?”

  “The ones I make up.” When Evan stayed silent, she turned to face the park, looking around before pointing out an older man sitting on the curb feeding the pigeons scattered about him. “Like him. I imagine he was once very good-looking and incredibly wealthy, but married a woman his family didn’t approve of and lost his inheritance. He’s lived his life as a poor but happy man until his wife passed away recently, and instead of spending his days alone in his small apartment in Queens, he would rather keep company with other living creatures, no matter how small.”

  Nothing was said as they watched the man in silence together. Finally, Evan quietly asked, “Walk with me?”

  She gave him a small smile and nodded. “Sure.”

  Pushing off the rail, she fell in step with him as they walked along the river’s edge.