by Quinn, Taryn
“Sex?” His lips twitched.
“Yes.” She crossed her arms. Always good to take a smart defensive stance when one was naked in bed with the guy they’d just had sex—all kinds of sex—with. “So whatever you insist on talking about, I bet it’s not anything that should be discussed on Halloween.”
“It’s technically November first now.”
“Yeah, well, there’s a grace period—”
A cell phone went off with an annoying series of beeps. Clearly not hers, because her phone did not sound like an old-fashioned pager. She glared at Patrick, though she didn’t know why. Maybe because he looked way too sexy with his brown hair all shaggy and his mouth still soft with sleep. And he wanted to talk. “Is that yours?”
“Yeah.” With the sigh of all sighs, he rolled out of bed and went to grab his costume off the floor. “Gimme just a second,” he said when he checked the readout.
“Sure.” It was probably little miss strumpet from the party, wondering where Patrick had gone. “Got nothing but time,” she added with a bright smile.
He slanted her a look but answered anyway. “What’s up, East?” Then he looked at her and winced so hard she was afraid he’d do himself serious harm. “Yeah, what?”
He turned his back and whispered into the phone, making her roll her eyes. Did he really think she couldn’t still hear him?
“What’s the deal, man? Why did Abby call you? No, we didn’t hook up after. Absolutely not.”
Abby. The girl from last night, maybe? And if so, that rang a distant bell in her mind. Hadn’t Patrick had a girlfriend by that name once? Or maybe Ashley?
She frowned and settled back in the pillows. Whatever. She wasn’t his girlfriend now, that was all that mattered. Even if Easton had assumed they’d hooked up again.
The important thing was that Patrick had come to her. All the rest was just noise.
“No, I’m not upset she was there.” He cast a quick glance over his shoulder at Nikki. “Besides, it wasn’t me she wanted to hook up with.” A brief pause. “C’mon, you didn’t know she had a thing for you? Well, surprise, surprise.”
As much as she wanted to eavesdrop, she picked up her phone off the nightstand to at least give the appearance of looking disinterested. Julie had left a voicemail late last night, with only the cryptic, “I’m sorry! We need to talk.”
Sorry for what? Jeez, had there been a full moon last night? Everyone was acting so weird.
Letting out a long sigh, Nikki called her best friend and left a message when she got Julie’s voicemail. She hung up just as Patrick ended the call and faced her with the same amount of trepidation a man might have when bearing bad news. News she had no interest in hearing. Not when her body still hummed so pleasantly and—
Her phone went off, making them both curse. “Great timing, Jules,” Nikki said under her breath, fumbling for her cell.
She held up a finger at Patrick and depressed the Talk button. “This better be good. What are you sorry for?”
“I didn’t mean to do it. I swear, Nik. I saw the look on your face when I asked who you wanted. All we did was talk, but I know I should’ve made him go back to the party—”
“Huh? Made who? I have who I want.” Instead of that eliciting a smile, Patrick hit his forehead with his closed fist. Nikki frowned. Yeah, the morning had just taken a pathetic turn south. “What’s going on, Julie?”
“Easton. He came to my shop, and one thing led to another, and then we were discussing Renaissance costumes and Rachmaninoff and some of the classical painters and, oh Lord, I never expected it to happen again! Last year, you never hinted you were interested in him. But you’ve been talking about him so much lately, and I saw the gleam in your eyes when I asked you who you wanted to whip into submission. I’m your best friend. I can tell these things.”
Yeah, not so much. Nikki blew out a breath. “You were with Easton this year and last?” She frowned, trying to process what exactly had gone on. “What the hell happened?”
“Yes, both years.” Julie sounded absolutely miserable, which matched the expression on Patrick’s face when Nikki glanced at him again. “He spent Halloween night with me at my shop. But I swear, we only talked. And shared a little wine. And maybe a kiss or two. God, his lips! But it’s not permanent. I mean, Halloween only comes once a year…”
“Like hell it does,” Nikki muttered, her gaze riveted on Patrick. “I’m not about to settle for once a year. Not by a long shot.”
Eleven
Nikki ended her call and pursed her lips as if she were annoyed, but Patrick held firm. As firm as a man could hold with a pathetically sick stomach. “We’re going to talk, Nicole,” he said. He sat on the edge of her bed and cupped her gorgeous face in his hands, hating that he’d probably lose his only chance with her. Your fault. “I’m not Easton.”
She stared at him, eyes widening, until he felt compelled to fill the silence. “I never led you to believe I was East, but a reasonable assumption could be made, considering it was his party and—”
“Oh, no.” Her lips quivered and she slapped her hand over her mouth, quickly covering what looked like the beginnings of a smile.
But she wouldn’t be smiling. Not right now. He must be imagining things. He was good at that. Just as he’d imagined there was more between them than heat. How could there be, if she didn’t know his true identity?
“Both years?” she pressed when he remained silent.
Even if she hadn’t come to that realization on her own—dammit—hadn’t she just been informed of that by her friend Julie? A friend that apparently had something going with his brother.
Patrick bit the inside of his cheek. So much for him believing Nikki had whispered his name earlier when she’d come. Wishful thinking, obviously.
“Yes, both years.” Irritation and hurt battled for dominance inside him. He’d known there was a good chance she didn’t know who he was, but to have his fears confirmed stung. “East wasn’t at the party either time. I’m sorry.”
“Well, you should be.” Shaking her head, she curled up and pressed her face into the mussed sheets. Sheets mussed from them. “Do you know how long I fantasized about doing my boss? Grabbing him by the tie and flicking my fingers through his gelled hair and—”
“Stop. Just stop. I don’t wear ties. I don’t use gel. But you seemed to like fucking me just fine.” He crossed his arms and prayed his voice wouldn’t shake. “Besides, you—” He stopped, needing to take a breath. This was worse than he’d ever dreamed. Though part of him had held out stubborn hope that she’d known who she’d bedded, she hadn’t. She’d wanted East. Just like his ex wanted East.
Probably half of freaking Cloverville wanted him, for fuck’s sake.
He scrubbed his hands over his face in a vain attempt to get a hold of himself. There was no way, just no way, he’d let her see how this affected him. He’d played the odds and he’d lost. So what? He’d find someone else. Throughout his months in North Carolina, he’d managed to keep his mind off her some of the time. All right, not very often. But he could do better. His chest wouldn’t ache forever like someone had whacked him with a sledgehammer. He’d move on, find another nice girl—one without a whip—and everything would be fine.
He inhaled deeply. Besides, he didn’t need a heart anymore, right?
Then he heard her laughter.
“Oh my God. You big dummy.” She rolled on her back and gasped for air. “You believed I thought you were Easton? For real? Are you nuts? You two look nothing alike!”
Shit, she was laughing. At him, no less.
When he gawked, she made a face. “Okay, fine, you do. But I know the differences. I know the shape of your shoulders, the way your ass bounces when you walk. The particular crinkle of your eyes, and that snorting noise you make sometimes when you laugh…” She trailed off as if thinking she’d said too much. “I just know you, Patrick.”
He clenched his hands into fists in his lap. “You really knew it w
as me? Both years? Then why didn’t you say something at the office? Why didn’t you want more?”
“Why didn’t you?” she challenged.
“I wasn’t here—”
“But you didn’t say anything when you came back either.” Before he could answer, she sighed and glanced away. “And neither did I. I was afraid, I guess. I didn’t want to create drama at work and I suppose I thought you weren’t that interested.”
He touched her cheek, stroking her delicate skin. “Man, were you wrong.”
She looked at him, lips trembling. “Your turn.”
Strangely, her show of nerves bolstered him. And it was long past time for honesty. “I thought you didn’t realize it was me. I mean, I hoped you did, but I didn’t know. And I couldn’t just—”
“Ask?”
“I should have, but I didn’t want to hear you say you wanted East.”
He swallowed over the lump in his throat, studiously avoiding her eyes. As happy as her declaration had made him, he felt like a chump. Since when did he lack confidence? Sure, East was successful, but so was he, in a different way. But it wasn’t just about money. East had a polish he never would.
“I want you.” She sat up and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, hugging him tightly. “Can’t you tell?”
Forcing himself to meet her gaze, he smiled. Her eyes were soft, almost dewy. “Yeah, I can.” He picked up her hand and kissed each of her fingers. “I’m an idiot. Can you forgive me?”
“Nope, sorry.”
“Huh?”
“Only way you’ll get forgiven is if you earn my forgiveness.” She waggled her brows and gestured to the floor. “I still have my whip, you know.”
He grinned and tugged her into his arms, capturing her mouth in a lusty kiss. God, it felt good to kiss her and know she knew exactly who she was kissing back. “Yeah, well, maybe I’ll submit to your whip, bad kitty…if you submit to mine.” He did his best Halloween-worthy evil laugh, and she giggled, wriggling in his hold as he kissed the daylights out of her. As it fucking should be.
She tore her mouth away, panting. “Wait. I do have one question.”
“Shoot.”
“What the hell is going on with your brother and my best friend?”
Patrick laughed. “So that Julie chick’s your best friend? The one he spent Halloween with, both damn years.” He stopped, frowning. “Christ. Seriously? The twin thing kicked in again? Man, that gets old. We always do the same damn thing, even not planning to. It’s like we share a brain.”
“You have the bigger half.” She flicked her tongue playfully over his lips. “Bet you have the bigger everything.”
“No wonder I like you so damn much.” Grinning, he pinned her beneath him on the bed, his heart giving a bump when she wrapped her legs around his waist. They fit together perfectly. “You’re going to go out with me, right?” he whispered between kisses. “On a real date, with real verbal foreplay before we have very real sex?”
Then hopefully they’d have another real date, and another, and another…
“Yes. Of course.” Her lips curved. “Actually, you can take me out next week to celebrate my passing my real estate licensing exam.”
“Really?” He tucked her hair back, his pride overflowing in his voice. “You passed? That’s amazing! Congratulations.”
“Well, I haven’t taken it yet. But I will pass. So you’re taking me out to eat. Okay?” she asked, her tone fierce. He loved a determined woman.
“Hell yeah.” Laughing, he nibbled her earlobe, enjoying her shiver. “Anywhere you want, my sexy real estate babe.”
She wove her fingers through his hair, pulling gently. “Let me take the test first, then I’ll decide.”
“Does that mean I have to wait until next week to take you out?”
“No. Today’s good, too.” She patted his butt before giving both cheeks a good squeeze. “Though if I’m being honest, I’d really rather stay in…”
His cock leaped as he cupped her breast. She had an excellent point. “Works for me. Hell, it’s still Halloween somewhere, right?”
* * *
Thanks for reading BAD KITTY. If you enjoyed Nikki and Patrick’s story, one-click THE BOSS, featuring Nikki’s sexy billionaire cousin Blake and Grace Copeland, the one woman he should never touch.
I've always been a good girl.
I've only done two really bad things in my life—secretly live in the maid's quarters of my beloved grandmother's foreclosed beach house and lie to get a job as a personal assistant to billionaire Blake Carson.
My enemy, my lover, my savior.
He's only two out of the three, if only I can figure out which two before I end up on the streets or in jail.
Or worse.
One-click THE BOSS now!
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THE BOSS!
The Boss
Don’t lose your cool.
I took a deep breath and opened the immense glass door. Carson Covenant Inc. was etched into the milky opaque glass. I glanced back at the street and paused. Huh. A crystal clear view. I stepped back onto the busy Boston sidewalk. A domed vestibule in the opaque glass was a very effective privacy shield.
Was he showing off?
Or was he hiding?
Atlantic Avenue, right near the Boston Harbor, was alive with pedestrians and tourists, as well as a backlog of cab drivers picking up and dropping off at the Intercontinental Hotel next door. It was madness, but as the door closed behind me, there was no sound.
It was a soundless box.
I had an immediate urge to back up and get out. There was no reason to feel claustrophobic about it, and yet there it was.
Not a streak, heck, not even a fingerprint seemed to stick to the glossy surface.
Huh. Well, that was interesting.
Was it always this milky tone? Or could it be colored? My fingers itched to get some of the fascinating glass into a copper casing. I shook my head. No, Grace Copeland, you do not want the enemy’s glass on your worktable.
I didn’t.
Mostly.
And okay, enemy might be a little bit of a stretch. Actually, no. Not a stretch at all for Blake Carson of Carson Covenant Inc.—did he even know what the word covenant meant? I didn’t think so. Or he wouldn’t have snatched up my grandmother’s house at auction before I could even talk to a bank.
Exactly the reason why I was walking into the huge glass box that he called an office building. He was a businessman. I was a businesswoman. Surely we could come to some understanding about my house. I just needed a little time to figure out how to make things work.
My heels clicked on the slate floor, and the breadth and scope of the lobby’s design stole my breath enough for me to stop in the middle and do a 360 degree turn. Glass was my life. The absolute clarity of it was eerily cold here. I instantly wanted to add color everywhere, but there was no denying the statement. Money. Power. Cool disregard for family and happiness.
Resolute once more, I stalked to the bank of elevators.
“Miss!”
I slapped the up button and scanned the walls for a directory of the building, but no such luck. I’d just go to the penthouse. Surely this man would only want the upper floors for his offices. Superior jerk.
“Miss!”
I turned at the voice. A harried guard crossed the lobby, his white hair tufting out the sides of his uniform cap. “Yes?”
“You need to sign in.”
“Oh.” Of course, he’d have a guard keeping the little people out o
f his space. “I’m very sorry.”
His forehead smoothed. “So many people coming in and out today. Do you have an appointment?”
No, of course, I didn’t have an appointment. My drive in from Marblehead to Boston had been an impulse. I smoothed my hand over my white jacket. I’d left the lawyer’s office and immediately gotten into my car with one thing in mind.
Getting my house back.
Well, technically my grandmother’s house, but it was mine now. At least that’s what the will had said. Until probate and the lawyers informed me that selling the house was the only option. Before I could wrap my mind around selling the house I’d grown up in, the bank had put it into foreclosure.
So, no, I didn’t have an appointment. I’d been running on adrenaline and tears for days now. But this was not the place for tears, so adrenaline would have to do.
“Are you here for the interviews?”
I opened my mouth to say no and hesitated. That would get me upstairs. All I needed was five minutes. If I got a face to face with him, then I could swallow my pride enough to beg him to reconsider the sale. It rankled, and I’d never begged for anything in my life, but for that house, I would.
It was the single thing in my life that had only good memories attached to it. From the days on the cove with my grandmother, to the workshop I’d created out of the maid’s quarters all those years ago—there was not a single bad memory associated with that house or with Grandmother Stuart. She’d been my rock. Honestly, she was the reason I’d fallen in love with art and actually stuck with it. She’d been my confidante in all things.
So, no—I couldn’t lose the house too.
Definitely not.
“Yes.”
The man tapped the screen of his iPad. “Your name?”
“Grace Copeland.”
He tapped again, swiped, and then tapped some more. “I can’t…” He tapped a bit more forcefully.
