by Amanda Aksel
“Honestly, there are no words. It was . . .” I sigh.
“Wow, do you think he’s your sex soul mate?”
My face flushes and I coat it in a creamy foundation. “No,” I say dismissively. Thinking it last night in a moment of passion is one thing, but admitting it to my best friend in the light of day, with a blaring hangover, is another.
“Really?” She seems disappointed. “I thought you guys might have that thing.”
“What thing?”
“The thing that when you two are making love, it builds and builds until you both come together and you’re nervous that the world might explode.”
Oh, yeah. There was definitely some of that going on last night. “Don’t get me wrong, it was crazy, hot sex. I’ve never been that wet in my entire life.”
“Isn’t that the best?” Beau smirks.
“Yeah, except that it’s all going to end when I go home next week.”
“Oh, honey, that’s why it’s so good. If you knew you could have him every night, it wouldn’t be the same.”
I nearly drop my eyeliner pencil. “Wait, is that why you’re always falling in love on vacation?” I always wondered about the key to her madness. And if she’s having sex that’s even remotely as good as it was for me last night, then I can see why she does it over and over again.
“Oh, my God.” She braces herself on the edge of the tub, looking like she might tip over in shock. “My shrink’s been telling me that I date unavailable men to protect myself from commitment. But maybe it’s about passionate sex. Holy shit, I really am addicted to love.”
“Might as well face it,” I say.
Beau ignores the reference as I blot my lipstick. Instead, she looks like she’s replaying every romantic encounter she’s ever had in her mind.
“Kate, you need to end this thing right now. When you have fantastic sex, your mind starts to play tricks on you. What if you get attached by accident?”
“Relax, Beau. My mind isn’t playing any tricks on me.” Okay, maybe it is a little, but I’m in total control. I won’t let myself go too far down that path. “I know what I’m doing. Sure, it’s gonna suck when this is over and I can’t wrap my legs around his insane body anymore, but I’ll get over it.”
She bites her lower lip. “I dunno, Kate. You have to admit, this is different. I mean when was the last time you made a bold move with a guy like you did last night. This guy obviously brings out something different in you. That can be dangerous. I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“Beau, when was the last time a man broke my heart?”
Her gaze trails up to the recessed lights in the ceiling. “Never.”
“See. I know what I’m doing.”
Beau still doesn’t seem convinced, but I manage to change the subject when I tell her I have to focus on my meeting.
I arrive at the restaurant fifteen minutes early, just in case, and use the opportunity to review my notes one last time. My eyes go in and out of focus because my mind is on Drew’s hands all over my body, the naughty things he said to me, that look on his face when he watched me . . . I shiver in my seat and grab the glass of water. It’s the closest thing I’ll get to a cold shower for a while.
Kent, the investor, strolls into the restaurant ten minutes late in his tightly tailored cobalt-blue suit with a matching vest and a pair of aviator sunglasses. He walks over casually, not rushed in the least. I stand to greet him.
“Kate,” he says apologetically with open arms, “so sorry I’m late.” He pecks a kiss on my powdered cheeks as if we’re old friends. Seems like a positive sign.
“It’s no problem.”
Kent takes his seat and immediately opens the menu. “What looks good?” he seems to ask himself. “Why don’t we start with a cocktail?”
“Sure,” I say, thinking that I have zero desire to drink after the three martinis I had last night at . . . Kate, don’t even think his name right now. Focus!
He calls over our waiter in the black vest and bowtie. “Let’s have a couple dirty martinis,” he says, then turns to me. “You like dirty martinis, right?”
I shrug with a nervous chuckle. “Who doesn’t like them?”
Kent leans back in his chair, giving me a cool smile. He asks me about myself, where I grew up, what I like to do for fun—that sorta thing. I expected him to be nice, but I didn’t think he’d be this friendly. I stare at his jaw as he tells me about a ski trip in Switzerland he took earlier this year. All I can think about is how it reminds me of Drew’s perfect chin—the feel of his stubble when he kisses me.
Focus, Kate! I have no idea what Kent just said so I giggle and say, “Yeah, that’s great.”
He gives me a somewhat appalled stare. “That she broke her leg?”
Uh-oh. Not the best moment in the conversation to blank out. Think fast! “Oh, I thought you said she broke her keg because, you know . . .you guys were having a good time in the mountains.”
Kent coughs out a laugh. “Kate, no one drinks from beer kegs after the age of twenty-four, twenty-five at the absolute latest.”
“Right,” I say, “that makes more sense.”
“Don’t worry about it. Anyway, enough about me. Let’s talk about that fashion show yesterday. Very sexy. How do you come up with all those ideas for knickers?”
I stifle a giggle in my mouth. I’ll never get used to that word. “I dunno. My imagination I suppose.”
He smirks. “You must have a very titillating imagination.” Is he coming on to me?
“Sure . . . So, I’m glad you like the product. I’d be happy to send over a few pieces for your girlfriend.”
“I don’t have a girlfriend.” He gives a dismissive wave, keeping his eyes fixed on me.
“Oh—”
“Do you have a boyfriend?”
“Um, no . . .” Okay, this is getting off track.
“How is it possible?” Kent says and it catches me off guard because that’s exactly how Drew reacted when I told him I wasn’t in a relationship. It almost sounds like him too.
“If it’s okay with you, I’d like to stick to the topic of the business,” I say.
Kent points his finger at me. “You’re focused. I like it.”
I take out my printed business proposal. “So, as you know, we were one of the top twenty lingerie brands in the world just two years ago. But since then, our revenue’s declined. Though, it’s not just my brand. A lot of the other luxury lingerie companies are declining in sales.”
“That’s right.” He nods. “So why do you feel that putting more money into a declining product would be a good idea for either of us?”
“I thought you might ask me that.”
He leans forward. “Oh, yeah?”
“Yes. That’s why I’m planning to expand the brand into loungewear, swimwear, and fragrances. But of course, I wouldn’t be able to execute the new designs and continue to run the business as it is now without your company’s investment.”
He nods. “Run the business as it is now. Interesting choice of words.”
My mouth feels suddenly dry but before I can speak, the waiter arrives with our dirty martinis. Kent raises his glass and I follow. “Cheers.”
He takes a long sip. “Here’s the thing. Usually when a corporation is looking to expand it’s because they’re growing, not declining. I’m not saying that your idea won’t work but I don’t know that it’s a smart move for Bonnaire Capital. But you’re a clever woman. I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”
What? I’ll figure it out? It sounds like he’s already decided against it. Why would he invite me to lunch and get my hopes up if he has no intention of investing in my company?
“Let me make sure I understand this correctly. You’re not interested in making a deal with me?”
“Okay, here’s the thing. I don’t think my company is a good fit for your company. But I think that maybe I’m a good fit for you.”
“Excuse me?”
He shrugs with a ba
shful smile. “I know what you’re thinking, but I looked at the numbers and it just doesn’t make sense. But there is something about you. That’s why I invited you to lunch. I don’t know, I’ve always been partial to strong, American women.”
The nerve of this fucking asshole. I can’t believe he led me to think that he was actually interested in helping me save my company, when he really just wants to get into my pants.
My face grows hot and I’m almost positive there’s steam coming out of my ears. I furrow my brow, gritting my teeth ‘til it hurts. “You’re unbelievable, you know that?”
“I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m just trying to be honest.”
I rise to my feet, pushing the chair back with my legs. It squeaks against the floor. “Well, honestly, you’re an asshole.” I grab my dirty martini and toss it in his face, liquor dripping from his brow, off of his jaw, and onto his designer suit. Gasps and gaping mouths fill the space around us. He doesn’t jump to his feet or snap back with a mean rebuttal. He just quietly wipes his face with the black cloth napkin. I have a feeling he’s had a drink or two thrown his way before.
Eight
DREW
I stare blankly at a set of untouched photos on my computer screen. It’s like I can’t even remember how to use Photoshop. All I can think about is Kate and her gorgeous eyes, those adorable feet, that sweet laugh. I admit it. I like her. A lot. It doesn’t happen often and when it does I try to embrace it, but I always end up sabotaging it somehow. Hopefully, I won’t get the subconscious urge to push her away since she’ll be leaving soon. Or the urge to overthink it. I’ve trained myself not to overthink by just not caring as much. The issue still remains—I can’t focus on my work.
Time for a ride.
I leave the photos on my screen so that I can get right to it when I get back. One hour on the bike should be plenty to reset and clear my head. I grab my jacket, helmet, and gloves and get cruisin’.
Turning the corner onto Park Place, I spot a woman walking in the opposite direction with her arms folded over her chest, head down, dark hair flowing behind her in the breeze. She looks almost exactly like Kate. As I get closer, keeping my eyes on my lover’s twin, I recognize those lips. It is Kate.
I slow the bike, pulling over to the curb. “Kate!” I call, not sure if she can hear me. My pulse quickens while my skin begins to buzz. She looks up, squinting, and steps over as I park the bike.
“Drew?” she calls.
I look back at her and smile. The surprise of seeing her on the street now is almost as good as her unexpected visit last night. Almost.
“Hey,” I say. She looks so beautiful in her cream-colored V-neck dress and wide black belt around her waist. “I thought you had a lunch meeting.”
Kate lowers her head, digging her pointed heel into the sidewalk. “I did. It’s over. I was trying to walk it off.”
I dismount the motorbike and go to her. “What happened?”
She looks away and her lip trembles like she’s fighting back tears. “The guy’s not interested in my company. He was only interested in getting in my pants.”
A ball of anger rises in my chest and I feel its flames heat my face. I ball my fist. “What? Where is this dickhead? I’ll take care of him.”
She grabs my arm. “No, I already threw a drink in his face.”
Go, Kate! But still . . . “This clown deserves a lot more than a drink in his face.”
“True, but I don’t want to harp on it. It doesn’t change the fact that I still haven’t secured an investor.” She pouts her delicious lip.
I want to offer her the funds. Again. But I got the impression that she was overly uncomfortable with the idea so I just say, “Is there anything I can do?”
Kate says nothing as she steps closer, leaning her head on my shoulder. I fold my arms around her, feel her chest rise and fall against mine, and hear the sound of her breath go in and out. “No,” she says, “I’ll figure it out.”
I’d give anything, especially twenty million, to help her figure it out. To make it all better. But I can tell she has her pride and she wants to do things her way. We’re a lot alike that way. So I let it go.
But as it turns out, there is something I can do.
***
That night when we meet up for another round in the bedroom, a smile grows across Kate’s pretty face after she comes for the third time in a row. Yeah. That’s right. Third!
I push her hair behind her ear. She grins and giggles, her nose touching mine. “Why are you laughing?” I ask, smiling.
“Because I’m so happy right now. My body feels so good.”
I kiss her and roll her over on her back, running my fingers down her smooth skin, hoping that she’ll remember this day for this moment and nothing else.
The rest of the week, Kate and I seem to develop a bit of a routine. We work our jobs during the day, then work on each other at night. Mostly at my place, though we spend a couple nights at her hotel. Hotel sex is hot.
Every night that we’re together, Kate gets bolder. She lets me do things to her that she’s never done before. She tells me so and she likes it. When Kate’s on her knees, she looks up at me with that naughty gaze that drives me fucking insane. So really, our sex is hot no matter where we are.
She’s been sleeping over too. I’m starting to get used to having her in my bed, the way her scent lingers on my sheets. I keep reminding myself that her stay is only temporary and so it’s safe to take advantage of the time. Besides, she’s the best sex I’ve had, maybe ever. Great sex is a staple in my life, so that’s saying a lot.
Friday night before my brother’s wedding, Kate spends the night at her hotel. I can’t seem to sleep. There’s this nagging feeling that I’m forgetting something, something’s missing. So I jump out of bed and go to my closet. I’ve got all the pieces for my tux, so that’s not it. Kent’s the best man, so he’ll have the rings. There’s nothing I need to bring other than Kate.
Kate.
I smile, dreaming about the way she looks brushing her teeth in her silky nighties. That’s what’s missing. Her.
Shit, I really like this girl. I’ve gotten attached to her body, that laugh, and those gorgeous green eyes. Maybe it’s just because I know she’s leaving soon and I won’t get to have her when I want her—like she’s being taken from me instead of me pushing her away. I shake my head hoping I’ll shake this feeling. I do but only for the moment. My shoulders drop as I lower myself onto my bed, hanging my head. “Oh, Kate, Kate, Kate. What am I going to do about you?”
***
The next morning at half past eleven, I pull up to her hotel. This time in a black town car. I’m already tugging on my collar, grimacing. I hate wearing a cummerbund. Sitting in the back of the car in this gray suit reminds me of how uncomfortable I was growing up. Always dressing up so our father could show off what good little boys we were. Attending church on Sundays and events with royals and other London elites. Not to mention the ridiculous uniforms from boarding school. I remember watching American teen movies when I was young and wishing I could have that kind of life—dress the way I wanted, flirt with girls in the hallways, drive my motorbike, and sleep in my own bed at home.
If I complained, Dad would scowl and tell me that I should be grateful for all the opportunities and education I was privy to. I could never live up to his standards. It would have been perfect if the life I was groomed for was the life I wanted. When Mick became an upstanding physician and Kent became Dad’s successor in the family business, the pressure seemed to melt off of me. That’s why he allowed me to study with Ferguson Burke. If I was going to be a photographer, I needed to be the best. Despite my high-caliber catalog of work in the fashion industry, I’m still not good enough for him. I don’t think about it most days because he and I are different types of people. It’s only when I have to play a role for the family that my resentment returns. Maybe having Kate by my side will ease the pressures of facing my dad today.
K
ate comes prancing out of the revolving glass doors wearing a stunning red dress and matching feathered fascinator hat. The driver opens the door and I step out, grinning from ear to ear.
“You look gorgeous, darling,” I say, reaching for her.
She glances away bashfully, batting her lashes. “Thank you,” she says, stepping her foot back, and descending into a proper curtsy.
“What are you, English or something? Where did you learn to curtsey like that?” I ask.
“I learned it on YouTube,” Kate says in a posh accent.
“Your accent’s getting pretty good,” I say, doing my best to sound American.
Kate laughs, her green eyes glistening in the daylight. “Yours needs some work.” She leans up on her toes and I meet her for a kiss. The touch of her lips shoots a trembling sensation to my stomach and a tingle in my trousers. It’s a shame there’s no time for sex before the wedding.
She pulls back and wipes my bottom lip, then caresses my cheek with the back of her fingers. “You shaved. I’ve never seen you without stubble.”
“Yeah, I need to at least look like a respectable gentleman.”
“Well, you are a respectable gentleman and you look . . .” she bites her lip, “very handsome.”
I smile and take her hand, leading her to the car.
“Maybe after the wedding, when your five o’clock shadow grows in, you can change back into those ripped jeans and black T-shirt,” Kate says, pinching my ass. The girl gets me.
“I was hoping we could get naked instead,” I whisper in her ear.
She grins, shivering in the back seat. “Ooh.”
The driver takes off. I lean in and kiss her neck, inhaling the sweet scent of her perfume. “You smell delicious.” I put my hand on her nylon-covered knee and slide it up her thigh.
Kate closes her eyes, letting out a little moan. “Drew, the driver’s right there,” she whispers.
“When did you get so shy?” I ask, playfully.
“It’s just that every time we . . .” she starts quietly.
“Uh-huh,” I say, urging her on.
