Lingerie on the Floor (The Londonaire Brothers Series Book 1)

by Amanda Aksel

  She catches her breath, her eyes meeting mine and the look she gives me has nothing to do with music—not unless you count the kind she makes when she moans into my ear as she comes.

  “I get to pick the music now,” I say, walking over to the stereo. And as soon as the tune changes, the mood changes, and I can finally pull that zipper all the way down.

  Thirteen

  KATE

  Aside from getting another no at the second investor meeting, I’m having the best week. We’ve been spending just as much time exploring the city as we have exploring each other. It’s like we’re having a love affair with the city and with one another. Drew’s been getting some great shots, some digital and some classic film. He’s agreed to send me a few when he gets them printed. Probably the best souvenir I could have from this week. Drew and I have been behaving like we’re on a romantic honeymoon. But as the saying goes—the honeymoon’s over. Or at least close to being over.

  I knew this day was coming, but I kept putting it out of my mind. Today, Drew goes back to London, and tomorrow, I go back to Los Angeles.

  With this bitter day comes something sweet. Very sweet. I’m just getting back from the third and final meeting, and they made me an offer. A bona fide, save-my-business-from-the-trenches offer. I can’t wait to tell Drew.

  I rush into the apartment. “Drew!” I call out and find him reading a magazine in the bedroom.

  “Hey,” he smiles and hops to his feet. “How’d it go?”

  I bounce in place, the way my mattress springs have the last week. “I got it! I got the money!”

  “That’s amazing!” His smile seems to stretch up to his eyes and he takes me in for a squeeze. “See, I knew you’d get it.”

  I let out a very, very relieved exhale, my body buzzing all over. “Yep, you were right.”

  “I love that you’re woman enough to admit it,” he says, doing an impression of me.

  I bust out laughing and so does he. “That’s pretty good.” Not only does the guy know what I like, he can impersonate me better than anyone. “So, it looks like I’ll be spending some more time here over the next couple of months.”

  He raises his brow. “Really?”

  I nod, glancing at the clock and reminding myself of our borrowed time. “So . . . what do you want to do now? We only have four hours and twenty-three minutes left, but who’s counting.”

  “We should celebrate,” he whispers in my ear, sending a tingle down my neck but it doesn’t travel any further than that. He kisses me hard and throws me onto the fluffy bed. Making love with him has become my favorite pastime, but in this moment, I’m not really in the mood. Is it possible to have too much sex and get tired of it?

  I try not to let on, so I moan and reach down over his jeans zipper. That usually gets me going. His finger draws up my thigh and under my pencil skirt. He slips a digit between my ordinarily salivating lips but even I can tell I’m bone dry. What’s happening right now?

  This is weird.

  He pulls his mouth away from mine, knitting his brow. “Is something the matter?”

  So much for him not noticing. I sit up and pull my skirt down to my knees. “Yeah, I guess. I don’t know what’s going on with me.”

  He shrugs and says, “It happens,” the way a woman says to a guy who can’t get hard. Drew is always hard, and since I’ve been with him, I’m always wet.

  “Not when I’m with you.”

  Drew leans up on his elbow. “Oh, I know. Maybe you just have a lot on your mind since you just made that million-dollar deal.” He opens his arms “C’mere.”

  I lean on his chest, breathing in his natural scent, which I wish could be bottled and sold just to me. This is the time to stock up.

  “Maybe,” I say, chewing my lip in thought. Is the honeymoon over? Is he out of my system? After this past week, I thought I was headed in a different direction. But maybe it’s time to let him go. Back to London. I let out a heavy sigh and Drew caresses my shoulder in silence.

  He kisses the top of my head and I smile, loving when he does it. It makes the sweetest sound. “Hey, I want to talk to you about something.”

  I look up and he lowers his chin, sitting up and sliding me over. “What?”

  Drew looks into my eyes like he’s unsure about what he’s going to say. My stomach tightens and twists preparing for whatever comes next. “What do you think about coming to London? To live?” he asks in the most serious tone I’ve ever heard from him.

  I open my mouth to speak but nothing comes out. How do I respond when I’m not even entirely sure what he’s asking?

  “Live with me if you want,” he blurts out and I know he can sense my hesitation and not just by my silence. “You can focus on your London boutique and we’ll have more time to see . . . what this is.”

  “Hold on. You don’t even let women stay overnight and you want me to live with you? Every day?” I ask, a ball of fear forming in the pit of my stomach.

  “You’re obviously not just anybody. I like being with you and I can’t do that if you’re thousands of miles away.”

  I should be over the moon about what he’s asking. And part of me is, but it’s too much, too soon. I’m just getting used to the idea that I have feelings for someone. New and wonderful feelings. But move to London? I tuck my hair behind my ear, feeling my shoulders slouch as I curl into myself. “Drew, believe me, I love being with you, but we haven’t known each other that long. Don’t you think it’s a little fast for me to uproot my life to ‘see what this is?’”

  He scoots off the bed and takes a wide stance, looking like he’s about to give a speech. “I get that this isn’t a rational proposal. But nothing about what’s happening between us is rational. I never thought I’d want to be with anyone for more than a few weeks and I definitely never thought a girl like you would fall for a guy like me. But here we are, together in New York only weeks after you left London.”

  I sit on the edge of the bed, not able to look into his sweet eyes that are begging me to say yes. But what if I say yes, we do this, and then he changes his mind and says never mind? What then? “And what if we don’t work out after a few months or something?” I ask, secretly wanting him to tell me that it’s not possible, but knowing that it is.

  “At least we can say we tried.”

  Disappointment weighs on my heart so heavy that I think it may sink to the bottom of my gut. Just the idea of us not working out after trying breaks my heart. I can’t even imagine what the real thing would feel like. What it would do to me. How it would change me. To this day my father is heartbroken over my mom and not just because she died young and didn’t get to raise me, but because she was everything to him. There’s not enough money or art or beautiful women to fill that hole in his heart. Maybe it’s better not knowing, not risking it. But I can’t tell Drew that I won’t go to London because I don’t believe he won’t hurt me. So I say something practical. “Do you have any idea how stressful moving is?”

  “Kate, you know I’ll take care of it. I’ll pay for everything. You just have to get on the plane and pack a couple sets of lingerie.” He hints at a smile.

  I know he’s just trying to lighten the mood but this is too serious. “I have a life in L.A. My friends are there. My dad and Lisa are there. My headquarters is there. I can’t just go because we want to keep sleeping together.”

  “This isn’t just about sex,” he says, looking angry that I even suggested it. “I’m in love with you.”

  I blink, speechless, and breathless. Finally, air seems to reenter my lungs and I exhale a wispy, “What?”

  “I love you, Kate.” My heart takes a fluttery dive into my stomach as the words leave his lips for a second time. He rushes up and grabs hold of my arms, making me look at him. “Don’t act like you don’t feel it too.”

  “Drew, I . . .” I don’t know what to say. Maybe I do love him. But I’ve never been in love with anyone. Is this it? Feeling like you can fly but terrified of the fall? How
can I know it’s not just the amazing sex clouding my brain? I can’t say it back. At least not until I’m sure what this is. “I have feelings for you, obviously. But neither of us knows anything about love. And certainly, neither of us is good at it. If we care about each other, why would we risk hurting one another?”

  He knows my answer and still his eyes beg me to reconsider. “Don’t you think we owe it to ourselves to at least try?”

  I know he means what he’s saying. But I can’t trust that it’ll last. The long-term evidence is against us. He has a fear of commitment, and so do I. It’d be naïve to think that our feelings for each other could conquer that, and it’d be irresponsible to act on that notion. For his sake and mine, I have to end it.

  Tears puddle in my eyes and I swallow hard, unable to move the heart-sized lump in my throat. “I think we owe it to ourselves not to make a huge mistake.”

  Pain flashes in his eyes and he looks away, his hands falling from my arms. It’s only been six weeks since we met and already I’ve hurt him. I can’t even imagine the kind of pain either one of us will face in six months or six years. He turns away, heading for the door.

  “Where are you going?” I call, wiping falling tears from my cheek. His voice doesn’t come back. I follow him to the living room. “Wait.”

  He lifts the handle of his suitcase and takes one last, heartbreaking look at me.

  I sob, folding my arms over my chest. I hate, absolutely hate, the way I feel right now. “Drew, please don’t leave like this.”

  Drew turns away, opening the door. “Why not? I wouldn’t want to make a huge mistake by staying.” His angered words are like sharp ice piercing into my heart. He walks out, slamming the door behind him.

  I fall to my knees in a swamp of murky tears, wishing I could go after him—stop his pain and mine. But I can’t. I can’t give him what he wants. And now I don’t know what I want.

  I spend the rest of the afternoon crying in the apartment. The walls seem to be closing in so much, that the spacious New York apartment feels more like a tight cardboard box. And it’s not fun.

  I change my flight and take the red-eye to L.A., wanting to erase the memory of today but reliving the whole thing when I call Beau at the airport and tell her everything. As I fly west, I know he’s flying east. Just this morning, we couldn’t get any closer, now I don’t think we can get any further apart. The separation burns into me and nothing I do will shake the pain. Every second that I think this might be the huge mistake, I remind myself—there’s a difference between our world and the real world. And as much as we hate its harsh realities, we can’t escape real life.

  Beau’s already waiting at my house when I arrive home. Tears fall down my cheeks the moment I see her and she takes me into her arms, rocking me as I sob on her shoulder.

  “Shh,” she says, “it’s gonna be okay.”

  I pull back, trying to find comfort in her friendly blue eyes. “I feel so lost.”

  Beau pouts her lips, looking like she might join my festival of tears. She pulls me back in. “I know, honey, I know.”

  ***

  I’m totally pathetic. It’s been almost two weeks since I left New York and I’ve hardly left my house. I can’t sleep. I can’t eat. I can hardly work, and I’m almost sure the New York investor is going to pull the deal. But I can’t seem to snap out of it. I have a persistent knot of guilt in my stomach over what I said to Drew. I miss him all the time. But I can’t bring myself to call and be kind to him. It’ll make it harder for him to let me go. And despite how miserable I am, I keep telling myself that I did the right thing. I made my bed . . . I just wish he could be in it.

  Beau stops by every day, sometimes with junk food, sometimes with her massage therapist. Garret stops by every other day, usually with good reviews of my new lingerie line, but today he brings in a pile of mail and sets it on the kitchen island.

  “Are you ever going to put on real clothes again? It’s hard to market you as a successful luxury lingerie designer when you’re walking around in day-old leggings and a rat’s nest for a hairdo.” In case you didn’t notice, Garret’s not the coddling type.

  I roll my eyes and sip my coconut water. It’s the only thing I can stomach. “I’m sure you can figure out a way to spin it.”

  “Yeah,” he says, “You could use a spin cycle in the wash.”

  I shoot him a biting glare.

  “You got something in the mail from Lux.” Garret slides a large envelope across the white granite.

  “So what?” I say, looking out at the sunny SoCal day. Why does it never rain in this city?

  Garret furrows his brow, resting a fist on his hip. “Have you given up or something? Because the Kate Golden I know isn’t a quitter.”

  “I’m not quitting. I just don’t care about a package from Lux.”

  “Well, can I open it?” Ah, that’s what this is about. He wants to know what’s in there.

  “Knock yourself out,” I say, walking to the other room and sprawling out over my narrow royal-blue sofa.

  “It’s a proof of the spread,” Garret calls following me to the living room. “And this.” He hands me a small envelope with Kate handwritten on the outside. I turn the envelope over. The initials N.S. are embossed on the flap.

  I sit up. “It’s from Nina Savoy.”

  “Really?” Garret gawks at me while I open the letter.

  “Dear Kate,

  Congratulations on a gorgeous feature in Lux Magazine. We were so right to have you pose for the spread. Hope you’ll visit us in London again soon.

  Best,

  Nina Savoy.”

  Garret and I stare at each other, our jaws slacker than my recent hair routine. “I guess you impressed the queen,” Garret says, handing me the glossy proof.

  I don’t want to look at it for obvious reasons. But I can’t not look at it either. I swallow my fear and open the page. My eyes settle on a perfectly airbrushed photo of me in my lingerie, the strap of my lacy bra dangling off my shoulder and my stockings straight. The photo captures everything that I want my brand to be. It’s bold and fiercely sexy. I stare at my expression in the picture—that look in my eyes. It’s the only thing they didn’t have to touch up. It’s the only thing totally real about the whole photograph. And it was for him. For Drew. The man who brought me out of my shell and helped me discover my own sexy. And I let him go. What was I thinking?

  Tears prickle my eyes and within seconds, I throw my head back in a huge sob. It’s so big, I’m almost positive there’s a bubble over my head that says, “WAH!”

  “Oh, my God, Kate!” Garret calls out jumping to his feet. I curl up on the sofa while he tosses loose tissues at me. “What do I do?”

  I can hardly hear his panic over my wailing. “I miss Drew,” I manage to say during the ugliest cry I’ve ever had.

  “You want me to get Drew?” he asks, lightly patting my head in the least soothing there-there gesture.

  “No!”

  “How about Lisa? I’ll call Lisa.” Garret runs out of the room like his hair’s on fire and I just curl into a tighter ball. Why now? Why is this happening to me?

  ***

  Twenty minutes later, Lisa’s standing over me as I cry wild tears.

  “She’s been like this since I called,” Garret says.

  “Okay, I’ve got it. Thanks, Garret. You can go.”

  Lisa peels me off the couch and lays me on her chest like I’m six again. She soothes my head, shoulders, and back with her warm, motherly touch. And with the magic of her unconditional love, my tears begin to subside.

  “Just breathe,” she says softly and I inhale and exhale. Inhale. Exhale. “What are you feeling?”

  “I feel . . .” My chin trembles. “I feel heartbroken.”

  “What happened?”

  Lisa has always wanted me to meet someone special. And I stopped telling her about any of the guys I dated because she’d always get so excited and I knew she’d be disappointed in the end. So
I never mentioned Drew—or the motorcycle ride, the park, the martini, or New York.

  I relive my entire romance with Drew right there on the couch with Lisa, balled up tissues littering my living room rug. She listens thoughtfully, but careful not to react too much, hiding her smile during all the really good parts like how we danced to Billy Joel and Barry-freaking-Manilow.

  “He’s obviously crazy about you,” Lisa starts. “What are you so afraid of?”

  “Getting hurt. Being miserable for the rest of my life because it didn’t work out.”

  She wipes her thumb over my wet cheeks and I can smell her La Mer cream. “But honey, you’re already hurt and miserable.”

  “Yeah, but I don’t want it to be worse than this.” I blow my nose into an already sopping wet tissue.

  “Take it from someone who’s been heartbroken a few times. It doesn’t get worse than this.” She rustles my messy bun.

  “But look at you and Dad. Don’t you wish you never married him?” I ask, almost thankful for the opportunity to finally ask her this burning question.

  She gives me an emphatic, “No!”

  I blink a few times. That wasn’t the answer I was expecting. In fact, I’d counted on her resounding YES to prove that I did the right thing and saved both Drew and me from serious pain.

  “Your father was great to me. We had a good life together. And if I hadn’t married him, I would have never had the opportunity to help raise you, which is something I’m so proud to have been part of. Kate, you’re smart and stunning and successful. I wouldn’t wish a single day away, even the bad ones.”

  “Really?” I ask, sniffling.

  Lisa nods. “Really. Being in love is one of the greatest experiences you will ever have. You don’t want to look back and wish that you hadn’t let love pass you by.”

  “But he wants me to go to London.”

  “London is fabulous! And it’s not like we can’t see you. He’ll probably fly you out on his jet. He’s a Bonnaire. He can afford it.”

  I tilt my head, wrinkling my brow. “How do you know about the Bonnaires?”