How could Cait burrow into my life as deeply as she had? I’d known her for such a short period of time. And yet there it is. My heart craves the sight of her. Oh, I know what she feels like, smells like, tastes. That last memory has driven me insane for the last six months. Even though I have Moseley’s description of Cait, it’s not nearly enough. I don’t know what she looks like. Oh, I could have easily found her photo on the internet, but I refused to search it out. An image could never compare with the real thing.
The temptation to search her out while I’m in New York claws at my gut. It’d be easy to find out where she works. A phone call to one of the investigators my company employs and I’d have that information in less than fifteen minutes on my desk. But I don’t want to be that person who craves the sight of the woman who lied to him, fucked him, while she plotted a move to New York to be with her boyfriend. I refuse to be that pitiful excuse of a man.
The long day sinks its hooks into me. I’ve been awake since five a.m., flown in my corporate jet to the Big Apple, checked into this hotel, while planning high level negotiations with a new company. Excited as I am by the prospect of partnering with a new organization to produce organic products in South America, I can’t help but be beat. Tomorrow I’ll leave for Peru and I need to get as much rest as I can. Dr. Testa cautioned me to get at least eight hours’ sleep every night to give my eyes a rest. Fine. I’ll take his advice. Nothing to do except say goodnight to him before heading up to my room.
I hunt around the cavernous ballroom and finally find him on the edge of the ballroom talking to a woman, a twenty-something with hair down to her ass. Something stirs within me, and I breathe in hard. Even from across the room, her allure draws me like a moth to a flame. Strange. I haven’t felt an attraction for any woman since Caitlyn, not even Minouette, who I never bothered to invite back. I inwardly shrug. It’s probably my cock reminding me it’s beyond time I bury myself in some woman’s heat and forget about the one who betrayed me.
Curious to discover if the stranger’s allure is the same or stronger up close, I head in their direction. When I arrive by their side, Dr. Testa greets me with a cautious smile. His gaze stutters from me to the beauty and back again. How very … strange.
“Hello—” Before I say another word, the woman mumbles something and turns away.
But I’ll be damned if I let her go before I get her name.
“No. Please. Don’t leave.” I offer my hand. “Sterling MacKay.”
Wide-eyed she gazes at me, a haunted look on her face. When she doesn’t offer her hand in return, I prompt her. “And you are?”
Dr. Testa clears his throat, and his face takes on a look I can only describe as odd. “Sterling, this is Caitlyn Bennett.”
“Caitlyn.” My breath cuts short.
“Yes.” When we were together, I’d sensed she was stunning, but the reality is so much more than that. She shimmers from shoulder to toes in a beaded, one-shoulder gown, the shade of which exactly matches her eyes. Moseley said her eyes were brown. But they’re a gorgeous chocolate, ringed with cinnamon. No wonder she always tasted so sweet.
“Excuse me.” Dr. Testa departs, barely noticed by either of us.
We take each other in, not saying a word. What can you say to the woman who walked out after making a fool of you? Something polite. Something that won’t make a scene. “Nice to see you again.”
Her breath hitches, and she bites down on her lip. “I have to go.”
No. That I won’t allow. But we’re in a crowded ballroom. And the conversation we’re about to have can’t be overheard. I grab her by the elbow and drag her along with me.
“Where are we going?”
“My room. Upstairs. We need to talk.”
“I can’t. We can’t.” Holding up the skirt of her gown, she trips along taking two steps to each one of mine.
I stop and glare at her. “Are you here with someone? Your boyfriend maybe?” I spit out through gritted teeth.
“No. I . . . came by myself.”
“Good.” I continue our march to the exit and head for the elevators with their cast nickel doors on the other side of the space. She doesn’t say a word as we climb into the car along with two other couples. I punch 25. With my hand still clamped around her arm, I step back against the elevator’s wood paneled interior.
Her body trembles against mine and she does that lip-licking thing again. Swear to God, if she does that again, I’ll haul her against me and kiss her. I don’t care how many people I shock. Bending toward her, I whisper in her ear. “Smile. You look like you’re headed for the guillotine.”
She obeys me, even if her smile wobbles a bit. Good.
By the time we reach my floor, the crowd has thinned and we only have to make our way past one other couple to exit the car.
While holding tight to her, I pound the thick carpet toward my room. “Why didn’t your boyfriend attend the dinner with you?”
“He . . . we’re no longer together.”
Something inside me bursts loose. I push her to the wall, clamp my hand around the back of her head and devour her mouth. She tastes just the way I remember. Of red-hot innocence and want. She struggles against me for a second or two and then she gives in to the insanity that’s us. I let go of her hair long enough to tug on the zipper of her dress, but before I can pull it down she pushes me away.
“Someone’s coming.” She nods down the hall. Footsteps. Two people chatting.
I link hands with her, turn our backs to whoever is approaching so they can’t see our faces and head for my suite at the end of the hall. Card ready in my free hand, I jam it into the door and push her through it. As soon as we do, I return to where we left off.
“We can’t . . . do this,” she whispers against my mouth.
“Why not? You don’t have anyone in your life. Neither do I. And I still want you.” I drive her hand to my pulsing cock. “See?”
“Sterling.” She’s shaking so hard the beading on her dress shimmers with her every breath.
“Tell me you don’t want this and I’ll stop.”
A whimper escapes her. “I . . . can’t.”
She still desires me. That much is clear. “You want this, don’t you? Say it.”
Twisting her mouth, she swipes at the tears raining down her face.
But I’ll be damned if I take any mercy on her. “Say it.” I grind out.
“I want you.” She hiccups. “God help me, I do.”
That’s the only green light I need. I pull down her zipper, yank the dress off her. Something rips. Not that I give a fuck.
I tear off my jacket, the studs, pull my shirt over my head all while she shakes like a leaf. She’s wearing a white lace peekaboo bra and matching panties. Swear to God, I’ll tear them off first chance I get. I dig for my wallet, fish out the condom I buried there months ago while we were together.
After I kick my slacks and boxers to the side, she takes the packet from me, tears it off with her teeth, rolls the condom over my cock. I pick her up and, with her legs wrapped around me, stride to the bed where I drop on the mattress with her. In one thrust, I’m buried balls deep in her. She’s tight, like she hasn’t had sex in a while.
I grunt. “Your boyfriend? When did you break up?”
“Months ago.”
That explains her tight sheath.
It takes no time for me to come. One, two, three thrusts, and I come so hard I see stars. Damn. Should have paced myself, but I was so hungry for her, there was no hope of doing that. Rolling away, I come to my feet and head for the bathroom where I toss away the condom. We won’t fuck a second time. I only had one packet in my wallet. But I can certainly enjoy her another way.
When I return to the bed, I push back her hair, and breathe her in. The familiar scents of her scent, her shampoo, her, invade my reeling senses. I nuzzle the satiny skin of her throat, nibble her collarbone, worship my way down to her breasts. With their alabaster skin and rose tips, her breasts are the mo
st beautiful I’ve ever seen. Soon she’s writhing beneath me. “Take me again, Sterling.”
A smile of regret curls around my lips. I cup her cheek, kiss her soft lips. “Can’t. I only had the one condom.”
She scoots out from under me and disappears into the suite’s living room. Where the hell is she going? Seconds later, she returns with a condom in her hand.
What the hell? Has she been sleeping with someone? Not the boyfriend for someone else? “Did you hook up with another man?” I lash out.
She crawls back into bed and over me. “I don’t hook up, Sterling. I’ve had them in my purse since I came to New York. My mother taught me to be prepared.” She cups my face and kisses me. “You should see your face.”
I flip us so she’s beneath, grab the condom from her hand and roll it over me. “I wouldn’t have liked it if you’d fucked another man.”
She caresses my cheek. “I haven’t. You’re the only one I’ve been with.”
“What about the boyfriend? Surely, you’ve been with him.”
Her breath hitches as her gaze darts away from me. After a heartbeat or two, she smiles and returns her glance to me. “Not for months.”
I grunt. Somehow she’s managed to find an answer that satisfies me. Before I take her again, I need to taste her essence. I kiss my way down her stomach, lick around her belly button and nibble my way down to her mons. I smile against her trimmed patch. Her intimate curls glisten a dark auburn. She’s wet and about to get wetter.
“What?” she asks.
“I wondered what color you were.”
“And now you know.”
“Yes.” I dip my tongue into her folds and she moans. When I nip her hot button, she screams.
“Come into me, Sterling. Please.”
I do since we both want the same thing. She’s hot and oh-so-eager for me. It doesn’t take long before she reaches her climax and for me to reach mine as well. I can’t get enough of her. Never have, never will. Thoroughly pleased with myself and her, I fall asleep to the sound of her heart beating beneath me.
But when I wake in the morning, she’s gone.
Chapter 21
______________
Caitlyn
SUNDAY MORNING AFTER WALKING OUT on Sterling, I indulge in a crying jag at my East End apartment. My roommate, a medical resident at Lenox Hill Hospital, is on duty so I don’t expect to see her until the next day. Thank God, because I really do not want to get grilled by her. Puffy eyes and a hangdog look tend to bring out the overprotective doctor in her.
The next day, I march toward my cubicle, determined to focus on my assignments at work. If I do, maybe my mind won’t dwell on my disastrous life. But seemingly the universe has made other plans.
“Sterling MacKay? You know Sterling MacKay?” Claudia, hands propped on her hips bars the entrance to my space.
Going around her, I unlock the drawer where I keep my valuables and stash my purse. The move gives me time to think of an answer. “Yes. How did you find out?”
“At the charity dinner, I saw the two of you racing for the exit.”
“I used to work as his assistant.”
She folds her arms across her front. “And you didn’t tell me? We could have talked him into investing with us. They’d hand you the key to the Executive Washroom if he signed on as a client.” The way she says Executive Washroom makes it sound like it’s the promised land. Maybe to her it is. But to me? It’s just a bathroom.
“I could never do that,” I say, shaking my head.
“Yeah, you wouldn’t.” She gives me the hairy eyeball. “Look it’s none of my business, but you don’t look too good.”
Guess the makeup has done nothing to camouflage my swollen eyes. “Coming down with something. The flu, I think.”
She huffs. “It’s summer. People don’t get the flu in the summer.”
“A cold then.”
“Uh huh. So what happened? Did he kick you to the curb after you knocked boots in his room?”
My breath catches in my throat. How dare she insinuate such a thing? “I’m done with this conversation.”
In a snit, she hightails it to her side of the cubicle. But the damage is done. Our co-workers probably heard every word. So much for flying under the radar today.
At the end of the day, on the way home I grab some noodles from Mr. Wong’s hoping to hole up in my room and watch reruns of my favorite show. But I’m not so lucky. I step through the door to find Trista sliding a pan of lasagna into the oven which means her boyfriend is coming over for dinner. He can’t get enough of the stuff.
She takes one look at my face and asks, “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Just tired. I guess.”
“You’re not coming down with something, are you?” She rests the back of her hand against my forehead.
The gesture takes me back to my childhood when my mother did the same thing to gauge my body temperature. “No. I just want to eat dinner and go to bed.”
“It’s only six o’clock. Greg’s coming over for dinner. Why don’t you join us? It will do you good.”
That last bit of kindness does me in, and I burst into tears.
“Oh, honey, what’s wrong?” She embraces me, and the aroma of yeasty bread envelops me, something that says love to me.
“Sterling.” I snuffle into her shoulder.
“Your old boss.”
Affronted, I step back. “He’s not old!”
Her full lips quirk in a smile. “Former boss then.”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
“The charity dinner I attended on Saturday?”
“Uh-huh.”
“He was there.”
“And?”
“He invited me to his room to talk.”
She studies me for a couple of seconds. “And you did more than talking.”
No surprise she figured it out from a quick glance. I’ve never been good at hiding my emotions. “Yes.”
“So why this hangdog attitude? Wait.” She squints at me. “He didn’t kick you out the door as soon as you were done, did he?”
“No.” I focus on the floor, not wanting to see her reaction when I say the next words. “I walked out on him.”
“Why?”
My gaze darts back to her. “Because I’m in love with him,” I yell. There I’ve finally admitted my feelings for Sterling. Something I’ve denied since Hong Kong.
“Honey.” She rubs my back. “I would think that’s a reason to stay, not leave.”
“You don’t understand.”
“Enlighten me then. Here.” She pulls back a chair from the kitchen dinette set and pats the seat. “Sit and tell me all about it.”
I wave my hand at the stove. Whatever she’s cooking smells delicious. “You don’t have time to listen, not with making dinner and all.”
“The lasagna is in the oven, and Greg won’t be here for forty minutes. Now stop stalling and tell me.”
In fits and starts, the sorry story pours out of me. She already knows I worked for Sterling, but I never shared anything else. So I give her the PG version of what happened in the library, the first time we made love, our trip to Hong Kong. And most importantly, the lies I told him when I left.
“So you left him so he would have the surgery?”
“Yes. I wasn’t sure he would, but I hoped.” I wipe the moisture from my face.
“And he can see now?”
“Yes. The operation was a success.” Which tells me I did the right thing.
She reaches out and pats my hands which are resting on my lap. “Honey. You have to tell him.”
“Tell him what?”
“The truth. Something still exists between the two of you.”
“He’ll never believe me, Trista.”
“You’ll never know unless you try. You’ve been miserable for the last six months. And it’s because of the way you broke things off with him. Tell him the reason you left. If he’s the man you think
he is, he’ll believe you.”
Grabbing a napkin from the holder on the table, I wipe my tears and blow my nose. “No. He won’t. His former fiancee only wanted him for his money. After his accident, she walked out on him. He thinks I’m the same as her, that I only stayed until my boyfriend found me a job. And once he did, I hightailed it to New York with the money I’d earned.”
“But you never had a boyfriend!” Her fierce gaze lands on me. She’s a great friend and loyal as they come.
I stop scrunching the napkin and let out a sigh. “He doesn’t know that, Trista. Even if I could force myself to come clean, there’s one more reason I can’t tell him the truth. He hates liars. So I’m damned if I tell him and damned if I don’t.” I twist my hands on my lap.
“Whatever happened six months ago, he still wants you if he took you up to his room.”
“That’s different. That was just . . . sex. He wants me. He always did.” That craving, that hunger for me is still there, even if I don’t understand why it’s so.
“So build on that.” She squeezes my folded hands. “Maybe it will turn into something more.”
I shake my head. “It can never be serious. He wants a fiancee from his social class, not someone with a blue collar background.”
“Maybe he no longer wants that.”
“Doubt it.”
The doorbell rings.
“That’s probably Greg,” I say, glancing toward the door.
She peeks at her watch. “He’s early.”
“He probably wants to talk some more about you moving in together.” He’d brought it up the last time he visited.
Her cheeks pink up. “You heard?”
“You can hear everything through these walls.” They’re about as thin as they come.
“We haven’t decided anything yet.”
“You should. He’s one of the good ones. Don’t let him get away.” Living together would make sense. With their crazy schedules, they don’t see each other as much as they wish.
“If he moves in, where would you go? I worry about you.”
I shrug. “I’ll find somewhere else to live. Lots of places in Manhattan.”
Up Close and Personal Page 11
