Caught Up In You
Edgeplay: Part 2
Jenna McCormick
Published by Captiva Heart
A Sanibel Moon Imprint
Copyright 2012 Jenna McCormick
Cover image purchased from romancenovelcovers.com
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All characters in this book are fiction and figments of the author’s imagination.
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Caught Up In You
Jenna McCormick
Edgeplay: Part 2
A Matter of Trust
Chapter One
There are many reasons not to have sex with your boss. Out of all of them, I think I’ve got the best. The two times I did give in to Connor Edge— the billionaire playboy who happens to own the Rosemont property in upstate New York where I tend the grounds— he’s conveniently forgotten it’s happened. The first time was after he found me swimming in his pool, in my birthday suit. I didn’t know who he was then, so maybe that one can be excused.
It’s the second instance that’s hanging over me like a big dark cloud as I stride across the estate to the sound of buzzing cicadas. Last night, aforementioned billionaire playboy let himself inside my cottage—uninvited—and seduced me out of my anger and my pajamas. Maybe I allowed it because I’m lonely, or weak-willed. But I think I gave in because he’s so tempting and he coaxed me with the sweetest, kinkiest and most alluring words I’ve ever heard. Then, he held me as I drifted to sleep, feeling safe and cherished.
And when I woke up with sun streaming through my blinds, Connor had vanished.
“Morning, Baily!” Greg the UPS driver waves at me from the closed gate.
Plastering a welcoming smile on my face, I disengage the electronic locks and pull one side of the wrought iron gate back. “It certainly is. You’re here early.” Greg usually didn’t deliver out to Rosemont until late afternoon.
“This came in overnight for Mr. Edge. Is he here?”
“No, I saw him leave about twenty minutes ago.” The son of a bitch didn’t even wave at me as he’d sped away in his black convertible with the top down. Even if he hadn’t sent a good portion of the night making me come unglued at the seams, he could at least acknowledge his staff. Tool.
Greg studies me for a beat. “How’s your granddad doing?” Since his mother is in the same nursing home, Greg is one of the few people who knows where Thomas Sinclair is and why I’ve taken over his job.
“Not so hot. He had a fall yesterday and spent the night in the hospital.”
Greg curses low under his breath. “Sorry to hear it. Keep me updated on him, okay?”
“Will do.”
He hands the package to me. “I’m off at six. Do you want to catch a drink at Lady Liberty?”
Lady Liberty is a dive bar in town where all the working stiffs congregate to knock back cheap booze and commiserate. I hardly ever drink, so I can count the number of times I’ve been to the bar on one hand. “Thanks, but I’m probably gonna spend the evening with Pops.”
Greg fishes around in his pocket and comes up with a tattered business card. “Gimme a call if you change your mind. Or, you know, just show up.”
He’s blushing a little, embarrassment staining his cheeks. Suddenly his invitation didn’t sound quite so casual.
I open my mouth to respond, though I’m not sure what to say, but a loud honk blares out. We both jump. Peeking around Greg’s brown uniform, I spy Connor sitting in his convertible. My heart rate kicks up as he lowers his sunglass down his nose until he stares at us over the top. “Your truck is blocking my driveway.”
His tone is cool and borderline rude. It shouldn’t cause my blood to heat to near boiling.
“Sorry Sir, we were just talking.”
“Are you almost finished?” Connor’s icy blue eyes fix on me.
How dare he look at me that way after the liberties he took with my body last night! I may not be his social equal, but I’m not about to let him treat me like I’m not worthy to lick his boots. No more basking in his illustrious presence for Baily Sinclair. So what if he’s smokin’ hot and has more money than God? He’s a dick and has mad issues. No thanks.
“See you later, Greg.” Whirling on my heel, I stride away from the gate and the man I want to smack across his handsome face.
I’m barely a quarter mile away when the purr of a well-tuned engine is dogging my steps.
“Would you like a ride?”
“No, thank you.”
He doesn’t drive off however. “Do you have something for me, Ms. Sinclair?”
I almost flip him the bird, it’s hard not to. Yes, he let me keep the job, even after he caught me skinny dipping in his pool. As his employee, I should treat him with a degree of respect. All of that, however, isn’t enough to soothe the battered pride of my inner woman scorned. I’d given him pieces of myself I’ve never even shown to other men. I surrendered to him completely.
And he doesn’t remember.
“The delivery is for me, right?” he asks, drawing my focus back to the cardboard box in my hands.
Without looking, I chuck the package into the passenger’s seat and take off across the lawn.
The slam of a car door spurs me into a flat-out sprint. I can’t deal with his tempestuous nature right now. I’m too raw and need to find a corner to hide in and lick my wounds.
The sound of him calling my name drives me faster, my heart lodges in my throat. Why won’t he just leave me alone?
I’m not fast enough. He tackles me right inside the tree line at the secluded north end of the property. The hit knocks the wind from my lungs and I’m momentarily stunned. Connor rolls so he takes the impact of our landing on his back to keep from crushing me.
A few minutes pass, his rough and ragged breaths against my neck remind me of last night when his lack of oxygen came from a different sort of exertion. I fight anew. “Let go of me, leave me alone!”
“Baily, what the hell is the matter? Why did you run like that?”
“To get away from you. Why did you chase me?” I shoot back.
“I don’t know. I just…had to.” His voice is rougher, sounding almost raw.
Despite the rising temperature, I shiver. “I mean it Connor, let go.”
His arms tighten around me. “Only if you promise not to run.”
Fine, I could walk until I got to my cottage and then slam the door in his face. “Agreed.”
The loosening of his arms is reluctantly slow, but he does release my. I scramble to my feet, unable to avoid a quick glance at him. Gone is the unruffled billionaire who’d been so rude to my friend, the common laborer. His shirt is untucked, his hair a wild with a few pine needles sticking out of it. He is huge and rumpled and utterly delicious. Intensity replaces the coldness in his blue eyes, along with a sharp focus on my face. This maddening man is my lover and my knees go weak.
Stay strong for once. Snarkarella, my inner critic, scolds. Don’t be his plaything.
“Why did I wake up in your bed?” Connor asks quietly.
My infamous Irish temper flares. Again with the amnesia act? Is he some reincarnated Russian princess? “We spent the whole nig
ht playing Parcheesi of course. Why do you think?”
Leveling his gaze on me he scolds, “Sarcasm isn’t helping, Baily.”
I shiver under that quelling look, but am too stubborn to back down. And if I‘m honest, too hurt. Am I really so forgettable that he can’t recall the events of twelve hours ago?
Swallowing, I answer. “We had sex. Sex sex this time.”
“Sex sex.” He repeats with a slow perusal down my body.
I can’t help it, I blush. “Yeah.”
“Consensual?” Again, a flash of fear, as though he truly believes himself capable of force.
I step closer, lay a hand on his arm. “Yes, Connor, it was mutual.”
A wicked grin steals across his face. “How was I?”
My jaw drops. “That’s what you’re worried about?”
He sobers. “I’m concerned over many things. Why I’ve had two blackouts in the last forty eight hours and both of them involve you.”
It sounds as though he’s blaming me for something and my ire rises again. “Listen pal, I didn’t invite you into my bedroom, you helped yourself to the goodies.”
“You just said it was mutual.”
I huff out a breath. “Yes, but when I wake up to find you standing over me in the dark and you work your seductive magic, I can’t be held responsible for giving in.”
He steps even closer, until we are sharing the same heat signature. His height looms over me and I have to crane my neck to look up at him. “You want me.” The words are spoken with the utmost confidence. With a face and body like that, how could I not want him? Add his on again, off again charm to the mix and I’m a goner.
Hell if I’ll admit it and boost his already gargantuan ego.
But my pique dissipates when he reaches out tentatively to stroke the side of my face. “I don’t know what it is about you, Ms. Sinclair, but I’m drawn to you too.”
I realize I’m still touching him, can feel the heat of his body through the thin fabric of his shirt. “I hate that you can’t remember.” Up until I say the words, I didn’t know if I believed him. But the shadows under his eyes calls to the caretaker in me. This man is capable of so much passion; he’s made me feel more desired in two days than I have in my whole life. I need to swallow my pride and reach out to him, I owe him that much.
“As do I.” His hand trails down the side of my neck, over the curve of my shoulder. “Touching you feels so familiar to me.”
“Because you have.” Tipping my head back, I survey him through lowered lashes, relishing the sensual strokes.
He shakes his head even as he laces his fingers through mine. “No, it’s more than a buried memory. I know what those feel like, ghosts floating in my peripheral vision that vanish the second I turn my head. What I feel with you, it’s deeper, sharper, bolder.”
“If this is a line, it’s definitely working.”
His other hand comes up to stroke my cheek as those intense blue eyes focus on my face. “Will you walk me through it?”
I blink, unsure of what he means. “Through what?”
“The missing time. Will you reenact it with me?”
God, even the idea of that frightens the hell out of me. Our trysts occurred at night and were completely unplanned. Could I really go through every second with him, knowing how vulnerable I’d be? “I…”
Leaning forward he kisses my forehead. “Please, consider it. I know it’s asking a lot, but it might help me remember.”
“Why don’t you remember?” I ask. I’m dying to know.
He studies me for a long time, so long that I think he isn’t going to answer. “What do you know about me?”
“Only what I’ve read in the tabloids while waiting in the checkout line. Mostly who you were seen with, rumored to be dating.” I’d also done an internet search this morning and found out some interesting snippets, like that his family had disowned him after his grandfather had named him sole beneficiary of the Edge fortune, but I didn’t want to bring that up as it seemed more personal somehow.
He nods, accepting what I say. “Gossip can be planted, especially when I own the rags that print the dirt.”
I frown. “But why would you do that? Why would you want them reporting bogus information?”
Behind us a car horn blares out. Connor releases me and looks over my shoulder. “I’d forgotten I left the car blocking the drive.” He looks back to me. “I’m hosting a small soiree tonight. Come. Nine o’clock.” It isn’t a request and he strides out of the woods, back to where he left his car running to chase after me.
“Wait! Connor!” I shout, but he doesn’t turn.
It’s only when he pulls away that I answer my earlier question. Why would he want them reporting bogus information?
“To keep them away from the truth.”
****
I spend the rest of the day overseeing the cleanup of the grounds so the place is spic and span for Connor’s soiree. I still haven’t decided if I should attend. After all, how will he introduce me? What will I wear? Did he intend for me to be his date, or just another guest in the throng? I’m sure my comfy jeans or yoga pants are unacceptable for any event hosted by the illustrious, Connor Edge.
Suddenly a drink with Greg at the Lady Liberty seems like a good idea. But when five o’clock rolls around and every hedge is trimmed and every rake is stowed, I run home for a quick shower before setting out for the hospital.
Pops has more color today, but despite his visible improvement, his mind is not there. He’s having what Dr. Fletcher termed a “sieve night”, with lots of memories leaking out.
“Rose,” he calls me when he first sees me. “Rose, I can’t find my damn glasses.”
Rose is my grandmother, who died before I was born. I know better than to correct him. “They’re on your nightstand.” I say instead, and hand the bifocals to him.
“Oh, thank you, love. What would I do without you?” he smiles and sets them on his nose before snapping open his newspaper.
I bite my lip and sink into the nearby chair. These moments, when he confuses me with my maternal grandmother are always painful. Not only because he doesn’t recognize me, but also because his love for her is still so strong, so sure and unwavering, even after twenty six years apart. Theirs had been a simple romance. She, the chef employed at The Rosemont to his head groundskeeper. They’d met the day she was hired and married a week later. They spent their entire adult lives, forty years, in the cottage where I now reside. And they were happy.
Deep down, I wish for something like that, someone to love me in a way that withstands the test of time. Modern women aren’t supposed to need a man, and I think I’ve proven myself to be self-sufficient. But damn it all, I get lonely.
I think that’s why, instead of going to the Lady Liberty, I return to my cottage to dig for something in my meager wardrobe that would be appropriate for a swanky soiree.
The box is waiting on my doorstep. Picking up the card, I smile as I read.
Come dazzle us, Cinderella.
Placing the box on my couch, I open the lid. Inside is a slinky black halter dress with a split up the thigh, high heel sandals and undergarments that look as though they might require a user’s guide to don.
The room spins. It must be my blood sugar, I haven’t eaten all day. Scrambling up a few eggs, I shred some cheese and butter an English muffin and eat while staring out the window. In the note he called me Cinderella, but who is Connor Edge in this fairytale? Prince Charming? If so, he only works part time.
Don’t kid yourself. If you go up there, you’re getting laid and your prince will definitely come. Snarkarella points out. There are times when I love her for her unflinching honesty.
In the end, it’s really not much of a decision to slither into the satin bodysuit that props my cleavage up to epic proportions. Having never worn stockings and garters before, I am forced to contort myself until finally figuring how they are supposed to look.
The dress is next and I�
��m stunned by how perfectly it fits. The bodysuit smooths my belly while displaying my curves, making me look like some 1950’s cover model. I appear elegant and sexy all at once.
Say what you will about Conner Edge, but the man knows how to display a woman’s body to full advantage.
Though I’m sure it’s a major fashion faux pas, I slip my feet into sneakers because there is no way I’m schlepping across the lawn in those heels. I’ll be lucky if I don’t break my neck walking on flat surfaces, never mind the rolling countryside.
Headlights are coming up the drive, so I skirt around to the kitchen entrance, where I ditch my sneakers in the mudroom until the return trip back to my real life. Squaring my shoulders, I whisper, “Here goes nothing,” and enter the house.
Chapter Two
The kitchen is full of harried people in white aprons and delectable scents. Fresh herbs and savory sauces make my mouth water, even though I just had dinner. Bypassing the frenetic activity, I make my way to the outer hall and look around, trying to decide if I should join the throngs of people in the foyer or search for Connor to thank him for the outfit.
“Ms. Sinclair?” The resonant voice startles me and I let out an involuntary squeak. Whirling around, I find a small, dark-haired man with golden brown eyes wearing an Armani suit and an apologetic smile. “Forgive me, I didn’t mean to startle you.”
My heart pounds a mile a minute. “It’s fine, I’m just a little jumpy.” Probably because I feel like a fraud being here, all gussied up. I must get past this whole class barrier set up in my mind. Connor invited me; I’m not the hired help tonight.
He extends a hand. “I’m Noah Burkowitz, Mr. Edge’s attorney.”
That explains the suit. I shake his hand and say, “Pleased to meet you.”
“If you’d follow me, we have a little business to attend to before we join the party.” Without waiting for my reply, the lawyer strides down the hall toward the left wing of the house.
Caught Up In You (Edgeplay Part 2) Page 1
