I loved Barolo. Two bottles resided in my wine rack at all times, for special occasions such as finding myself alone on a Friday evening after almost getting ravished by a handsome redhead with a killer body but sent on my merry way. Whatever.
I had wine. I had a Ray Donovan marathon. I had my comfy couch.
Two episodes and one and a half glasses of wine behind me, my phone buzzed under my left butt cheek. Took some finagling, but I managed to untangle myself from my throw blanket and find my cell.
“Hello?”
“I hear you’ll be a swinging single tomorrow evening.”
Every nerve in my body tingled, his rich voice like a verbal massage, hitting all my erogenous zones.
“He told you?”
“Cried like a baby. Said he had to go out of town and you were upset.”
“I’m not.” Irritated would better describe my mood.
A heated pause. “Does it bother you, Martin going out of town all the time?”
“No,” I answered, not entirely dishonest. “I really do enjoy my alone time.”
“So why did he call me, worried he’d ruined things with you?”
I couldn’t wrap my head around the fact that Cole had called me. Cole the uber-rich guy. Cole the most beautiful man alive. Cole the fiancé of my nemesis. Cole, who was under my skin and grating my nerves. “None of my comings and goings with Martin are any of your business.” I should have ended there, but Barolo. “Especially the lack of coming, due to that workaholic taking a fucking phone call in the middle of getting busy on his kitchen counter.”
Long, uncomfortable silence passed. Enough time for Ray Donavan to put a bullet through a priest’s head.
Cole blew a hard breath through the speaker. “He left you hanging?”
“He left me hanging.”
“The fuck’s wrong with that guy?” Two more heavy breaths. “On behalf of my douchebag best friend, and men everywhere, I apologize.”
“Not necessary.” I pointed the remote at my flat screen and pushed Pause. “Cole.”
“Yeah?”
My phone buzzed in my hand, alerting me to incoming texts. I ignored them. “How did you get my number?”
“Martin.”
Shamefully, I wasn’t upset that Cole had my digits. “Why are you calling me?”
He huffed a nervous laugh. “He wanted me to check on you.”
What kind of man does that shit? If Martin was worried, he should’ve made the call. “Okay. So we’re back in junior high?”
A deep, chocolatey, gooey chuckle reached my ears. “You’re right. Immature. Again, I apologize.”
“You’re forgiven,” slipped my lips, and I sank deeper into my cushions.
“Uh. Wanna meet for dinner tomorrow? Victoria’s heading to Portland for a bridal shower. Ellis and Lacey are MIA.”
I hadn’t spoken to Lacey in days. I was lonely, and maybe that was why talking to Cole seemed like a necessity. But savoring the sound of his voice was wrong on too many levels. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Why?”
“I think you know why.” I swallowed another long pull of my wine.
“Are you drunk, Natalie?”
“Maybe a little.” Why did he care? “Barolo never lets me down,” I whispered, saddened by the truth of that statement. “I’ll never love a man more than I love Barolo.”
“Listen. I’ll be at Wall Street Thai tomorrow at six, having my usual. Join me or don’t. Just thought I’d offer, seeing as we’re both without our significant others for the weekend.”
“Significant.” I laughed. “That’s funny.” Martin was of no importance to me. Not really. Pathetic, I know.
“What’s funny?” His voice echoed like he was in a large empty room.
“Never mind.”
He grunted, then released a long exhale, the sound of metal clinking in the background.
“Where are you?”
“Gym.”
I glanced at the clock. Ten thirty-six PM. I remembered him boxing with Ellis, his grace. His power. I sighed.
“You okay?”
No, I was not. “I will be, soon as Ray ditches the priest’s body.”
“What?” His breaths quickened and a thump, thump, thump, thump reached my ears.
I emptied my glass. Swallowed. Lay back down, stretching my legs across the sofa. “It’s sad how we root for people to die, isn’t it?”
“The hell you talking about?” His breaths came measured in sync with the background noise. Thump, thump, whack. Thump, thump, whack.
“It’s wrong for us to take pleasure in their deaths, yet we do.”
“Who died?” Whack, whack, whack.
“Take Ray Donovan for example. The priest abused him. Raped countless children, including Ray’s brother. And while that old fucker sits there on the couch, bleeding, we’re silently hoping, please Ray, please, just end that bastard. Don’t take him to the hospital. Don’t forgive his sins. Just end him. And bam! Bullet to the head. And I’m happy. Happy that a man was murdered. Does that make me a bad person?”
“No.” Huff, thump. Huff, whack. Huff, thump, thump.
The sound was a lullaby, a calming caress. I let my guard down, closed my eyes, and whispered, “I used to wish someone would kill Victoria.”
“Natalie,” he whispered, low and gruff. A warning, perhaps.
“Sorry. Oh, God. I’m sorry.”
“How bad was it?”
“I’ve had too much to drink. I should go.”
A mumbled “fuck” reached my ears. “Why won’t either of you talk about what happened?”
“She’s your fiancée. I won’t.” I wanted to. “I can’t.” I had no right. He wasn’t mine. “Goodnight, Cole.”
I powered down my cell. Drank through two more episodes. Woke the next morning with a killer headache, a sour stomach, and Cole on my mind.
“Wasn’t expecting to see you here.” Gone were the dimples. Even wearing a scowl, the man was devastating. He wore a light blue sweater, worn jeans, and black sneakers. His messy hair only added charm.
The flutter in my chest was wholly inappropriate, and the very reason I had waited for him to finish eating before walking through the door and to his table.
“I only came to apologize for last night. In person. Not over the phone.”
“You have no reason to apologize.” He cleared his throat and dropped his wadded napkin on the empty plate, then tilted his strong square jaw to meet me eye to eye.
My glasses slid down my nose, an irritating distraction. I pinched the rim, sliding them back into place. “I said some things.”
“You were intoxicated.”
Damn wine. “That’s not an excuse.”
“Natalie.” He sighed, pushed to stand, and then pulled out a chair. “Sit with me.”
“No.” I moved back a step. “I need to get home.”
My phone buzzed in my hand, breaking the tension, and I glanced down at the screen.
I see you.
Fucking whore.
Pulse kicking, I looked out the window across the street. A glance left, then right. No sign of Holden or his Tundra.
Over the past couple weeks, the texts had changed from pleading to ugly. I blocked every caller, yet new messages kept coming. I would have to change my number, but I feared even that wouldn’t stop his efforts.
Cole whispered, “What?”
“What, what?” I asked, not sure where to aim my attention, gaze bouncing from the phone to Cole to the phone to Cole.
“You’re white as a ghost.” He stepped around the table, standing close enough I could smell his laundry soap. “Is it him? He still bothering you?”
I hadn’t the energy to lie. “Yes.” I showed him my screen.
“Natalie,” he said, voice dark and gritty. “We have to do something.”
The word we floated between us, a slip I didn’t dare acknowledge.
Cole cleared his throat. “The guy is unhinged. Y
ou need to be careful.”
“I know.” I shoved the cell into my handbag.
“What are you doing to protect yourself?”
“Security won’t let him into our building at work. He can’t get into my apartment building. I haven’t seen him in days.” I stared at the table, my words falling weak.
“We offer self-defense courses at the gym. Why don’t you come in? Take a class. See how you like it.” He gripped my elbow and gave it a squeeze. “Hell. Bring Lacey. You two can get the friends and family discount.”
“Yeah. Maybe,” I mumbled, moving just enough to break contact. Even though the gesture was innocent, his touch ignited an unholy flame under my skin. “Might be a good idea.”
“Good.” He nodded, seemingly satisfied. “Good,” he repeated, then tugged his wallet out of his back pocket and dropped a handful of bills on the table. “Did you walk or drive?”
“I walked.”
“Okay, then.” Again his fingers wrapped around my arm. “I’ll walk you home.”
“That’s not necessary. It’s—”
“I’m walking you home,” he interrupted, scooting me toward the door, leaving no room for argument.
Cole kept the conversation light, though I noticed he was on alert, keeping an eye on our surroundings, staying close, too close, our arms brushing, shoulders bumping.
We reached my building and I turned to thank my hero for the day but, dear Lord, the man smelled delicious and looked downright edible. I hadn’t eaten all afternoon, and I couldn’t manage one single word for fear of drooling all over his feet.
Shoving his hands in his front pockets, he asked, “Should I walk you up?”
Walk me up. See me in. Tear off my clothes. Take me against my front door.
“No. That’s not necessary.” The words traveled up my throat like oatmeal through a straw.
Cole stared for a long hard spell, then his brows furrowed.
He leaned closer. I hadn’t the strength to back away, to stop what I sensed was coming, because I wanted the freight train that was Cole Adams to come at me full throttle, pulverize me, leave me dead but wholly satisfied.
Indecision pained his face, wrinkles bunching between his brows, a snarl forming on his lips. Closer still, he came, and my heart punched through my chest to steal the man that should be mine. The man that was not and never would be mine.
His hand landed on my neck. My fingers rose to his chest. Push or pull? Life or death? God, I wanted those lips. That body. That brain. Those dimples.
“Don’t move,” he said, his lips sinfully close to mine, moist from his tongue.
Move? His touch rendered me immobile. His heat, his scent, his quickening pulse beneath my fingertips, spellbinding. Heavy breaths hit my face.
The intimacy was wrong.
I was wrong.
Because he was right.
Right for me.
Right now.
Right for eternity.
I raised my chin to accept his mouth, a sigh escaping, or maybe that was the last of my conscience.
“Aren’t you a little devil,” he rasped, jerking away. “Got you.” He straightened, held his hand up.
On the tip of his finger, a tiny brown beetle shimmied back and forth, then spread his wings and buzzed away.
“Oh.” My chest deflated. My stomach sank. A blowtorch scorched my cheeks.
“He was caught in your hair.” He assessed my eyes, then my cheeks, then my mouth. “You okay?”
No. I was fucked in so many ways. All of them caused by the man that stood too damn close. Who smiled too damn bright.
He looked down at my hand, the offending appendage that still rested on his chest.
Our eyes locked, and a groan rose in his chest. I slunk back a step, my arm falling to my side.
“Natalie.” He swallowed. Looked over my shoulder. “I...um...”
“Nats?” A familiar, angry voice drew my attention to the man approaching on the sidewalk.
Holden wore a scowl, his features sharper than the last time I’d seen him. He wore black running pants, a black jacket zipped to his neck, and a black beanie, his hair now reaching almost to his shoulders.
Cole stepped in front of me, a vibrating wall of testosterone, an impenetrable shield between me and any threat.
“Baby,” Holden pleaded, though I couldn’t see him, only Cole’s back. “I’m not here to cause trouble. Just want to talk.”
“She’s got nothing to say to you.” Cole’s voice vibrated the surrounding air.
“I think that’s her decision,” Holden countered, eerily calm.
“Natalie,” Cole said over his shoulder, “your call.”
Obviously, I was not in the right frame of mind to make any judgement call. “I just want to go to bed.” I turned, keyed the number pad, and pushed the door open the moment it buzzed. As I escaped behind the glass, I threw over my shoulder, “Holden. You bother me again, you’re going to jail.” An empty threat since I hadn’t filed a restraining order. But I would. First thing in the morning.
It wasn’t until I’d reached the elevator that I realized Cole had followed me inside. It wasn’t until we reached my door that he said, “You thought I was going to kiss you.”
I died a thousand deaths right then and there.
“Yes.” I stared at the keys in my hand, then swallowed my shame and forced my gaze upward.
“I love Victoria,” he said, though I could swear, he winced, his gaze sliding to something over my shoulder before hitting me hard.
“I know.” All the men did. And none of them survived unscathed.
“We’re getting married soon.”
God. Was he trying to torture me? “I know that, too.”
“I hate cheaters.” Such conviction in his voice.
“Me, too,” I threw back with all honesty. Every boyfriend I’d had in high school had cheated on me with…guess who? Victoria.
Raking a hand through his hair, he murmured, “But you were going to let me kiss you.”
“Because I’m a terrible person.”
He didn’t try to convince me otherwise, instead announcing, “I should go.”
“I think that’s a good idea.”
With a nod, he took a step back. “Okay.” Then he stopped and asked, “You haven’t told Martin about your ex, have you?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“It’s my problem. I don’t want him to worry. Please don’t say anything.”
“Saying nothing gets women killed,” he said, glaring straight through me before dropping his head.
There was a story there, hiding behind his gruff tone and frustration. A story that was none of my business.
Hands to hips, he gnawed his bottom lip, then assured me, “I won’t say anything. As long as you promise to show up for those self-defense classes.”
“It’s a deal.”
He turned to leave. Stopped. Faced me again. “I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong impression.”
I had no words because my heart was leaking, shame and guilt flooding my chest.
“Are we okay, you and me? We’ll be seeing a lot of each other with Lacey and Ellis.”
I nodded yes, though inside I screamed no, no, no.
“Good.” His dimples appeared. “Friends.”
Then he was gone.
Cole
“You talked to her?” Dark circles framed Martin’s eyes.
Last time he’d looked so worn out, Ellis and I had been dragging him out of a brothel in Nevada.
“You asked me to check up on your girl, so I did.”
“And?”
“And you’re good, bud.” The fib left a sour taste in my mouth and a gnarly ache in my gut. But, fuck, Martin sucked at relationships, and if one little white lie could help steer him the right direction, then my integrity could weather a hit.
Martin tracked a leggy brunette on her way to the weight room, a predatory gleam in his eyes, and my guilt for lying evapo
rated. I refrained from smacking him but, damn, how I wanted to shake some sense into the bastard.
“Hey, guys,” came a heavenly voice over my shoulder, her timing spot on.
Martin snapped his head toward the sound, face blazing. “There’s my girl.” He pulled Natalie into an awkward embrace, giving me a good view of her backside.
She wore baggy sweats, the drawstring pulled tight but hanging low on her hips, highlighting a round, firm ass, and a slim waist. A black tank top clung to her fit back and arms, her skin pale and delicate, too clean and pretty for the likes of my friend.
Martin went in for a kiss. Got nothing but cheek. Interesting.
“Be right back.” She gave him a friendly pat on the back. As she passed, she shot me a quick glance and raised a hand in greeting. “Hey, Cole.”
Her dismissive tone stung.
Every emotion rolling through my body was wrong. A betrayal. Fuck. I needed to ghost. With a clap to Martin’s shoulder, I retreated to my office, where I wouldn’t be tempted to watch the self-defense class or the woman I’d persuaded to attend said class.
As if God himself were trying to right my wrong, Victoria glided through the door.
“Hey, baby,” she sing-songed, swaying my way, all long legs, bare midriff, and ample bosoms on display.
She landed in my arms, stiff but pushing all her soft, sweet curves against my rigid planes, staking her claim, a sobering reminder of where my head belonged. “Take me to lunch after my workout?”
“It’s a date,” I whisper-growled in her ear, pulling her tighter. “Wasn’t expecting to see you until dinner. You hate working out here.”
“I do.” Her nose scrunched, protesting the musty smell of my yet-to-be-remodeled workspace. “But I was in the neighborhood and wanted to see my man.”
Victoria hated that my office was the loft above a dirty “fight” gym, rather than sharing space with my father, who had a million-dollar view from atop his ivory tower.
“Everything okay?” She tipped her head back, inspecting my face.
“Yeah. Just missed you. Why aren’t you at work?”
With a shrug, she said, “Wasn’t feeling it,” and wiggled free of my embrace. “No big deal.”
“You’ve skipped work three times this month.”
“I’ve got my sugar daddy to take care of me,” she teased, throwing in a wink. “Besides, soon as you knock me up, I’m going to resign. We’ve already talked about this, Cole. I want to raise my children, not hire someone for the job. Have you changed your mind? Because that’s a deal breaker. If you’re going to be one of those husbands that says he wants his wife at home, then complains to his friends that he’s the sole breadwinner in the family, we need to rethink our relationship. Because that’s just bullshit, and you know how important family is to me.”
L.O.V.E. Page 7
