“We do. Strange—well, maybe not so strange—but we get along better now that we’re not together. She’s still a good friend.”
“And her husband?”
She’d gathered all her ingredients and she stood with the table between them, measuring dry ingredients into one bowl, wet into another. All that work gave her a convenient excuse not to look at him.
He should be happy she hadn’t brought up that kiss. But damn it, he wanted her to. Wanted her to be as rattled as he was by it. Because that kiss had rocked him off his feet.
It’d also given him the fuel to get those pages written last night.
And he needed to keep that under tight control.
“Her husband is Neal Donahue.”
She nodded, as if none of this surprised her, and again, he wondered exactly how much she’d researched him. Not that she’d had to do a lot of digging to know any of this. It was common fodder for the gossip rags. Still . . . he wanted to beat his chest in triumph.
“He’s had some trouble, hasn’t he?”
She said it without any sarcasm, when to say Neal had had trouble was like saying an alcoholic simply liked to unwind with a drink every night.
Neal had had a drug problem. A very public, very messy problem that had spilled over to his professional life for years. He’d made a triumphant debut on Broadway in a gritty musical about juvenile convicts at twenty, then made the jump to Hollywood and landed a pivotal role in an out-of-left-field summer blockbuster.
For a few years, Neal could do no wrong. But, like so many other brilliant artists, drugs finally got the better of him.
“That’s a pretty big understatement,” Greg said. “He racked up an almost-million-dollar debt by the time a few friends intervened and got him into rehab.”
“You were one of them, weren’t you?”
She’d stopped mixing to look at him and Greg had the uncontrollable urge to spill his guts. He never talked about this, not to anyone except Tyler, who’d dragged it out of him one very late night after several bottles of liquor.
“Yeah. Even though we were both sleeping with my fiancée at the time . . . yeah, I liked him.”
Her eyebrows lifted but she didn’t look shocked. “Did you know? About Daisy and Neal?”
She went back to mixing and he found it easier to talk about this when she wasn’t looking directly at him.
“I knew.”
“And it didn’t bother you?”
How did he put this so he didn’t sound like a total ass? Apparently he was fighting a losing battle. “Honestly, no. It was a relief.”
She shot him a frown. “Why?”
Because she’d had someone else to worry about, someone else to talk to. Daisy had needed a hell of a lot more attention than he’d had to give and she’d desperately needed to take care of someone. Greg hadn’t wanted someone to take care of him. He’d wanted someone to be there when he was home to sleep with, someone who didn’t give him shit for working the hours he worked. He’d never cheated on her. The only other mistress he’d ever had was his company, and he’d married that one first.
Daisy had never really stood a chance.
“Because I couldn’t give her what she needed and he could.”
“Sounds like she might’ve gotten more than she bargained for.”
She had. He’d spent a couple of nights with her in the ER waiting for her to get her stomach pumped while Neal puked his guts out in the next room.
Jesus, that’d been a fucked-up couple of years.
“Sorry.” The hushed quality of Sabrina’s voice drew him out of those dark memories and back to the kitchen. Where he’d much rather be. “I didn’t mean to pry.”
“You’re not. Hell, most of my life has been plastered all over the Internet. Anyone with a blog and a camera can call themselves a journalist in California. They ask much more disturbing questions than you. And if they don’t get the answer they want, they’ll make it up.”
“Must suck, having your every move scrutinized. I don’t know that I could take it.”
“You learn to deal with it.” He shrugged. “Or you don’t and you break.”
“So you got used to it.”
“For the most part, yeah.”
Her gaze narrowed and she stopped stirring the batter. “You enjoy it.”
He nodded. “Sometimes, yeah. I enjoy the challenge. I like talking to people about movies. I like talking about my projects.”
She smiled and the bottom dropped out of his stomach. “Yes, I can tell.”
Okay, so kissing her seemed like a really good idea at the moment. Tasting that smile was more important than breathing.
And he knew if he kissed her again, this time he wouldn’t stop there. He’d have his hands on that ass, pulling her against his erection until he could get off just by rubbing himself on her.
Maybe he did need to send her home. Get her the hell out of here.
Then again, she was an adult and the vibe she was sending out was getting harder to ignore.
The conversation ground to a halt as she dumped out her dough and began to knead it on the marble countertop. Not for long and not hard, just enough for him to imagine her using those hands on his cock.
She must not have noticed all the heat he was putting out because she calmly finished patting out the dough and cutting it into triangles, then laying them on a cookie sheet.
She must have started the coffeemaker sometime earlier, because now she turned and grabbed a mug from the open shelving then waved it at him.
When he nodded, she poured him a cup then slid it across the table.
As he drank the coffee, he watched her watch him, wondering if she was trying to work up the nerve to talk about that kiss.
Finally, she sighed, shook her hair back, and crossed her arms over her chest.
“So, Greg. Are we going to have sex or are we going to pretend we don’t want to?”
* *
Sabrina tried not to let the blush give her away, but the longer Greg stared at her, the harder it became.
She’d had a lot of time to think this morning. That kiss last night had made her see stars. Seriously, she swore she’d seen fireworks in her brain. Which had made sleeping almost impossible. After tossing and turning for an hour, she’d finally fallen asleep. And then she’d had the hottest dream ever. Yes, about him. Her panties had been soaked through this morning, and her thighs actually quivered.
Damn it, she wanted him. And he wanted her.
So after she’d tried to talk herself out of this ridiculous plan and started stocking towels in the linen closet, then moved on to an inventory of the toiletries, she decided to do her yoga routine and figure out a way to break the ice and get him into her bed.
Yeah, it was probably total stupidity on her part. Okay, more like definite total stupidity. But . . . being here with him felt like stolen time, out of sync with the rest of the world.
She had no doubt that what they did here would stay here.
She also knew that when they left, that would be the end of their brief affair.
And her heart would break and she’d eventually get over him.
At least, that was her plan and she was sticking to it. It had worked for her mom for years—why not her?
“I guess the question is,” Greg finally said, halting her train of thought, “are you really sure you want to pull that trigger? Because when you do, we can’t take it back.”
She blinked, surprise making her lips part on a silent gasp. She’d almost expected him to laugh, pat her on the head—or the ass—and say, “Thanks but no thanks, kid.”
Yes, he wanted her. She’d felt the physical proof his body couldn’t hide, but guys got a hard-on when the wind blew. She really hadn’t expected him to consider her question seriously. And now that he had . . .
Her heart began to beat so fast, she wondered if it might hurt itself banging against her ribs.
Her mind began to supply vivid images of them tangled together in a bed but, because she hadn’t seen him naked, she didn’t have a complete picture. And she really wanted the complete picture.
Right now, though, he looked dead serious.
And she wasn’t about to take back her words.
“Yes, I am. I’ve wanted you since the first night we met.”
Her voice had gone husky as she thought about how he’d looked at her that night. Those few hours had fueled her dreams for months. And if he said no now, they’d continue to do so for months to come. She hated to admit, even if only privately, that she’d allowed herself to weave fantasies around this man.
Fantasies that involved more than one night and a relationship built on more than just sex.
And that was oh so very bad. Real life never lived up to the fantasy, and the only way to keep telling herself that was to let reality keep knocking her down. Like it seemed to be doing right now. His expression hadn’t changed since she’d asked her original question and doubt was beginning to creep in.
Damn it, she’d let her mouth get her in trouble again. She’d taken him at his word that whatever happened here, stayed here. But now . . .
Stupid. Jesus, she was so—
“You know,” he said, his tone totally calm, “I took one look at you and wanted to get you in a bed and keep you under me for days. Shocked the hell out of me because that hadn’t happened in a really long time.”
It shocked the hell out of her, too. She took a deep breath, realizing she’d been holding hers, hanging on his every word.
“There’s a lot of reasons why we shouldn’t even be talking about this, much less thinking about it.” He didn’t wait for her to speak, just continued to watch her. “You know that, right? You work for my best friend. You’re friends with Kate and that . . .”
He sighed, a grimace twisting that beautiful mouth, and she didn’t have a clue what the rest of that sentence might have been. Yes, she and Kate were friends but that didn’t mean they shared every little detail about their lives. Or maybe . . . he had a thing for Kate?
Oh, wow. Why hadn’t she considered that?
She thought back to that night, to the way Greg, Kate, and Tyler had interacted. Tyler and Greg had a tight friendship that anyone looking at them could see. But Greg had treated Kate differently. There’d been an undercurrent of something Sabrina hadn’t been able to put her finger on because she’d been too worried about not melting into a puddle of lust at his feet.
“Sabrina.”
She’d heard vague rumors about the fourth floor at Haven, rumors about the decadent parties. She’d overheard a pair of housekeeping staff talking about the New Year’s Eve party and what went on after, when a small group of Jared’s friends retreated to the fourth floor and proceeded to have an orgy. And that was the exact word they’d used. Orgy.
“Sabrina.”
What if Greg actually attended those parties? Was he laughing at her immature attempt to get him into his bed?
Oh, my God, she was totally out of her league.
Her gaze snapped back to his and now he stared at her with a frown.
“I am so sorry.” Now a blush broke free, burning across her cheeks. “I never should’ve said anything. I’ll call Tyler and have him send someone else today.” Her gaze automatically went to the window over the sink, framing the snow still falling outside. “As soon as possible. Please forget I ever said anything but I’ll understand completely if you need to tell Ty—”
“Jesus Christ.” He took three steps around the table and grabbed her hands, which had been twisting a dish towel. “I’m not gonna tell Tyler a goddamn thing. And I have no idea where the hell your head just went but whatever you’re thinking, you’re not wrong about me wanting you.”
His voice had dropped to a low rumble that made her sex clench and her nipples peak. How totally unfair was that? Her body had completely overruled her head, which was telling her to leave, to get away from him because she didn’t have the skills to handle a man like this. But his gaze had an intensity she couldn’t look away from.
“I have since the moment I saw you in that damn lingerie. Every time I even fucking think about you, I get a hard-on.”
Her blush burned even hotter, but it wasn’t in embarrassment. The more he talked, the more she burned for him. She wanted the fingers he had wrapped around her wrists on her breasts, between her thighs, inside her body.
He leaned closer, until she felt his breath on her lips and his eyes were only inches from hers.
“There are a lot of damn good reasons why we shouldn’t take this any further. Hell, the age difference alone should be giving you second thoughts.”
That made her chin tilt back. “I’m not some idiot teenager without a brain. I’m a grown woman—”
“Believe me, I know that.” His jaw flexed and his gaze dropped to trace her body, making her breasts feel even more sensitive.
Oh, my God, she couldn’t get enough air.
Her hands clenched into fists and she leaned closer. She couldn’t help herself. “And you are not that old.”
“Then let’s just say I’ve had a hell of a lot more experience.”
Did that mean he thought she wouldn’t be any good in bed?
As soon as she’d thought that, his eyes closed and his mouth flattened into a straight light. “Damn it, don’t take that— Shit.”
He released her and stepped away, shoving a hand through his hair. She had to hold herself back from grabbing for him so he didn’t leave.
“I’m sorry.” She forced the words out of her mouth. “I never should’ve said anything. I’ll call Tyler and have him send someone else. I’m so sorry that I made you uncomfortable—”
He started to laugh. “Oh, honey. You have no idea how uncomfortable you make me.”
His laughter finally died but the smile remained. And again, she couldn’t help noticing how utterly gorgeous the man was. Yes, he was older. He had a few tiny lines around his eyes, but they only made him more handsome.
He sighed and shook his head. “Look, Sabrina. This is my fault. I shouldn’t have kissed you last night. Total miscalculation on my part.”
“So why did you?”
Crossing her arms over her chest, she waited for him to answer. She could have pulled away. He wasn’t holding on to her any longer. And it wasn’t like he was going to grab her and kiss her again. He’d just told her he’d made a mistake. Okay, not a mistake. A miscalculation, whatever the hell that meant. But still, she had to know. If she was going to be humiliated, she might as well get it all over with at once.
He mirrored her stance. “Because I couldn’t help myself. You make me want to throw you on the nearest flat surface, rip off your clothes, and spread your legs. I want to sink my cock between your thighs. I want to watch you come and feel you squeeze around me and make me come while you do. Then I want to take pictures.”
The more he talked, the more the air in the room felt like it had simply evaporated. Oh, God, she was going to come just listening to him talk. Her thighs clenched as if he’d put his hands on her, and she felt moisture seep from her body to wet her panties.
And he knew it, damn him. His expression spoke volumes. He meant every word. But he still looked like he wasn’t going to do a thing about it.
And that really pissed her off. “You know what, if you’re not going to put your money where your mouth is, then just stop.”
“See, that’s the problem.” He shrugged. “I don’t want to stop.”
“Ugh!” She couldn’t stop the rush of frustration that made her reach out and shove at his chest. He was taking up all the air in the room and she needed some space. But she didn’t even manage to make him rock back
a step. “Then make up your mind. Either you put your hands on me and we do this or you step away and we don’t. Just do something.”
His grin reappeared, the one she knew made women fall into his bed because that’s exactly what she wanted.
“Tell you what.” He looked totally in control, and that just made her even more furious. “I’ve got to do some more writing today. Tonight, you let me know if you’re still interested. If you are, I’ll spend all night making sure you don’t regret your decision. If you aren’t, no harm, no foul. Either way, no one will ever know what did or didn’t happen.”
Then he turned and walked out of the kitchen, leaving her with her mouth hanging open.
The bastard. He’d worked her up then left her hanging.
She didn’t want to wait. But even through the heat pounding in her blood, she realized he had a point. They shouldn’t make this decision in the heat of the moment.
Then again, wasn’t that what this was all about? Heated moments stolen out of time. Not something over-planned and over-thought.
By tonight, she might talk herself out of it. He might have second thoughts. Hell, by tonight, the snow could clear and he could make a break for it.
And how stupid was that thought?
The timer on the stove dinged behind her and she turned with a start. She’d forgotten all about the scones. Which meant she had the perfect excuse to track him down and . . . and what?
Throw herself at him again?
Yeah, because that had gone so well the first time.
Maybe he had the right idea. They needed to calm down and look at this from all sides before they made that irreversible leap.
Damn.
She grabbed a scone, blew on it for a few seconds, and took a huge bite.
* *
Christ, what the hell was he thinking?
Sabrina had practically thrown herself at him and he’d told her to think about it?
He must be fucking nuts. Absolutely fucking insane.
His dick was so hard, he swore he could bat with it. Every muscle in his body had tightened to the point of pain. He could still taste her from last night and he could barely breathe through the lust.
Over Exposed Page 5
