One Taste

by Cari Quinn

  “Do that.” Just before his father clicked off, he added, “She’s already yours, son. The time’s come to prove it.”

  Expelling a long breath, Shawn closed his phone. It looked like he’d be needing a damn costume for the masquerade ball after all.

  Rachel took a long shower, during which she did her level best to forget what had happened. Last night. This morning. But the soreness between her thighs taunted her, reminding her just how long she’d gone without sex -- and how good it had felt to shatter that abstinence with Shawn.

  She wasn’t a prude and figured her sex drive ranked around average. But it didn’t seem right that she’d rolled off him only to wake the next morning just as needy.

  Rachel pressed her cheek against the damp tiles. She’d told him to stay, she reminded herself. Even now, he was probably in his hotel room, fiddling with autoCAD on his computer while he scarfed down his breakfast. He was big on multitasking, as he’d amply proved by feathering his tongue over her lower back while he fingered her --

  “Build the wall, Rachel,” she said aloud, squeezing her eyes shut as she turned her face up to the icy water.

  Whenever she needed to stop unwelcome thoughts, she envisioned adding bricks to contain whatever she didn’t want to think about. But her old trick didn’t seem to be working this time, probably because sex with Shawn had been hot enough to blast her puny bricks sky-high.

  Yet another thing she could blame him for. Her list was growing by the second.

  She soaped until she was bright pink, rinsed until a prune had better skin texture. Then she stood staring down at the city from her hotel window as she patted herself dry.

  New York was just as she remembered. But as much as she loved the lights and the glamour and the excitement, she had to admit she already missed California. She hadn’t expected to, because she could see palm trees and the blue-green water of the Pacific every day. No thrill there.

  But last night, she’d discovered the seemingly everyday sometimes wasn’t. As comfortable as being with Shawn had always been, getting naked with him had been a refreshing ride on the tilt-a-whirl of unpredictability.

  And to think only weeks ago, she’d accused him of being staid.

  Unable to keep from grinning, she turned to sort through the clothes she’d hung neatly in her closet as soon as she’d arrived. After choosing loose pants and a silky tank top, she called a truce in the war on her hair and fastened the curls in a messy topknot.

  Today, she planned to explore the city, solo. While she was gadding about, digital camera in hand, she’d find a costume shop and rent something sexy for tonight’s ball.

  Ryan or no Ryan, she intended to go. A costume party sounded fun. It wouldn’t hurt to say hello to her ex, even if a hello was all she intended to offer him.

  Rachel grabbed her purse, only to have her cell ring before she’d made it out the door. Thumbing it open, she saw Ryan’s name and waited for her heart to do something, even if it was just to swell in indignation at his romp with the faceless Colleen.

  She got nothing.

  He’d asked her to call when she arrived, so he must have just now seen her name on his caller ID. Since she’d gotten a little distracted herself last night, she couldn’t claim to mind that he’d had a late morning.

  “Hello.” Her tone was cool as she stepped into the hallway and uncapped a tube of vamp red lipstick. Clearly, she still wasn’t herself, because she never forgot her war paint.

  “Hi yourself. Did you have a good trip?”

  Ryan’s wily, teasing voice, even after all these years, still brought back memories of riding on his motorcycle with the wind streaming through her hair and her hands clutching his hips. When they’d talked for those few minutes last week after she’d received his very unexpected invitation, she’d also experienced a momentary surge of the I-want-you-backs.

  Not anymore.

  She could blame his Colleen dalliance, but that probably wasn’t the half of it. More likely, her own dalliance was the cause. And if so, shouldn’t she be just a bit concerned?

  Shawn wasn’t just a fine piece of vacation ass. No, that particular piece of exquisite male real estate came with enough complications to make the stock market seem straightforward.

  “Rachel?”

  “Yeah. Sorry.” She slicked on her lipstick as she walked to the elevator. “The flight was fine. Which I would’ve told you, had you not been in bed with Colleen when I called.” Her tone wasn’t censorious, merely matter-of-fact. “Still playing the field after all these years?”

  Instead of trying to deny or deflect, he just laughed. “Never hurts to keep one eye on the door. We were always a matched pair in that regard.”

  Were we? she almost asked, then thought better of it. Maybe she hadn’t had a lot of long-term relationships, but she’d never believed that was because she was a player at heart.

  She’d always been searching. Always waiting.

  But whatever she’d been searching and waiting for, it wasn’t Ryan. If nothing else, coming to New York had illustrated that vividly.

  “Oh, I don’t know,” she said as she stepped into the elevator and tapped the button for the bottom floor. Realizing she still clutched her lipstick, she dropped the tube in her bag. “I think we have a few significant differences.”

  “So let’s discuss them. Over lunch.”

  “In your suite?”

  He laughed again. “If you’d prefer.”

  Ah, what the hell. She could just as easily say her hellos over a burger and fries, but she wouldn’t be indulging in them at Ryan’s hotel. “Actually, I’m in a Hard Rock Cafe kind of mood. Can you meet me there, say one?”

  “Sure. I’ll be the one wearing the huge-ass grin.”

  “I’ll find you.”

  Clicking off, she exited the elevator with a smile of her own and glanced at her watch. It was just past ten, leaving her three hours to find a bewitching outfit for tonight.

  Then she intended to put the past to rest once and for all.

  To celebrate finally getting Rachel in the sack, Shawn did what any man with a newly anointed plan to achieve more of the same would do.

  He went back to his suite and slept for seven hours.

  That hadn’t been what he’d had in mind when he’d slipped between the sheets. But after yesterday’s flight and the extended pursuit of his intended -- not to mention the sex itself -- his body had demanded immediate payment.

  When he woke, it was past four. During his quick shower, he realized he was hungry yet again, no doubt because he’d only picked at breakfast. But he had things to handle that took precedence over his belly, like finding a costume on very short notice that didn’t make him look like a wuss. Or an ass.

  He pored over the phone book he found in the nightstand, narrowing his possibilities to shops within walking distance of the hotel. He had no desire to deal with New York traffic today, not when he still had a headache and a number of strong misgivings that his father’s suggested offense of indifference could work.

  How the hell was he supposed to act indifferent to a woman who could get him hard with a curve of her lips, especially now that he’d finally gotten his hands on her? He knew there was the larger objective to think about, but apparently his penis didn’t appreciate being negated from the equation.

  Thirty minutes later, Shawn entered Dress You Up, a small boutique costume shop he suspected was really a front for provocative women’s clothing. After a quick trip around the perimeter during which he noted the absurd number of women’s bustiers, he hit the steaming pavement again.

  His next stop, Fielding’s Masquerade, required a cab ride about fifteen blocks crosstown. Since he’d heard all the requisite New York cab stories, he felt a bit cheated when the trip ended uneventfully. On the bright side, this place actually sold costumes that weren’t sexually themed.

  Well, a few, anyway.

  The for-rent racks were well and thoroughly plowed through, leaving an assortment
of fairy costumes, a big and tall Robin Hood with odd forest green booties and a smattering of capes, both hooded and otherwise. Since he didn’t possess any cross-dressing tendencies -- and didn’t wear a 4XL-- his only other option was to examine the selection of costumes for purchase, though he couldn’t imagine what he’d do with a Grim Reaper’s scythe after tonight.

  Beside him, a busty brunette bearing twin ponytails tied off with streamers leaned up on her tennis shoes to reach the last Little Bo Beep. When her magenta nails barely skimmed the bottom of the bag, she giggled, shooting him a cow-eyed look. “Help a girl out?”

  “Sure.” Noticing Little Bo Beep came with a shepherd’s hook and crotchless panties, Shawn handed the costume to the woman with a bland expression. He hoped. “Going to the Zenith shindig tonight?”

  She appeared surprised by the question. “Actually, yes. Are you?”

  “If I can make it past security.” With a grin, he picked up a costume called, intriguingly, Midnight Stalker.

  Since he’d already been called a stalker by both Cooper sisters, maybe he should try dressing the part.

  “You’d carry that off perfectly,” his new friend proclaimed, biting her collagen-stung lower lip as she surveyed him from head-to-toe. “You’d really do a Jack the Ripper-type ensemble justice.”

  “Thanks. I think.”

  When she giggled again, he realized she’d lowered the timbre of her laughter. On the hunt, this one. “No, seriously. You’ve totally got that tall, lean, and hungry thing going on.”

  Hungry. Yeah, Rachel would be knocking down his door tonight for sex for sure. “Is that good?”

  “On you, yeah.” She smacked her lips together as if she’d just finished a particularly juicy piece of fried chicken. “My name’s Chrissy, by the way.”

  Just as he opened his mouth to reply, he heard laughter. Very familiar feminine laughter.

  Shawn turned his head, his fingers clamping around the package he held. He followed the auditory breadcrumb trail to Rachel and the dark-haired man wearing mirrored sunglasses at her side.

  She got around, that woman he loved. Goddammit.

  “What’s your name, Tall, Blond, and Hungry?”

  “Shawn,” he said absently, of half a mind to stride up to the lovebirds and crush motorcycle-boy’s glasses under the heel of his boot.

  Which would accomplish nothing. Nothing at all.

  Chrissy soldiered on. “Why don’t you come to the party with me?”

  “Why don’t I?” he echoed, wanting to shut his eyes like a kid playing peekaboo when Rachel laid her hand on Ryan’s arm.

  “Fab! Do you live in the city?”

  “I’m on vacation. I live in California.” Even as he spoke, his mind whirled. He had to speak to her to let her know he was indifferent, didn’t he? As much as he didn’t want to talk to her at the moment, his plan couldn’t work if she didn’t get he was too busy for her.

  As if she cared. Why should she, when her sly-eyed ex was grinning at her as she modeled a purple fedora?

  “Be right back, Chrissy.”

  He wasted no time in covering the distance between him and his quarry. Since Rachel was busy admiring herself in a small round mirror, Ryan saw Shawn first -- and managed to piss him off even more by flashing him a lazy smile.

  “Well, look at that. If it isn’t Shawn Griffin.”

  Though it took every ounce of the self-control he didn’t know he had, Shawn pulled off a casual smile of his own. “And if it isn’t Ryan Halston,” he said, delighted by the sudden stiffening of Rachel’s posture. “Costume shopping, are we?”

  “Yeah, for tonight’s gala. I told Rachel she’d look good in a burlap sack, but she didn’t believe me.”

  When Ryan passed a hand over her hair to smooth it as she removed the hat, Shawn wondered if he’d be out of line to blacken both his eyes after he crushed his glasses to smithereens.

  No, he decided when Rachel gave her ex a small smile before casting a wary glance in Shawn’s direction. Not out of line at all.

  “What’re you doing here, Shawn?”

  She sounded suspicious, as if she suspected he’d tracked her across town. “We’re shopping.” He looked over at Chrissy. “It’s pretty late to be tracking down costumes, but what can you do?”

  “Why do you need a costume?” Ryan questioned, just as Rachel chimed in with a query of her own.

  “We who?”

  “Chrissy and I are attending the ball tonight actually.” Shawn addressed Ryan as if Rachel had never spoken. “Congratulations on your launch, by the way. The book looks great.”

  Lie. All lies.

  “Thanks.” Ryan’s smile appeared so genuine, Shawn nearly had a moment of guilt until the bastard’s hand yet again found its way to Rachel’s hair. “It’s all pretty exciting.” While he stroked, Rachel had the decency to look chagrined, though she didn’t move away. “I’m so glad Rachel was able to make it down here for tonight.”

  “She is mighty obliging, isn’t she?” After tossing a scant glance in Rachel direction, Shawn smiled over his shoulder at Chrissy. “Listen, I’ve gotta get back to my…friend.” He let the implication hang. “You two have a nice time. Maybe we’ll see you tonight.”

  As he walked away, he heard Ryan remark, “Awfully big coincidence, him being here and attending the same party.”

  “We came together,” Rachel said, her voice lacking any hint of emotion.

  Shawn smiled. Damn straight, they had. And if the night went the way he intended, they’d be coming together again before it was through.

  Chapter Six

  As Rachel readied herself for the ball, her mind didn’t stray to the exciting evening ahead. Rather, she dwelled on the fact that Shawn’s “friend” had purchased a naughty Little Bo Beep costume.

  She knew this because she’d been lucky enough to check out right behind them, though she hadn’t been able to sneak a glimpse of Shawn’s choice. Where had this friend come from anyhow? He didn’t know anyone in the city, to her knowledge.

  Of course before this trip, she’d never have guessed her trusted pal owned a pair of handcuffs either.

  She whisked rouge onto her artificially pale cheeks -- perhaps the geisha outfit hadn’t been the wisest move in light of her coloring, but she hadn’t had a lot of options -- and blinked a few times to get used to her fake eyelashes. This whole costume deal was becoming more trouble than it was worth, but she liked the way the snug silk robe she’d donned whispered over her skin. It made her feel decadent and sexy.

  And feeling sexy led to reveries about a man that just happened to be attending tonight’s fete with a woman wearing a costume with crotchless panties.

  Ick.

  She’d convinced Ryan to take Colleen in her stead -- hell, if anyone understood how much could happen in a few days, it was she -- but he still wanted her to attend. At the very least, it looked like she’d end up with another friend out of this trip. She’d long ago tired of carrying the baggage from their breakup, and she was grateful she’d gotten to see him again, if only to verify she was finally over him.

  But new problems loomed. Namely, Shawn.

  Today’s costume shop interlude had, no doubt, given him fodder for the affair he thought she was conducting with Ryan. Which wasn’t only blatantly untrue; it pissed her off.

  Okay, so maybe having an affair with Ryan had been her first priority upon arriving in New York, but did Shawn truly believe she would sleep with two guys at the same time? Weren’t best friends supposed to think the best of each other, not the worst? Or had the whole best friend qualification flown out the window the minute he’d laid his hands on her?

  Rachel set down her blush brush and met her unusually smoky eyes in the mirror. That simply wasn’t acceptable.

  She missed him already. In the last twenty years, a day hadn’t passed when they hadn’t rung each other’s phone off the hook -- though she tended to utilize that privilege more often than Shawn -- but today, they hadn’t real
ly spoken since morning. He hadn’t called her once.

  She’d checked. Repeatedly.

  “Probably too busy with his new friend,” she muttered, reaching for her lipstick.

  Then again, if the reason he’d been so cold to her today was because of Ryan, how come he hadn’t acted more, well, jealous? Though she hated admitting it, the hot, possessive expression that had overtaken his face as she’d told him she was going to see Ryan had thrilled her in some sick way.

  Thrilled her a little, and turned her on more.

  She tied the sash of her short, flirty costume and angled her chin, making sure the artful arrangement of curls on top of her head wouldn’t come loose. Then she picked up her miniscule evening bag and her eerily silent cell phone to head for the door of her suite.

  When the phone finally gave in and rang, she grinned. Had to be Shawn. Who else could it be?

  “Hey. I wondered what you were up to.”

  “I appreciate an attentive female.” Acute disappointment registered at the sound of Ryan’s voice. “In fact, I like this particular attentive female so much, I think she should be my date tonight.”

  “What happened to Colleen?”

  Ryan cleared his throat. “Her boyfriend had already made plans for them, apparently.”

  “Ouch. So she’s as trustworthy as you.”

  He chuckled. “No harm, no foul. What do you say?”

  She nearly said no. Nearly. Then she remembered Shawn and his pigtailed strumpet, and her eyes narrowed. “I say pick me up in fifteen.”

  “Make it twenty and you’re on.”

  “Works for me.” She tried to smile, surprised that the expression felt false. Hadn’t she come here for the very purpose of reuniting with Ryan? “See you soon.”

  She closed the door of her suite and took a slow, deep breath. It’d be a hell of a thing to gain one friend on this trip, only to lose another.

  The only one that mattered.

  He’d been to worse shindigs.

  Well aware many of the members of the publishing world’s glitterati would be in attendance, the Wheaton Suites and Conference Center had pulled out all the stops for the Zenith gala. The grand ballroom had been done in soft whites and strident purples, and a live band played onstage. Wineglasses tinkled as conversation and laughter flowed, while chandeliers dripped light over the sea of deliciously sexy -- and in some cases, hardly dressed -- sprites, fairies, and maidens. But as Shawn surveyed the crowd from behind his own claustrophobic eye mask, he looked for only one scrumptiously sexy woman. Regrettably, it wasn’t his date.