Heat Up the Fall: New Adult Boxed Set (6 Book Bundle)

by Gennifer Albin

  He drew a slow breath. He could offer no excuses. “Aye.”

  “You invaded our privacy.” She sounded unnervingly even.

  “Aye.” He couldn’t meet the disgusted look in her hazel eyes. There was no point telling her that their stories wouldn’t have been included in James’s book without permission or that James’s methods had always been a bit dodgy. There was no point admitting that he had planned to soon confess everything anyway. The fact remained that he had lied to vulnerable people and treated them like test subjects.

  “And you and me? Is that part of your research? Am I here, naked, as proof that the therapy is a joke?” Leah asked, her voice deadly soft and full of ice.

  He frowned and took a step forward, looking her in the eyes. “No. This thing between us has nothing to do with any of that. You’ve intrigued me since that first meeting. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you, and everything I’ve said to you since has been the truth. When I realized how I felt, I quit the project.”

  “And I suppose you think that makes everything okay,” she said, scooting off the bed and dragging the blanket with her to shield her nakedness. He watched as she brushed past him and began snatching up her clothes from where they’d flung them earlier. “I can’t believe I put up with that godawful therapy for a lying son of a bitch. I’ve had enough of this. I’m going home.”

  “Please don’t.” He quickly located his own shirt and tugged it on over his head.

  “I just wanted sex. Not a chat, not deception, just sex. I certainly didn’t want to be a lab rat.” She adjusted her skirt over her hips, smoothed down her shirt, dropped the blanket on the floor, and stalked out into the hallway in search of her shoes.

  Will hurried after her.

  “If you’re only after sex then why did you say stop?” he demanded, thinking rapidly of a way, any way, to steer the conversation to a place where he could plead for a real date. A second chance. But that would require a miracle judging by the anger radiating from her body.

  She didn’t answer as she braced one hand on the wall and shoved her foot into her boot.

  “You want more, don’t you?” He cut in front of her, blocking the exit as she pulled on her other boot. “You don’t just want sex anymore.”

  “Don’t tell me what I want,” she spat, jabbing a finger into his chest. Her hair fell in wild disarray over her face, and Will knew he was hopelessly entangled when just the sight of her—even flushed with fury—left him feeling breathless. “You think you know me so well. What the hell did you think I would do when you told me the truth?”

  He grimaced. “I expected you to hate me.”

  She snorted, but he barreled on.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, injecting as much sincerity into the words as he could. He knew he didn’t deserve a second chance, but he had to ask because he’d regret it for the rest of his life if he didn’t. She affected him in ways no girl ever had, and even though he’d completely fucked himself over, he couldn’t just let her walk out of his life without putting up a fight. “I know I screwed up, but I—” Every time he’d had the chance to confess, he had stalled. He couldn’t stand the thought of watching the fragile thing that had been growing between them wither into distrust and bitterness. He had selfishly wanted to delay the inevitable. “I didn’t want to lose you. Is there any way we could start over? Proper introductions this time. And a real date.”

  “Ha!” She jabbed him with her elbow. “Move.”

  “Leah, just don’t say no yet. All I’m asking is for you to think about it. Please.”

  “I said move,” she said through clenched teeth.

  He considered refusing, but she was already shaking with outrage. He’d pissed her off enough. Reluctantly, he stepped aside.

  She yanked the door open.

  “Leah—”

  The door slammed shut in his face.

  “Fuck.” He dropped his forehead against the wood and closed his eyes.

  He had lost her.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Leah’s heartbeat pounded in her ears as she walked. She had stopped it. For the first time, she had listened to the voice telling her she could have so much more than cheap sex and, perversely, it seemed that it was Will who had made that possible. Someone with less integrity would have seduced her back into bed, demanding their erotic due. Will had asked for a date instead.

  What a weirdo.

  Or maybe it had been more an act of guilt than integrity.

  Right from the start, she had known something about his story had been off. She should have realized he wasn’t a real sex addict. Everything about him, from the obnoxiously considerate way he’d eased her into talking about her childhood to the bashful way he smiled when he was embarrassed, should have made it obvious. And yet she hadn’t questioned it for more than a passing second because who in their right mind would attend therapy for sex addicts for no reason?

  And yet, the reality of never seeing him again gnawed at her. She had needed a reason to get out of that apartment, away from any chance of a real risk, and he’d given her a perfect one. She had latched onto the anger, letting it fuel her desperation to escape.

  He was right. She just kept running away. Even her intent to seduce him, which had completely backfired, had been an attempt to get away from how she felt.

  Still, the fact remained that he had lied to her. Leaving had been for the best.

  Since she’d left her car back at the church parking lot, she hailed a cab. As she climbed in, the driver—a middle-aged woman with a crazy perm—said something about how young women shouldn’t be walking around late at night. Leah spared her a weary smile and collapsed into the seat.

  What were the chances she’d run into Will on campus? Who knew how many times their paths had crossed in the three years they’d been students and they just hadn’t realized it? What would she do if they did meet again? Ignoring him was about as easy as pretending the sun didn’t shine.

  Even now, with her anger at him still fresh, with the truth still leaden in her stomach, she thought about the regret in his voice as he pleaded for her to hear him out, to give him a second chance. It had been so tempting. She wanted to believe … to hope … for the best in him.

  She rubbed at tired eyes. It was useless. The idea of Leah Carter in a relationship. She had been alone for too long. It wasn’t going to happen.

  For her own good—and Will’s—it was wisest to simply do what she always did and back off, protect herself, not take that chance. Will had already proven, after all, that he couldn’t be trusted.

  She ignored the doubt scratching at the back of her mind, whispering that she hadn’t really given him the chance to prove himself.

  It was only when the cab arrived at her apartment, and she reached for her purse to pay the fare that she realized it wasn’t slung over her shoulder like usual. Her purse wasn’t anywhere on her at all. Which meant that it was still at Will’s apartment where she’d flung it in her haste to get into his bedroom, and then forgotten it in her haste to leave.

  Her purse with her cell phone and her ID and all her personal information.

  Including her address.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Finn looked better. And by ‘better,’ Will meant he didn’t look like he was going to drown himself in a vat of paint.

  From what he could tell of Finn’s now crowded apartment, Finn had taken out his frustration with himself in a more stereotypical way. Stacks of canvases were crammed into every corner of his living and dining rooms. Only a handful of them were blank, some were still wet, and the rest were smeared in places where Finn had tossed them carelessly aside before they could fully dry. Paint spattered the once white walls (his landlord would probably have something to say about that), and Finn himself looked like a walking paint palette after all the colors on it had been smeared together.

  Will perched himself on the arm of the sofa—the only available seating besides the stool Finn was sitting on.


  “You’ve been busy,” Will remarked.

  Finn was still attending classes and going out with him for lunch, so he hadn’t realized until now just how badly his friend was taking what had happened with Kat. He felt like an arse for not realizing sooner. Not that Finn would have ever asked for help.

  “Yup.” Finn shoved a slice of pizza into his mouth and chewed it while mulling over his latest painting.

  “Want to talk about it?” Will offered.

  “What’s to talk about? Kat hates my guts and will never forgive me.”

  “Or,” Will said, “you could try talking to her. You know, most relationships fail because there’s no communication.”

  “You mean like how you didn’t tell your sex addict girl why you were really in therapy and now you’re screwed?”

  Ouch. He hadn’t worked out what he was going to do about that yet.

  After she left his apartment, he had spent the night staring up at his ceiling and wondering how the hell he was going to fix things. She had been furious with him, rightly so, but he wouldn’t accept that as the end. He had never gotten anywhere by giving up. Unfortunately, he didn’t know where to go from here, and the compulsion to do something had begun to fill him with restless energy.

  Without letting the sting of Finn’s words show, he said, “It was just a suggestion. You never know.”

  Finn snorted. “Oh, I know. She’d stab me with a dull knife if she could. Anyway, talking to her again would just be weird. We were never together. Can’t fix something that never existed.”

  “That might make it easier to talk to her actually,” Will said, as he stood to retrieve a slice of pizza. The pizza box sat on top of a stack of still-drying canvases. He moved the box to the floor just in case the drying paint ended up adhering it to the canvas. “Not as awkward.”

  “Her boyfriend kissed me. It’ll be awkward whatever way you spin it.”

  “Fair enough. Remind me why you like her,” he said, returning to his seat on the sofa arm with his greasy lunch.

  Finn sighed and tapped his canvas with the end of his paintbrush. “She’s not the mean bitch everyone thinks she is.”

  “I’ll take your word for it,” he said. It was entirely possible Finn was right. After all, Leah was certainly more than the apathetic grump she presented herself as. “But I was there when she asked if you were insane just for inviting her to eat with us.”

  “Okay, fine, she’s kind of prickly. But trust me. I’ve seen her other side.”

  “When?” Will asked. Finn had always made it sound as though Kat had no idea he even existed.

  “Doesn’t matter now. Anyway, what’s going on with your sex addict problem? Has she gotten in touch yet?” Finn asked. He wiped his greasy fingers on his smock and then swirled his brush through some paint and brandished it against his canvas.

  “No. Even if she wanted to, which I doubt, she wouldn’t know how to find me. She doesn’t know my last name.”

  Finn looked unimpressed. “If she really wanted to find you, she would. She knows I’m playing lead in The Banker. All she’d have to do is show up to one of our performances and ask me for your number.”

  He had a point. But it was a depressing point.

  Will shrugged because it was the only thing he could do. “I was just going to return her purse and give her some time. She’s got enough trust issues as it is without me making it worse. She’s entitled to hate me. I’ll just have to persuade her not to. Eventually.”

  “Dude,” Finn said, fixing him again with a look that suggested Will was daft. “You’ve got her purse. Just … barter it for her time or something.”

  Will’s eyebrows pinched. “Are you suggesting I blackmail her into talking to me?”

  Was this what it had come down to? He had reached a whole new plateau of pathetic.

  “No,” Finn said, sounding defensive but still dodgy. “I’m just saying you should use your resources. And right now, her purse is one of them.”

  Will rubbed his face with the hand not covered in grease. “That’s ridiculous.”

  “Hey, desperate times,” Finn said, laughing. He sounded more like his usual self again.

  Will was desperate, but he wouldn’t resort to blackmail.

  But what he could do was contact her and ask to meet in order to return her purse. Then he’d explain himself again—as many times as necessary—and ask her forgiveness.

  He made his way through the maze of canvases into the kitchen to wash his hands. Then he returned to the living room and dug into his backpack for Leah’s purse. Going through its contents, even if it was just to find her contact information, still felt like a violation of her privacy so he did it quickly.

  He found her ID tucked into a slim, red wallet. Holding it up, he read her information. Her last name was Carter, and she lived in one of the suburbs surrounding the city. Armed with her full name, he opened up his laptop and looked her up under the REU student directory to find her email address.

  With a glance at Finn, who gave him an expectant look over the edge of his canvas, Will opened up a blank email. He paused, debating how to word the subject line so that she wouldn’t see his name and immediately trash his email without reading it. Writing an email had never been this nerve-wracking.

  “You should pretend you’re looking to get some website stuff done,” Finn suggested, apparently seeing Will’s dilemma.

  “Stop suggesting I deceive her. That’s what got me into this mess in the first place.”

  “So you’re just going to hope for the best then?”

  Hope was all well and good, but it wouldn’t get him what he wanted. He had never lived by hope. If he had, he’d probably still be in Glasgow. If he wanted Leah to forgive him, he’d have to take action and earn it.

  At first, he typed into the subject line: ‘I have your purse.’ But then he realized it sounded like the beginning of a ransom note. So he settled for simply: ‘Please read.’

  Subject: Please read

  Leah,

  You left your purse at my apartment the other night, and I’d like the chance to return it in person. When you’re available, could we meet somewhere—

  With Finn’s suggestion to use his resources echoing in his ears, Will deleted ‘somewhere’ and instead typed:

  —at Vitale’s to talk? (Do you like Italian?) There are things I’d like to say that I’d rather not put into an email.

  “Like ‘let’s not have sex’?” Finn asked.

  He looked up to find his friend had left his station at the easel and was now hovering over Will’s shoulder, reading his email. Will elbowed him, and Finn laughed, backing off. He ended the email with:

  Please forgive me. Will.

  He spent a good minute debating on whether to send it. Chances were high Leah would still delete it anyway. After another few seconds, he saved it as a draft and then closed it. An email felt too impersonal. Leah’s ID also had her address on it. It would be better to go see her in person.

  A part of him knew that he ought to just find out where she worked on campus, drop her purse off with her boss, and reconcile himself with her anger and distrust.

  But he sort of had the feeling that Leah might not be completely against seeing him again.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Leah barely slept for the third night in a row. She rolled out of bed, bleary and delirious and cursing the blue-eyed boy for refusing to leave her thoughts alone. It was now Sunday. She had expected him to contact her by now. What if he hadn’t even noticed her purse yet? What if by the time he did notice it, she might have convinced herself (again) that she didn’t want to see him?

  She was very good at convincing herself of things.

  Her anger over the whole situation had shifted now to annoyance, although she had no idea if she was more annoyed with herself or with Will. Will had joined the group under shitty pretenses, all things considered, but she was pretty sure that if his boss wanted to publish anything, the group
members would have to be contacted for permission, regardless of the fact it was all anonymous. She couldn’t help but wonder how Will had presented them in his research. Had he taken unbiased observations or had he been secretly judging her from the start?

  Now she understood why, before kissing her at the theater, he’d asked if she meant it when she said she didn’t have a sex addiction. Apparently, he’d been having a moral dilemma.

  His betrayal still stung (God, she hated the word ‘betrayal’; it was so melodramatic). But if he had been telling the truth, then he had already quit the project (although it didn’t excuse his lying-by-omission). And even before confessing, when she’d told him to stop, he’d been willing to call it a night and give her time (respecting a girl’s wishes should have been standard behavior, but it sadly wasn’t in Leah’s experience).

  This caring thing was exhausting. Now she remembered why she’d stopped.

  Helena, ever the early riser, looked up in surprise when Leah stumbled into the kitchen at seven in the morning. With one eye on her scrambled eggs still cooking on the stove, she gave Leah a suspicious nose wrinkle.

  "What on earth—" she began, only to pause when Leah half-grunted, half-snarled in her direction. She brandished her spatula. “Just imagine where I could insert this.”

  Ignoring her, Leah began rummaging through the tiny pantry across from the refrigerator. The narrow space made it so that she could never have both the pantry door and the fridge open at the same time. She pulled a large mixing bowl out of a cupboard and began filling it with items from the pantry. Flour, sugar, cocoa powder, baking powder, and a few other things before carrying her items out to the dining room table.

  Since she no longer had her journal, baking was the next best way to distract herself. And brownies sounded perfect right now. She returned to the kitchen for eggs, butter, and her measuring cups. She paused to preheat the oven on her way back into the dining room.