by Alison Kent
Arianne’s smile turned wistful. “Considering how that relationship turned out, I might not be the best person to answer your question.”
Natalie wrapped her fingers around her coffee mug for added warmth. “But you ended the engagement,” she reminded Arianne. She glanced over her shoulder to make certain Isabel was still otherwise occupied. “Was it because you knew you weren’t in love with him?”
“Charlie relocated, remember?”
Natalie expelled a frustrated sigh. “I don’t buy that. If you’d honestly been in love with the guy, you can’t tell me you’d have given up your apartment so fast. Isabel and I would be sending you e-mails this morning with the details of the party last night instead of…” she looked over her shoulder again and shouted “…waiting on mimosas.”
“Don’t get your thong in a twist,” Isabel retorted. “I’m working on it.” She muttered something more under her breath, but all Natalie caught were the words impatient little witch intentionally spoken loud enough for her to hear.
Natalie managed a quiet chuckle as Arianne’s eyebrows rose a notch before she slipped a pale blond strand of hair behind her ear. She gave Natalie a level stare over the rim of her coffee mug. “Why so curious about ancient history all of a sudden?”
“I had sex with Joe last night,” she said, once again taking care to keep her voice low.
Arianne hardly looked surprised as she regarded her carefully. “And now you regret that decision?”
Natalie mistakenly shook her head, sending off a fresh round of pounding. She winced and rubbed her temples. “I’m just trying to figure out why.”
“Why you made love to him?” Arianne asked, then took a sip of her coffee.
“Not exactly. More like why I could make love to him.” Natalie let out another sigh and leaned forward to set her mug on the rough-hewn marble slab that served as Isabel’s coffee table. “Since last year when we made our resolutions, I haven’t felt the least bit aroused by any of the guys I’ve dated all year. It’s as if I couldn’t connect on that level, you know.”
Arianne nodded and burrowed deeper within the chenille throw.
“But last night with Joe…it was…” Natalie searched for the right word. “Explosive,” she admitted. “There’s never been anything like it for me.”
Arianne considered her for a moment. “Maybe the reason you weren’t able to connect, as you say, with any of those other guys is because your heart already belonged to someone else?”
Natalie winced again, and this time not from the pain in her head, but the one in her chest. “I was afraid you were going to say that.”
“Well,” Arianne said with a quick lift of one shoulder. “Maybe he just kept it for himself.”
Natalie smiled. “That has to be the most illogical thing I’ve ever heard you say.”
Arianne was nothing if not perfectly logical at all times. She kept her checkbook balanced to the penny, her credit cards never carried a balance from month to month and she already had an impressive stock portfolio, something she’d gently nagged Natalie into starting for herself. The money she placed into her own investment account had cut dramatically into her monthly clothing and shoe budget, but even she had to admit that she’d gotten used to the idea of long-term security.
“So what are you going to do now?” Arianne asked her.
Natalie hadn’t a clue. She could wait around for Joe to call, and then when he didn’t, she’d be crushed. Or she could be the one to make the next move, but if he blew her off, then she’d still end up with a flattened ego. Maybe she just needed to get over herself, move on and screw regrets.
“Oh,” Natalie said suddenly, relieved to have a change in topic. “Rafe has finally agreed to an exclusive interview and said he’ll let me have a preview of the upcoming fall line they’ll be introducing in the spring. I guess I have you to thank.”
“Me?” Arianne’s light blond eyebrows pulled down in a frown. “I didn’t do anything.”
Natalie gave her a skeptical look. “You didn’t put a good word in his ear on my behalf?”
“No, I did not,” Arianne told her. “You need to have some faith in yourself, Nat.”
Isabel walked into the living room area cordoned off by lengths of gauzy fabric flowing from the overhead conduits and pipes. She carried an unmatched set of glasses filled with the best hangover antidote Natalie knew to exist—mimosas. “Why does she need faith?” Isabel asked, handing Natalie a glass. “What did you do? Fall in love anyway?”
“No,” Natalie said defensively. Isabel’s skeptical expression said she wasn’t convinced. Natalie stifled another sigh. When would she learn she couldn’t keep anything from her two best friends?
“Rafe’s giving her an exclusive,” Arianne explained. “She doesn’t believe she got it based on her own merit.”
“Don’t be such a weenie, Nat,” Isabel scoffed with a wide grin full of pride before heading back into the kitchen.
“I’m supposed to be at the mansion by three o’clock,” Natalie said.
“So what’s the problem?”
She hated to admit that Isabel was right, but if she couldn’t talk to Arianne and Isabel, then who could she talk to? “Joe will probably be there. He’s staying at Rafe’s until his apartment is ready next week.”
“Ahh,” Arianne said before taking a sip of her drink. “You’re afraid to see him.”
Natalie dropped her head back against the threadbare sofa. “This wasn’t supposed to be complicated.” She went on to explain her plan, which had backfired on her. “I just can’t do it. I really tried. I actually had myself convinced I could have sex and walk away, and I did pull it off, except…”
“Except you fell in love with him anyway.”
“Yeah. I did,” Natalie said miserably. “It doesn’t make sense, either, because I really don’t even know the guy. I still don’t know why he even pulled that Houdini act last year, but that’s my fault because he did try to apologize, and I didn’t let him. And, to top it off, I can’t even tell if what I’m feeling is the real deal. Besides, he’s social register and I’m…not.”
“I seriously doubt that makes a difference.” Arianne reached across the sofa and settled her hand over Natalie’s and gave her a reassuring squeeze. “Nat, maybe you’ve just been in love with him all along.”
Natalie was saved from having to respond to Arianne’s all-too-knowing statement when Isabel returned with a serving tray laden with the fresh bagels Natalie had remembered to pick up from Balducci’s, a variety of cream cheese and a heavenly, aromatic frittata.
“So,” Isabel said cheerfully. “That party! Was it amazing, or what?”
As they ate the goodies Isabel had prepared, they chatted about the evening, the shoes Rafe had given them and the most interesting tidbit of all, the news that Arianne had not only slept with Rafe last night, but she’d be seeing him again tonight. After Natalie and Isabel had raided Isabel’s thrift-shop wardrobe to arm Arianne with the appropriate attire guaranteed to sufficiently drive the man to his knees, Natalie and Arianne shared a cab home.
“Call me after the interview,” Arianne told her as she exited the cab.
“I will,” she promised, then waited until Arianne disappeared inside her building. “96 East 77th,” she told the cabbie. “Just off Park.” She’d have to go to the interview dressed as she was since she only had enough time to make it back to her apartment to grab her tape recorder and the notepad with her list of questions before heading directly to the Monticello mansion.
She had no idea if she would even see Joe. Her tummy fluttered with nervousness, all because she worried that last night hadn’t meant as much to him as it did to her. What was the difference anyway? They were all wrong for each other. How could she possibly hope to have a truly intimate relationship with a man when she feared risking her career? No matter how antiquated her thoughts, a social class structure did exist, especially if you were the one from the wrong side of the tracks.
/> Regardless of the outcome, as Isabel had so eloquently stated, at least she’d gotten herself good and screwed. Based on the past year, she figured that was as close to embracing her inner wild woman as she would probably ever come.
8
FOR WHAT HAD TO BE the hundredth time, Joe reread the phone message from Rafe, which the Monticellos’ housekeeper had given him less than two hours ago. He was asking Joe to keep Natalie at the mansion until he returned from a charity auction with his mother. With every reading, Joe’s anticipation grew. Natalie would be arriving any second now, and if he had to tie the woman to a chair and gag her so she’d listen to him, he’d do it. He was not about to let her slip away from him again until she heard his explanation and subsequent apology. Whether or not she’d accept it…
Other than a skeleton staff working on the holiday, he was alone since Lucia and Rafe had left long before he’d ventured from his room. On his own, he had too much time to think. To say he was nervous was an understatement.
The ringing of the doorbell had him sprinting to the foyer and nearly colliding with the housekeeper. After a mumbled apology, he bolted for the door and swung it open.
Hot damn, he thought, sweeping his gaze over Natalie. Entirely too sensual for his peace of mind, she easily played hell with his libido. Forget tying her to a chair. Carting her off to the closest bed and making love to her suddenly sounded like a much better way to spend the afternoon.
Beneath her unbuttoned long black wool coat she wore a pair of figure-hugging camouflage pants, lethally high-heeled black leather boots and a short cropped black sweater that clung too enticingly to her full breasts and showed off a strip of skin just below her navel. She wore her hair down, the blondish-red curls gleaming in the winter sunshine. She looked like a fiery goddess sent to drive him to his knees. While he was down there, he’d better start by begging for her forgiveness.
She hitched her big leather bag higher on her shoulder and gave him a cool stare. “I have a three o’clock with Mr. Monticello.” As if he were nothing more than a servant paid to do her bidding, she gave him one last dismissive glance before striding into the foyer with her head held high and her back straight. “Tell him Natalie Trent is here to see him, please.”
The floral scent of her perfume lingered as she passed, resurrecting memories of their night together. The silky texture of her skin, bared and sleek beneath him. Her gentle moans of pleasure as he slid his body into hers. The way her blue eyes darkened to the color of sapphires when she came apart. Every scent, every sound, every glide of their bodies rushed through his mind. And she had the gall to pretend none of it had ever taken place?
The irritation he’d felt when he’d awakened to find her gone returned, courtesy of her dismissive attitude, slamming into him hard. Without meaning to, he closed the door with a brisk snap, but a morbid sense of satisfaction still filled him when she flinched. At least she wasn’t totally immune.
“Rafe’s been detained,” he said. “He asked that you wait.” She followed when he took off for the study, the heels of her boots clicking a brisk pace behind him on the Italian marble tiles. He headed straight for the bar, needing a drink. He needed a lot of drinks to douse the images of Natalie writhing beneath him. Images she’d apparently had little trouble banishing from her mind.
She moved to the leather sofa and sat primly on the edge. “Will Rafe be long?”
Instead of answering her, he poured himself two fingers of scotch, drained the glass in one swig, then poured himself another before turning around to face her. “How long are we going to play this game, Natalie?” he asked, his tone more brusque than he’d planned.
She visibly winced, her who-the-hell-are-you façade slipping. She cleared her throat. Shoring up waning confidence maybe?
“Excuse me?” she asked.
The look he shot her clearly said his patience was wearing thin—which she ignored as she stood to shrug out of her coat.
“I think you heard me.”
She laid the heavy wool over the arm of the sofa before tossing a saccharine smile in his direction. “Aw, what’s the matter, Joe?” Her earlier dismissal of him faded into her own brand of irritation, complete with a brightness to her eyes he thought completely intoxicating. She hooked her thumbs over the edge of her pockets. “Don’t like how it feels when someone vanishes without a word?”
He made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a grunt of self-disgust. At least she was willing to acknowledge their brief past even existed. “No, I don’t,” he admitted. “Even though I might have deserved it, I still don’t like it.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Sucks being used, doesn’t it?”
“Used?” He understood how she might’ve felt that way, but he hoped to dispel the erroneous notion if she’d just let him explain.
“That’s right. Used.” She crossed her arms and cocked her hip slightly to the side. “For sex. I needed to have sex and you were handy. Was I supposed to leave a hundred-dollar bill on the nightstand? Sorry,” she said, narrowing her eyes again. “I’m not quite up on the appropriate protocol when using someone for a quick lay.”
He set the glass down hard on the bar, then stalked across the room to stand directly in front of her. “We both know what’s really going on here, Natalie, so cut the bullshit. You’re pissed at me for taking off last year, so you thought you’d even the score. Fine. You win. I didn’t like waking up alone this morning. Satisfied?”
“What makes you think I even care?”
“Oh, come off it,” he said with a little too much heat based on the way her eyebrows winged upward. “It doesn’t take a genius to figure it out, Nat. What I want to know is why you won’t let me explain?”
Her arms fell to her sides. “It doesn’t matter.” The way her gaze shifted to the floor and her shoulders slumped slightly forward said otherwise. It mattered to her—a lot.
“If that’s true, then why are you so hell-bent on making me pay?”
“It really doesn’t matter,” she said again and turned away. She dropped back to the edge of the sofa and made a huge production out of straightening the already perfectly aligned sleeves of her sweater. “Look, we had a great time. Thank you. You were fabulous. Maybe I’ll call you sometime.”
If her voice hadn’t suddenly taken on a brittle note, he might have believed her cavalier act. Except he wasn’t buying what he perceived as a defense mechanism. God, he hated himself for what he’d done to her, even if he hadn’t had a choice. Something he was determined she would understand, and hopefully accept.
The need to be close to her drove him to the sofa to sit beside her. Lifting her hand, he laced their fingers together. Even though she refused to look at him, he took it as an encouraging sign when she didn’t pull away from his grasp. “Do you remember last night when I told you I had recently retired from the Navy?”
She offered a brisk nod in reply.
“I was in Naval Intelligence, Nat. A SEAL officer. That night I left without saying goodbye, I was called away under Executive Order to extract two Americans from a classified location, which I’m not permitted to discuss even now.”
She turned to look at him. When she issued a short bark of laughter, his heart sank. “You expect me to believe you were called away—on New Year’s Eve no less—on some mission so top secret you couldn’t even tell me you were leaving?” She laughed again and yanked her hand from his grasp. “Score one for originality, because that’s the best excuse I’ve ever heard. And believe me, I’ve heard plenty.”
When she put it that way, the truth did sound rather ludicrous. “It was over two months before I returned stateside,” he explained, unwilling to give up all hope. “I didn’t even know your last name, where you lived, worked. Nothing. Rafe was out of the country and by the time he returned, I’d been sent overseas again. I’ve been back since late October and I figured too much time had passed. I’m sorry, Natalie. I wanted to call you. I never meant to hurt you.”
She shook
her head, her disbelief apparent. “Most guys would’ve just said, ‘Hey babe, sorry. Uh, uh…I lost your number?”’ she mocked in a bad imitation baritone. When she finally did cast her eyes his way, all the hurt he’d caused her shone in their brilliance, twisting his conscience and his heart like the sharpness of a blade.
She flew off the sofa suddenly and faced him down, a vision of barely tempered fire that heated his blood. “Exactly how stupid do you think I am?”
“Wh—?”
“What is this?” she demanded, her tone rising a full octave. “Some warped attempt to make me feel guilty for wanting you to feel a little of how I’ve felt all year? What happened? Your precious ego take a direct hit because I didn’t bother to wake you before I left this morning to wax on about how you were the greatest lay I’ve had in years?”
“Before you sneaked out, you mean.” He was hardly furthering his cause to get back onto her good side by sniping at her, but damn it, she’d exhausted his patience. A guy could only take so much browbeating before he snapped a little, no matter how wrong he might have been in the first place.
“What difference does it make? We had sex. It was good.” Her gaze turned glacial. “Move on. It’s what you do best,” she spat at him.
A strong offense was quite often the sign of a desperate defense, or an attempt to hide the truth, and Natalie was doing a bang-up job of doing one or both. He’d stake his life on it.
He stood and approached her. “What are you afraid of, Natalie?” he asked gently.
She crossed her arms and refused to look at him. “Nothing.”
God, he hated when women said that. Nothing was always something. And the poor schmuck that heard that fateful word would pay dearly until he figured out exactly what he’d done wrong. Well, he knew where he’d screwed up and he’d apologized for it once already. He’d be damned if he’d do it again.
