by Julie Leto
“And you didn’t think,” she scooted around him and stalked across the room, “that maybe you should tell me?”
He stood. “I’ve thought every single minute we’ve been together about how I should tell you. I just couldn’t figure out how.”
“Couldn’t figure out how?” she repeated, incensed. “You just do it! Do you have any idea how long I’ve wondered what happened to me?”
“I’m sorry. Katie-gate, I swear—”
“Don’t call me that! Wait. Oh, God. Is that why you came up with that nickname? Because I’m some sort of secret scandal? Is that what I am to you? A joke? A double-entendre? A pun?”
“No,” he insisted. “Listen to me. I didn’t even know your name until I fished your ID out of your purse to get your address. But I couldn’t just throw you in a cab and hope for the best. I took you home myself. No one stopped me. No one else stepped up to the plate to stay with you all night and make sure you didn’t have any dangerous after effects.”
“What about the actual effects? Roofies make you drop your inhibitions. They make you horny. Did you fuck me while under the influence and since then, all your flirting and come-ons have been an attempt at a second go?”
She wasn’t crying, but her voice shook as if she was holding in the emotional equivalent of a tidal wave. Shaw had known she wouldn’t take this well, but the way she held herself together despite her justifiable anger elevated his admiration for her to a level he hadn’t thought possible.
He should have found a way to tell her sooner, before she’d dropped her guard, before she’d invited him to her room. Or at the very least, before he joined her in her bed.
“I would never take advantage of a woman who wasn’t fully aware of what she was doing. I took you home. I…I listened. And I liked what I heard enough so that when we ran into each other again, I wanted to be with you. The right way. Like this,” he said, gesturing toward the bed. “With romance and seduction and truth.”
Her gaze was locked on the door and slowly, her head shook from side to side. He wasn’t sure if she didn’t believe him or she didn’t want to—either way, he knew he was seconds away from being tossed out on his ass.
When she finally spoke again, she didn’t look at him. “You expect me to believe that while I was hot to go for anyone with a penis, nothing happened? Not a single kiss? You didn’t cop a single feel? Hell, I didn’t?”
He pressed his lips together. He couldn’t lie to her. Not again.
“Nothing happened that you should regret,” he answered.
She laughed, but the sound was hard and humorless. “That doesn’t answer my question.”
He chanced a step closer to her, but she backed up until she was inches from disappearing behind the bathroom door.
“Kate, I’ll tell you everything that happened, I swear. But you have to trust me.”
“No, I think you need to leave.”
“Kate—”
“I have to work in the morning,” she said and in that moment, the Kate who never would have invited him to her room reappeared—crisp, efficient, unattainable. “Just do me a favor, will you? Pretend you were slipped the drug. Forget this night ever happened. Can you do that? Please?”
He might have said no if her voice hadn’t cracked with her final plea. She was holding it together, but just barely. He couldn’t deny her this kindness.
Hell, he couldn’t deny her anything.
He had his hand on the knob when he realized he still had the key card to her room. She hadn’t asked for it back, but in a last ditch effort to seed her trust, he slipped it onto the dresser on his way out the door.
Chapter 7
As soon as the door clicked closed, Kate slid the deadbolts into place and stripped off her nightgown, leaving it in tatters on the floor. Confused and mortified, she dashed into the bathroom and turned the shower to scalding. Her body still thrummed from the aftermath of her spectacular orgasm and the depth of her humiliation. Shaw had known precisely how to pleasure her, not because of his innate skill, but because she’d told him what she wanted in intimate detail.
She wasn’t sure how long she stayed under the stream, washing away the make-up and perfume and lotions she’d applied in anticipation of her grand seduction. By the time she cocooned herself in a bathrobe and settled in for a sleepless night in a chair by the window, she didn’t feel any less embarrassed.
Beyond that one black hole in her memory, Kate had few regrets about her past. When she’d gone home with a guy for a one-night stand, it had been a choice. She worked hard during the day, striving to fit her square psyche into the round holes demanded in the law profession. She’d been good at her job, even though, as Shaw reminded her, she’d been miserable. She countered her unhappiness by partying hard and grabbing enough excitement and freedom during the night to last her during her endless weeks of dry, dull billable hours.
But even in her wildest party days, she’d never blacked out.
That event had changed her life. The next morning, she’d quit her job and found a new one with Erica. From that moment on, unless her new career demanded it, she stayed out of nightclubs and away from concerts. She’d forged a new life—one she was proud of, even if she did miss the easy sex.
Though sex wasn’t supposed to be easy, was it? It certainly hadn’t been with Shaw… even if it had been pretty wonderful.
Now she knew that a random blackout from too much partying hadn’t changed her life. She’d been the victim of a calculated attack. But instead of enduring rape or worse, she’d been rescued. By a stranger. If he’d stuck around the next morning to fill in the holes of her foggy memory and insisted nothing had happened between them, would she have believed him?
Probably not.
She’d been at his mercy. He could have invited the whole of Cell Block Tango to join in on screwing her and she would never have known, never would have been able to resist.
But Shaw hadn’t done something so awful. Instead, he’d taken care of her. He’d listened. That’s how he’d known about her life, her job, her dreams for the future. That’s how he’d known how much she loved it when a man took his time going down on her, concentrating exclusively on her pleasure before he took any for himself.
That’s not exactly information she shared willy-nilly, even while under the influence.
Shaw’s technique had been far too specific to be accidental. He’d opened her like a flower, peeling away her outer lips and blowing intensely on her clit before suckling the nub with short, intense bursts of pressure that had thrown her into sensual nirvana.
He’d taken his time, giving her everything that she’d ever dreamed about, as if he could read her mind.
Only he hadn’t read her mind—she’d told him.
And he’d listened.
By the time the sun finally rose, Kate was tired and sore from sleeping in the chair, but not as angry. She’d dodged a bullet, thanks to Shaw. She had to give him points for the rescue, but he’d still picked the world’s worst moment to come clean with the truth.
Although, really, was there a good moment to tell a girl that she’d been drugged and over the course of the night, had confessed all her secrets, personal and professional, to a perfect stranger?
Unable to process the situation further, Kate took a quick shower, downed a whole pot of hotel-brand coffee and got dressed. Erica had asked her to take over the party planning duties for the rest of the reunion and she intended to do her job. She’d run into Shaw at some point. It was, after all, his reunion, too. But now that she understood him, she realized he’d give her a wide berth.
And somehow, this made her feel worse.
Shaw stayed away as long as he could. After returning to his hotel room, he raided the mini-bar, downing enough booze to ensure he slept in late, then ordered up a tomato juice and blood orange smoothie from room service in the morning and nursed his hangover until noon. Thanks to the reunion schedule she’d handed him the night before, he knew she�
�d be busy off property, running a tour to his old high school for the former graduates who’d moved out of town.
He went downstairs long enough to grab a bite to eat, but decided not to stick around. Instead, he returned to his room, picked up his acoustic guitar and spent the rest of the afternoon lost in beats, notes and chords.
By the time dinner rolled around, he’d made a decision. Kate had good reasons for kicking him out of her room last night. She had justifiable excuses for not seeking him out today, either in person or by text or email. But tonight, at the big black tie event, they were going to see each other whether she liked it or not.
And he wasn’t going to let an opportunity to win her back go to waste.
He put on the closest thing he had to a tuxedo—a vintage Pierre Cardin jacket and a pair of black jeans and headed downstairs. He was glad to learn he’d been assigned a seat at Erica’s table, with his old friend on his left and the husband of the class valedictorian on his right.
“Your set was good last night,” Erica said after sending her new squeeze, Rip, to brave the lines at the open bar.
“We didn’t suck,” Shaw replied.
“You never do, or I wouldn’t hire you,” she assured him. “Where’s your band tonight?”
“Off,” he replied.
Erica huffed. “I’m trying to make small talk.”
“Why?”
“Because if I don’t, I’ll ask you about Kate and since I know that didn’t go well—”
“She talked to you?”
“She didn’t have to,” Erica said. “She’s been running around today as if the fate of the universe relies on whether or not the canapés come out precisely thirty minutes before the salads.”
“In other words, she’s acting like you.”
She smacked him on the shoulder. “I don’t act that way. I love my job, but the world won’t implode if the ice-sculpture melts before the dessert course.”
“I don’t think you knew that before Rip came roaring back into your life.”
She thought this over for a minute and then nodded. “You’re probably right. I thought after you two hooked up last night, she’d throw tonight’s event at the hotel staff and enjoy herself. Instead, I had fifteen texts on my phone before nine a.m. What happened?”
“Nothing,” he said.
She smirked in disbelief, but once Rip came back with their drinks, she let the topic drop. His friendship with Erica had been long and enduring and would no doubt survive, no matter what happened between him and Kate. But he hadn’t purposefully hurt her assistant—and even if he had, he intended to make it up to her.
She just had to take the bait.
Chapter 8
The dinner had gone off without a hitch, if Kate didn’t consider the mysteriously vanishing vegan meals, one rude waiter, two drunk former football players and one minor glitch with the power cords on the chafing trays as hitches. Which she didn’t. She’d secretly wished for more easily manageable screw-ups so she wouldn’t have time for her gaze to betray her, sneaking through the crowds to watch Shaw at his table, chit-chatting with Erica and Rip as if nothing world-changing had happened to him last night.
In all honestly, nothing life-altering had happened to him except that he’d unburdened his soul from a secret. But beyond that, the rocked foundations were hers and hers alone. She’d not only learned that there was someone on the planet who could fill in the missing hours of her life, but that this same someone was kind, sexy, funny, giving, selfless and hot.
And she’d thrown him out. What the hell had she been thinking?
By the time the party broke up, Shaw was nowhere to be found. On the dance floor, a few die-hard couples swayed to the final song of the night while the wait staff collected plates and broke down the dessert buffet. Rip had Erica cradled close to his chest, her head tucked under his chin, her eyes closed in a cocoon of rapture that made Kate deliriously happy for her boss and pea green with envy at the same time.
“Ms. Schaeffer?”
Kate turned. Carlos, the headwaiter, held an envelope toward her.
“What’s this?” she asked.
“The gentleman asked me to give this to you once your work was done.”
His gaze darted to the door, but when hers followed, no one was there.
She thanked him, then hurried to a private corner of the room to see what was inside. She slipped her finger beneath the flap and withdrew what she somehow expected—a key card with Shaw’s room number scrawled on the plastic, along with a single word.
Please.
How could she say no?
She thought about detouring to her room to change and primp, but the minute the elevator doors closed behind her, she pressed the button for his floor rather than hers. She didn’t even hesitate when she reached his room, using the key card without knocking.
She needed to know everything that Shaw knew about her, not just a few details. Once he filled in all the blanks, she could turn away from the past and focus on the future.
Hopefully, one that included him.
“Shaw?”
The room was romantically lit, though she grinned when she realized that he’d achieved the effect through the strategic placement of votives he’d swiped from the appetizer tables at tonight’s event. He was waiting for her beside the bed, his hands slung into his jeans, his stark white shirt unbuttoned just enough to show off his tanned upper chest. His tuxedo jacket, a throw-back to the elegant sixties, hugged his shoulders in a way that sapped her breath.
The fact that he’d worn something vintage touched her heart. She didn’t know if he was tipping his hat to her personal style or if he shared her fashion sense—but either way, the detail diminished her anger until there was nothing left but unanswered questions.
“I’m glad you came,” he said.
She tossed his key card onto the bed.
“We have some unfinished business,” she replied. “I need to know everything I said that night, Shaw. Everything I did. All of it, down to the last gory detail.”
He smiled and the sweetness in his eyes soothed her nerves.
“Nothing about it was gory,” he assured her. “It was actually kind of amazing. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you the whole truth before.”
“I know. I’m sorry I wasn’t ready to listen last night. Everything happened so fast—”
“I let things go too far,” he argued. “I should have told you before we went so far. But yet again, what you were offering was kind of hard to resist.”
“Think you can resist me now? Long enough to fill in the blanks?”
“I’m going to do one better. I’m going to help you remember yourself.”
She shook her head. “That’s impossible.”
“Maybe, but I thought, if I recreated the night for you, let you go through the motions, maybe it’ll trigger something.”
Oh, it was going to trigger something, all right, but she doubted it would be long-forgotten memories of a night she’d rather forget. Instead, he was going to stir recollections of last night—fresh and powerful and entirely more delicious.
“What do I do?”
He picked up his phone, which he’d hooked into speakers. He started a song, then adjusted the volume so that it was loud enough to make an impact, but not to disturb the hotel guests next door.
The opening riffs weren’t instantly familiar, but they provided a steady back beat that allowed her to focus. As she expected, her mind drifted not to the club she’d been at when she’d been drugged, but to last night, when he’d been front and center on a stage at the rooftop. The atmosphere had been balmy and the music had been hot.
Shaw had been hot. Hot enough to burn.
He shrugged out of his jacket and folded it over a chair. He loosened his cuffs and folded them up his muscled forearms. It was a low rent striptease, but just as effective as any she’d ever seen. An electric wave of anticipation skittered across her skin.
“Give me your hand,”
he instructed.
She swallowed deeply, but hesitated. The minute he touched her, all bets were off. Kate was adept at containing her passions, but not without a lot of effort.
And with Shaw, she no longer had the incentive to work that hard.
Chapter 9
He stroked soft circles on the back of her hand, counter-clockwise, as if he meant to unwind the anxiety out of her. She inhaled deeply, afraid her raw emotions might flood out in the tears that were burning the insides of her eyelids.
This was too much. He was too much.
Or maybe, he was exactly what she needed.
“What do you remember?”
“Nothing,” she answered.
“Do you remember where you were?”
She took a wild guess. “Daddy Pigs?”
“Dive bar extraordinaire,” he cracked. “Do you remember who you went with?”
“I was alone,” she said, not needing a specific memory to answer his question. Kate had had friends at the office and friends on the club scene, but no one she dared meet in the middle. As far as she knew, the only person who’d bridged the gap between her old existence and her new one was standing inches away from her, tightening the pressure on her hand.
“What were you wearing?”
“No idea.”
“Here, I can help. You were wearing a short black skirt.” His speaking voice was deep and throaty against the contrasting rock-n-roll wailing from the song. “A silver jacket.” He cleared his throat, but his next words still came out as rough as gravel. “A lace, turquoise bra.”
His grin—and the lusty glaze of his dark blue stare—shook the foundation of her trust.
But only a little…and in a very good way.
She snagged her bottom lip with her teeth. “I’m wearing the same bra tonight,” she confessed. “What are the chances?”
His gaze dropped. “Where we’re concerned, I’d say they’re pretty good. I don’t believe in coincidences. The longer I know you, the more I believe that’s true.”
