The lights of Asheville gleamed ahead and it wasn’t too long before he was able to turn onto the street of Lush and Lace, the little shop her friend Rocki owned. Lacey modeled some of the corsets, did all the photography and maintained the website, plus worked at the store three days a week. Brogan hadn’t been here more than two or three times, but he knew all about it. Maybe he could pick a few things out for her. He loved the lingerie they sold, loved seeing it on her, loved taking it off her.
Checking the time, he saw it was close to five. The store closed early on Sundays. That was good. He could ask her on a date. They could go out and he would make it up to her—hurting her the way he had.
They would talk and…he would fumble his way through the apology. He sucked at apologies because he so rarely offered them. Unless the person mattered, he didn’t bother with them.
And Lacey was the first person to really matter in a long time.
Not everybody is out to screw you over…
He just hoped Lacey had missed him half as much as he’d missed her. It would make it easier to smooth things over.
He was nervous. It pissed him off, but there wasn’t much to be done for it. It wasn’t an unusual thing with Lacey, though. He’d never been on entirely level footing with Lacey. He’d always felt a little less in control, a little less sure.
It was the main reason he’d kept her at a distance. Seeing her, though, the thought of it had always left him excited, hot…more. She did things to him, made him wish for things.
But it wasn’t ever like this. He hadn’t ever really worried that he might lose her.
Losing Lacey… That was just unthinkable.
“Like hell.” He wasn’t going to lose her. With that in mind, he stormed into the store. They’d have it out, and they’d do it now.
Shoving open the door, he had his mouth open to say…something. But it wasn’t Lacey behind the counter. It was Rocki and she didn’t look at all sick. For a second, he just stared at her, his mind spinning. And although he already knew, he found himself asking, “What are you doing here? I thought you were sick.”
“Sick?” Rocki lifted a brow at him. Her mouth curled in an amused little smirk. “Well, I was feeling fine, right up until I saw your face, asshole.”
Sighing, he skimmed a hand back over his naked scalp. “Okay, I deserve that.” Taking a deep breath, he said, “Lacey told me she was covering for you because you were sick. I’d asked her to come to the cabin with me. I guess it was too much to ask for her to just be honest and say she didn’t want to come.”
“You think you deserve that? You treat her like shit but you deserve honesty from her? Respect?” Rocki sauntered out from behind the counter. She wore boots, the heels tall enough to put her eye to eye with him. Her dark-brown eyes glinted with heat and disgust as she stared at him. “You know, I really don’t get what she sees in you, you stupid ass.”
“Rocki—”
She shook her head. “Shut up. I don’t want to hear it. She’s into you—I know that. But I don’t know why. All you do is hurt her. You’ve done it for the past two years and if she stays around, you’ll keep on doing it.”
He narrowed his eyes at her. “I don’t hurt her. And what we do is none of your damn business—”
“I said shut up,” she snarled, leaning in until she was no more than an inch from his face. “You think I give a damn what the two of you do behind closed doors? She likes her sex rough. Fine. Yippee. As long as she’s into it and you don’t do anything she doesn’t want? Have fun.”
She spun away and stalked toward the counter. There, she turned around and leaned back, crossing her arms over her chest, eyeing him as though he were something she would scrape off the bottom of her boot.
“You hurt her,” she said again, her voice low, all but vibrating. “All the damn time. Every time I think the two of you might actually be making a go of it, you do something stupid and I want to shake her because she just puts up with it. You were at the club with her the other night—she looked as happy as I’d ever seen her, and then she goes to the bathroom and within thirty seconds, that bitch Grace is hanging all over you.”
“Now wait a minute.”
Rocki shoved off the counter. “You shut the fuck up,” she said. “Or I will smash that ugly face of yours in. You come into my store after breaking my friend’s heart, you will hear what I have to say.”
Brogan blinked, caught off guard. Rocki had claws—he’d always known that. It was part of why she and Lacey got along so well. Both of them had a streak of mean a mile wide. But he hadn’t had too many women threaten to…how did she put it? Yeah, threaten to smash his face in. Running his tongue across his teeth, he rocked back on his heels and waited.
“I don’t care if you two have an open relationship and I don’t care if you and Grace go way back,” Rocki said, her eyes glinting. “I go way back with Lacey. And you treated her like shit. I was the one watching her try not to cry after you humiliated her. So if I want to call you an ass and that woman a bitch, I damn well will. You don’t deserve Lacey.”
Brogan set his jaw and shifted his attention past her to stare at the wall. There was an unframed print mounted there, the woman in a shimmering bronze corset, vivid, red-gold curls spiraling down her back, her hands gracefully tying the laces. The viewer couldn’t see the model’s face, but he knew who it was. Lacey. He stared at the print for a long, long moment before he finally shifted his attention to Rocki and said gruffly, “I know.”
“You know.” Rocki arched a brow. She paced forward, that look of acute dislike still on her face. “I hear you wanted to take her to the cabin. You broke her heart. You humiliated her, and then you called and offered to take her to the cabin. Let me guess, you thought taking her away for a romantic getaway, fucking her brains out for a few days would make it all better?”
There really wasn’t any way to respond to that, Brogan decided. So he stayed silent.
“Nothing to say now?” Rocki asked mockingly.
“You seem to be dead set on saying it all.” He rubbed his hands over his face and turned away. He had to fix this. “Look, I’ve screwed up, a hundred times, a thousand times. But I do care about her, and I’m going to fix this.”
“Yeah.” She snorted. “Good luck with that.”
He shot her a dirty look. “I’m not giving her up.”
“Too late. She’s given up on you.” A cat’s smile curled her lips.
He opened his mouth and then just snapped it shut, shaking his head as he headed for the door. He didn’t have time to play Rocki’s games. He had to find Lacey and start fixing this. As he hit the door, he paused and looked back.
Rocki stood there, still watching him with a smirk.
Something about the look in her eyes should have warned him. But he was so determined to get to Lacey, he just wasn’t thinking clearly. All he could think about was the fact that he had to fix this. Had to make Lacey understand that he hadn’t done anything to hurt her, not intentionally, at least—that he was just screwed up and he needed time to level out.
She’d understand…right?
Lacey lived in a redesigned loft across town. It acted as both studio and home. It was meticulously neat, rarely a thing out of place in his experience. But this was…unreal. After he’d used his key to let himself in, he found himself standing in the middle of the main room, staring at…nothing. Her things were gone. Logically, he knew what that meant. But he wasn’t letting himself admit it. Not yet. She couldn’t be gone.
No.
He’d only left town on Friday. He’d been gone two damn nights. Two nights. He couldn’t have been so fucking stupid as to let her leave him like that.
Except the evidence was right in front of him. Right in front of him… She was gone.
Hurling his keys across the empty cavern of a room, he stormed into the kitchen and hit the lights. The glass-fronted cabinets revealed empty shelves. The refrigerator was empty. The pantry was empty. The bathroom h
ad none of the numerous soaps and lotions she loved. Everything was gone. Her bedroom…the same.
Finally, in the extra bedroom that she rarely used, he lucked out and found some sign of life. As in boxes. A number of them. Packed up as if ready for storage. The sight of it was like a fist to his chest.
Stunned, he leaned against the door frame. She was gone…
Hearing the familiar sound of a door opening, he turned. Lacey—
Taking off down the hall, heart racing, he came to an abrupt stop. The man in front of him wasn’t who he wanted to see. Cole Stanton, Rocki’s fiancé, stood there, his hands in his pockets and an appraising look on his face.
“She’s not here.” Cole—the master of understatement.
“I see that,” Brogan snapped. “Where the hell is she?”
The other man shrugged. “That’s not for me to say. I just promised to make sure things got moved into storage. She’s subletting her loft for a while and I need to get this stuff put away before the new tenant moves in next week.”
New tenant… Brogan’s stomach dropped to his knees. This…shit. This wasn’t a temporary thing. She wouldn’t be giving up her place if she was coming back any time soon. “Damn it, where is she?”
“Why do you care?”
Brogan stalked across the floor and reached out, fisting his hand in the other man’s shirt. He hauled him close until just a few breaths separated them. “If you don’t tell me where she is, I’m going to pummel that pretty face of yours.”
A tight smile curled Cole’s face. “You can try.” Then Cole’s hands shot out and, with surprising ease, he broke Brogan’s hold. After he’d moved a few feet away, he smoothed his polo shirt down and pushed a hand through his hair. Just like that, the pretty boy looked like he was ready to step onto the cover of GQ. “Here’s the deal, Brogan… You want to go a round with me? I’m game. I’d love to hurt you some for what you did to Lacey. But I’m not telling you shit. Go put that fancy-ass security firm of yours to use or figure it out on your own. Lacey left you. You treated her like shit and she needed to be away from you. If you don’t like that, then I suggest you start figuring out what the problem is, fix it and then go after her. Because if you can’t fix it? You don’t deserve her.”
Chapter Three
“Sir?”
Brogan looked up from the report spread out over his desk. It was the Layton account, one he’d almost lost because he had his head up his ass, one he couldn’t focus on while he was worrying about Lacey, and even though it was one of his biggest accounts, he couldn’t even care.
He was fucking rich and he had a number of big accounts—he ran one of the better security firms in the region and he didn’t give a flying fuck if one of his biggest clients was unhappy. Which just went to show how fucked up he was.
He couldn’t find Lacey… Yeah, he had his head up his ass. He was in security. And he couldn’t find the woman he needed to find—
“Sir!”
Looking up, he saw his administrative assistant standing in the doorway. Seth wasn’t exactly the typical assistant, but he did a hell of a job. “Yes?”
“I think I’ve found her.”
“Shit,” Brogan muttered, shooting up from the desk. “Why didn’t you say so?”
The look in Seth’s liquid, dark eyes spoke volumes, but the black man said nothing, just held out a file.
Brogan snatched it away and flipped through it. There wasn’t much. She’d had a paycheck cut. That was about it. Nothing about where she was living or anything. Nothing on her credit cards, nada.
But a paycheck… That was good enough. Because now he knew where to look for her.
“It’s from a bar,” he said quietly. “This is all we have?”
Seth nodded. “I ran the place. No problems that I can tell—owner is new. He inherited it from an uncle about a year ago. His name is Louis Rainier.”
That name…
Brogan glanced up, frowning. “Rainier.”
“He’s a photographer too. They were in school together. I went ahead and did background on him, saw that they attended college together. They were there at the same time, had some photography classes together, so it’s safe to say they knew each other.”
A knot clenched in Brogan’s gut. He tried not to think about it. Nothing mattered. Three weeks had passed since Lacey had disappeared but he had an idea where to find her now.
He checked the address for the bar.
Lexington.
He could be there tomorrow.
“I need you to clear my schedule.”
Seth smiled. “It’s already done.”
Brogan stared at him.
With a shrug, Seth said, “Everybody but you can see how you feel about her…sir. I’m just trying to do what I can to get you back to your normal state.”
Eying his friend, Brogan said, “My normal state?”
“Yes.” Seth turned away, heading back to his desk. “You’re normally an asshole and I can say this without worrying about losing my job for two reasons. One—you’re my best friend and I figure you’re not going to fire me for speaking the truth. Two—you won’t find anybody to replace me, considering the way you’re acting lately. So let’s get you back to normally cheerful self.”
“I’m never cheerful.”
“True,” Seth said. “But you’re usually not this bad.”
Put on my blue suede shoes and I boarded the plane…
Lacey closed her eyes and lost herself to the music. Lou was playing the piano and the lights were so bright, she couldn’t see the crowd.
That was fine with her.
She loved music almost as much as she loved photography. She loved losing herself to it, loved the rhythm, the beat…
And very few could match her the way Lou did.
He’d launched into “Walking in Memphis” the minute they’d talked her onto the stage and she didn’t know if she wanted to smile or sigh. The song held painful memories now. Memphis wasn’t the playground it had once been—Brogan had figured out she loved the city and they’d visited a few times.
But it was a bittersweet memory and she still loved the song.
Her voice was huskier than normal as she reached the chorus, but she didn’t let it stop her. He’d taken enough from her. He wasn’t taking this too.
The song ended and Lou didn’t even give her a chance to catch her breath before hitting the next one.
“Summer of ’69”. That’s more like it, she thought. Just the beat of it was enough to bring her spirits up and she was all but dancing on the stage by the time it ended.
They did another three songs while the regular band finished up their break and then, before she could retreat into the crowd, Lou caught her around the waist and dipped her back, taking her mouth with a kiss that stole her breath away.
She heard the crowd whooping and she was gasping for air by the time he let her go.
Laughing, she let him lead her offstage. She should have gone back to the bar.
But part of the reason she was here was to forget. To feel better about herself. And to heal.
Nobody could make her feel better the way Lou could, she figured. Why not let him do it?
Walking in Memphis…
The moment he heard that husky, throaty voice, he knew who it was.
Standing in the back of the crowd, he stared at Lacey up on the stage and fought the urge to tear through the crowd to get to her.
Not right now, Brogan told himself. He could wait until she wasn’t in front of a damn crowd.
She was here to sing?
He scowled. Had he known she did that? He knew she could sing, but had he known she did professionally? Was that how she was making a living now? What about photography? He’d known she was doing something here at the bar, but he’d assumed she’d done some photo shoots or something.
Not singing.
She was standing up there on the stage wearing one of the corsets Rocki had likely designed for her, and her al
one. It was blue, matching the song she was singing rather well, sapphire blue and it gleamed against the ivory smoothness of her skin. From here, he couldn’t see the smattering of freckles that dotted her shoulders. He loved those freckles, loved tracing them with his tongue, teasing her as he touched her. He couldn’t see them, and he hadn’t thought about how much he missed them until that very moment.
But he could see the way her skin gleamed, the way her breasts swelled above the corset, the way it nipped in at her waist. The short skirt she wore rode low on her narrow hips, cut high on the thigh, and she wore a pair of boots that went up over her knees.
She looked hotter than hell and it wasn’t for him.
Jealousy twisted inside him, but he battled it down. He had no right to be possessive, not after the way he’d acted. And he needed to be calm, rational…because sometime soon, he’d find a way to talk to her. Convince her to give him another chance.
Of course, he was doing okay with that plan…right up until the fucking pussy playing the piano came up and grabbed Lacey, kissing her. Acted as if he had a damn right to. Lacey smiled at him. Smiled. Laughed. And when he led her off the stage to the cheers of the crowd, she was still smiling.
Dimly, he realized somebody was up there talking.
“Man, our Lacey has a set of pipes on her, doesn’t she? We need to forget having her work the bar and just have her sing!”
The crowd broke into a chorus of bellows and screams.
Work the bar…?
She’d left Asheville, and him, to come here and work behind a fucking bar.
He couldn’t believe it.
Okay, yeah, he could. She’d needed to get away from him and that was enough of a reason to leave, but what he couldn’t believe was that he’d pushed her that far away. Asheville was home to her. She loved it.
He’d made her need to leave.
I’ve got to fix this.
With that in mind, he started to work his way through the crowd, elbowing through rows of bodies three and four and five people deep at times. The place was packed, full of people laughing and talking and in general, just loving life. It made him that much more aware of how empty his life was.
LaceysGame Page 2
