Forget You

by Nina Crespo

  She grazed his bicep.

  His cock twitched. Shit. Wondering about Sophie’s personal life was obviously a bad idea and a distraction he didn’t need. Memory or no memory, he had a presentation to give, the Ivy Gate Hotel deal to consider, and on top of that, he and Aiden had to stay one step ahead of their father’s backstabbing antics.

  Sophie held the shirt open. “It’ll probably be easier if you move as little as possible and let me do the work.”

  As she gently pulled the sleeve up his arm, her perfume surrounded him. He’d find the appealing scent in the hollow of her throat, her belly, between her legs. No! Where was all this craziness in his mind coming from?

  “Almost there.” She brought the shirt around his back. The collar of her blouse widened as she leaned in to pull up the other sleeve.

  White lace cupping her breasts beckoned. The desire to peel away the silk barrier and suck her nipples taunted him. He pressed his knees together, trying to strangle a growing erection. His cock throbbed against his zipper and he sucked in a breath.

  “Sorry. Was I too rough?” She lightly clasped his forearm. “I didn’t mean to . . .” Her gaze dropped to his lap. Her eyes widened. “Oh.”

  He flipped the tail of the shirt over his hard-on. “I’m good.”

  “Good.” She backed up and rubbed her palms down her thighs. “I’m glad you’re up.” Her cheeks flushed. “I mean, I’m glad you’re okay. I’ll wait for you downstairs.” She fled the bedroom.

  King blew out a breath. Where was all this coming from? He’d never had his hands or his mouth on any part of her. Ever. He stared at his wayward dick. “Thanks a lot, buddy.” Lusting after Sophie? He must have hit his head harder than he’d realized.

  eleven

  SOPHIE STOOD AT the dark marble counter in King’s sunny kitchen, stirring raw sugar into a mug of Kona blend. For the past two weeks, she’d replayed what would happen when she and King started working together again. In her version, they were back at the office, and the night of the gala remained cloaked in the anonymity of his lost memory. They’d speak when necessary about office tasks, and she wouldn’t have made any stupid comments like she had upstairs. “Glad you’re up.” Sophie put the plastic container of raw sugar into one of the wood cabinets above the counter. She’d not only said it, she’d ogled his erection like she’d never seen one before. She was just surprised, though—it wasn’t like it had turned her on or anything.

  Two birds chirped in a tree outside the picture window on the other side of the room. It provided a view of the grassy backyard from the round wood kitchen table. Outside, the birds grew louder, as if laughing at her justification.

  She grabbed the green sponge from the top of the stainless-steel sink and swiped stray crystals from the counter into it. Fine. She was still drawn to him. She’d played the let’s-not-exhaust-the-patient card and suggested meeting via video chat or simply corresponding through e-mail. Aiden had tossed it back. Apparently, the doctors had said spending time around her would help normalize things for King. Normal. Right. The only way that could exist between them was if she experienced a total mind wipe, erasing what she knew existed underneath King’s clothes. He was all hard muscle and cock-wondrous perfection.

  While she replaced the sponge, Sophie tracked King’s progress as he limped down the stairs and through the kitchen archway on her left. Jeans emphasized his long legs and the bunch and play of his firm thighs. Hints of sculpted lines were visible underneath his shirt. His damp hair, a river of waves, was tunneled with tracings from where his fingers had slicked it back from his freshly shaven face. Why did he have to look so good?

  Taking a deep breath, she pasted on a smile. “All right. Let’s go. Ready to get to work?” She sounded like an overeager cheerleader. Why didn’t she just whip out pompoms and do backflips for him?

  “As ready as I can be. I didn’t sleep well last night. I could use some caffeine.” He stared longingly at the black mug in her hand. “But that’s out until the headaches stop.”

  He’d always started his day with coffee. It was selfish of her to have indulged her own craving and not considered how much he’d miss the boost. She set her mug aside. “Is it getting any better?”

  He gave her a lopsided smile. “The pain or regaining my memory?”

  “Both.”

  “Well, the sensation of stabbing a hot poker into my brain isn’t there anymore.” His smile faded. “It’s strange. I can remember some events from the past month so clearly, but other stuff is absent but present in an odd way. It’s like there are links missing in my train of thought. I know something belongs there, I’m just not sure what. Maybe I never will.” A dejected expression gave him a boyish innocence that tugged on Sophie’s compassion.

  “You’ll get through this with assistance from Aiden and your friends.”

  “Include yourself on that list. I’m counting on you to help me not look like a complete idiot at the conference. It feels like I’ve never given a damn speech in my life.”

  “You just need practice. After we finish today, you’ll have more than enough time to become more comfortable with it.”

  Hints of determination emerged in his gaze, along with a faint smile. “Then we’d better get started before my curfew runs out.”

  Sophie followed him out of the kitchen into the sunlit, wood-floored living room. She snagged the red bag holding the laptop the company’s computer tech had given her from the sofa and followed him into an adjoining home office.

  King went past a low, dark wood table positioned in front of a green couch and limped to the pine desk. He pulled out the leather chair from behind it. “Sit here. We can use my computer. It’s safe from the breach.”

  Sophie settled into the seat. In front of her, a large window framed by two tall metal floor vases with green fronds overlooked manicured grass. Beyond that, a retention pond separated King’s lot from the golf course. King’s home boasted a welcoming feel, but the office seemed more lived-in. It was easy to imagine him reclining on the couch with a beer or a tumbler of whiskey reading a report or watching the built-in wide screen across from it.

  She retrieved a small external drive from the bag and hooked it to the back of the large, flat-screen computer.

  King removed a stack of business magazines from a beige padded chair in the corner. He moved it next to her. With a slight grimace, he eased into it. “I have to admit, I’m regretting all of the details I’ve put into this thing. I’m having a hard time retaining information as it is.”

  “That actually ties into what I was noticing. You may be able to cut back.” She pulled up the file and scrolled through the presentation. “You have a couple of slides in the middle that are almost duplicates. In my opinion, you’re saying the same thing, just in a different way.”

  “Which ones are you looking at?”

  “These two.” She clicked on the first slide, then the second.

  “I see what you mean.” He pointed. “But the first talks about the projected trends in the traditional hotel structure. The second examines trends, but it also gives more detail on the benefits of combining it with vacation ownership.”

  “It’s all relevant information, but . . .” The brush of King’s arm against hers as he leaned in for a closer look brought a wave of giddiness.

  “Go on. What do you suggest?”

  “I think you should feature one slide listing bullet points about the trends, but make it more concise. The next slide should just highlight the advantages of combining the two.”

  “Change it. What else?”

  She could feel his gaze on her, but she forced her attention to remain on the screen. He’d see the attraction she was fighting in her eyes if she looked at him. “This slide about projected cash flow and rate of return.” She moved the slides around. “See. Placing it here, at the end of highlighting the financial benefits, has more impact.”

  “You’re right again. I’m glad you’re here. I missed collaborating on w
ork with you.”

  Her gaze aligned with his, and for a few seconds, she experienced the comfortable, easy bond they’d once shared. Longing assaulted her. Robin was right. She needed time to get over him, or she’d spend every sucky moment at her new desk job comparing it to Kingman Partners. “It’s not about being right. It’s about you doing well.”

  “With your help, I’m starting to believe I can.”

  The buzzing of King’s phone cut through the silence.

  He answered it. “Tina. How are you? No. I’m fine. Just a bump on the head. Dinner this Saturday? I need to catch up on work. What about next weekend?” King hobbled to the window on the other side of the room.

  Sophie stabbed at the keyboard. Tina was back in the lineup. Why should she care? Correction. She didn’t. He could do whatever he wanted with whomever he wanted. King and Tina could share dinner, dessert, and more at the condo—or would he bring her to the house? Why did she care? The hint of jealousy pricking at Sophie’s conscience was more irritating than the thought of King and Tina together. She had her own ambitions to worry about.

  He limped back over. “Sorry for the interruption. Where were we?”

  “We’re done.” Sophie saved the document, then ejected the external drive.

  “We still have three hours.”

  “There’s nothing left for us to talk about. I’ll upload the presentation to your cloud account after I make the corrections.” She packed the red bag.

  “Did I do something wrong?”

  “No.”

  He grasped her wrist. “Then why won’t you look at me? Something’s going on. I can feel it.”

  She met his gaze. “I have a lot to do outside of your presentation.”

  “You can work here. I need to get up to speed.”

  “Aiden said I should only discuss the presentation with you. We have.” She stood. “Now I have a lunch appointment.”

  twelve

  SOPHIE ENTERED MEAGAN’S Loft. Recollections swirled in. Nervousness. Awe. She’d experienced that and more when King had brought her to the store for the first time, and most of all, excitement. If only she’d known that living out her fantasy of being with him would come with a substantial price. She’d lost her job and peace of mind.

  Meagan spotted her from the cashier’s station, where she and two sales clerks were checking out customers.

  Sophie returned her wave. After spending time on her own at the office without King’s presence, she’d started to believe she could help Aiden, keep her promise to Robin, and leave unscathed. Working with King at the house, she’d glimpsed the joy of being around him again—but her reaction to hearing him on the phone with Tina that afternoon was a one-two reality slap. The night they’d shared had ruined their ability to work together like they had in the past.

  Robin was right, though. She wasn’t ready for another office gig. She needed to place more attention on making jewelry. It had reawakened the dream she’d abandoned in college. The other day, as she’d sketched designs in bed, she’d allowed herself to imagine devoting her time to pure creativity. Owning a business and doing what she loved—the more she’d contemplated the idea, the more right it felt. The prospect was scary, but it wasn’t like she had to make a decision right away. She had at least four weeks while she worked with King to make up her mind. Honestly, contemplating such a major risk, like teaming up with Meagan, was a welcome distraction from what had happened between her and King.

  As Sophie skimmed through a rack of colorful skirts, the charms around her wrist jangled. Her jewelry designs had a trendy vibe, but the fashions at the boutique were major-league swag. What if Meagan hadn’t been serious and only complimented her bracelet out of kindness? The apple Sophie had munched on during the car ride to the store churned in her belly. She still had time to grab a scarf, or some other accessory that wouldn’t empty her wallet, and sneak out before she made a fool of herself.

  Meagan headed her direction. Too late.

  “Shopping on your lunch break?” Meagan smiled and pointed to the dove-gray skirt in Sophie’s hand. “There’s a plum top that goes perfectly with that on the other rack. Let me show you.”

  “Oh no, I didn’t come to shop.” Sophie hung up the skirt. “I was in the neighborhood. Remember the other night, when you complimented my bracelet and I said I’d make one for you? I thought I’d check in to see what type of charms you wanted, but I see you’re busy.” Not a complete lie. She’d already sketched a draft of what to make Meagan. A fashion-themed piece with onyx dress charms interspersed with jeweled purple stilettos and a single silver purse charm.

  Meagan’s smile widened. “I can spare the time. Let’s go to my office.”

  Sophie followed her to the back of the store. They went through a door next to the private fitting room, where Meagan and the stylist had dressed her that night.

  Three faceless mannequins, swathed in red dresses in various stages of completion, stood in the middle of the utilitarian space. Fashion sketches hung on a corkboard wall to the left.

  An image from childhood of her artist mom in the park drawing flowers on a spiral pad rose up. Her mother would pin the sketches to a corkboard on the wall near an easel in their tiny apartment when they’d lived in Toledo. She’d then use them for inspiration to create her paintings.

  Meagan picked up bolts of red cloth from a purple suede couch on the right. She laid them on a metal work desk at the top of the room near a window. The desk was laden with more rolls of colorful fabric, books, and papers. “Sorry for the mess. I’m finalizing pieces for a new clothing line.”

  A sketch on the board lifted softly with an air-conditioned breeze and fell to Sophie’s feet. She picked it up.

  The drawing depicted a brunette woman wearing a midthigh-length dress with a cinched-in waist.

  Meagan strolled over. “The designs for this line are set up for quick and easy transformations. For instance, with that dress, a pair of stiletto boots and a short leather jacket makes it perfect for a night of clubbing. Switch out the boots for pumps, exchange the jacket for a blazer, and you’re off to work. I’m curious to know, what type of jewelry do you think would go with those two outfits?”

  Images of a necklace, earrings, and bracelets popped into Sophie’s mind. She pinned the sketch back on the board. “Something in gold. I’d also suggest something bolder and heavier with jeweled accents for the evening look, and pieces that are softer and more delicate for daytime.”

  “Spoken like a true creative.” Meagan smiled. “Have a seat. Let me show you the rest.” She snagged a purple portfolio from the worktable, then joined Sophie on the couch. “The collection is called Golden Sun, Silver Moon. The pieces are not only easy to transform from day to night, but they fit together to create multiple ensembles. They’re also lightweight and made with wrinkle-resistant fabrics that can easily be tucked into a bag or even a sizable purse.” She winked. “Let’s be honest. Guys aren’t the only ones who go from a hot night in the bedroom right into the boardroom.”

  In King’s case, it was the boardroom to his love nest with one woman, to a weekend at the beach with another. An endless buffet of sex with no meaning, where the operative words were next and as quickly as possible. Regret pierced Sophie’s heart. She breathed it away and focused on Meagan’s portfolio.

  Swatches of fabric accompanied the sketches. The textures and colors inspired more jewelry designs to emerge in Sophie’s imagination. She itched to have a sketch pad in her hand. Stacked pearl bangles with diamond jewel charms to complement a dove gray. Rose gold to accent a rich green. Colorful, jeweled pieces that would make a sunny yellow ensemble really pop.

  “I know what that look in your eyes means.” Meagan grinned. “You can see it coming together with the right jewelry. Can’t you?”

  “Yes.” Nervousness dried out Sophie’s throat. “The other night, when you asked about my designs, were you serious about wanting to sell my bracelets in your shop?”

  “Very.” M
eagan closed the book and laid it beside her on the couch. “I’ll happily become your first customer if you’re planning on branching out into a business.”

  “I’m considering it, but how can you be so sure that my jewelry is a right fit for your store? You’ve only seen one bracelet.”

  “The detail and workmanship of your jewelry speaks to your creativity and skill. I also have a knack for spotting what works in my boutique. My customers would want other pieces along with your bracelets. You could do that. Right?”

  “Well . . . yes.” Sophie laced her fingers together to keep her hands from trembling. “That’s a lot of jewelry. What if it doesn’t sell as expected?”

  “I understand the fear. I’ve been there, but I believe if you want something bad enough, you can make it a reality. It’s all about what’s important to you. Tell you what—let’s test the waters. I need jewelry for my clothing line. You can create and produce the designs. It’s the perfect low-investment opportunity. This way, we can gauge the demand. If there isn’t any interest, you walk away with a check from me for your time and effort. If the pieces go over big, which they will, you can have something more.”

  Her own jewelry line, just like Robin had said. Butterflies tumbled inside of Sophie. Meagan’s expression grew hopeful as she raised a brow.

  Sophie’s heart beat faster with the urge to say yes. Collaborating with Meagan wasn’t a permanent move from the corporate world. She’d find another real job after she finished with Kingman Partners. In the meantime, though, she could use a distraction to keep her preoccupied while working with King. Even when she left KP International, she could still find a new office position and make a few pieces of jewelry on the side for Meagan. She just wouldn’t volunteer for overtime at her new job—at least, not at first. And she had made that pinkie swear with Robin.