“I like that.”
“What about you? Anything you don’t want me to do?” He asked as she turned the shower off and handed him one of her big fluffy towels, taking another one for herself. “Nice towel,” he mentioned offhand.
She didn’t answer immediately; instead she folded her towel in half, then in quarters, the long way. He watched her curiously. She raised the towel to her eyes. A knowing grin broke across his face for having gotten her charade.
“Got it. No blindfolding.”
She returned to drying off. “I just like to be able to see, that’s all. Blindfolding is the only thing that I’m not wild about. And it’s not because I have some terrible past with trauma about blindfolding. But the thought of it makes me feel a bit too vulnerable, and for a woman with trust issues, well, I’m not sure it’s the best kind of kink for me.”
She hung up her towel on a hook and he did the same.
“There are many other forms of kink that I’m happy to try with you, Julia,” he said, then reached for her hand and led her back to her bedroom. Once they slipped under the covers, he wrapped his arms around her, then brushed her hair away from her ear. “I guess I’ll just have to imagine then how you’d look with my tie over your eyes, wearing nothing but stockings, sitting in a chair and touching yourself while I watch.”
She craned her neck to give him a curious stare. “Is that your fantasy?”
He nodded. “It is one of many.”
“Maybe someday, handsome. Maybe someday.”
“I have another fantasy,” he murmured softly in her ear, tugging her closer as they spooned.
“What’s that?” she asked.
“Falling asleep with you in my arms.”
“I think that’s about to become your reality.”
“Lucky me.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
The pancakes were as delicious as she’d promised. With breakfast finished, they walked past a block full of graffiti art and consignment shops in the Mission district. An up-and-coming neighborhood full of hipsters and Internet startup folks, the shops here bore the evidence of the clientele, but there was an element to these few blocks that bothered him. He didn’t like the idea of her living in a neighborhood still plagued with crime and trouble, even if the numbers were improving. She was an independent woman though, and it wasn’t his place to criticize where she lived.
“You like living here?” he asked, keeping the question casual.
“Sure,” she said with a laidback shrug as they sidestepped a sleeping homeless man. “There’s a kickass bakery a few blocks over, some fabulous coffee shops, and lots of boutiques that my sister loves, so I get to see her more often.”
“Maybe we should all do something next time I’m in town,” he suggested, and couldn’t deny the touch of nerves in his chest. Last time he’d asked for something more, she’d gone running. But maybe dinner with her sister was something she could handle.
“I would love that,” she said, and his nerves departed with her simple answer. “And you’re going to love Chris. He’s the best.”
“I’m looking forward to meeting him in person,” he said, checking the time on his watch, “in about twenty minutes.”
“Let’s get your bag so you’re not late,” she said as they turned onto her block, passing a vintage clothing shop a few doors down. His driver waited in a town car by her building. Clay gave him a quick wave, then headed to her third-floor apartment. Her cell phone was still on the kitchen counter. She’d left it there all morning, and he’d been grateful to have her undivided attention, a luxury he’d rarely had with Sabrina. He grabbed his suitcase and tapped her metal table. “Good table. That’s a keeper.”
“I was planning on framing that table because I love what we did on it so much,” she said, and then led him back down the stairs and out of her building.
She stopped in her tracks and cursed under her breath. “Fuck,” she muttered, and ran a hand through her hair.
“What is it?” he asked, and his shoulders tightened with worry. He zeroed in on her eyes then followed her line of sight to a large man built like a slab of meat pacing a few feet away. The man had black hair, with a white streak down the side. He was scanning the street, and very quickly set his eyes on Julia.
Instantly, Clay reached for her, draping an arm protectively around her. He turned to look at her, holding her gaze tight with his own. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” she said in a thin voice as the freight-train-sized man walked toward them.
“You know him?”
“Sort of,” she said, as she pressed the tip of her tongue nervously along her teeth.
“Julia,” the man barked as he reached them. “You don’t answer your phone? Is everything okay?” He sounded strangely concerned, almost paternal, and that irked Clay.
“I was out to breakfast,” she said through tight lips. Clay glanced from Julia to the man and back, wanting to know who the hell he was and why he was talking to her like he owned her.
“Charlie needs you tonight.”
Julia didn’t answer him.
“Julia,” Clay asked carefully. “Who’s this?”
The man held out a hand, flashed a toothy smile. “I’m Stevie. Who are you?”
Before he could answer, Julia squeezed his arm tightly, some kind of signal, it seemed, then started talking. “This is Carl. Carl and I met last night at the bar. He’s just heading home now.”
She shot Clay a pleading looking, asking with her eyes to go along with the lie.
“Nice to meet you, Carl,” he said, and out of the corner of his eye, Clay noticed a bulge by the man’s shins, as if a hard, square barrel of a gun were held safely in place with an ankle holster. Clay didn’t have a clue who this man was or why he was packing, but blood rushed fast through his veins, adrenaline kicking in as he quickly cycled through escape routes for the two of them if he pulled it. Down the block, into the building, behind the car. Or better yet, Clay could move first if he needed to. He could take this man; Stevie was big and slow, and Clay had speed on his side. A quick, hard jab to the ribs would double him over, giving them time to get away.
“Likewise,” Clay said, calling on his best acting ability. He had no idea why she needed him to lie, and he didn’t like it one bit, but he wasn’t going to make things worse for her in the moment. Papa bear attitude or not, the man had thug or dealer written all over him.
Dealer.
Once that notion touched down in his head, he couldn’t unsee it or unhear it. It was déjà vu all over again. The sidewalk felt shaky, and the stores on the other side of the street seemed to fall in and out of focus. His chest tightened, and his heart turned cold as if she’d just shoved him into a walk-in freezer.
“When you don’t answer,” the man said, tilting his head, and explaining in a gentle voice that didn’t match his size or his weaponry, “Charlie gets worried.”
“I’ll be there,” she said, and her voice was strained, her body visibly wracked with fear
The man nodded, seeming satisfied with her answer. “I will tell him. See you later. And nice meeting you, Carl.”
He walked away, his big frame fading down the block. Clay turned to her. “What was that about? Why did you tell him we met at the bar last night?”
Something dark and sad clouded her eyes. “I don’t want him to know who you really are.”
“What the hell, Julia?” he asked, his heart still thumping fast and furious. He took a deep fueling breath. “He. Had. A. Gun.”
“I know,” she said in a broken whisper, a guilty look in her eyes.
“What kind of mess are you in?” he said, holding his hands out wide.
“I can’t tell you. You just have to trust me on this. I couldn’t say anything about you or use your real name or anything.”
“Because?” he asked, annoyed as hell now because she was giving him no reason to think this was acceptable. Lies were never acceptable.
“Just because.”
/>
“Who are these people, Julia? Why does Charlie need you tonight, and why does Stevie carry a concealed weapon?” He wished he were in a courtroom because he usually knew the answers to the questions he asked. Now he was swimming blind, without a clue as to his direction.
“There’s something I have to help Charlie with,” she said, and it was one of the most dissatisfying answers he’d ever heard, and it left an acrid taste in his mouth. He was ready, so damn ready to get the hell out of town. A knot of anger rolled through him, but then he swallowed it away, because there was that image burned in his brain—the outline of a gun. And if you weren’t the one carrying the gun, you were usually the target. Julia was in danger, and he couldn’t abide by that.
His feelings for her ran too deep to just walk away.
He needed to do everything he could to get her out of the line of fire. He softened, cupping her shoulders. “If you’re in trouble, let me help you,” he offered, doing his best to let go of his past with Sabrina and to trust the woman in front of him, especially after last night and how she’d seemed to finally open up. “If there’s something going on, I want to help you. I know my way around.”
“I can’t. I have to do this on my own.”
“Why?” he asked, the word strangled in his throat.
“You have to trust me on this.”
“You’re making it awfully hard to trust you,” he said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
Her lower lip quivered. “I know,” she said, and her voice was starting to break.
“Tell me,” he said, pleading now. “Tell me what is going on. Tell me what they want from you. What they have on you. I’m a goddamn lawyer, Julia.”
“Clay,” she said, softly, pushing back. “You negotiate deals for actors and directors.”
He exhaled sharply, not liking the way she’d put that. “Yes, that’s what I do, and I’m damn good at it. That means I know how to solve problems, and I also understand the fine nuances of how people interact, and when you— ” He stopped talking to point at her “—lie to someone who’s carrying a gun, that’s a problem. And I want to help solve that problem, if you’ll let me.”
She worried away at her lower lip, and he wanted to gently kiss her fears away and tell her it would all be fine. But he had no way of knowing that, because she’d given him no reason to put faith in her words.
“I appreciate that. You have no idea how much. But I can’t let you do it.”
“Can you give me a reason why? Because every instinct inside of me is telling me to walk away and not look back. You told me last night not to worry, and now I am worried, because whatever trouble you’re in is looking bigger and bigger. So why won’t you let me help you?”
She squeezed her eyes shut, so tight and hard as if she were in pain. Then she opened them, and it was like looking in a mirror—her eyes were etched with the same kind of desperation he felt. The problem was, she held all the cards, and he didn’t even know what game they were playing.
“I just need you to trust me. That’s all. I need you to. I swear I need you to.”
He ran his fingers gently through her hair, wanting, wishing to be able to do this with her. To go all in. But the moment was far too familiar, and it felt like a flashback to his worst times, especially when she grabbed his arm hard. “Please,” she said.
He’d been here; he’d seen the same routine from Sabrina, begging him to believe her, pleading with him to see that she wasn’t hopped up on pills. Claiming she was getting help, when she was really selling off her purses and jewelry to buy more drugs. He has no idea if Julia was buying drugs, or shaking off a past as a stripper, or hiding some other dark secret, because she wouldn’t say. She wouldn’t give him the courtesy of the truth. That left him with one cold, hard fact—she was lying. Whether directly or by omission didn’t matter. She wasn’t being honest.
And that both hurt and pissed him off.
His veins felt scrubbed raw with a scouring pad as he gently, but firmly, peeled her hand off his arm. He didn’t need this in his life again. He had business to take care of for his clients, and he couldn’t risk the chance of another fucked-up relationship with a trouble-laden woman distracting him from his job.
Julia was perfect and captivating, clever and sexy, and tattooed head-to-toe with the warning sign that read trouble ahead. Good thing he’d seen it now before he went in too deep.
“I can’t do this Julia,” he said, grabbing the handle of his suitcase. “I need to go.”
He shut the car door hard behind him, locking it, as if that would keep thoughts of her at bay. He couldn’t risk letting a deal slip through his fingers again, and certainly not over a woman messing with his head, and his heart. There was one choice for him now.
He’d have to find a way to forget her, hard and fast.
* * *
She dug her heels into the ground, imagining weights pinning her down, preventing her from doing what she desperately wanted to do.
Go after him.
She bit down hard on her bottom lip. Something, anything so she wouldn’t shout his name, chase the car down the street, bang her fists on the metal, and beg him to roll down the window so she could tell him that she wasn’t lying; she was protecting him.
But she couldn’t live with the chance that he’d become a target too.
She wanted him in her life, wanted him with every ounce of her being. But seeing him hurt would be worse. She sank down on the cold concrete steps of her building, crumpled in a mess. Like her whole damn life, and her stupid heart too. A heart that ached for the man she’d fallen hard for, and had to let go.
Julia and Clay’s story continues in After This Night...
AFTER THIS NIGHT
Book #2 in the Seductive Nights series
ABOUT
AFTER THIS NIGHT
“Let me control your pleasure.”
Their world was passion, pleasure and secrets.
Far too many secrets. But Clay Nichols can't get Julia Bell out of his mind. He's so drawn to her, and to the nights they shared, that he can't focus on work or business. Only her. And she's pissing him off with her hot and cold act. She has her reasons though–she's trying to stay one step ahead of the trouble that's been chasing her for months now, thanks to the criminal world her ex dragged her into. If only she can get out of this mess, then maybe she can invite the man who ignites her back in her life, so she can have him–heart, mind and body.
He won't take less than all of her, and the full truth too. When he runs into her again at her sister's wedding, they have a second chance but she'll have to let him all the way in. And they'll learn just how much more there is to the intense sexual chemistry they share, and whether love can carry them well past the danger of her past and into a new future, after this night...
The sequel to the sensual, emotionally-charged erotic romance, Night After Night, from the New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author Lauren Blakely...
This book is dedicated to Gale, who listens to my
stories, and helps shape them. You are indispensable
to me, and I am so glad our paths crossed.
CHAPTER ONE
The dress was so perfect it brought a tear to her eye.
“He’s going to have the breath knocked out of him when he sees you walking down the aisle,” Julia managed to say while wiping her hand across her cheek.
Her sister, McKenna, twirled once in front of the three-way mirror at Cara’s Bridal Boutique deep in the heart of Noe Valley, admiring the tea-length dress she’d picked for her wedding in a few weeks. The dress was pure McKenna, down to the flouncy taffeta petticoat underneath the satin skirt.
“It’s so playful and pretty at the same time,” Julia said.
“Speaking of pretty, do you like your dress still?”
“Of course,” she said with a wide-eyed smile, gesturing to the sleek black maid-of-honor dress she wore that McKenna had picked for her.
“It’s tot
ally you. I wanted you to have a dress you could wear again. Maybe to a date? A fancy night out?”
The words fell on her ears with a hollow clang. Because she could no longer wish for a night out with the man she wanted terribly.
Clay had left her that morning on the streets of San Francisco, ending their brief love affair and driving away in his town car. She couldn’t fault him for taking off. She couldn’t give him what he wanted—an end to her secrecy. That’s what Clay needed more than anything. More than her body, more than their chemistry, more even than their endless nights together. She couldn’t tell him the truth about why she’d lied to the guy with the gun who’d been waiting on her doorstep that morning when they had returned after breakfast. What could she say? He’s the mob heavy who’s been assigned to me to make sure I pay off a debt that isn’t even mine? If she told Clay, he’d be a target too, because that’s how these men operated: they circled you, ensnaring you on all sides until the people you loved fell into their crosshairs, too.
That’s why she’d claimed Clay was just some guy she’d met in a bar, rather than a high-profile entertainment lawyer with an even higher-profile list of clients. She wanted to protect his identity and keep him out of the line of fire.
“And I will wear it again. Again and again. I promise,” she said, tugging McKenna in for a warm embrace, even though she had no idea when or where she’d wear this number.
After they stepped out of their dresses, McKenna paid the final deposit on both, plunking down her credit card on the counter without a second thought. Julia felt a sliver of envy for the ease with which her sister could navigate matters of money. Shrewd businesswoman that she was, McKenna had turned her fashion blog into a fashion empire. If she’d owed a big, fat debt, it could be paid off instantly from her flush savings account. If she asked, McKenna would pay Julia’s debt too, handing over the dough in a heartbeat. But she wasn’t going to attach her sister to this problem because that’s how it became hers in the first place—when it was passed on to her, like a disease.
Seductive Nights Trilogy Page 18
