Текст книги "Crush "

Автор книги: Kim Karr

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Текущая страница: 26 (всего у книги 27 страниц)

My eyes focused on my best friend. “I don’t regret the breakup.”

She dropped her hold on my hand and moved to stand in front of me, blatantly blocking my view. “I know you don’t and you shouldn’t. He wasn’t right for you.”

I pursed my lips. “I wasn’t right for him.”

Her face filled with concern. “You weren’t right for each other. So why the sad face?”

I bit my lip in contemplation. “This is the first time I’ve seen him since he brought over my stuff. He looks happy.”

She grabbed my hand and squeezed it. “Good. Now you can stop feeling guilty.”

I nodded.

I wished it was that easy.

She turned on her heels. “Come on, tonight’s the last night we’ll all be together for a long time.”

With a genuine smile forming on my lips, I shifted my eyes to find our friends. Jamie was lounging in a booth on the other side of the VIP section. The neon lights from the disco ball above the dance floor flickered all around him as he took a large gulp of his scotch, maybe trying to wash down the bad taste of the last foreclosure he had to make that put someone on the street.

Emmy was filming him with a video camera, probably wishing she could film the two of them together. When we were younger, she had aspirations of going to Hollywood and being an actress. She settled on home movie production for the time being and brought her video camera everywhere. Her parents held her trust fund over her head to keep her in New York. Soon though, when she turned thirty, she would have complete ownership and then, we were sure, she’d be gone.

Logan was in a deep discussion over in the corner of the bar, about what was anyone’s guess—he never discussed his job or his life. Although a good friend, I knew very little about him. He was the quiet, secretive one.

A lot like me.

But his reasons for remaining quiet were different from mine—mine were internal, the way I felt about myself and this world of ours. His were more external. He’d grown up in two very different worlds and I think he struggled with which one he belonged in.

Danny made me laugh. He was dancing with some guy I’d never seen before. Throwing his hands around like a rapper, more than likely mourning the loss of his freedom. Always the happy-go-lucky one in the group, he’d recently joined the ranks of the employed, sitting beside his father and learning the ropes of the gaming industry that had made his great-great-grandfather billions. Of all of us he had held out the longest. Went on sabbatical after grad school to find himself but when he came back he found himself all right, right beside his tycoon father being groomed to run the family-owned business.

These people gathered here tonight were like my family. We grew up together, went to the same parties, to the same schools, and once upon a time we all hated the life that having money brought. Those days were long over. We’d tried our best to hold on to them, but life took over and crushed those ideals. We had all decided further education was the quickest and easiest way to avoid the family binds that awaited us. Me, it wasn’t the business I was avoiding. I just didn’t care what path I took and where it led. But none of it had mattered because when we graduated, whether it was with an MBA, law degree, or other certification, the family calling was inevitable.

Lily Monroe, textile heiress, was learning the apparel business that had been started by her great-grandfather. She loved to shop, knew clothing well, what fashions worked and what didn’t. She would make a great figurehead for the House of Monroe someday, but running the company didn’t interest her. Her goals were all short-term. She had become the true socialite of the group and hated working more than any of us. Her passion was ballet and what she wanted more than anything was to be a ballerina. But a knee injury in her freshman year at Julliard changed all that, and as time passed, Lily’s dream had too. I prayed Lily would never have to take over the family business like I had, and so did she.

Logan McPherson was the grandson of a hedge fund manager and philanthropist worth an estimated twenty billion dollars. His grandfather was one of the wealthiest men in the city, but Logan never seemed to care and he never discussed money. He was an attorney who spent most of his time in Boston. I knew he was licensed in both states but wasn’t sure if he was practicing in either. No one knew much about his work.

Emmy Lane, publishing heiress, refused to learn what it would take to run a long list of publications owned by her family and because of her resistance, her parents were not on board with her plan to relocate to LA. She hadn’t gotten the big break she was waiting for but she still continued to audition for parts here in the city. Swan Publishing might have been her family legacy but her passion was acting and she still hoped someday she would be a star.

James Ashton, Harvard graduate and real estate heir, acquired his real estate license shortly after grad school and learned quickly how to wheel and deal with the bigwigs.

And Danny, poor Danny just recently settled into his destiny, marking day one of the rest of his life. Danny had choices though. His father was a gaming heir from very old money and his mother was of the European “fast set.” Her family had founded Fiat and led a glamorous life that included elaborate parties, streamlined yachts, fast cars, and luxurious villas. Although Fiat was no longer family owned, he could have joined the board. In the end, he opted for the gaming industry. Churchill Downs was where his training would begin and he’d be based in Kentucky for the next year. He had mixed emotions about leaving the city but since he’d been back and forth for the last two years, what was one more? Well, that’s what he said anyway.

And then there was me. Phoebe St. Claire—heiress to a hotel empire that was crumbling before my eyes.

My great-grandfather bought his first hotel at the height of the oil boom. His father disapproved of the investment but the hotel broke all records and soon my great-grandfather expanded throughout the country, adding hotel after hotel. Just before his death The Saint Corporation, known as TSC, expanded internationally to be the first international hotel chain promulgating a certain worldwide standard for hotel accommodations everywhere. Through the years, the international division was sold off, and under my father’s reign, all that remained were the US operations. As my father’s only child, I always knew I was next in line to run what was left of the hotel empire. It simply happened sooner than I thought. The circumstances only compounded the financial distress of the already vulnerable company.

With a whistle, Jamie held up a bottle of Piper-Heidsieck champagne. Danny and Logan headed toward him and Emmy without any further prompting. Together, Lily and I climbed the steps up to the booth.

Jamie stood and pulled me close to him. “You doing okay today?”

I put my finger to his lips. “We’ll talk later.”

“Dawson’s here.”

“I know,” I said, and glanced over my shoulder toward his table.

If Lily had always been my very best girlfriend, Jamie held the spot as my very best boyfriend. In fact, I think I was always more open with him than I was with Lily. We just had an ease between us.

“My man,” Jamie said turning to Danny. “How was your first day on the job?”

“Fucking sucked. But I expected worse.”

I turned around and hugged him. “Something tells me you loved it.”

Shoulders lifting he said, “I’ll let you know after a month in Kentucky when I’m not under my father’s watchful eye.”

“Phoebe, you made it,” Emmy greeted me with a hug and Logan joined in.

I purposefully moved myself to the other side of the booth so my back was to the center of the room. Nothing good would come of me staring at Dawson all night.

Once we all sat down, James passed glasses to each of us, and then raised his. “Today, we have gathered to mourn the loss of our youth. We were once young, wild, and free but all that remains now is for us to get even wilder. So let’s get fucking drunk.”

“Cheers,” we all said in unison as we clinked our glasses.

An hour later, and after too many bottles of champagne and wine, for what had to have been the twentieth time of the night, we brought our hands to the center of the table. The six of us shared a bond that could not be broken by anyone, and we all knew it. And this time, as our flutes clinked, we said together at the top of our lungs, “Friends forever,” and pressed our glasses to our forehead.

It was a private signal between us. We’d seen each other through so much; no words could describe what we felt for one another. And no one knew any of us like we knew one another. Through thick and thin, united we stood.

Dramatic—yes.

Real—absolutely.

After we finished our toast, I stood on wobbly legs. “Excuse me, I have to use the restroom.”

“Do you want me to come with you?” Emmy asked.

She was nestled close to James and seemed pretty happy right where she was. Some things never changed. “No, you stay put.”

I looked down at my watch. It was only twelve ten, or maybe it was two. Funny, I couldn’t tell which was the big hand and which was the little one.

The stairs nearest to our booth offered me the chance to glance toward Dawson but I had a strange feeling someone was watching me. A silver button on a distressed leather jacket caught the reflection of one of the beams of light flaring down from the twirling disco ball. The leather stood out in a sea of fine fabric suits and sequin dresses but then faded into the crowd. For a moment, a sense of familiarity stirred in my belly. But I pushed the feeling aside and just thought—too much alcohol.

The restrooms were near the back—I’d been here before it changed owners and I remembered. Or I thought I did. I tried to peer through the crowd to locate the bathrooms but the place was way too big to see around the bar or the dance floor.

“Hello gorgeous. Long time no see. I was just coming to say hi,” Lars leaned down and kissed me right on the mouth.

I quickly stepped back, surprised by his close proximity and repelled by the feel of his lips on mine.

He shoved a glass of wine into my hand. “I bought you a drink. Thought we could celebrate . . . you know, moving on.”

I stepped back again.

And when I did, Lars’ eyes widened and his grin was wicked. “Whoa, you look sexy as hell. Did you start celebrating without me?”

I stood as straight as I could, trying to shake off the feeling of bugs crawling all over my body from the prickle of his stare. “No! I’m here to celebrate Danny’s new job.” That wasn’t really the truth, but I wasn’t about to explain to Lars.

“Well, fuck me upside down, but Phoebe it looks like you want to do more than celebrate.”

I considered his comment. My dress was shorter than I’d normally have worn, and the neckline much lower than I’d ever worn. But Lily had bought it specifically for me, for my unwedding day as she called it, and dropped it off that morning. How could I have refused her?

He lifted my chin. “You changed your hair too.”

“I cut it.”

After I broke up with Dawson I needed a change, so I cut my long tresses to just above my shoulders and darkened them a bit at the same time. My once long, wavy, golden blond hair was shorter, darker, and straighter.

My mother hated it. She said it looked like a bob and she detested bobs. I happened to love it. The whole change made me feel lighter, freer.

Lars tugged on the ends of my hair. “You changed the color too. It looks sultry.” He licked his lips. “You look sexy as fuck.”

I jerked my head back and just stared at him. Unsure where he was going with this and not really caring, I just wanted to escape his scrutiny.

“You’ve put some weight on too. Not so skinny anymore.”

I shrugged. I couldn’t control my weight. If I lost my appetite for even day, I looked unhealthily skinny. Everyone thought it was great to have such a high metabolism. But it wasn’t. I had to work at maintaining a healthy weight or my frame looked boylike.

“Has Dawson seen you yet?”

Disbelief clouded my narrowing eyes at the nerve of him. Like my ex-fiancé seeing me looking differently would change anything about our relationship?

My vision began to blur at that point and I knew I had had way too much to drink.

Lars’ mouth was at my ear before I could move away. “Your outfit makes it look like you have curves in all the right places though, don’t worry.”

I thought I might vomit.

Was he for real?

Words flew out of my mouth at lightning speed. “You’re such a dick. Go find some other woman to harass who’s into your kind of foreplay.”

An evil grin formed on his lips. “A dirty mouth too, just the way I like them.”

“You like them anyway you can get them,” I spat back.

Bile rose in my throat and I wasn’t sure if it was his attention or the alcohol causing the sick feeling.

“Feisty,” he grinned. “What was Dawson thinking letting you go? I bet you’re an animal in the sack.”

“Get lost,” I told him and turned to walk away.

He grabbed my wrist. “Now that you’re all worked up, what do you say we get out of here? I won’t tell Dawson.”

I tried to free myself of his grip but he wouldn’t let go.

Someone stepped between us. The distressed leather was the first thing my eyes were focused on when my skin started to tingle with a sense of familiarity. The tingling quickly turned into trembling as my gaze lifted and I saw the bluest of blue eyes.

They were soft, concerned, knowing.

They were the eyes of my past.

It was him.

I was surprised.

I was shocked.

I was mesmerized.

My body started to tremble even more and I downed the glass of wine I had been holding to help calm my nerves.

Still, I couldn’t stop staring. He looked the same. No, he looked better, if that was possible. His hair was shorter but his devastating good looks were even more striking.

This time I knew he was real—he wasn’t a figment of my imagination. Just that one look into his eyes and all the hurt was forgotten. It was as if the last five years had never happened. And we’d just met.

I lost myself in his eyes and I couldn’t stop myself from going back to when we’d first met.

It was the day I came alive.

As an extra, included is a preview of Kim’s very first novel. If you haven’t read Connected, you haven’t met River Wilde. Buckle up and get ready for the ride. It’s one you won’t want to miss!

 

Connected

Next Lifetime

 

We walked through the open door to the University of Southern California Campus Bar and Aerie pulled her tail up. “At least they aren’t playing that Halloween crap in here,” she yelled a little too loudly. As my ears adjusted, I heard a velvety soft voice singing an unfamiliar yet captivating song.

Aerie stopped to put her devil horns on, and I glanced around the large room recognizing a lot of students, while trying to get a look at the band. I shouted directly into her ear, “They sound really good. Have you heard them before?”

She was on her toes trying to see over the crowd. I laughed at how short she was until her pointy devil horn hit me in the eye. “No, but I love their sound,” she responded, still trying to see the stage and almost falling over.

I had been coming here for the last three years and couldn’t ever remember it being so crowded. I could barely see the long wooden bar to my right, and with the mass of bodies bumping and grinding on the dance floor, I couldn’t even catch a glimpse of the stage.

“Do you know their name?” I asked Aerie.

“I think they’re called the Wilde Ones,” she hiccupped and laughed. She winked at me as she started to dance her way toward some friends on the dance floor and yelled over her shoulder, “By the way, I love them! Great name and an even greater sound.”

“I’ll get drinks and meet you out there in a bit,” I said to no one since she was already gone. When the bartender acknowledged me, I ordered two beers, one with ice and one without, and tacked on two shots to help Aerie drown her misery.

The live music stopped and typical Halloween songs were blasted through the speakers. I turned my back to the bar and scanned the crowd for Aerie. You would think she would be easy to spot in her red sequin devil costume. She said she was out for vengeance and if her outfit was any indication, she would be vindicated.

I didn’t see her anywhere but I did spot an attractive guy. He was still too far away for me to zero in on any specific feature, but something—no, everything—about him drew my attention.

I watched how he moved; his confidence captivated me. He seemed relaxed, like he knew exactly where he was going. And as he headed in my direction, I became mesmerized. Biting my bottom lip, I was unable to focus on anything but him. My head was still a little foggy from the three beers I’d consumed earlier and I was clearly not thinking straight when I made eye contact with him, and then slowly studied his body from head to toe.

As the distance between us narrowed, I could see that he was alarmingly attractive: long, lean, and muscular but not bulky. He wore a black beanie hat with his light brown hair sticking out. When I looked into his eyes, they undid me. Although I couldn’t see their color, I could feel their intensity. I almost feared that if I looked into them for too long I might never walk away. His eyes aside, the words handsome and gorgeous weren’t strong enough adjectives to describe this man.

My mind wandered to where it shouldn’t. Knowing better than to compare this guy to my boyfriend, I did it anyway. I felt incredibly guilty, but I couldn’t help myself. Ben was all surfer. He was attractive, hot, and sexy with an ego to match. This guy was equally as attractive, hot, and sexy, but there was something else—something more. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it.

Easing his way through the crowd, he removed his beanie and ran his hands through his hair. When our eyes connected it felt like minutes, but only seconds passed. Suddenly I felt an electric pull forcing me to keep looking at him. Everything I felt indicated he was dangerous. I knew I should look away, walk away, but I didn’t. I couldn’t. He was just too alluring.

He was finally close enough that I could tell his gleaming eyes were green. I was instantly drawn to his smile. It wasn’t a full smile, more like a half grin emphasizing his dimples. His skin was smooth with no facial hair and that made me weak in the knees. His full lips were begging for a kiss. I’d never looked at a guy like this before, not even Ben. So why was I eyeing him this way, and why was I unable to avert my gaze?

Aside from his overall sex appeal, his clothing made him even more irresistible. He wore faded jeans, a black Foreigner concert T-shirt, and black work boots. I had to laugh a little when I saw the concert T-shirt because I was wearing one, too—my dad’s U2 T-shirt, knotted on the side, hanging off my shoulder.

Having made his way through the crowd much better than I had, he was now standing in front of me. His face was breathtaking; he had a strong chin, a small straight nose, perfectly shaped eyebrows, and long eyelashes. He was a vision of utter perfection and I couldn’t help but smile.

The bar was crowded and there was no room on either side of me. Putting both hands in his pockets, he smiled back at me. Then, running his tongue over his bottom lip, he asked in a low, sexy voice, “Were you staring at me?”

I pouted my lips and rolled my eyes. I took a deep breath as I straightened my shoulders and placed my hands on my hips, “No, I was just looking for my friend while I waited on my drinks. You just happened to be in my line of vision.”

He chuckled a little then said, “That look was hot.”

I huffed out a breath and tried not to laugh. Did he really just say that?

When the bartender brought my order and set it in front of me, my phone started ringing in my pocket, but I ignored it as I continued to stare at him. “Why would you think I was looking at you, anyway?”

As the person beside me settled her tab and walked away, he moved to fill the empty space and tossed his beanie next to my drink. His proximity caused my pulse to race and my heart to pound faster. Leaning sideways, he rested his hip against the bar. With his eyes still locked on mine he answered, “Because I was staring at you, hoping you were staring back.”

I looked directly into those powerful green eyes, so full of intensity, and I instantly lost my train of thought. With the electric pull only growing stronger between us, I feared I wasn’t going to be able to get out of this encounter unscathed.

He dragged his teeth across his bottom lip and his eyes scanned my body. The expression on his face told me he wanted to do more than just talk. I wanted to do more as well.

A moment of comfortable silence passed before he cocked his head to the side in the most adorable way and grinned. “With all this talk about who was staring at whom I think we forgot the basics. I’m River,” he said as he extended his hand with the most devilish grin on his face.

Feeling bewitched by him, I put my hand out to shake his but quickly pulled it away. Unfortunately, I also bumped into the person standing next to me and accidentally spilled his beer.

He gave me a dirty look and swore under his breath. River’s grin quickly turned into a frown, and he gently moved me away. In a clipped tone he apologized, “Sorry, man, just an accident, but let me buy you another.”

The now drinkless man with a wet shirt looked at him and nodded. River pulled out his wallet and handed him a ten. “Buy two.” The man took the money and walked away, muttering something under his breath. River immediately returned his attention to me, and I bit the corner of my lower lip and smiled at him.

There we were, standing face-to-face, with only a few drinks separating us. Sliding one of the beers toward him, I took a sip of my own even though the ice had melted. “Thank you, that guy sure as shit wasn’t happy with me. In fact, he kind of acted like an asshole.”

Taking a sip of his drink, he started to laugh, almost spitting it out. Skimming his finger over my bare shoulder, his eyes locked on mine. “You’re more than welcome.”

Quivering from his touch and intense gaze, I took a step back, fearful of where this might lead.

Moving forward, he traced my last step. He was not going to let the distance widen between us. He stared intently into my eyes. “Now, where were we? Do we need to start over?” He waited for my response as he watched me swallow my drink.

I pulled my lower lip to the side with my teeth and smiled playfully. “We were introducing ourselves.”

“Okay, so let’s try again. I’m River and you are? . . .”

“I’m not sure you need to know that information right now. I’m kind of thinking you might be a stalker.”

His eyes widened as he laughed. “You’re not serious—are you, beautiful girl?”

Unable to control my own laughter, I simply said, “Maybe I am,” but my laughter subsided when I registered the sweet name he’d called me.

Leaning toward me, he was close enough that I could inhale his fresh scent. It was a soapy, just-out-of-the-shower smell.

“What? If you’re not going to tell me your name then I get to call you whatever I want.”

Averting my eyes from his gaze, I looked down.

After taking another sip of his beer, he set the mug down. He hooked my chin with his finger and tilted my head up toward him. His touch seared my skin and left it tingling. He stared at me with his intense green eyes and chuckled. “Can we talk about you thinking I’m a Jack the Ripper type? I just want you to know, I’m definitely not. In fact, I think it’s safe to say you were staring at me first, but in no way do I think you’re a stalker.”

My mouth dropped open. I was unsure of what to say. I knew he was right. I had stared first.

“So we can get past this; let’s just say I was staring first. Not that it really matters.”

We were looking into each other’s eyes as the bartender passed me my bill. When I turned to pay for my drinks, our connection was broken. Handing my money to the bartender, I thanked him and told him to keep the change. This distraction gave me some time to think about how to handle this potentially dangerous situation.

I watched River as he ordered two more beers, and realized I had to work out my conflicted feelings. I pushed my guilt aside and handed him one of the shots.

“Cheers.”

“It’s a beautiful day,” he replied before shooting back the shot.

I tried not to show how turned on I was that he had just quoted lyrics from one of my favorite songs.

Setting his shot glass down, he put his hand in his pocket. “So, does this mean you forgive me?”

His voice was strong, but soft, and made him even more tempting. I found myself thinking that he was not only adorable, but unlike anyone I had ever encountered before. I knew I shouldn’t be doing this. I had a boyfriend that I loved waiting for me.

I raised an eyebrow and asked, “Forgive you? Forgive you for what?” I was having a hard time concentrating on the conversation and honestly had no idea what the apology was for.

He shifted on his feet. “You know what. Never mind,” he muttered in my ear. His warm breath brushed my neck and I wanted to feel it everywhere.

Looking me up and down, he changed the subject. “What, no costume?”

Continuing our dangerous flirtation, I glanced down, motioning with my hands from head to toe. “How do you know this isn’t my costume?”

While tugging on my T-shirt and pulling me a little closer, he seductively whispered, “If that’s your costume you’re definitely taking first place in the contest because it’s the sexiest one I’ve ever seen.”

We were silent for a minute; not even our heavy breathing could be heard. The noise from the bar and the crowd around us had quieted, but his words, his touch, they inflamed me, excited me, and sent fire through my veins.

“Where’d you get this, anyway?” he asked, tugging at the knot on my shirt, pulling me closer.

It felt like the room was spinning and I wasn’t sure if it was him, the alcohol, or the fact that he had just asked me a question I didn’t want to answer. “My dad managed the Greek and was a collector of concert T-shirts,” I said, trying to push back the emotions welling up inside me.

He seemed to understand my hesitation before nodding, clearing his throat, and once again changed the subject. “So, have you ever seen Foreigner play?” he asked, now pointing to his own shirt and grinning.

As I looked at the bold white letters across his chest, I pushed aside my sadness and refocused on our conversation. We were just two people who had a lot in common—or at least that was what I wanted to think. When our drinks were gone, he ordered another round. As I finished the shot, I accidentally slammed the glass on the bar, and the bartender glowered at me. “Sorry,” I mouthed.

River reached out and grabbed a strand of hair that had come loose from my ponytail. He very slowly tucked it behind my ear, sending shivers down my spine. Circling his index finger around my ear, he lightly tugged on my lobe. He sparked a fire in me that never before existed.

Gulping the drink I didn’t need to be drinking, I hoped to extinguish the flame. I hoped no one had seen him touch me that way. Ben would be fucking furious. He was ridiculously jealous. We had many arguments about other men, all unjustified. At least until now.

As the strobe lights started to flicker and I leaned my hip against the bar for support, he put his hand on my waist and turned me so my back was against the bar. I wondered if he noticed me almost lose my balance from the flashing lights and drunkenness. Moving to stand directly in front of me, he put his hands on either side of me and pressed his palms into the bar. He was enveloping me, but I didn’t feel trapped. I didn’t know what I felt, but I knew my heart was pounding out of my chest; my stomach was doing flips, and I became light-headed as goose bumps emerged on my skin.

I thought he was going to kiss me as he stared intently into my eyes. I closed my eyes preparing for it but I felt him abruptly pull away. Immediately, I heard a high-pitched voice squeal, “River, don’t forget we’re leaving right after the show,” and before I could catch a glimpse of the girl, she bounced away.

Smirking at me he said, “My little sister has the worst timing.”

I was going to respond when I heard a drumroll echo through the bar. Glancing around, I tried to figure out what it was for. Amused, he rolled his eyes before looking at the stage and then back to me. “That would be for me,” he laughed, leaning in so we were face-to-face. “They want me back onstage. I’ve gotta go unless you’d rather I stay and we finish what we started? Because that certainly would be way more fun.”

I really hadn’t heard anything he said, but everything seemed to finally make sense. He was the voice I heard when I came into the bar. He was so charming, so captivating, and so aware of me. I was pretty sure I was drunk because I was feeling things I should not have been feeling. As I stared into his powerful green eyes, I knew I should’ve been trying to escape them.

Before I could say anything in response, he moved his head slightly back, lifted my hand, and slowly kissed it. Then he leaned into me and whispered in my ear, “Guess not. Not yet, anyway.” My hand was on fire, my ear scorched.

That same drumroll rumbled through the sound system again and he quickly turned his head back to look at me. “I gotta jet.”

He was still holding my hand, as he looked straight into my eyes. “You’ll wait for me until after the show.”

It wasn’t a question. It was a statement. And then motioning between us, he added, “Because this isn’t finished.”

At that moment I realized that what had started as harmless flirting had turned into a situation that had gotten way too dangerous.

He placed his hands back on the bar and waited for a response. Since he hadn’t asked a question that I wanted to answer, I just smiled and said, “If you’re in the band you’d better go, you shouldn’t leave your fans waiting.”