Текст книги "Throb"

Автор книги: Vi Keeland

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“Sleep well?” Leaning casually against the kitchen counter, he eyes me over his mug.

“Like a baby. I was really out.”

“I know. I’ve been up for two hours.”

“What time is it?”

“Eight.”

“You sleep well?”

“Best night of sleep I’ve had in years.” He smiles. It’s a genuine smile, it makes him look so young.

“Working so early on a Saturday?” I sip my coffee.

“Had a few loose ends to tie up. Wanted to get them done before you woke. What time do you turn into a pumpkin?”

My smile fades. “I have to be on set at three.”

“Finish your coffee.” He drains his mug and walks closer. “You sore?”

“Not really.” A little achy, but I keep that part to myself.

“Let’s go fix that. I want you to feel me for six weeks.”

chapter sixteen

Cooper

The morning after a sleepover, I’m usually ready for a woman to leave. I’m not rude or brash about it, but I’ll admit weekday sleepovers are more my thing. No leisure time the next day to spend making post-coital nice. It’s not that I don’t like a woman’s company outside of the bedroom, I do, although I generally prefer that time to be before sex, rather than after.

“Lunch should be here any minute,” I say as Kate comes from the bathroom. Wet hair and a makeup-free face; she grows more beautiful each time I look at her. I glance at the clock again, dreading the minutes ticking by so fast. Why is it that the first woman I want to spend the entire weekend with doing nothing is also the one running on a meter set to expire way too soon?

“Great.” She looks at her watch and back to me. Her face shows as much dread over the ticking away of the moments as I feel.

“I’ll drop you back at your car after lunch.”

She bites her lip. “Would you mind dropping me home? I need to get my bag.”

“Bag?”

“We’re sequestered at the house for a few nights.”

I fail miserably at letting her words roll off of me. My face hardens, jaw clenches down and I open and close my fists.

“Sorry,” she offers apologetically. And it looks like she means it. Oddly, the anger doesn’t make me want to walk away from her. Instead, I get the feral urge to fuck her long and hard again. I’m not oblivious. I do realize it’s most likely the primal urge to mark my territory in the most glaring way I know how. But that doesn’t make the urge any less real.

The intercom buzzes, saving me from myself. I walk to the door and press the button. Lou’s voice booms through the loud speaker.

“You have a guest, Mr. Montgomery.”

“I ordered lunch, you can send him up. Thanks, Lou.”

“Ummm … it’s not lunch. Well, not unless Ms. Laroix has it hidden in her bag.”

Shit. The woman just refuses to take a hint. I glance back at Kate. She lifts her eyebrows, but says nothing.

“Can you please tell her she needs to call the office and get on my schedule?”

“Okay. But she doesn’t like when I send her away.”

That doesn’t seem to stop her though. “Just do it, Lou.” I release the intercom button with a huff.

“I can grab a cab if you have business to discuss,” Kate says with a bit of suspicion in her tone.

“I don’t have any business to discuss with her anymore.”

“Oh,” she says.

“I didn’t mean her visit was personal. I don’t know why she came, I meant.”

Kate tries to shrug it off. “It’s okay. It’s none of my business.”

“We just spent the night together and it’s none of your business why she’s here?” Fuck. I sound defensive.

“I’m sorry. I meant, well … I don’t know what I meant. I guess I meant to say I don’t have any right to question what you’re doing, when I’m heading back to Flynn.”

His name from her lips hurts me, but it comes off more like anger. “I’ll get dressed to drive you back to Flynn.” I slam the door to my bedroom a little too hard.

The silence screams loudly on the ride back to her apartment. I have plenty of things I’d like to say, but what’s the point. Last night was what it was. One night. Six weeks is a long time and who knows where either of us will be then. I should be fine with a night of just sex. Hell, I probably needed one.

“Listen.” We both start speaking at the same time as I pull into a parking spot at her building. “You go first,” I offer.

“I was just going to apologize.”

“Me too.”

“I don’t know what else to say. If things were different …”

“It’s okay.

She leans forward and kisses my cheek softly. “I had a great time last night.”

“Me too. Hope you don’t mind if I don’t wish you luck on your show.”

She smiles. I walk around the car and open the door, offering my hand to let her go, even though I want nothing but. I pull her close and hold her tight, neither of us saying a word.

“Can you be the one to let go of me? Please. I can’t seem to do it.” The strain in her voice is real. As much as I don’t want to let her walk away, the urge to make it easier on her wins out. I kiss the top of her head and release her.

Not quite ready to let her disappear, I watch her walk away until she’s out of sight. An irrational part of me wants to chase after her. Give her the money she needs, even though I have no idea why she needs it so badly.

Patience wearing thin, I call Damian Fry on the way home and bark at him—he has twenty-four hours to get the report I requested on my desk.

chapter seventeen

Kate

I shift on the couch, leaning my weight to the right side, and inwardly smile thinking of Cooper. This isn’t giving in. This is staking my claim. I’ll send you back to him tomorrow if that’s what you want. But you won’t be able to sit without thinking of me for a week. Every time you sit down, you’ll be reminded of what it feels like with me buried deep inside you. Goosebumps break out on my arms just thinking about the words he said.

It’s been two days. He wasn’t kidding when he said he’d make me think of him when I sat down for a week. My body aches, but it’s a good ache, unlike the ache in my chest that keeps me perpetually glum.

“What gives?” Ava asks, plopping herself down next to me. I’m not sure I would still be here if it wasn’t for her. With the selection of the final four looming in less than a week, things have turned from unfriendly to downright vicious. One of the girls actually slammed a shoulder into me this afternoon as I was coming out of the bathroom. She feigned it was an accident, but the glimpse of an evil smile on her face when I fell on my ass assured me it was absolutely intentional.

“Nothing. I’m just tired. Think I might be coming down with something.”

“Well, you look more like someone killed your dog.”

“Thanks. That’s attractive.”

“No problem. Anytime.” She grins.

“At least Flynn won’t have to look at you in the black box.”

“Who thinks of these challenges anyway?” Tonight’s challenge is a test of how in tune Flynn is with the contestants. In a little while, he’ll be alone, seated on a chair, in an empty pitch-black room. Each contestant takes a turn at going in to visit with him for five minutes. No talking or sound of any kind is permitted by the contestant. He must identify them without hearing them. Touching, of course, is permitted. Any contestant who makes even the slightest noise is disqualified. The woman Flynn is able to identify in the least amount of time gets tomorrow’s one-on-one date with him. I’m guessing Miles had a hand in conjuring up this challenge.

“How long do you think it takes for Jessica to make him feel her up?” Ava asks.

“Eighteen seconds.”

Her eyebrows shoot up. “Eighteen seconds? That’s pretty specific.”

“I’m good at these things.” I shrug. “Bet you?”

“I think you have a gambling problem.” Ava smiles.

“Chicken?”

“What are we betting?”

“You have to wear my Chargers t-shirt.”

“That’s cruel. You better not stretch out my Raiders t-shirt if you lose.”

I look down at her boobs and smirk. “Your t-shirt is the only one I could possibly stretch out in this house of breast friends.”

We all gather in the viewing room to watch as the first contestant makes her way into the black box. The camera has infrared viewing, which makes Flynn’s pale blue eyes look more like a jaguar’s hunting its prey in the dead of night. He holds a small square box with buttons that will electronically record which woman he thinks is in the room, as well as the time it takes him to formulate his guess.

Mercedes, the first contestant, closes the door behind her. Crap, I never thought of props. She’s wearing a naughty nurse costume. Her ass cheeks peek out from beneath the white one-piece zip-front uniform, a stethoscope around her neck and a pill-box nursing hat sitting atop a fully teased head of sexy hair.

Hearing the door click shut, Flynn’s head turns in the direction of the sound. “I’m over here,” he says. Mercedes struts in his direction, the clack of her five-inch heels echoing on the tile floor. She stops a few feet from him, unsure of where to go.

Flynn begins to hum softly, the sound of his voice her guiding light in the darkness. She continues toward him slowly until her legs bump into his knees and then he stands. A few minutes pass while we all gawk at the screen, riveted as he touches her. He bends and starts at the bottom. Leisurely running his hands from the tips of her toes to the top of her head. Somehow he avoids being too obscene, skipping over the front of her shirt and swell of her ass in favor of gliding down the curve of her side. The way he moves his hands is incredibly seductive. The breath of a few of the girls watching hitches in unison with Mercedes as he caresses her while humming a sexy rhythm. Eventually, before time is up, he stops and pushes a button. The door opens again and Mercedes is escorted from the dark room.

The last three contestants to go are Ava, Jessica, and then me. Ava comes back after her turn and fans herself a bit. “Seriously. That was incredibly erotic.”

“Been a while since you’ve been felt up, huh?” I tease. But I would imagine she’s right. It’s pretty damn erotic to watch.

“I can’t wait until you go. You’ll see. Something happens when you walk into a silent room that is dark as night and a man’s hands touch you. A man you know is sexy.”

Our conversation trails off as we both gape at Jessica when the door opens. She’s wearing a bikini. The same nipple cover she wore at the last challenge. Only this time, she has the matching g-string bottom on instead of cut-off shorts. She shuts the door and wastes no time making her way to Flynn when his voice dictates the direction she needs to move in.

Flynn stands, his hands reaching for her hips and he finds bare skin. Rather than start at the bottom, as he’s done with all the other contestants, his hands slither to her back and he reaches around, finding a hand full of bare ass. Abruptly, he sits back down and pushes a button.

“You’re going to look great in my t-shirt,” I gloat quietly to Ava as I walk toward the door, where I’m being beckoned to prepare for my turn.

Tonight’s cocktail hour is the usual mix of mean girls on one side of the room, Ava and me on the other. It’s going to be pretty lonely for one of us when the other is sent home. We’ve been nothing but nice to Jessica and her clique, I’m not even sure what I’ve done to alienate them, but their animosity toward me seems to grow by the day.

“You ladies look gorgeous. As usual.” Flynn brings two glasses of wine over to where Ava and I are huddled and offers them to us.

“Thank you. You look pretty good yourself. At least I can see what you look like now.” I smile and sip my wine.

“I can always see what you look like, Kate. Even in the dark, it’s up here.” Flynn taps his finger to his temple with a mischievous grin. “So what do you ladies think? Any guesses on who wins?”

“Jessica,” Ava and I respond in unison.

Flynn smiles, but the now familiar bell calls our attention. It’s time for an announcement of some sort. The three of us make our way to the center of the room where the host, Ryan, is waiting. A television is rolled in once we’re all gathered.

“Ladies. You all got to watch a little of the challenge today. But what you didn’t get to see was your own time with Flynn. Tonight you will each get to watch your own replay. In private. With Flynn. We’ve added some things to the bottom of the screen for your viewing pleasure. On the lower left-hand side, you’ll see a clock. The clock will continue to run until Flynn makes his guess as to which contestant is in the room. But you will have the opportunity to view the full five minutes that you spent with your boyfriend. You will not, however, find out if Flynn correctly identified you. Instead, after your video is viewed, you’ll be given a card with your time to hold up at tonight’s challenge ceremony. Flynn will then give out a flower to each contestant he correctly identified. The constant holding a flower with the lowest time will be the lucky winner of the last, and very romantic, one-on-one date tomorrow night.”

Chatter erupts in the room. “Okay, ladies. Let’s get started. Mercedes, why don’t you join Flynn in the other room and be the first to watch your video.”

**

Jessica squeals as she returns to the group after her viewing. She holds up her sign, waving it proudly over her head. Giant black bold typeface announces how easily identifiable she truly is, even in the dark. Eighteen seconds. Damn, I’m good. “Think I have a matching baseball cap for your t-shirt,” I whisper to Ava before walking toward the viewing room for my turn.

Flynn kisses me on the cheek and pats the loveseat next to him. Even though he’s probably done the same act four times before I walked through the door, he has a way of making me feel like the act is just for me.

Using a remote, he dims the lights in the room, slings his arm around my shoulder and snuggles me close to him as the video begins to play.

On screen, I’m hesitant as I shut the door. The utter darkness was difficult to adjust to, but that wasn’t the reason for my uncertainty. I was more anxious about the man in the chair and what I would feel with his hands on me. His playful voice comforted me quickly with two simple words: “Wanna dance?” I remember thinking he couldn’t possibly know it was me, yet the words made me feel like he did.

I watch the screen, feeling a bit voyeuristic even though it’s me. I make my way to Flynn, his voice guiding me as he hums a song. The same song he sang to me the night he asked me to dance on the balcony. On screen, I smile and walk toward where he’s sitting. Our knees bump lightly as I reach him, and I remember catching my balance as I began to lean forward, thinking I was going to wind up in his lap. But it’s the next part I don’t remember. Before ever touching me, Flynn smiles and presses a button. The clock stops at eighteen seconds.

I squirm a bit in my seat when Flynn’s hands start at my ankles and slowly trace their path up my body. He’s a gentleman, well, as much as anyone can be a gentleman while he feels up a woman in the dark while a camera records the entire thing. But my palms start to sweat when he reaches my hips. On screen, his hands glide over my waist and begin to travel higher. Reaching the side of my breast, the low song he’d been lightly humming suddenly stops. Just in time for the microphone to pick up the distinct hitch of my breath.

Flynn’s eyes turn to watch me, watch us. He knows his touch affected me.

The tension in the room is palpable. I’m glad the ceremony isn’t in the kitchen, because Jessica looks like she wouldn’t mind slicing me into a Kate sandwich she could chew up and spit out. But then Flynn walks to the front of the room and the daggers in her eyes miraculously soften to reverence as she flips her flowing blond locks from her shoulder. The girl could be an actress.

“Ladies. I’m sorry to say that I did not get a perfect score on today’s competition. There are two women who I failed to properly identify. And for that, I apologize to those women.”

Ryan, the host, interrupts. “The flowers that Flynn is about to give out were chosen by Flynn specifically for each woman. Unfortunately, only four of the flowers will be given out.” With all the dramatic flare he can muster, Ryan removes two flowers from the table—a traditional solemn red rose and a cheerful Gerber daisy.

Handing out the first three flowers, Flynn explains his reason for selecting each one as he slips the flower behind each contestant’s ear. Only a white calla lily remains to be handed out, even though there are three contestants not yet decorated—me, Ava and Jessica. Jessica and I have the lowest time, so if either of us receives the flower, we will win the date.

“The calla lily symbolizes purity and innocence, which is why it’s frequently used to celebrate weddings,” Flynn begins. “While I wouldn’t necessarily call this beautiful lady innocent, I thought of her as soon as I saw the flower.” He pauses for a moment. “Kate—this flower is for you.”

There’ll be no avoiding alone time tomorrow on our one-on-one date.

chapter eighteen

Cooper

Stephen Blake is a Hollywood super-agent. He’s the guy who turns down clients who command five million a film just because he doesn’t like the actor’s personality. If actually liking an actor was a requirement for Hollywood agents, I’m pretty sure most of this town would be unrepresented.

“Miriam. It’s good to see you. You still doing all the work and letting Stephen take the credit?” I lean down and kiss Miriam Blake on the cheek as I reach the table the two are already seated at. I immediately notice four place settings before I even sit.

“He still refuses to put my name on the letterhead, even though I closed more deals than he did last year.” Miriam rolls her eyes at her husband. I’ve been stirring the same pot with these two since as far back as I can remember.

“Your name is on the letterhead. Blake. That’s your name, isn’t it?”

“The Stephen Blake Agency is not my name. It should be Blake and Blake. Right, Cooper?”

“Of course, Miriam.” Stephen waves his hand at me, dismissing my encouragement of his wife. The two have been business partners for thirty years, married for twenty-nine. Miriam was also my mother’s cousin.

“So … I invited a friend to join us.”

Of course she did. She always does. No matter how many times I decline her matchmaking services. “A friend?”

“One of the female persuasion,” Miriam says, as if I might not be aware she was going to bring a woman tonight. She’s so focused on marrying me off, I’m honestly not sure if my father told her to see that I marry well or if she just uses that excuse so I don’t decline. Either way, it’s impossible to tell Miriam Blake no, even when you actually say no.

A few minutes later, a woman apprehensively joins our table. “Alexandra, sweetheart,” Miriam greets her as we all stand. She’s stunning. Hair a rich shade of mahogany, flawless porcelain skin, straight nose, full lips and eyes so pale I have to look twice to see if they’re real or contacts.

“Cooper, this is Alexandra Sawyer. She’s just signed with our firm. Another one of my brilliant finds.” Stephen ignores her jab, instead holding up his glass, clanking the lonely ice around in the direction of a passing waiter.

“Nice to meet you, Alexandra.” I pull out her chair for her.

Miriam skips the normal gratuitous small talk in favor of going in for the kill. She dives right into Alexandra’s resume with a hard sell—she moved to California from Greece, speaks four languages fluently, graduated from the prestigious Guildhall School in London …”And she’s single. Imagine that?” Miriam’s an agent; beating around the bush isn’t her strong point. She winks at both of us.

Alexandra definitely hasn’t been in this town long enough. She actually blushes when she catches on to what Miriam is none too subtly hinting at. I’ve grown so accustomed to the bluntness of this town, sometimes I forget how tactless it can be. But her blush makes her seem like a real person. “Ignore her, she has the subtlety of a jackhammer,” I whisper when Miriam excuses herself to take a call. “Would you like a glass of wine? You’re probably going to need it with these two.”

We talk over dinner and drinks for more than two hours. Miriam has tried to fix me up dozens of times, but never with a woman like this. Alexandra is smart, beautiful, poised … the adjectives to describe her are endless. So why is it I’m more interested in talking shop with Stephen than getting to know the stunning—and available—woman?

“You know, Alexandra just accepted a deal with Fox as a correspondent,” Miriam says in an attempt to break up the business discussion Stephen and I have going.

“That’s great. What show?” I say. I’d actually assumed she was an actress.

“Entertainment Fashion Files. I’m doing their nightly style report.”

“Congratulations.”

“It’s not exactly my dream job. But it’s a foot in the door.”

“We had three networks that wanted her. We took a short contract. We know she’s destined for bigger things,” Miriam adds proudly.

I nod and smile politely. The conversation falls awkwardly silent for a moment, so I try to feign interest, even though I really want to grab the check when the next waiter passes by. “What was your project before this one?”

“I was on a reality show,” she replies sheepishly.

“Which one?”

“Mr. Right.”

“Is that one of Miles’s?” I look to Miriam. I can’t keep track of all his reality programs anymore. Well, except for one I may or may not have a bit of a small obsession with.

“No. It was on cable.”

“Was the bachelor a nice guy?” Curiosity gets the best of me.

“Well. He was on the show. Or at least I thought he was.”

“But he wasn’t?” See. I knew my first instinct was right. Flynn is a dickhead.

“It’s just really hard to see a person for who they are in that environment. You see what they want you to see.”

“What did they want you to see?”

“A great guy.”

“Was it a show where the women are eliminated?”

“Aren’t they all?” She smiles resignedly.

“I suppose.” The waiter interrupts and I finally get the chance to ask for the check, but this conversation has definitely captured my attention. “How long did you last on the show?”

“Until the end.”

“You were the winner?”

“If you can call it that.”

“How long until you split up?”

“I found out he was sleeping with the wardrobe person the day after the finale.”

“Sorry.”

“Thanks. But it’s okay. It opened doors for me. I’m just a little embarrassed I couldn’t see the forest for the trees. The producers make it impossible to not get caught up in the moment. They create a fairytale. The problem is, the prince turns into a pumpkin instead of Prince Charming.”

An hour later I’m back home. I didn’t even bother to ask for Alexandra’s number. It made for an awkward departure, but leading people on was never my thing. She’s beautiful, yet it’s not her face I keep replaying in my mind from tonight. The producers make it impossible to not get caught up in the moment. Her words echo in my head, over and over.

I can’t stop myself from picking up the DVD. It’s been sitting on the dining room table since the doorman handed it to me on the way back from my run this morning. I woke up thinking about Kate, thought the run would help me clear my mind. No such luck.

Now the damned thing is taunting me. The labeled jewel case is like a magnet to my eyes. I stalk through my apartment to find something to busy myself with, but it’s no use. My eyes constantly flicker back and forth. Settling in on the couch after a shower, I grab the paper and force my mind into the business section. The table is in sight from the corner of my eye. Like a child unable to control himself, I actually have to raise the newspaper so the case is out of view. I read the same paragraph three times anyway.

Goddamn it. I should tell Miles to stop sending the dailies. But I won’t. Because I’m pussy-whipped obsessed with a woman who is dating another man.

I curse myself as I angrily swipe the case from the table and head to my laptop.

Dickhead comes on screen first. He’s being interviewed by the host alone.

“So, Flynn, you’ve got a pretty big decision coming up. The final four—overnight dates. You’ve got to have some strong feelings for these ladies to pick them at this point. Tell me, are you struggling with your choices? What’s going on in that head of yours right now?”

“Well, Ryan. You’re right, I am struggling, but probably not for the reasons you think. I do have some strong feelings, but some of the ladies, well, one in particular, I can’t read where her head is at.”

“You don’t think your feelings are being reciprocated?”

“I’m not sure. It’s hard to tell. She’s incredible, but I feel like she’s still holding back.”

“And why do you think that is?”

“That’s the struggle. Sometimes I feel like I haven’t penetrated her heart the same way she has mine. But then there’s these other times … when she opens up and we have these incredible moments and I think she feels it too. Those times, I wonder if the camera is what’s holding her back.” It’s not the camera, Dickhead.

“Tough choice. So how do you decide if she should be in the final four?”

“Oh. That’s the only one I’m sure about. There’s no doubt I’m picking her to go to the final four. There are no cameras in the overnight suite. A night alone is exactly what the two of us need.”

I slam my laptop shut so hard, the screen cracks.