Читать книгу The Dare Collection August 2019 - Christy McKellen - Страница 16

A FEW DAYS later I’m working on some last-minute preparations at the Faulkner, and, despite the fact that it’s Sunday and not only is Reid unlikely to be working, but is even less likely to walk into the hotel where I’m occupying the deserted seating area with my laptop, my eyes stray to the front doors every five minutes.

I close down my emails, stretching out the kinks in my back and recalling the astounding night I spent in Reid’s bed—the very reason said kinks are there in the first place. Wow, did I get more than I’d asked for? Talk about overachieving... As I’d known he would be, Reid was as phenomenal between the sheets as he is at the Faulkner helm. It took two days before I stopped feeling the after-effects between my legs, not that the erotic dreams prolonging the experience even while I sleep show any sign of abating.

I stare at the insipid watercolour prints on the walls, my gaze blurring out of focus as I contemplate what other fantasies I can request. I might have to come up with one or two fresh ones, perhaps even a bit of kink, just to keep him on his toes... Don’t want him becoming complacent, have him thinking he’s too good, especially as he seems to have embraced my teasing him about our age difference.

The only downer was when he gently probed about Josh. I opened up to him where I’ve barely told anyone—friends or family—the full details of the split. A surge of acid burns my chest, reminding me I’m not quite as over his betrayal as I’d assumed. But I’ve worked so hard to put all that behind me, to focus on rebuilding what Josh stole and move on, there’s no way I’m allowing what I have with Reid to be tainted.

Thinking of Reid’s well-endowed prowess drags my mind off into fantasy land again. Which is presumably how I miss his approach.

‘Off in your imagination again, I see.’ His scent envelops me, warm and spicy, and his breath ruffles my hair. I stand, concealing the instant incendiary effect he has on my body with boring old fright as I clutch one hand to my chest. I hide my delight at seeing him, although it makes my breath catch.

‘Sorry,’ he says. ‘I didn’t mean to make you jump. I thought you’d seen me come in.’ His smile kicks up one corner of his mouth and I wish he’d kiss me, remind me of the exhilarating thrill I feel every time we touch, but he stays at a distance designed to leave me achy and craving.

‘No... I was...working.’ Then an alarming thought occurs—perhaps he’s done. Perhaps one night was enough for him. Perhaps we racked up enough orgasms between us that he’s reached his casual threshold. I probe my own feelings, nowhere near done with him. I have years of yearning and crushing to sate. I’ll just have to convince him to play out a few more fantasies...

He glances down at the blank screen of my laptop, one eyebrow arched. ‘Ah...work...that’s what we’re calling it these days. More like daydreaming...off in fantasy land again?’ He grins as if he has a front-row seat to every graphic play-by-play in my head—as he pretty much does, because I’ve told him—his eyes dark with his particular brand of intensity, seemingly equipped with laser beams, for all the protection my clothing offers.

I breathe a sigh of relief—he’s not done yet either.

The teasing tone of our banter reminds me how much we laughed together on the ride back to my place after the incredible night of mind-blowing sex. Reid has a tinder-dry sense of humour, with glimpses of self-deprecation that make me want to snuggle up to the massive man, as ridiculous as that sounds. It’s then that I register he’s wearing a grey T-shirt and relaxed black jeans. It’s been years since I’ve seen him in anything other than a suit. He looks edible, and I can’t help the shudder that originates in my core and passes through my entire body. Because I know what he looks like under those clothes—his big frame covered in toned muscle and a manly smattering of dark hair. I know what he’s packing beneath his fly—the biggest, most beautiful cock I’ve ever seen. And no matter how naively I believed this would just be sex, neatly compartmentalised sex, things can never go back to the way they were between us. Because I’ve experienced forbidden, and it has the potential, if unchecked, to ruin me.

‘Why are you working on a Sunday?’ he asks, his hands slung casually in his pockets, dragging my willing eyes south.

‘I’m just catching up on last-minute checks, and ensuring everything is ready for tomorrow. You’re here too,’ I counter his gentle reprimand.

He steps closer and I glance around. We’re still occupying a professional or friendly space, but the air is tense as if any second one of us could close the distance, reach out and touch, making it clear to anyone who noticed that we’ve crossed a line and can no longer be considered acquaintances or even friends.

‘I’m meeting my family for lunch. They’re moments behind me.’ He looks down at my hand hanging by my side, and I wonder if he intended to reach for it but stopped himself. My fingers twitch, the entire limb taking on an awkward, alien quality as if I’m a shop mannequin that’s been posed in an anatomically impossible position, because I wish he’d taken my hand.

Of course. It’s Sunday. Faulkner family tradition.

I look past him, my stomach trying to outrun my heartbeat. His family—Graham, his brothers—they’ll be here any minute. See us together. Will they be able to tell what we’ve done? To see that we’ve crossed the line, left it far behind in the rear-view mirror? Will they think less of me? Still see me as the once mopey teen who’d traipsed after her father and mooned at the eldest Faulkner brother from afar? Will Kit and Drake doubt my capabilities, having known me as a youngster?

‘How is Graham today?’ His eyes are clear of the vulnerability he wore when he told me about Graham’s diagnosis and his split from Sadie, so I mentally cross my fingers that Graham is having a good day.

‘He’s fine, I believe.’

But there’s no time for further discussion because the Faulkner clan arrive en masse—Graham, Reid’s brothers and two women I assume are their partners, the hotel foyer at once full of easy chatter.

I busy myself, closing my laptop and stowing it in my bag, while the family, all casually dressed but still elegant, assemble around Reid. But I can’t hide for long.

‘Blair—how are you?’ Kit recognises me immediately and swoops to kiss my cheek, his arm possessive around a striking, heavily pregnant brunette. ‘Mia, this is an old friend of the family, Blair Cameron—you’ve met her father, James.’

‘Lovely to meet you.’ Mia pushes the hair from her flushed face, glowing in the way only a pregnant woman can.

We’re joined by Graham, and I search his still handsome face for signs of confusion or recognition with a heaviness in my chest. Will he know who I am today? Reid and Kit seem to stiffen in unison.

‘Good, so we’re all here—let’s head into the restaurant.’ Graham smiles at me and clasps my shoulder with a warmth that leaves me floundering.

I glance at Reid and clutch my laptop bag before me, my feet itching to shuffle towards the exit.

Drake, Kit and the others head towards the hotel’s restaurant and Graham places his hand in the centre of my back and encourages me to follow.

My mouth opens and closes without my saying anything. What should I say?

Reid leans close and whispers, ‘Are you free? Care to accompany us for lunch?’

‘I...’ I stare, my eyes hopefully conveying my indecision. Am I being included as Sadie, or Blair, and won’t the rest of the family think my presence odd?

‘Of course she’s coming. She’s going to be joining the family soon,’ says Graham.

So Sadie it is.

It’s a beautiful day, but goose pimples form on my exposed arms as we enter the sun-filled dining room. Reid must sense my hesitation because he winks at me and smiles.

‘Don’t be nervous—if he remembers who you are, he’ll still be delighted you’re here. Come on—it’s lunchtime. We can’t have you working too hard.’ He grins, drawing out my answering smile.

Graham heads to the table and pulls out a seat for Mia. I grip Reid’s hand, stalling. ‘What will Drake and Kit think about me being here?’

He frowns. ‘They won’t care either way. You’re a family friend who’s also working for us.’ He smiles then—not the polite, open smile of acquaintance or friend, but the secret, intimate smile of a lover—and I follow him to the table, reluctantly accepting my fate.

Reid pulls out the seat next to Mia, who smiles my way.

‘When is the baby due?’ I ask.

Mia collapses back in her chair as if she finds the mere effort of thinking about the baby’s arrival in this heat exhausting. But she smiles, accepting the attentions of Kit, who kisses her and fills her water glass. ‘Two weeks. I’m totally over it. So, tell me about your plans for the hotel? I love the old-world charm of the Faulkner, but I can’t wait to see the place modernised.’

On my other side, Reid leans in, joining the conversation. ‘I’ve already vetoed the lime-green paint.’ His hand settles on the back of my chair, the intimate gesture making me freeze—one, in anticipation of his touch, and two, in case anyone else at the table notices. Reid offers me a playful wink, but from the corner of my eye I catch Kit’s startled expression and the wide-eyed look he shares with Mia.

Heat creeps up my neck, my stomach griping with embarrassment so my appetite completely vanishes. Has Reid discussed our sex-only relationship with his brothers? Do they disapprove? I’m younger than Kit. I’m probably younger than Mia. I know we joke, but is it really a problem for him? And does Reid share his brother’s reservations now he knows how foolishly trusting I was in my relationship? What would he do if he found out I was just as naive with my business too?

My body floods with the shame of a thousand stares.

I fake-bristle at Reid’s comment to keep the conversation light and away from questions on the nature of our non-relationship relationship. ‘Lime green, or chartreuse, as it’s properly known, makes an excellent statement colour and can look stunning in a bedroom when teamed with fuchsia and orange.’ I cast Reid a pointed look. ‘But you’re right, it is a more...youthful choice.’

Mia smiles, in no way trying to hide her amusement at Reid’s expense, not that he seems in the least perturbed that we’re mocking him—in fact, he’s grinning. ‘I love chartreuse,’ she says. ‘I’ll have to invite you over when you’re free—we haven’t had time to decorate the nursery yet, not that I’m worried because babies can only see a foot in front of their face for the first few weeks. Perhaps while you’re there, you could look over the entire house—I’d love to knock down a wall or two in the living space to let in more natural light, and Kit has a serious love affair with beige.’ She offers Kit a sickly sweet smile, which he simply grins away, an indulgent look on his face.

I give Mia a nod of encouragement, wondering how much Reid has told his brothers about my designs for the Faulkner. Do his comments on paint colour hide a veiled truth? Does he really hate my designs, and why do I care when I didn’t a few days ago? Unease and doubt build, crushing me until I feel small, an outsider in this room full of people who love and accept each other and have their lives all worked out.

Why am I here? Why did Reid invite me? And why has sex changed everything?

I struggle through the rest of the meal, exhausting my supply of small talk, although the Faulkners make easy companions.

We’re just finishing a dessert when the thing I’ve most been dreading happens.

‘So, Reid,’ asks Graham, ‘are you taking the beautiful Sadie here to the LHA gala next weekend?’

A collective hush falls over the table as everyone realises Graham’s mistake. My stomach twists and I’m frozen, my dessertspoon hovering in the air. My skin crawls and my heart clenches for him, because the damage is done. Graham looks around the table at the expressions of his family, his own face turning dusky and a stricken frown of bewilderment dipping his brows.

Drake recovers first, prompting the conversations around the table to resume. ‘Reid hates the London Hoteliers Association functions, Dad, as well you know.’

Reid shifts beside me, but I pipe up. ‘That meal was delicious, Graham. Thanks so much for inviting me. I...um, I noticed a chessboard in the foyer—would you like to play?’

Graham nods, his face brightening. ‘Of course, I’d love to.’ Graham winks at me, and I feel Reid relax. ‘I’ll set up the board, my dear.’ He leaves the table, still fit and agile and the apparent epitome of health.

I stand too, my heart heavy for the Faulkners.

Reid catches my wrist. ‘Thank you.’ The sombre look on his face, mirrored in both Kit’s and Drake’s expressions, is difficult to witness. I nod, too unsettled to speak, and wander out in search of a bathroom.

While I wash my hands my head replays the past hour, my concern for Graham’s condition and Reid’s obvious worry, which was evident in the number of times he slid his eyes his father’s way during the meal. The uncertainty over Graham’s prognosis and his bouts of confusion are taking a toll, perhaps the reason Reid seems both distracted and overprotective of the Faulkner. But at least I can help with the latter, manage the renovations as smoothly as possible and to the agreed time frame, releasing Reid from at least one burden. It’s the least I can do and, although we’ve never been friends, perhaps we can be when this is over.

From the little I know of dementia, it’s a progressive condition, so Graham is unlikely to improve. He’s so young. Will he forget his sons as he’s forgotten his ex-daughter-in-law and me? What will happen if he worsens and can no longer live alone?

I emerge from the bathroom minus any answers and head in the direction of the foyer to find Graham. Halfway there, I’m drawn to a halt by familiar voices coming from a quiet seating nook just outside the dining room. Nothing good ever comes of eavesdropping, and I’m about to walk on when I hear mention of my name.

‘Blair Cameron—what’s going on?’ says Kit.

There’s a pause filled only by the sound of my blood whooshing through my head and the metallic taste of apprehension.

‘Dad saw her in the foyer and invited her to lunch.’ Reid’s voice—measured. Careful. ‘They’re quite close, by all accounts.’

I blink, my eyes hot. We are. Were, when Graham could remember me.

‘I’m not talking about that. Are you seeing each other?’ asks Kit.

Drake chuckles. ‘Sleeping with the competition—didn’t know you had the balls, big brother.’

I cover my mouth to stifle my gasp. Is that how Reid sees me? An adversary? Someone not to be trusted? Someone out to ruin his beloved hotel with lime-green paint? I’d assumed that was a joke. I know he’s been hurt by Sadie, but the confirmation he expects so little of me and Cameron Interiors feels like a slap in the face after the vow I just made to ease his worry over the renovations.

Reid’s growl of irritation echoes through the wall. ‘Since when have you cared who I sleep with? It’s none of your damned business—either of you.’

‘Hey,’ splutters Kit. ‘Don’t get defensive—we’re just surprised that it’s her, of all people.’

‘Why? Because she’s so much younger than me?’ says Reid, with only the tiniest pause before he continues. ‘Aside from what she does professionally to our hotel, my relationship with Blair Cameron has nothing to do with either of you.’

He, like me, must have seen the look of judgement on Kit’s face earlier at lunch. Perhaps he’s embarrassed to be caught out by his brothers. Perhaps he thinks someone younger can’t be professionally as successful. And personally? Does he see my naivety with Josh as a barrier to taking me seriously as potential relationship material? Not that we’re going there, but neither do I want or need a pity fuck.

Drake’s voice turns sober. ‘We’re not prying into your private life, but since when have you brought someone to lunch? It’s...heartening.’

‘Don’t read too much into it.’ Reid’s bored tone grates on my eardrums, and I want to interrupt and tell his brothers not to worry, that the eldest Faulkner is a great lay and I’ll be sure to put him carefully back on the shelf once I’m done with him.

‘So what about the renovations?’ Drake’s voice. ‘Is everything on track? Are you finally happy she can deliver on time or will you be watching her like a hawk, controlling every move she makes?’

Despite their reassurances, I’ve heard enough. The younger two Faulkner brothers may not approve of my sexual relationship with Reid, but maligning my business is another matter. One I won’t tolerate, from anyone.

I miss not only what Reid says in answer to Drake’s question, but also my opportunity to interrupt and set the Faulkners straight, because at that moment Graham rounds the corner, presumably in search of his chess partner.

I struggle through a brief game of chess, accepting my defeat at Graham’s hands while I formulate another battle plan. The sex was my idea. Reid and I are not in a relationship. He owes me nothing, least of all loyalty. But we agreed to keep the work separate. If we’re off course before the work on the Faulkner has even begun, this is over.

I ignore the pinch in my stomach, which feels a lot like a mini version of Josh’s betrayal, take my leave of the Faulkners and head outside into the late-afternoon sunshine. Have I made another mistake? Am I being naive where Reid is concerned? Have I wrongly assumed we’re on the same wavelength, both physically and professionally?

Well, I know one thing: next time I have Reid alone I’ll know whether our brief, sex-only fling is make or break.