Читать книгу Postcards From…Verses Brides Babies And Billionaires - Rebecca Winters - Страница 99

AFTER THEIR SHOWER, Rhys took Wren to his place. They didn’t want to fall victim to a lack of condoms again, and it wasn’t long before they wound up on his bed in a tangled heap of limbs. She’d lost count of the number of times he’d made her body soar.

It was a new experience for her, this contentment and trust that she had with Rhys. Sure, he teased her about her messy, disorganized lifestyle—and she gave it back to him—but that kind of teasing had an inherent sense of familiarity. In fact, she felt more at home in his arms than she ever had in Charity Springs.

It would be hard to say goodbye to him, but she couldn’t forget about the people who needed her back home.

With her cheek pressed against his rib cage, the slow rhythm of his breathing soothed her. Her fingertips gently traced the dark trail of hair that ran from his belly button to underneath the white bedsheet. Even after what they’d done, he was still semi-hard, his length tenting the sheet.

“Go on, I don’t bite,” he said, his voice husky. “You can touch me.”

“I thought you were sleeping.” She tilted her face up to his and kissed him. His tongue moved against hers with a lazy confidence that made her whole body tingle.

“Hard to sleep with a beautiful girl getting handsy with me.”

“I can stop.”

He brushed her hair back from her forehead. “Don’t you dare.”

But just then her stomach grumbled. Outside, the sun had started to dip and rich gold beams of light filtered through her blinds.

“I forgot to have lunch today,” she said. “I guess brownies and chocolate sauce don’t make for a very good meal replacement.”

“Want to order in?”

A happy bubble expanded in her chest. “It’s like you can read my mind.”

“Let me get it.” He pushed up from the bed and pulled the sheet over her.

Within the hour they were curled up on his couch, eating Chinese food.

“I can’t believe you don’t like fried rice,” she said, tucking into her chow mein. “And don’t even get me started on the tofu.”

“My body is a finely tuned athletic machine,” he said, but he couldn’t keep a straight face. “I’ve never had as many empty calories as I did this afternoon.”

“Those calories were one hundred percent delicious and worth it.”

“Agreed.” He dug around in the container with his chopsticks. “But I do take nutrition seriously.”

“You take everything seriously.”

“It’s a product of my upbringing, I guess.” He popped a piece of chicken into his mouth and chewed.

At the mention of his past, his face hardened. The warmth in his eyes dulled and small tension lines formed at the corners of his mouth.

“How so?”

“I guess I thought that if I became the perfect son then my mother would love me again,” he said. “I studied my ass off. I ate whatever crazy green shit she put on my plate. I never talked back, never broke a rule.”

Her heart bled for him. She knew how hard it was to be the “other” child, to always be second place. Only her relegation to the back of the line was because of her disappointing lack of focus, rather than grief. Still, the reason didn’t matter so much as the outcome. She understood his pain.

“I even quit basketball,” he continued, staring straight ahead, his face rigid. “I would have given up anything.”

“But it didn’t work?”

“No. I was too much my father for her to ever see me as a separate person. And when I told her that I wanted to go into the police force, she flipped.” He snorted. “I don’t know why she was so worried. It wasn’t like she even seemed to enjoy my presence half the time.”

“Why didn’t she want you to become a police officer?”

“That’s how my dad died. He crashed his car while chasing a guy who was fleeing the scene of a drug bust.” He looked at her, and some of the warmth crept back into his eyes. “He was a complete hero. I wanted to be just like him.”

“But your mom thought it was too risky?”

“Yeah. Nothing I could say would make her change her mind. Eventually she said if I chose to live that kind of life then she’d have nothing to do with me.” Pain streaked across his face but it was gone as quickly as it had appeared. “So I went to college and studied technology instead.”

“That’s sad that you didn’t get to pursue your dream.” She put her food aside and scooted along the couch to be close to him. She couldn’t ease his pain but she wanted to try, nonetheless. “I’m sure your father would be proud of you, even if you didn’t follow in his footsteps.”

“I’d like to think that.” He fished out the last piece of chicken from his dinner and placed the empty container on the coffee table. “And I’m happy with my career now. I’m doing what I’m meant to be doing. I’m good at my job and it’s the one area of my life where I can score a touchdown or two.”

His self-deprecating smile tore her heart into pieces. It wasn’t only that she’d come to respect Rhys deeply. He was kindhearted, giving and—despite his slight obsession with tidiness—wonderfully accepting of who she was.

Would he be so accepting if he knew why you were here? Not likely.

“I’m not sure what you would call it, but I’m certain we scored a touchdown before,” she said, swallowing back her guilt.

She wanted to trust him, wanted it deep down to her bones because she sensed he was different. That he wouldn’t turn on her like Christian had. But this wasn’t only her secret. It was Kylie’s, too. And knowing that Rhys was such a stand-up guy meant there was a chance he would turn her in, even if he didn’t want to. And that would end all hope of finding out what had really happened to Kylie.

“Good team effort,” he replied with a grin as he draped an arm around her shoulder. “And it was definitely two touchdowns.”

“Not that you’re counting.”

“I like knowing you’re satisfied.” His voice was deep and growly against her ear. “I don’t want you to go home with the feeling that I left you hanging.”

“No chance of that. And I do appreciate it.” She rested her head against his shoulder and relaxed into him. “My ex wasn’t really the giving type.”

“Is that why he’s an ex?”

“No.” Her hands instinctively curled into fists like they always did when she thought about what Christian had done to her.

The worst part of his betrayal was that she’d been stupid enough to allow it to happen. She’d been totally blind to his flaws until it was too late. Christian’s deluded sense of self-righteousness and self-importance had jumped up and bit her in the ass.

“Our sex life wasn’t the reason we broke up, but it certainly wasn’t a positive part of our relationship,” she said, shoving aside her bitterness. “Too many guilty feelings.”

“Guilty feelings?” Rhys raised a dark brow. “Why the hell would you feel guilty for having sex?”

She shook her head. “The people in our town are conservative, and they have a pretty screwed-up view of women and sex. Apparently, we should do it to keep our men happy but we shouldn’t enjoy it too much.”

“I don’t even know what to say to that.” He shook his head. “That’s messed up.”

“Yeah, it is.” She bobbed her head.

“I’m surprised you want to go back to that.”

“There are people there I care about. My sister is there. My best friend…she needs me.”

“That might be so, but what do you need?”

She blinked. “What do you mean?”

“It’s not a trick question.” He chuckled. “If you didn’t have to worry about anyone else, what would you do?”

Wren sucked on her bottom lip and grappled for an answer. It shouldn’t be so hard to come up with a “perfect life scenario,” but for some reason she found herself tongue-tied. Perhaps it was because part of her had given up on the idea of being an artist…but without that she was no longer sure of who she was.

“How about living on a remote island with magical Wi-Fi and an endless supply of brownies?” she said with a glib shrug.

“I’m not buying that.”

“Honestly, I don’t know what I want right now.” She nestled her head into his shoulder again and breathed in the faint scent of soap on his skin. “All I know is that after the internship I have to go back home.”

“Because your friend needs you? Surely she would understand that you’ve got to live your own life.”

“Something bad happened to her.”

The truth hovered on her tongue, but she couldn’t bring herself to ruin the perfect bubble of comfort that surrounded her and Rhys. For the first time in months she was happy and wanted.

As soon as I have something on Sean, she promised herself. Then I’ll come clean.

If she came to Rhys with proof, it would soften the blow and help to show him that she hadn’t intended to deceive him. Only to help her friend.

“She’s not doing great.” Wren swallowed against the emotion rising up her throat. “She’s lost all the joy in her life and she’s not eating. I’m afraid for her, and she doesn’t have anyone else.”

“That’s very noble of you.” His fingertips traced circles on her bare arm. “But she’ll get over this rough patch, and you have to put yourself first at some point.”

“Yeah, I know.” If only she could figure out what putting herself first actually meant.

“I’m happy to help you forget about home for a while longer.” He traced the gentle circles lower and lower until he’d found the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. His touch held promises of pleasure to come.

“I’m happy to let you.”

His fingers brushed higher, skating under the edge of her shorts and grazing her panties. “Does that mean you won’t sneak out on me tonight?”

“Presumptuous,” she teased. “Who said I was staying the night?”

The pressure of his touch intensified as he slipped a finger beneath her panties. A moan escaped her lips before she could stop it. Damn Rhys and his talented hands. She had no chance of hiding how she felt or what she wanted.

“You’re free to go at any time.” He let out a cocky chuckle as she arched against his hand.

“I guess I could stay awhile.” Her eyes clamped shut as he found her sweet spot. “Since you’re being so persuasive.”

“Glad to see my plan is working.”

Wren’s mind went blank as he eased her back on the couch. For now, she wanted to lose herself in his touch. She could deal with her conflicted feelings tomorrow.

BY THE TIME Monday rolled around, Wren had yet to find clarity on her situation. She’d disentangled herself from Rhys on Saturday morning, intending to leave, but then he’d kissed her and somehow they’d ended up having breakfast together.

She’d made a point of leaving before lunch, because she needed space to think. But by Sunday she was craving him again and she’d knocked on his door with an offer of dinner and a movie. They’d made love on his couch, their bodies working so perfectly together that Wren almost forget why she’d come to New York.

Wren dragged herself out of her reverie as voices floated down the gallery hall. Lola’s soft Southern twang was instantly recognizable, as was a harsher New York accent. As they came closer, Wren caught snatches of their conversation.

“Sean will be with you shortly, but if you want to have a chat with Wren, she’s in here.” Lola appeared in the doorway to the studio with two people. “Wren, you remember Quinn Dellinger from Cobalt & Dane? And this is her colleague, Owen Fletcher. They’re supervising the installation of the new cameras today.”

She left her station to shake their hands. “Hello.”

Quinn’s sharp hazel eyes darted around the room. “We wanted to give you a heads-up to watch out for our guys. They’ll have ladders and wires all over the place, so step carefully. We don’t want anyone getting injured.”

Could this mean the storage room would be open? Maybe this was her opportunity to see what was inside. Wren forced her expression to remain neutral. “Thanks.”

At that moment Sean poked his head into the room. “I trust you have something to work on,” he said to her, his cold stare making her step back instinctively.

“Yes, I do.”

She’d realized at some point over the weekend that giving Ainslie a painting with Rhys’s face probably wasn’t the smartest move. Apart from the obvious risk of Sean recognizing Rhys and wondering why Wren had chosen to paint him, there was something preventing her from parting with it. It wasn’t yet finished, but her Muse had reappeared. She’d even found herself thinking about new paintings and wanting to reach for her brushes. There was that itch in her fingertips, creative desire slowly igniting inside her like a flame resurrected from the very last ember.

But that left her with a problem. Sean’s ultimatum. She needed a painting and she needed it quickly. So Wren had gone back to her passion and painted a woman. Her sister.

“Good, because you owe me a painting this week and I don’t want you to bother the team while they’re working.”

“I understand, I’m working on something new for you.”

Over the next hour, Wren forced herself to work quickly while the Cobalt & Dane team started the installation. A technician, accompanied by Owen, was installing a camera right outside the studio. Wren used the opportunity to excuse herself under the guise of going to the restroom.

Instead, Wren inched along the hallway toward the storage room. Quinn was in there, talking to someone. Was it Sean? She was sure he’d mentioned having an appointment today. This could be her one and only chance to get inside.

She could only hear Quinn’s side of the conversation; she must be on the phone. Wren gathered her long skirt in one hand to stop it from brushing along the floor as she tiptoed along.

“The installation is going well,” Quinn said. “We’re fitting the last group of cameras, but we’ll have to configure the software because the client has a few customizations. Yeah…” Pause. “Well, I could come on my own if you would sign off on this damn training.”

She must be talking to Rhys. Wren flattened her back to the wall just outside the storage room and strained to hear if anyone else was inside.

Nothing.

Sucking in a breath, she moved closer and leaned forward to take a peek into the room. At that moment Sean Ainslie came out, a dark expression on his face.

“Are you looking for me, Wren? I thought you had work to keep you busy.” He folded his arms across his chest. He was a lot more built than she’d first guessed. His fitted T-shirt exposed a gym-honed body. But instead of all that physical power appealing to her, it made her feel ill.

“I, uh…yes, actually. I wanted guidance on my painting,” she lied. “I realize you’re busy but I had a burst of inspiration and I would really appreciate your expertise.”

“You know the rules about the storage room, Wren,” he said, but his expression had lost its edge.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t even think…”

“It’s fine. Let’s take a look at this painting.”

Nodding, Wren stifled a sigh of relief. She’d weaseled her way out of trouble this time…but she may not get a second chance. Perhaps Rhys would be able to access the cameras to check inside. She made a mental note to suss out whether he would do that once the installation was complete.

REALITY HAD BURST the happy bubble that was Rhys’s weekend. Monday had flown past in a blur of meetings and he hadn’t left the office until 9:00 p.m. Tempted as he’d been to call Wren on his way home, he didn’t want her to get the impression that she was a booty call…as much as her booty had definitely been on his mind.

The next day, he was sitting at his desk, wondering where his Tuesday had gotten to when Quinn and Owen arrived to give an update on Ainslie Ave.

“How’d the installation go?” he asked, dragging his focus back to work.

“Good.” Quinn took a seat on the other side of Rhys’s desk. “We’re currently working through the customization requirements for the monitoring system.”

“Has anything else come up?”

Owen raked a hand through his blond hair. “I managed to speak with the interns after we finished up for the day. They all seemed a little cagey about answering questions, particularly where Sean was involved.”

“So no confirmation that he’s sleeping with any of them?” Rhys remembered Wren’s admission about Aimee.

“Not a thing.”

Interesting. Either Aimee had lied to Quinn or she’d lied to Wren.

What if Wren lied to you?

He shoved the thought aside immediately. What reason would Wren have to lie to him? If something really was going on between Sean Ainslie and Aimee, perhaps the other woman had a reason for keeping it quiet. A reason she wouldn’t feel comfortable sharing with a security company.

“I had some luck with the gallery’s ex-employees, though,” Quinn said.

After a few minutes detailing her calls to several former Ainslie Ave employees, she got to the one that she was most excited about. “I spoke with a woman named Kylie Samuels. She worked at the gallery until six months ago when she returned to her home in Charity Springs, Idaho.”

The name of the town rang a bell, but Rhys couldn’t place where he’d heard it before. “What’s the significance of that?”

“Well, I did some research and it barely has seven hundred residents.” She paused as if for dramatic effect. “And guess who also happens to come from Charity Springs? Wren Livingston.”

Rhys tried not to let the surprise show on his face. Why wouldn’t she have mentioned that someone from her hometown had also worked for Ainslie Ave? Perhaps it hadn’t occurred to her. Or maybe she didn’t know this Kylie Samuels. Though that did seem unlikely for a town of such a small size.

“Any signs they’re connected to one another?” he asked.

“I assumed you wouldn’t be satisfied with circumstantial evidence,” Quinn replied with a smile that made her look like the cat who’d got the cream. “They both attended the local high school and I found a picture of them from a fund-raising event.”

She pulled up the photo on her laptop. It seemed to be several years old and showed two girls with their arms wrapped around one another’s shoulders. Wren’s ear-to-ear grin struck something in his chest. She looked so much more at ease in this picture, so free and innocent. Her hair was shorter and her face was painted with big blue flowers, making her resemble some kind of fairy or nymph.

“That’s Wren Livingston,” Owen said, pointing with his pen. He was oblivious to the fact that Rhys knew her face intimately, and now her body, as well. “And this is Kylie Samuels.”

They could have been sisters. Kylie had blond hair, too, though it was a few shades darker than Wren’s. And she was smaller. Skinny rather than slender. They wore the same breezy smiles and crazy face paint.

“What did Kylie have to say?” Rhys asked.

“She really didn’t want to talk to me,” Quinn said. “But I managed to get out of her that she ended the internship early because of a clash with Ainslie. She said it was something to do with her paintings, but when I pressed her she clammed up.”

“Did you ask her about whether or not she was friends with Wren?”

Quinn huffed. “Barely. The second I mentioned Wren’s name, Kylie said something about having an appointment and then she hung up on me. I’ve been trying to call her back since late last week to get more information, but she won’t take my calls.”

For the first time Rhys felt guilty for skirting the lines of appropriateness by sleeping with Wren. Up till now, it hadn’t bothered him too much because he’d seen no reason why she would be involved in the security breaches. But this information about her friend shed some new light on the situation. It created a link where there hadn’t been one previously.

Was it possible that she’d been lying to him this whole time?

“Keep chasing the ex-employees,” Rhys said. “See what else you can dig up. But we have to continue servicing Ainslie as a client.”

Rhys called an end to the meeting but asked Owen to stay behind. As much as he trusted Quinn, she had a fiery personality, and once she decided that she didn’t like someone, her mind was hard to change. He needed a more balanced opinion.

“I want your take on this,” he said, running a hand over his closely cropped hair. “I get something seems off about this guy, but surely he wouldn’t have called us in if he had something to hide.”

“I have seen stranger things in this line of work,” Owen replied with a wry smile. “There’s definitely something going on. He seemed resistant to the cameras, and I’m not buying the line about him not wanting to monitor his staff.”

“Me, either.”

“The external security is also pretty strong. He’s got a monitored system that they set every night, which notifies him if there are multiple unsuccessful attempts on the pin code at either the front door or the entrance in the loading dock. If the alarm is tripped, then it notifies our call center and we dispatch someone to check it out. But…” Owen paused, rubbing a hand along his jaw. “There were no external security cameras until yesterday. Not even for the loading area behind the gallery. That’s strange.”

“How did things go with the tech side of things?”

“Quinn is handling that, since that’s more her forte than mine. She’s still making her way through the email logs, but it does look like someone used Ainslie’s log-in on the interns’ terminal in the studio.”

“Is it possible Ainslie needed to access his email while he was in that room?”

“Sure, it’s definitely possible. But we’re going to correlate the log-in time stamp with activity on his account to see if anything strange is going on.”

“Okay, I want an update as soon as possible.”

“You’re getting quite involved in this case,” Owen commented. “I thought you were supposed to be the big-picture guy.”

He was. Rhys’s role didn’t require him to get involved in individual assignments beyond the initial approach and ensuring his staff were keeping to schedule. And since the tech security part of the Cobalt & Dane business was growing quickly, he really didn’t have time to dive deep into the details. Senior security consultants—like Owen—were the ones managing such things.

It occurred to him that maybe Owen thought he was overstepping.

Rhys cleared his throat. “This is the first assignment that Quinn is leading and I want to make sure she’s fully supported.”

The lie was sour in his mouth. This wasn’t like him at all; normally he was Mr. By The Book. Now he was keeping things from his team and had possibly crossed a line with Wren.

He’d speak to her tonight, get them both on the same page. He couldn’t break any more rules now that there was a chance she was involved.