The
problem with heartache is that there’s no one-size-fits-all relief package. You
can go to classes; you can try to embrace change. But when you wake up at two
in the morning, a smile on your face because you’ve dreamt about the could
have—the should have—nothing will console you.
Because
seconds later, you remember.
And
remembering can rip you apart.
Kate will do anything for her
family. It’s why she took the job with Lee. It’s why she’s attempting to forget
her pain. But it's hard to forget, when you're desperate to
hold on. Even if Lee Collins is the perfect package.
It’s why he keeps his secrets; and
it’s why he cannot, will not fall in love. Not with Kate—not with anyone.
Ever.
The
one thing he can’t forgive.
“In
there?” I smirked again, but her cheeks didn’t get any redder, to
my astonishment. “Is now really the time?”
She
pushed against my chest, her steely eyes fixed on my face the whole
time, then slammed the door behind us with her foot.
“If
you wanted some private time together, you just had to say so,” I
joked, leaning back against the chair that was positioned in front of
the mirror in my dressing room.
“You
think this is funny?” Kate asked, her head tilted to the side.
“Actually
… yeah.” I nodded and smiled again, not unkindly.
Kate
looked down, and for one God-awful moment I thought she was going to
cry.
Then,
she did something better than crying. Holy mother of crap sticks, was
this better than crying.
She
raised her hands to the top of her black button-up shirt—and she
undid the top button. Creamy, white skin was exposed, defined
collarbones, teasing my eyes down to—
She
undid another button. Holy fuck, what was Kate doing? Her cleavage
heaved in front of me, and I got a hint, just a hint of her black
lacy bra.
“It
cannot be a coincidence that one man is shirtless in front of me
seven times in three weeks.”
I
grinned. She’d counted.
That
totally means she’s into it.
Then
she did something that completely surprised me. Hell, it shocked the
living daylight out of me. In one fluid movement, she grabbed the
sides of her shirt and pulled, press studs popping open her entire
top, and then she shrugged it over her shoulders so she stood there
in the world’s hottest black, lacy bra, skin-tight black denim
jeans and these shoes—how the hell did I not notice them
before?—that were red, high, and sexy as sin.
I
swallowed.
This
girl was trouble.
Come
on, Lee. Get your act together. I
tried giving myself a pep talk. I saw naked women on a regular basis.
But
for some reason, seeing sweet, innocent, shy Kate standing there like
that? It was doing things to me. Things that my body should not have
been doing in response to my employee
who had gone through enough emotional
trauma
to last a goddamn lifetime. Who I couldn’t be with anyway. Not now.
And
besides, the last thing she needed was a quick screw, someone like me
using her up, too.
“So
… this is a revenge …” swallow
“… strip?”
“This
is me trying to get you to pay attention and listen when I ask you to
do something.” Kate’s voice was honey as it melted into me.
I
raised my hand to the back of my neck and rubbed at the muscles there
that had suddenly become tight with tension. “Oh, I’m paying
attention, all right.” I widened my eyes. There was absolutely no
doubt about that right now.
“Get
back-stage, Lee. Seriously. This is your last warning.”
I
swallowed again, and the clamminess of perspiration beaded against my
brow. Was it hot in here? It sure felt hot.
She
stepped closer to me, till her chest was almost touching my chest.
Shit, she smelt like soap and hairspray and … apples. How the hell
did she smell like apples when Sam told me she’d been helping the
sound guys lug some of our gear into the venue, despite me telling
her not to? By all accounts, she should smell like ass.
“I
…” My gaze flicked to her lips, and I wondered if it would really
be that bad if I kissed her. After all, that was hardly promising her
marriage, and no one had to know. Just one taste. And her lips—they
were so red, and plump, and—oh God, she just licked them with that
sweet-as-hell little tongue, and—
The
palm of her hand made contact with my face before I even registered
her arm moving. Five elegant fingers stung my cheek and I jerked
backward, cupping my jaw in pain. “What the hell?”
Kate
walked over to where her shirt lay on the floor and picked it up,
casually shrugging it on. She had the biggest shit-eating grin on her
face, and I couldn’t help but give a little smile myself. I’d not
seen her look so animated since she first boarded the bus.
“I
told you it was your final warning,” she said, doing up her
buttons, then turned to the door, wrenched it open and made a
sweeping gesture with her arm, allowing me passage through. “Now,
Mr Collins, if you please.”
I
turned my head so I could see my cheek more clearly in the mirror.
The side she’d hit was definitely pinker than the other. I shook my
head. I guess I should be thankful she wasn’t wearing rings.
“Thanks,”
I mumbled, walking past her and out into the corridor. I passed
Xander’s door, and a thought flashed through my mind. What if she
stripped for all the guys to get them on stage? I couldn’t have her
just—
“Lee?”
The voice halted me in my tracks. I spun to face her.
She
threw my black shirt at me, the one I’d had hanging over the chair
by the mirror. “Put some clothes on.”
Lauren K. McKellar is an author and editor. Her debut novel, Finding
Home, was released through Escape Publishing on October 1, 2013, and her
second release, NA Contemporary Romance The Problem With Crazy, is
self-published, and is available now. She loves books that evoke emotion, and
hope hers make you feel.
Lauren lives by the beach in Australia with her husband and
their two dogs. Most of the time, all three of them are well behaved.
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