How You Remind Me (4 page)

“No, I think you need to leave.”

“Kate—”

“I have to work in the morning,” she said and in that
moment, the Kate who never would have invited him to her room reappeared—crisp,
efficient, unattainable. “Just do me a favor, will you? Pretend you were
slipped the drug. Forget this night ever happened. Can you do that? Please?”

He might have said no if her voice hadn’t cracked with her
final plea. She was holding it together, but just barely. He couldn’t deny her
this kindness.

Hell, he couldn’t deny her anything.

He had his hand on the knob when he realized he still had the
key card to her room. She hadn’t asked for it back, but in a last ditch effort to
seed her trust, he slipped it onto the dresser on his way out the door.

As soon as the door clicked closed, Kate slid the deadbolts
into place and stripped off her nightgown, leaving it in tatters on the floor. Confused
and mortified, she dashed into the bathroom and turned the shower to scalding. Her
body still thrummed from the aftermath of her spectacular orgasm and the depth
of her humiliation. Shaw had known precisely how to pleasure her, not because
of his innate skill, but because she’d told him what she wanted in intimate
detail.

She wasn’t sure how long she stayed under the stream,
washing away the make-up and perfume and lotions she’d applied in anticipation
of her grand seduction. By the time she cocooned herself in a bathrobe and settled
in for a sleepless night in a chair by the window, she didn’t feel any less
embarrassed.

Beyond that one black hole in her memory, Kate had few regrets
about her past. When she’d gone home with a guy for a one-night stand, it had
been a choice. She worked hard during the day, striving to fit her square
psyche into the round holes demanded in the law profession. She’d been good at
her job, even though, as Shaw reminded her, she’d been miserable. She countered
her unhappiness by partying hard and grabbing enough excitement and freedom during
the night to last her during her endless weeks of dry, dull billable hours.

But even in her wildest party days, she’d never blacked out.

That event had changed her life. The next morning, she’d
quit her job and found a new one with Erica. From that moment on, unless her
new career demanded it, she stayed out of nightclubs and away from concerts. She’d
forged a new life—one she was proud of, even if she did miss the easy sex.

Though sex wasn’t supposed to be easy, was it? It certainly
hadn’t been with Shaw… even if it had been pretty wonderful.

Now she knew that a random blackout from too much partying hadn’t
changed her life. She’d been the victim of a calculated attack. But instead of
enduring rape or worse, she’d been rescued. By a stranger. If he’d stuck around
the next morning to fill in the holes of her foggy memory and insisted nothing
had happened between them, would she have believed him?

Probably not.

She’d been at his mercy. He could have invited the whole of
Cell Block Tango to join in on screwing her and she would never have known,
never would have been able to resist.

But Shaw hadn’t done something so awful. Instead, he’d taken
care of her. He’d listened. That’s how he’d known about her life, her job, her
dreams for the future. That’s how he’d known how much she loved it when a man
took his time going down on her, concentrating exclusively on her pleasure
before he took any for himself.

That’s not exactly information she shared willy-nilly, even
while under the influence.

Shaw’s technique had been far too specific to be accidental.
He’d opened her like a flower, peeling away her outer lips and blowing
intensely on her clit before suckling the nub with short, intense bursts of
pressure that had thrown her into sensual nirvana.

He’d taken his time, giving her everything that she’d ever
dreamed about, as if he could read her mind.

Only he hadn’t read her mind—she’d told him.

And he’d listened.

By the time the sun finally rose, Kate was tired and sore
from sleeping in the chair, but not as angry. She’d dodged a bullet, thanks to
Shaw. She had to give him points for the rescue, but he’d still picked the
world’s worst moment to come clean with the truth.

Although, really, was there a good moment to tell a girl
that she’d been drugged and over the course of the night, had confessed all her
secrets, personal and professional, to a perfect stranger?

Unable to process the situation further, Kate took a quick
shower, downed a whole pot of hotel-brand coffee and got dressed. Erica had
asked her to take over the party planning duties for the rest of the reunion
and she intended to do her job. She’d run into Shaw at some point. It was,
after all, his reunion, too. But now that she understood him, she realized he’d
give her a wide berth.

And somehow, this made her feel worse.

Shaw stayed away as long as he could. After returning to his
hotel room, he raided the mini-bar, downing enough booze to ensure he slept in
late, then ordered up a tomato juice and blood orange smoothie from room
service in the morning and nursed his hangover until noon. Thanks to the
reunion schedule she’d handed him the night before, he knew she’d be busy off
property, running a tour to his old high school for the former graduates who’d
moved out of town.

He went downstairs long enough to grab a bite to eat, but decided
not to stick around. Instead, he returned to his room, picked up his acoustic
guitar and spent the rest of the afternoon lost in beats, notes and chords.

By the time dinner rolled around, he’d made a decision. Kate
had good reasons for kicking him out of her room last night. She had
justifiable excuses for not seeking him out today, either in person or by text
or email. But tonight, at the big black tie event, they were going to see each
other whether she liked it or not.

And he wasn’t going to let an opportunity to win her back go
to waste.

He put on the closest thing he had to a tuxedo—a vintage Pierre
Cardin jacket and a pair of black jeans and headed downstairs. He was glad to learn
he’d been assigned a seat at Erica’s table, with his old friend on his left and
the husband of the class valedictorian on his right.

“Your set was good last night,” Erica said after sending her
new squeeze, Rip, to brave the lines at the open bar.

“We didn’t suck,” Shaw replied.

“You never do, or I wouldn’t hire you,” she assured him. “Where’s
your band tonight?”

“Off,” he replied.

Erica huffed. “I’m trying to make small talk.”

“Why?”

“Because if I don’t, I’ll ask you about Kate and since I
know that didn’t go well—”

“She talked to you?”
“She didn’t have to,” Erica said. “She’s been running around today as if the
fate of the universe relies on whether or not the canapés come out precisely
thirty minutes before the salads.”

“In other words, she’s acting like you.”

She smacked him on the shoulder. “I don’t act that way. I love
my job, but the world won’t implode if the ice-sculpture melts before the
dessert course.”

“I don’t think you knew that before Rip came roaring back
into your life.”

She thought this over for a minute and then nodded. “You’re
probably right. I thought after you two hooked up last night, she’d throw
tonight’s event at the hotel staff and enjoy herself. Instead, I had fifteen
texts on my phone before nine a.m. What happened?”

“Nothing,” he said.

She smirked in disbelief, but once Rip came back with their
drinks, she let the topic drop. His friendship with Erica had been long and
enduring and would no doubt survive, no matter what happened between him and
Kate. But he hadn’t purposefully hurt her assistant—and even if he had, he
intended to make it up to her.

She just had to take the bait.

The dinner had gone off without a hitch, if Kate didn’t
consider the mysteriously vanishing vegan meals, one rude waiter, two drunk
former football players and one minor glitch with the power cords on the
chafing trays as hitches. Which she didn’t. She’d secretly wished for more easily
manageable screw-ups so she wouldn’t have time for her gaze to betray her,
sneaking through the crowds to watch Shaw at his table, chit-chatting with
Erica and Rip as if nothing world-changing had happened to him last night.

In all honestly, nothing life-altering had happened to him
except that he’d unburdened his soul from a secret. But beyond that, the rocked
foundations were hers and hers alone. She’d not only learned that there was
someone on the planet who could fill in the missing hours of her life, but that
this same someone was kind, sexy, funny, giving, selfless and hot.

And she’d thrown him out. What the hell had she been
thinking?

By the time the party broke up, Shaw was nowhere to be
found. On the dance floor, a few die-hard couples swayed to the final song of
the night while the wait staff collected plates and broke down the dessert
buffet. Rip had Erica cradled close to his chest, her head tucked under his
chin, her eyes closed in a cocoon of rapture that made Kate deliriously happy
for her boss and pea green with envy at the same time.

“Ms. Schaeffer?”

Kate turned. Carlos, the headwaiter, held an envelope toward
her.

“What’s this?” she asked.

“The gentleman asked me to give this to you once your work
was done.”

His gaze darted to the door, but when hers followed, no one
was there.

She thanked him, then hurried to a private corner of the
room to see what was inside. She slipped her finger beneath the flap and
withdrew what she somehow expected—a key card with Shaw’s room number scrawled
on the plastic, along with a single word.

Please.

How could she say no?

She thought about detouring to her room to change and primp,
but the minute the elevator doors closed behind her, she pressed the button for
his floor rather than hers. She didn’t even hesitate when she reached his room,
using the key card without knocking.

She needed to know everything that Shaw knew about her, not
just a few details. Once he filled in all the blanks, she could turn away from
the past and focus on the future.

Hopefully, one that included him.

“Shaw?”

The room was romantically lit, though she grinned when she
realized that he’d achieved the effect through the strategic placement of
votives he’d swiped from the appetizer tables at tonight’s event. He was
waiting for her beside the bed, his hands slung into his jeans, his stark white
shirt unbuttoned just enough to show off his tanned upper chest. His tuxedo
jacket, a throw-back to the elegant sixties, hugged his shoulders in a way that
sapped her breath.

The fact that he’d worn something vintage touched her heart.
She didn’t know if he was tipping his hat to her personal style or if he shared
her fashion sense—but either way, the detail diminished her anger until there
was nothing left but unanswered questions.

“I’m glad you came,” he said.

She tossed his key card onto the bed.

“We have some unfinished business,” she replied. “I need to
know everything I said that night, Shaw. Everything I did. All of it, down to
the last gory detail.”

He smiled and the sweetness in his eyes soothed her nerves.

“Nothing about it was gory,” he assured her. “It was actually
kind of amazing. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you the whole truth before.”
“I know. I’m sorry I wasn’t ready to listen last night. Everything happened so
fast—”

“I let things go too far,” he argued. “I should have told
you before we went so far. But yet again, what you were offering was kind of
hard to resist.”

“Think you can resist me now? Long enough to fill in the
blanks?”

“I’m going to do one better. I’m going to help you remember
yourself.”

She shook her head. “That’s impossible.”

“Maybe, but I thought, if I recreated the night for you, let
you go through the motions, maybe it’ll trigger something.”

Oh, it was going to trigger something, all right, but she
doubted it would be long-forgotten memories of a night she’d rather forget. Instead,
he was going to stir recollections of last night—fresh and powerful and entirely
more delicious.

“What do I do?”

He picked up his phone, which he’d hooked into speakers. He
started a song, then adjusted the volume so that it was loud enough to make an
impact, but not to disturb the hotel guests next door.

The opening riffs weren’t instantly familiar, but they
provided a steady back beat that allowed her to focus. As she expected, her
mind drifted not to the club she’d been at when she’d been drugged, but to last
night, when he’d been front and center on a stage at the rooftop. The
atmosphere had been balmy and the music had been hot.

Shaw had been hot. Hot enough to burn.

He shrugged out of his jacket and folded it over a chair. He
loosened his cuffs and folded them up his muscled forearms. It was a low rent
striptease, but just as effective as any she’d ever seen. An electric wave of
anticipation skittered across her skin.

“Give me your hand,” he instructed.

She swallowed deeply, but hesitated. The minute he touched
her, all bets were off. Kate was adept at containing her passions, but not
without a lot of effort.

And with Shaw, she no longer had the incentive to work that
hard.

He stroked soft circles on the back of her hand,
counter-clockwise, as if he meant to unwind the anxiety out of her. She inhaled
deeply, afraid her raw emotions might flood out in the tears that were burning
the insides of her eyelids.

This was too much. He was too much.

Or maybe, he was exactly what she needed.

“What do you remember?”

“Nothing,” she answered.