Kiss Me Kate (The English Brothers Book 6)
Read Kiss Me Kate (The English Brothers Book 6) Online
Authors: Katy Regnery
KISS ME KATE
The English Brothers, Book #6
Katy Regnery
KISS ME KATE
Copyright
© 2015 by Katharine Gilliam Regnery
Sale of the electronic edition of this book is wholly unauthorized. Except for use in review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part, by any means, is forbidden without written permission from the author/publisher.
Katharine Gilliam Regnery, publisher
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.
Please visit my website at www.katyregnery.com
First Edition: February 2015
Katy Regnery
Kiss Me Kate : a novel / by Katy Regnery – 1st ed.
ISBN: 978-0-9912045-9-5
That’s the truth.
Sometimes it’s the only truth that matters.
And to Dr. JM.
Thank you.
“Two households, both alike in dignity
In fair Verona, where we lay our scene…”
—William Shakespeare,
Romeo & Juliet
From the moment Kate English found out about Étienne Rousseau’s accident, she’d secretly been stalking him on Facebook.
What made this especially challenging—and monumentally pathetic—was that Étienne Rousseau didn’t, in fact, have a Facebook page. So she had essentially been stalking him by proxy, via the Facebook page of his younger sister, Jax.
If Jax Rousseau had been curious about a sudden Friend Request from Kate English, she hadn’t let on. It was common knowledge in their shared social circle that Kate had recently moved from New York City to Philadelphia, so Jax probably just assumed Kate was reaching out to her now that she was living locally.
She wasn’t.
She was creeping on Jax’s brother…
…which, for myriad reasons, was such a bad idea, it made Kate cringe as she entered her username and password, promising herself—for the hundredth time—this would also be the
last
time. A successful lawyer and confident businesswoman, Kate wasn’t the type to lurk around Facebook for mentions of an ex, was she? She didn’t want to think of herself like that. And yet, here she sat on her lonely bed at ten o’clock on a Saturday night, scanning Jax’s Facebook page for any mention of her brother. For Étienne, who had once—a long, long time ago—broken Kate’s heart into a million pieces…begging the question:
Why did she give a damn about Étienne Rousseau when he’d never given a damn about her?
Kate grabbed her glass of wine off the bedside table and sipped the Pinot Grigio as her index finger continued its snooping and her brain tried unsuccessfully to ignore the nagging question.
The fact of the matter was that Kate didn’t have a good answer. She supposed, if she had to come up with something, she’d admit that she’d never totally gotten over him. Like any other normal, hot-blooded woman who’d ever been dumped and forgotten by an ex, she had a compulsive interest in him that was enabled by the ease of social media. Finding out these tiny tidbits about his life was this strange, irresistible weakness she couldn’t seem to overcome. And yes, there was this, too: the only way someone can break your heart into a million pieces is if you gave it to them in the first place, and Kate had done just that. As a gullible and innocent girl, she had believed herself deeply in love with Étienne, and had ended up giving him her heart
and much, much more.
And you never really get over your first,
she thought bitterly.
Especially when you move back to the city where it all happened.
Touching the mouse on her laptop gingerly, she scrolled through a series of Jax-selfies taken an hour ago at the same party Kate had been attending: Jax looking dark-haired, dark-eyed and fierce, hand on a jutted hip in front of a skyscraper-shaped ice sculpture…Jax and her twin sister, Mad, pursing their red, shiny lips for the camera…Jax posing with one of the Ambler sisters, her index finger caught between her teeth, somehow managing to look both sexy and bored-to-tears at once…
Kate kept skating through pictures and status updates, chuckling softly at a quip about stiletto heels and rainy spring nights. Though they’d been childhood acquaintances, Kate had only recently gotten to know adult-Jax through a month’s worth of online lurking, and she liked the feisty young brunette. Plus, Jax updated her Facebook account about twenty times a day, which meant that mentions of Étienne, while occasional, still popped up a couple times a week to feed Kate’s obsession.
Peeking at the laptop screen over the rim of her glass as she took another sip of wine, Kate almost missed what she was looking for. Her eyes widened, and she jerked her finger on the mouse, scrolling back quickly. Changing her sip to a gulp, she read Jax’s status from earlier today:
Jacqueline “Jax” Rousseau:
Big Bro getting his cast off tomorrow! Gird your loins, females of Philly. Ten’ll be back in action soooooon, bitches!
Staring at the screen, Kate read the post three more times before snapping the laptop closed and swinging her legs over the side of her bed with disgust. She huffed softly, causing Oliver, her latest rescue cat, to leap off the bed and hide beneath it, while Annie, the marmalade tabby she’d rescued two years ago, gave Kate the stink eye from the end of the bed for disrupting her sleep.
Kate’s baggy pajama bottoms whooshed softly as she marched through the halls of her rented condo, heading for the kitchen to refill her wine glass.
“Gird your loins,” she muttered to Cinderella, a blue-eyed Himalayan who followed her mistress to the kitchen. Kate was fostering the HIV-positive feline until the local shelter could find a family equipped to care for her.
Kate’s contact at PAWS for LOVE had called again this morning to ask if she could foster one more, and while Kate hated to say no, she had no choice but to refuse. Until she had a house of her own with some grounds to build a small kennel for orphans and strays, her condo couldn’t accommodate another body. Not to mention, one more cat and she’d be approaching “crazy cat lady” territory, which was a little too pitiful for Kate to bear.
Looking down at the pretty gray and white kitten, Kate sniffed derisively, “Back in action, huh? Back to whoring, more like. Oh, I wish I’d never met I him. I wish I’d never even known how it felt…”
Cinderella meowed as Kate’s voice trailed off. Wishes were futile. She
had
met him. She
did
know. She couldn’t
unknow
the feeling of being with Étienne, but she wished she could somehow forget it. It didn’t seem fair that their short liaison should still haunt her after so many years.
Pursing her lips and bracing her hands on the kitchen counter, she bowed her head in frustration, grappling for strength and direction. Although it was impossible to turn back time and make different choices,
or
erase her tenacious memories, she was a strong, smart woman, and she could certainly take control of her behavior
now
. Sternly promising herself—for the hundredth and first time—that she’d unfollow Jax and stop cyber-stalking Étienne on Facebook, she turned her back to the counter, leaning against it and crossing her arms over her ample chest.
After all
, thought Kate,
it really isn’t fair to Tony.
Tony Reddington, the son of her father’s business partner, had been kind enough to take Kate out for dinner when she’d first relocated to Philadelphia two months ago, and had since turned into a pseudo-boyfriend of sorts. Her go-to escort for parties and galas, Tony was well-educated, cultured and charming, filling their evenings with amusing observations and witty conversation. When he picked up Kate in his shiny, spotless Mercedes, he always had flowers waiting, and when he dropped her off at the end of their dates, he never groped or pushed, opting for a chaste kiss on the cheek or a peck on the lips, followed by a playful wink and a promise to call her. A promise he always kept.
Tony was a gentleman of the highest order, and Kate knew she should be blissfully happy on his arm, maybe even with the possibility of long-awaited wedding bells echoing in her head.
So what was the problem?
Kate’s cheeks flushed as she considered the shameful answer.
After six weeks of delightful conversation, gorgeous flowers and chaste kisses, Kate wanted more…but not necessarily from Tony. Kate’s dirty little secret was that she couldn’t shake memories of Étienne since returning to Philly. She wanted hot, wet, sweet, messy, filthy kisses that would make her toes curl. She wanted fingers that burned her skin like fire, lips that sucked until she screamed, and a tongue that could make stars burst behind closed eyes. She wanted thick and hot sliding into her core over and over again, until her muscles tensed and strained, and her body finally exploded into a million pieces of delight, only pulled back to earth and put back together by lips that sought hers hungrily
all.
over.
again.
As far as Kate was concerned, that kind of burning and cooling, falling apart and coming together, sweet and filthy heaven only existed in one man—the one man with whom Kate had ever experienced all of those things at once: Étienne Rousseau.
Kate’s body wanted him bad.
Which was a shame, because Étienne Rousseau was also the one man on earth Kate English could never, ever have. Not ever again. Not if she had any self-respect whatsoever.
Buzz. Buzz buzz.
Jolted out of her reverie, she placed cool palms on hot cheeks and glanced at her phone.
Stratton. Hmm.
Kate’s cousin, Stratton English, had looked pretty content when Kate and Tony left him at the benefit an hour ago. Cozy in a corner with his new girlfriend, Valeria, he’d appeared more socially comfortable than Kate had ever seen him, and that was saying something since Stratton loathed parties.
She pressed Talk. “Why are you calling me? Why aren’t you at home making out with Val?”
Waiting for his answer, she cradled the phone between her ear and shoulder, opening the refrigerator door.
He chuckled softly. “It’s on the agenda.” Then he got quiet, his voice taking on a slight edge. “Are
you
busy? Is, uh, Tony there?”
Yeah, right.
Kate picked up the bottle on the door and kicked the fridge closed. She thought about asking Stratton if he thought it was normal for a guy to stay in the “chaste kiss” zone after six weeks of dating, but she just wasn’t in the mood to talk about it. Her cousins, Stratton especially, were very protective of Kate, approved of Tony and would have no issue whatsoever with Tony moving as slow as molasses until Kate’s blonde hair turned gray. This was a far better conversation for her close girlfriends, who included her cousins’ wives, fiancées, and girlfriends.
She pursed her lips as she set the bottle on the counter.
No, not them either. They’d all go home and share Kate’s question with their significant others and her cousins would end up weighing in anyway. No. She didn’t need advice. She liked Tony. Quite a lot. And she felt sure that he liked her too. Things would eventually heat up, right? She just needed to give Tony a little more time to make his move, and in the meantime she needed to stop letting thoughts of Étienne get her all hot and bothered.
Unfollow Jax. Unfollow Jax. For the love of Pete, unfollow Jax.
Kate rolled her eyes. “Tony was a perfect gentleman.”
“Glad to hear it,” said Stratton, edge gone.
“So, what’s up?” she asked, uncorking the half-drunk bottle of wine. “Are you still at the party?”
“Just leaving,” he said, and his voice instantly got more serious. “Hey…are you sitting down?”
“Nope. But I’m drinking. Will that do?”
“I guess it’ll have to,” said Stratton.
“Why are you using your doomsday voice, cuz?”
“Because…well, for starters, I’m pissed at Barrett.”
“Huh?” Barrett was Stratton’s oldest brother and the CEO of English & Company where Kate worked as a lawyer and Stratton was the acting-CFO. Since Stratton was incredibly loyal to his brothers and a generally easy-going person, if he was upset with Barrett, there was a good chance it was work-related. “I thought we all agreed no work at parties.”
“A rule Barrett disregards at every turn, at every party, every weekend.”
This was true. When it came to business, the only “off” button Barrett knew was his fiancée, Emily Edwards. Otherwise, business was
always
on the table.
“And usually you don’t care.”
“This time I do.”
Kate grinned. “Okay. Tell me…what company did Barrett just agree to buy?”
Stratton sighed heavily. “Here’s the deal—no, wait. Before I say anything else, I want you to know…we’re going to fix this, Kate. I promise.”
This was suddenly sounding a little more serious. Kate grimaced lightly, then took a swig directly from the bottle before re-corking it and putting it back in the fridge.
If Kate was a classic optimist (yes, with closet stalker tendencies), her favorite cousin, Stratton, was a classic fixer, with extreme tunnel vision when it came to those he loved. Kate understood Stratton’s compulsion to “fix” things for the people he loved, because she would—literally—do anything for the people she cared about.
In fact, she thought, thinking of her hot laptop and cold, ungirded loins, that was probably why she couldn’t stay away from Jax’s Facebook page.
Despite the years between Kate’s fleeting week with Étienne, and now—despite the way he’d hurt her so long ago—the second she’d heard about Étienne’s car accident, she’d irrationally longed to race to his bedside and hold his hand. She wasn’t under any illusion about his feelings for her. He’d never
really
cared for her—his actions had made that abundantly clear long ago. Hell, at this point, she didn’t even know if he still
remembered
her—she hadn’t seen him or heard from him in over twelve years, and in that twelve years, by all accounts, Étienne hadn’t been lonely. (Ah-hem.)
But even at fifteen-years-old, Étienne Rousseau was more insouciant, irreverent, and untouchable than anyone Kate had ever met, which pretty much made him the brooding nip to Kate’s curious cat. Back then, in addition to his lips on hers and his hands all over her body, she’d desperately wanted to connect with him, understand him, matter to him, belong to him. And for a brief, heart-breaking, and mind-bendingly beautiful moment, she had. Or thought she had. Instead—she remembered, stiffening her spine—he took her virginity and she never saw his face again.