SeduceMe (15 page)

Yvette sighed. “I never should have jumped all over you like
this. I just… I know how fragile Shana’s ego is and it’s easy to bruise it.”

The word “bruise” made him cringe. “If I could make it up to
her, I would. But I truly believe the best thing I can do for her is…leave her
alone.”

“Now, Drake,” Finn said, stepping toward him. “Don’t be so
hasty. I spent four years waiting for the right moment, the right reason, the
right thing to say to Yvette. And then I realized ten years could pass before I
settled on the ‘right’ time.” He gave Yvette a loving look and added, “What a
waste that would’ve been.”

She visibly softened. “Maybe that’s why I’m so agitated.”
She turned to Drake. “Shana has some issues, no doubt about it. But this past
year, she’s really made an effort to break out of the insecurities that confine
her. I don’t want to see her revert into that shell she’s constructed around
herself, Drake. She’s such a warm and wonderful person. She’s so giving and
caring when it comes to other people, but she doesn’t extend herself the same
courtesy when it comes to her self-image, and I want that to end. She’s a
fantastic person, Drake, and I—”

“Want her to know it,” he said. “That makes two of us.”

“Three of us,” Finn added in a pointed voice. “So, Yvette.
Let Drake do what he needs to do.”

He scowled. What he needed to do involved getting up close
and personal with Shana and that would be hard to do without breaking his new
conviction that he should just leave her the hell alone because she deserved so
much better than him.

Yvette, however, seemed convinced he’d do the right thing.
She touched him on the arm and said, “I was completely out of line and, again,
I’m terribly sorry. But Finn is right. You’ll fix this.”

He had to voice his truest thoughts. “I care about her, make
no mistake. But she deserves more than me.”

Yvette smirked. “Oh please. You’re a catch times ten.” Finn
shot her a look and she quickly amended, for his sake, “You’re a catch times
eleven, my love.”

“Yeah,” Finn replied in a dry tone. “Whatever.”

She laughed. Drake wished some of
his
tension would
ease. He wished he could share the same obvious love and attraction with Shana
that Finn and Yvette shared. But in order for him to make Shana truly see the
beauty she radiated, he’d have to find some way to make up for the way he’d
bruised her pride and her body.

Again with that double-edged sword. He wanted her, but could
he really have her?

Yvette gave him a hug and Finn shook his head. They left his
office and Drake tidied up. Then he contemplated his next move.

And dragged a few empty boxes from the storage closet to
pack up his favorite books.

Chapter Eight

Shana curled up on the chaise lounge overlooking the New
York City skyline from her living room, her knees pulled up to her chest.
Resigned to being an Old Maid, she flipped through the current issue of
Vogue
magazine, not really seeing the pictures or the words on the pages. Her tears
had dried, but she’d cried a river last night. She’d felt pulled into a dark
and lonely abyss and it had terrified her as much as it had pained her.

She’d spent all day in bed, staring at the ceiling,
replaying the previous evening in her head. Over and over again, until she
could no longer deny the gnawing feeling that ate away at her. Something wasn’t
right about those last few minutes with Drake, before she’d left his office. He
hadn’t wanted her to go, he’d said as much.

Frustrated by the fact that she couldn’t shake the two
contrasting looks in his eyes—the heated one and the disgusted one—she’d thrown
the blankets off and wandered out into the living room.

An hour later, she still felt something was off.

Tossing aside her magazine, she stood and stretched. Her
body was sore, but not at all in a bad way. It felt refreshingly used and
sated.

Heading into the bathroom, she stripped off her clothes, her
eyes avoiding the mirror. She stepped into the shower and a warm spray of water
hit her skin, making it tingle. Or maybe it was thoughts of Drake’s hands on
her body, which she couldn’t banish from her mind, that made her ridiculously
aroused, even though she was all by herself.

She lathered the soap in her hands and then ran them down
her arms and across her chest and over her stomach. That’s when she saw the
bruises.

She’d dressed so quickly in the bathroom in Drake’s office
last night, she hadn’t noticed them. Well, in truth, she specifically hadn’t
looked at herself in the mirror until her dress was on, believing he found her
hideous. Why would she bother to spare a glance at herself—it wasn’t as if she
needed the confirmation that, despite all her exercising and eating right, her
stomach wasn’t as flat as a supermodel’s, her breasts were solid Ds and her
hips… Well. She was built to bear children, no two ways about it.

Not that that would ever happen. Her one chance at romance
had been blown out of the water last night. And she was pretty certain she’d
never meet another man who’d make her feel the way Drake had. She’d love him
always, even though it would be an unrequited love.

She inspected parts of her body in the shower, ignoring all
the usual flaws she was used to seeing. Like the strawberry-shaped birthmark on
her left butt cheek and the thighs and calves that were toned, but too long for
a woman to not dwarf most of the people she stood next to, no matter how low
the heel on her shoe. Her narrow waist created such a severe hourglass shape
that every pair of jeans she tried on gapped by several inches in the back,
making them impossible to wear unless she planned to never sit down. Finding
clothes that fit her properly had always been the bane of her existence. She
kept a tailor in business with her alterations alone.

Her eyes swept over the purple marks again and she frowned.
She rinsed off and got out of the shower. She swiped a hand over the steam on
the mirror above the vanity and looked at her naked body from all angles,
studying the faint bruises where Drake had touched her.

That gnawing sensation returned full force.

Oh, no
. She groaned.

He’d done it again. He’d gone all
Twilight
on her. In
the movie, the vampire Edward had seen the bruises on the human Bella’s body
when he’d made love to her and he’d vowed never to touch her again.

Had Drake done the exact same thing?

When she’d come out of his bathroom, he’d been hugely
remorseful for the way he’d responded to her. He’d looked to be in more agony
than before he’d made love to her, when Jane had said he’d lived with the
torment of wanting her for so long.

He’d wanted to explain, to apologize. But she’d had none of
it as that familiar dread and despair had consumed her when she’d jumped
straight to the conclusion that he didn’t find her appealing upon close
inspection.

That sparked another thought. One she absolutely had to
face.

She’d been so quick to push him away. Why?

Sinking onto the plush cushion of the vanity bench, she
stared at her hands resting in her lap. She thought about Jane, who’d purposely
denied herself physical intimacy with a human because she feared she’d hurt
him. A valid reason.

What was Shana’s excuse?

Why had she given up so easily last night? Especially when
Drake and Jane had done nothing but put her at ease when it came to her image
issues. They’d admired and enjoyed her body last night. They’d both been
aroused by her. They’d both wanted her. And they’d made her feel wanted too.
Desired. Cherished. She hadn’t imagined it and it hadn’t been false
appreciation of her assets. They’d really and truly found her attractive.

They hadn’t cared about her fame and fortune. They’d wanted
her for
her
, not her name or her notoriety. So again…why’d she give in
to her insecurities so easily?

She’d let all those past, self-perceived notions of herself
prickle her pride at the very first misstep by Drake. And it wasn’t even his
fault he’d hurt her feelings. He hadn’t done it on purpose. She was certain of
it. No one could be so territorial one moment and so turned off the next. No
way.

On top of that, it just didn’t seem like him to do anything
so insensitive. He was anything but. He cared deeply for Jane and he’d been a
rock for Shana all night as she’d spoken of things she’d never admitted to
anyone else. As she’d done things she’d never done with anyone else.

She felt wholeheartedly she’d been wrong about his reaction
to her. And she could kick herself for being so quick to believe the worst, not
even allowing an explanation from Drake.

It had to end. A beautiful man with a sexy smile and kind
heart had wanted her last night. Only a fool would let her personal fears stand
in the way of something that had the potential to be so much more.

She was so convinced Drake had been repulsed by the bruises,
not her, that she quickly finished her shower, dressed and caught a cab to Body
Scenes. It was Saturday night, so the club was open. She asked to see Mr.
Toliver at the door and, after she gave him a desperate plea to see Drake, he
took her backstage. The guard at the elevators had to clear her before he’d let
her up to the office and she anxiously tapped her toe while she waited.

Finally, the doors slid open and she stepped inside, her
stomach in knots, her pulse pounding in her ears.

When the car reached the second floor, she rushed down the
long corridor and into Drake’s office, only to pull up short, her stomach
dropping to her knees.

His back was to her, though she knew he expected her. He
stood across the massive room, packing books into a box. There were several
full and empty boxes stacked around the large table where he worked and it
alarmed her.

“What are you doing?” she asked as she remained in the
doorway, her feet rooted where they were as the fear she was too late to fix
this seeped through her veins.

“Packing.”

She sighed impatiently. “I can see that. What I meant was,
why
are you packing?”

Still he didn’t look at her. “I’ve got a flight to London in
a few hours.”

She gasped. He was leaving? Putting an entire ocean between
them?

Had she been wrong earlier? Had she come to a completely
unrealistic conclusion about what had happened between them last night?

No.

The answer resonated deep within her. She knew she wasn’t
wrong, and for the first time in her life, she wasn’t going to doubt or
second-guess herself. She was going to stand up for herself. She was going to
go after what she wanted and she was going to convince Drake he wanted her
too—enough to make him stay.

Crossing the room, she stood beside him and said, “This is a
little drastic, don’t you think? I mean, if you no longer want to see me, I’ll
survive. You don’t have to flee the country. I won’t stalk you.”

He let out a short laugh that was completely humorless. But
at least he recognized her ribbing for what it was.

“I’m not leaving because of you. I’m leaving because of me.
It’s time.”

“The club’s only been open a year. It’s not like you’ve
overstayed your welcome and people are starting to question why you don’t age.”
Wasn’t that one of the biggest concerns vampires had to deal with? “Besides,”
she added, “from what I understand, no one really knows you exist. You’re sort
of an Internet urban legend.”

He turned away to grab a stack of books on the end of the
table. She reached into the box and hauled out five or six slim volumes and set
them aside while his back was to her.

“It became very clear to me last night that I have the
ability to pretend I’m something I’m not. And that pretense affects other
people.”

He loaded up the box, but every time he turned away, she
pulled out more stacks.

“‘Other people’ or just me?”

He sighed. “I allowed myself to think I was a man with you
last night. Not a vampire. And I hurt you in the process.”

“No,” she said, collecting more books and making a tall pile
on her end of the table. “
I
hurt me. And the truth is, I’ve been doing
it since I was a child. A lonely, lost child who wanted to be loved for her,
not her music, but who could never find anyone who saw past what she was on the
outside.”

“You’ve met a lot of idiots in your life then,” he said with
a tinge of anger—for her. He turned back to the box and let out a low groan,
finally seeing he wasn’t making any headway filling it, though he’d been
packing it for five minutes. He placed the stack of books he held on the table
and faced her, an amused look on his devilishly handsome face, despite his
obvious annoyance. “You’re not helping.”

She smiled. “Sure I am. The more books I unpack for you, the
less work it’ll be for you later.”

“Later?” he asked in his deep, sexy British accent.

As he stared at her, she was momentarily derailed from her
mission. He easily stole her breath and made her want to do wild and wanton
things to him. She wanted to climb all over his body, run her fingers through
his hair, taste every tantalizing inch of him.

Fighting back a sigh of longing, she said, “I have met a lot
of idiots in my life. I’ve also been one the vast majority of that time. I
envied women like Jane and that was stupid.”

“Yes, it was. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with the way
you look. You’re exotic and striking and—” He shook his head. “Why are you
frowning? Exotic is not a four-letter word, Shana.”

“No twelve-year-old wants to be called exotic, Drake. They
want to look like princesses in fairytales.”

He scoffed. “For God’s sake, why would you want to look like
someone else?”

That was a good one. She nibbled her lower lip a moment,
then admitted, “So I won’t stand out.”