Taste of Temptation (8 page)

Saturday, the twenty-sixth of June

The week since Laine slipped out of his life had been torture. Jason had felt like an ass after Saturday night and tried to convince himself that maybe he was better off, that he'd somehow dodged a bullet, but every minute that passed without her increased his sense of dread. By Sunday night he knew without a doubt he'd been terribly wrong.

Damn it, it was her job, and he trusted her. No matter what she chose to do with the information, she must have believed it was the right thing.

He phoned her, but his calls went straight to voicemail, and he hung up without leaving a message. He'd thought he would see her around the hotel. Only she'd missed her appointments, and, suspecting she was avoiding him, he decided to wait until Saturday. She'd never miss a job.

There was a wedding booked for the rooftop rose garden at ten that morning, reception following in the ballroom at noon. Blissful Brides Inc. listed as the contact for arrangements. Jason had been staking out the lobby since six-thirty, and as a precaution he'd left instructions at the desk that when Laine came in, she was to be sent directly to his apartment. Now, at eight-thirty-six, the wedding planner finally strolled in, arms laden with a confusion of papers, looking almost put together.

Connie, not Laine.

Jason's brow furrowed. He didn't want to get stuck with the old crow playing intermediary between them, but nothing else had worked. He needed to know if Laine had passed off just this job or all of her weddings booked at the Henley.

Connie Bliss was only in her late fifties but smoking and sun had added more years than any plastic surgeon could remove and, with her over-processed helmet of hair, she looked like the nasty grandmother no one wanted to snuggle. Watching her brittle steps through the lobby, Jason thought it smart business that she kept to the management end of Blissful Brides and let her more approachable associates handle the people part.

He took a few strides up to her. “Connie, I thought we had a deal about Laine. She handles all my accounts, and I refer all inquiries to Blissful Brides. Where is she?"

"There you are, Jason. Nice to see you again,” she said, bustling by, before she stopped and squinted at him. “Good lord, what happened to your nose?"

Damn it. “Bar fight."

She nodded slowly, pursing her lips. “It's a shame about Laine, but some people just don't have what it takes for this business. Have you got some kind of space I can set up in? Our bride's special day is going to have to roll smoothly on its own—it'll take a few weeks for me to familiarize myself with each gal's requirements. You know how much of a hassle these needy girls can be."

"Hold on, Connie, let me help you with this stuff.” Knowing it would warm her up, he grabbed a loose stack of papers that appeared to have spilled out once or twice already. Wet coffee saturated the corners of several sheets and crumbs sprinkled out of the stacks as he straightened them. “What are you talking about with Laine? Where is she?"

Connie arched an eyebrow, sizing him up. He met her demanding stare and raised it.

Connie gave first. “She wasn't up for the job, dear. She flat out refused to follow my direct order about some rather unpleasant business with the wedding last weekend, trouble with a groom, you know. You'd think she'd have some respect for the years I've put into this business, but she wouldn't listen to reason. Ran off and spilled to the bride against my express orders not to. What did it get her? Nothing but a sad girl in a white dress going through with the wedding anyway. Knowing her man was swapping spit with a groomsman instead of her. Hmph. I've seen everything. If I'd been the one meeting with those two, I would have known in an instant that he swung the other way, and ... I would have known the bride knew about it too."

Jason's mouth hung open as he listened to Connie go on about the events of last weekend like they were nothing. Laine had confronted the bride after all. No wonder she looked so sad when he came back. And he'd just blown past her. She'd risked her job—"Did you fire her?"

"No, so back off, big boy. I didn't have to. Not that I really would have anyway—you and I had a deal, after all. The girl knew weddings and brought in business. Got it done all right.” Connie sighed and looked up at him like maybe he could shed some light on the situation. “She quit on me. Told me she didn't respect the fact that I wouldn't be honest with my brides. Fed me a bunch of malarkey about lives and futures and happiness on the line. Saving families from being the ones to break the bad news later or some such bunk. I asked her if she knew what she was doing, and she said yes. She offered to give me a month, but I let her out. Like I told you, she was soft. This business eats the soft ones for lunch."

Jason was trying to get his head around the fact that Laine wasn't going to be there. That he wouldn't be seeing her around every corner, brightening most of the days of the week with some bridal appointment or another. That there was nothing tying her to him or this place any more. “Has she got another job already?"

"Nah, not that I know of. She's got contacts everywhere, though. Someone'll snap her up in a hurry. Damn, but I hated to see her go."

Jason showed Connie into a small office and left her to get organized. He needed to get away, get some space, get his jaw off the floor, his gut untwisted. He'd blown it even worse than he thought. Now there was only one thing he could do.

"Max, I've got to run out for a couple of errands. I'll pick up some coffee on my way back.” Laine stuffed her foot into her New Balance sneaker and pulled her hair into a loose ponytail at her neck. “You need anything?"

Shirtless, he popped his head out of the bathroom and smiled. “No, I think I brought everything over from my apartment that I need. I'm going to try and fix this pipe under your sink while you're gone though."

"Wow, you really are full service."

"That's me,” he added with a quick wink.

He was cute. Laine grabbed her bag, bit into the thick leather braid of her key chain to free up her hands and reached for the stack of binders by the door. Straining to collect them, she pulled a deep breath in through her nose and stopped. The leather smelled like wedding cake. She closed her eyes, tamping down the images and emotions that came unbidden and walked out. She didn't have time for her buttercream fantasies. She'd let Jason Henley get too far under her skin, too far into her heart. And he'd torn it to shreds.

She'd made herself vulnerable to him, fallen under his spell and trusted what was between them. And Jason hadn't.

Her fingers clutched around the stack of binders as tears filled her eyes. Damn it, she needed to get control of herself. She couldn't spend an hour crying everyday for the rest of her life. She had to focus on what was new, what was good. What she and Max were starting was going to be great. If she got her errands taken care of and got back so they could get at it again. And then she'd be able to get her mind off Jason Henley and how much not being with him hurt.

Jason pulled into an open space and killed the engine. Stepping out of the car, he looked up at the old brownstone apartment building—not the building he'd been at the previous Saturday night—what an ass he was. It had a classic style, perfect for Laine. The security door was missing the latch, which meant at least he'd make it inside. Laine had every reason to be furious with him, but he would be damned if he'd give her any opportunity to turn him away before he'd had his chance to make things right.

The building didn't have an elevator, so Jason took the stairs up to the third floor and went to the only door in the hall. Soft music filtered through, along with the sounds of movement within. She was home. Smiling, he dropped his head in relief and knocked twice.

"Laine, it's Jason. We need to talk.” No response. “Look, I was wrong and I know you're angry, but, damn it, I love you and I'm not leaving until—"

The lock tumbled and the door opened a few inches, revealing a man in his mid-twenties with wet hair and a confused expression on his face. Pulling on a tight T-shirt, he blocked the entrance to her apartment.

Jason did a double take, his gut clenching with his fists—this was the guy he'd seen putting the moves on Laine at the hotel. Keeping his voice level, he pushed out the words. “Is Laine here?"

Obviously having heard Jason's professions and seeming to sense danger, Wet-hair inched the door closed a bit further. “No, I'm sorry she had to run out. Can I give her a message when she comes back?"

He wanted to grab a fistful of the guy's shirt and drag him out into the hall, out of Laine's apartment and out of her life. Somehow, Jason suspected the message might lose a bit of its meaning if it was delivered by this punk, who looked like he'd just rolled out of her bed and probably couldn't wait to roll her back into it. Gritting his teeth, Jason forced the image of another man's hands touching her body out of his mind. Finally, he looked up and nodded. “Just tell her Jason stopped by. And give her this."

With a last look down at the pink cardboard box tied with string, Jason reluctantly handed it over.

Slumped against the door of the fridge, phone resting against his chest, Jason stared out into his apartment and waited. He'd lived here for ten years. No, he'd showered and slept here for ten years. He could have stayed in any room in the hotel for all the living he'd actually done. Until three weeks ago, when he'd brought a woman wrapped in a tablecloth and covered in sticky sweetness through his door.

Before Laine, the last woman had been Sophia Dolce. He'd been a fool then, just as she said he was, trusting her when she didn't love anything but the idea of marrying into the Henley Hotel business. He'd spent ten years guarding his heart, defending his emotions, until Laine had broken through all his defenses without even trying. And he'd been a fool again. This time by not trusting her when he should have.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd gone a week without seeing her. In Laine's business there were always details to attend to, tastings, rehearsals, seating plans, floral adjustments. She spent nearly as much time at the hotel as he did. Or, at least, until this week she had.

Now, looking back at all of the business dinners—quick bites while they sat arm's distance apart, him helping with arrangements rather than begging her to tell him what she loved, rather than touching her hair or her cheek—he was struck by what a waste of time it had all been.

He should have told her he wanted her the first day. Should have pulled her into his arms and made love to her two years ago. Instead, he'd waited, trying to shake his growing need. And now he had less than three weeks of memories that revolved around more than place cards and someone else's romance. Three weeks topped off by the indelible memory of a man opening her door like he lived there, offering to take a message.

He had to get her back or he would have a lifetime to regret those few seconds that decided it all.

The phone against his chest rang out. He stared down at it like an idiot before fumbling it to connect the line.

"It's me. You came by.” Her voice was soft, slow. Unsure.

"Laine.” His head dropped forward. Thank God. “I'm so sorry. Please tell me there's a chance. That it's not too late."

"I'm sorry too,” she whispered. “I should have talked to you. I should have told you what happened, the bride—"

"I know about the bride. Connie told me. But it shouldn't have mattered and I realized that before Connie explained, for what it's worth. I've been dying without you. The way I treated you, walking past, like you'd done something so wrong you didn't deserve a single word. It was horrible."

"You had to be thinking about your fiancée."

"You aren't Sophia. That's no excuse ... Laine, I miss you."

"You should have come by sooner.” Her voice was cool, unreadable.

If she meant because of that punk in her apartment ... no, he'd win her back. He had to. “I should have, I'm such an assho—"

"You're an asshole."

Her smooth voice echoed out of the open elevator, ripping him from his self-pity off the floor and onto his feet inside a second.

Laine stood against the back corner of the mirrored car, stripped down to her sapphire bra, panties and heels, one foot planted against the side rail, the other on the floor. The fingers of her right hand traced lazy circles around her belly, while those of the left snapped her phone shut.

The air felt thin coming in and out of his chest. “Laine..."

"I said ‘You're an asshole.’ You scared the hell out of my new assistant this morning."

"Assistant?” Oxygen seemed to reenter his system, rush his brain.

She arched an eyebrow at him. “His name is Max. He's been trying to get me to take him on as my apprentice for a while now, and last week we struck a deal. I've always liked the idea of working for myself, but, out of loyalty to Connie, I couldn't consider it. I didn't want to betray her after everything she'd done for me—giving me a chance when I was starting out—by going into competition with her. But now I know it's the right thing. I've started my own company, Buttercream Brides. I don't have an office yet, so we're working out of my place. But that's not why I'm here. Max gave me your message ... something about you loving me?” Her eyes shone with hope and then flashed to mischief as she continued to stroke the skin across her abdomen. “You owe me a rain-check. And if you think you can get off without delivering on a debt, clearly you don't realize who you are dealing with."

Jason was in the elevator within two strides. Dropping the phone, his fingers wound in her hair, tilting her head back, he met her mouth in a ravenous kiss. And then, tearing himself away, he looked into her eyes.

"Laine, it's been hell these last seven days. I love you. I don't want to live without you."

She wove her fingers into his hair and pulled him close to her face. “Then don't."

Jason was solid, warm. Real. Not the dream that had left her frustrated and confused every night for the past week. Gripping fistfuls of his shirt, she clung to him, desperate to feel him, to know that he wanted her as much as she wanted him.

She'd been going through the motions of moving on with her life, but none of it felt real. None of it felt right. Deciding to start her own bridal consultant business should have been a thrill—it had been her dream for so long. But not having Jason to tell about it, to celebrate with her, left a drab sheen over the entire event. She missed him at every critical moment, expected to see him every time she turned around. For two years he'd been there whenever she'd needed him—as if he sensed her every emotion and need. He was there to bolster her when she felt doubt, to argue with her when she needed to get back on track. To hold her when she couldn't stand to be alone anymore.

It had been crazy not to run back to him and explain, beg him to understand. She'd been hurt, and her ego had gone into a full-on temper tantrum when he'd walked through the lobby with that disappointed look plastered across his face. She'd been furious and brokenhearted.

But then she'd thought about it. They believed in the same thing passionately enough that both were willing to take a stand in the name of love and honesty. Both willing to sacrifice something they loved to do the right thing. She couldn't work for Connie anymore because Connie didn't care about the outcome of a marriage past the last dance of the wedding day. Laine cared about the outcome of the couple's life together.

Jason believed in love and honesty so much that he was ready to walk away from her when he thought she didn't respect it. And he loved her enough to come after her, even before he understood, because he had faith in her. He was the man who made her believe in fairytale romance, the magic of weddings, and the lives she touched when she made them happen.

"Jason, I love you. I need you too."

He pulled her tightly into his arms and tilted her head up to look at him. She could feel his heart beating against her chest. Then just as quickly he pushed her back and grabbed her hands, searching them for something.

"Did your assistant give you the cake?"

She blinked, looking up at him. He seemed tense.

"Yes.” She leaned down and brushed her discarded clothes off the box. Lifting it by the tie, she held it up for him. “I brought it, you bad boy."

The corner of his mouth ticked up. “So you haven't opened it yet?"

"No. I wasn't going to start without you."

"Good, open the box. But you're wearing too many clothes.” He traced a line with his pinky from her bra down to her panties. “The shoes you can keep, but I'll have to help you out of the rest."

Laine untied the string, chills racing across her skin. “Naked right? Something about a cottage, a bunch of promises of pleasure I recall. Maybe you could give me a taste of that right now."

She felt like she would melt from the heat in his eyes. “A taste would never be enough. If you let me, I'm going to give you everything, and I'm going to do it forever.” He took the box and knelt down in front of her, holding it up as she lifted the pink cardboard lid off the cake box and gasped.

Embedded in the center of the ten-inch round, buttercream frosted cake was the most breathtaking ring she'd ever seen.

"Will you give me forever, Laine?"

She dropped to her knees, pulling the frosting-coated ring free. Jason set the cake aside and took the ring from her shaking grasp. He slid it over the third finger on her left hand, leaving a smeared sweet trail of frosting in its path.

"Yes, forever,” she sighed, feeling the word fill her heart as the soft glide of his lips against hers made the world go away.

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