The Sweetest Taboo (22 page)

In the end she’d decided to dress as the epitome of good and had donned flowing white scarves over a cat suit of ecru-hued lace and presented herself as the mythical virgin sacrifice Cali had once accused Sebastian of looking ready to consume. Totally apropos, Erin thought, since he consumed her on a regular basis.

The setup for the Ryder Falco signing was absolutely perfect. Erin had paid the caterer extra to work with Falco’s publicist and create an ambience suited to both the party theme and the author’s notoriety as a mysterious recluse. She’d read his first novel,
The Demon Inside,
and had decided she’d stick with Nora Roberts for her fiction.

Falco’s work was too sinister for Erin’s tastes—exactly the reason the grotto of stones and live plants in the bar’s darkest corner, lit with black lights casting a red-tinted ultraviolet glow, fit so well with the ambience of both the room and the man’s reputation.

She circled through the room one more time then headed to her office to dress. When she returned thirty minutes later, Cali was already behind the bar, checking the crates of mugs and racks of wineglasses as well as the stock of hard liquor. She looked up as Erin joined her, twirling in a pirouette that sent her scarves floating.

Cali’s eyes grew extra wide. “Oh, my God! You look totally awesome. Sebastian is so going to jump your bones.”

Ignoring Cali’s prediction, Erin raked her gaze over the other woman’s costume of white shorts and a ribbed white tank that showed off her gorgeous curves. Cali also wore a halo atop of her mop of blond curls and a huge set of iridescent angels wings flapped on her back.

“You look pretty damn cute yourself.” Erin felt her mouth twist into a wry grin.

“Are you the angel of Will’s salvation?”

“Something like that,” Cali said with a bit of a prurient expression. “I couldn’t decide on being good or bad and finally went for a combo.”

Erin gave her friend another once over. “Well, you succeeded in a big way. He’s not going to know what hit him.”

Cali’s smile begin to fade. “If he even notices.”

“Why wouldn’t he? How could he not notice?” Erin glanced toward the door as a party of four vampires came in.

“Oh, he’ll notice, but he won’t care.” Cali pushed the crate of mugs back beneath the bar. “You know how guys get when they’re pissed off. Whatever they’re mad about is the only thing they can think of. They couldn’t care less that someone went out of her way to make sure she looked good enough to eat.”

“Wait a minute.” Erin waved a scolding finger. “You know we’re supposed to dress for ourselves, not for men.”

“Puh-lease,” Cali said with a huff. “What kind of
Cosmo
girl are you anyway?

You can’t tell me you dressed like that and never thought of Sebastian.” A teasing light dawned in Cali’s eyes. “Unless maybe you were thinking of seducing Ryder Falco.”

Erin frowned and snorted. “Right. I dressed to seduce a man I don’t even know.”

“You didn’t know Sebastian when you seduced him,” Cali countered.

“That was different.” Erin
had
known Sebastian. She’d been making love to him for months in her mind. They just hadn’t yet met—a horse of an entirely different color.

“And I dressed this way for me. I don’t even know if Sebastian is going to be here.”

Cali’s hands went to her hips. “What’re you talking about? Why wouldn’t he come?”

A trio of goth females—pale white complexions, dark lips and eyes, spiky black hair…oh, wait. One was a guy, Erin realized, shaking off the illusion. She turned back to Cali. “I imagine he will. He just never committed to coming.”

“Maybe he assumed he didn’t have to commit. Like he knew you knew he’d be here.” Cali hesitated. “Y’all are still together, right? I mean, now I’m the one doing the assuming but you haven’t said that y’all weren’t still dating.”

“C’mon, Cali. When have Sebastian and I ever
dated?
You know what our involvement is all about.” It was exactly what it had been intended to be about from the get-go, Erin admitted, logic nicely stepping in to remind her of the facts.

“I know. I just thought…” Cali sighed, waved off the rest of her comment with one hand. “I don’t know what I thought. I obviously have no business analyzing relationships since I don’t even have a handle on my own.”

“You never told me what’s going on with Will. What’s he being a grump about?”

“The screenplay. What else?” Cali picked up her serving tray to make a round through the bar. “He’s not too happy that I discussed it with Sebastian.”

“Hmm. Where is Will anyway?” Erin glanced up at the clock above the bar. “It’s almost eight. Oh, God. It’s almost eight.” And Ryder Falco was due at nine. “Can you tell me about Will later? I’ve got to make sure Robin knows Falco is her number one priority tonight.”

“Relax, Erin. Robin’s been working for you as long as I have. She knows her stuff. Everything’ll be cool,” Cali added before heading out into the crowd to circulate.

All Erin could do was take a deep breath and trust that Cali was right.

11

WALKING THROUGH Paddington’s back door without first giving Erin full disclosure wasn’t going to be fair. Sebastian knew that. Had for the last three weeks, in fact, recognized the building ache in his gut as guilt over what he was going to do. During tonight’s short limo ride from his publicist’s hotel to the bar, he sat expecting to physically implode.

Revealing his identity any earlier would’ve rendered the admission worthless. He knew that as well. Erin would’ve gone and canceled the signing and told him to get the hell out of her life. He’d be doing that soon enough. Tonight, as a matter of fact. But he didn’t want to go without showing her that he’d never taken their involvement lightly.

He cared about her in ways he didn’t know it was possible to care for another human being, ways he’d never once experienced throughout his thirty-four years. Except for the time spent learning what he had from Richie, Sebastian had been on his own from day one—and had followed his personal creed to the letter.

He never relied on anyone but himself. He never looked to another for what he couldn’t beg, borrow or steal using his wits, his street smarts or the education he’d received in lockup, compliments of the State of Texas.

At least he’d never looked elsewhere before now.

Until lately, when he’d been looking to Erin for things he couldn’t name, things indefinable yet significant, that had doubled his creative energy, spurred his enthusiasm toward the bitch of a project he’d been warily circling for months.

He didn’t know what exactly was going on with her in regards to Paddington’s and her grandfather. She hadn’t been particularly up-front, had been damned evasive in fact, when he’d asked her those questions a few weeks ago while lying in bed at her side, holding her close, pulling her back into his body, content to do nothing but touch.

Okay, so he’d only been a temporary fix and not a permanent part of her life. She didn’t owe him any answers. That said, he still wanted to know. His interest was real and true and drawn from that place where he felt too much and too strongly for this woman he was going to have to let go.

Slumped in the limo’s back seat, he stared out the tinted window at the taillights on his left, shoving away the encroaching emotion he couldn’t afford to feel. Not tonight. Tonight was going to be tough enough, worrying about her reaction to his deception, unable to talk to her, to explain until the signing’s end.

Dealing with his own strange sense of loss on top was too much of a distraction to his focus. Later, maybe. After gaining the distance he needed. Then he’d be in a better position to look back objectively, to appreciate the time she’d allowed him into her life. For now, however, he would be the bastard he played so well.

Since Paddington’s was spitting distance from his loft, his only caveat to the signing was going in costume. His publicist was used to his covert way of doing what little promotion he agreed to do and wasn’t concerned by the subterfuge, just thrilled to have the reclusive Ryder Falco making a personal appearance.

Sebastian didn’t want to be recognized in his own neighborhood after tonight. It might happen, but he was taking what precaution he could. Funny how tonight’s chance for exposure registered lower on his personal radar than it had in the past. He added that inconsistency to his list of “laters” growing longer the more he sat and stewed.

The costume had worked. No one had looked at him twice on leaving his publicist’s hotel where he’d dressed. Erin, of course, would recognize him immediately. Like he’d said, totally unfair. But it was either do it this way and give her the boost Paddington’s needed, or never say a word about who he was and watch her suffer while Courtland’s pulled in the landslide business that should’ve been hers.

He figured this way was the lesser of two evils. And, yeah. The signing went a long way toward assuaging a conscience he shouldn’t have had. A self-reproach tied into the fact that he wouldn’t be seeing Erin again after tonight. If he expected to string together one hundred thousand words that made sense and prove he had more in his creative repository than detectives and demons, he needed to shake off the sweetest distraction in which he’d ever indulged.

The mess he’d made with his newest Raleigh Slater story proved even recreational involvement with Erin was out of the question. She had too much impact on his state of mind when he needed complete clarity of thought. He couldn’t afford the risk to his career. A career that was his entire life, his safety, sustenance and support.

His agent had been only marginally more tolerant of Sebastian’s new project idea than had his editor. And understandably so. They both liked the guaranteed gravy of his Raleigh Slater series. Hell, he was partial to the stuff himself. His muse was another matter. She’d demanded he take up her gauntlet and give this new project his undivided attention—the very reason he had to cut himself off from Erin. From the little interaction he had with Cali and Will as well.

His success had come at a high price, but relying on self and self alone had taken him to the top. He hit the
New York Times
bestseller list with every new hardback release, and then again with the mass market printing a year or so later. He’d done it all on his own. And taking his career in a new and risky direction doubled the necessity of cutting off contact with the world outside the one in his mind.

He didn’t expect Erin to understand. And the explanation he’d have to give her wouldn’t satisfy her right to know or excuse his actions. But he had to do what he had to do without worrying about Erin being hurt.

He was having a hard enough time dealing with the strangling ache near his heart.

“OH MY G OD. O H MY G OD. Oh, Erin. Oh, God.”

Erin hurriedly swiped the half-melted ice cube from the bar into her free hand and tossed both the ice and the rag into the bin beneath the bar. Ryder Falco. He was here. He was here. Oh, God. He was here. She sounded as hysterical as Cali.

She smoothed down her flowing scarves, a ridiculous effort that defeated the costume’s entire purpose. “Do I look okay? First impressions are everything, you know.”

Cali worked so hard at swallowing, Erin worried her friend would choke. “Cali? What’s wrong? Are you all right?”

Having scooted behind the bar and up to Erin’s side, Cali grabbed Erin’s upper arms and held tight. “Forget the first impressions. Just promise me one thing.”

Erin frowned down at her friend’s viselike hold. “Uh, Cali? Can this wait for a better time?”

Cali shook her head. “No. It can’t. Now, promise me that, well, that…just promise me that you won’t flip out or anything.”

“Why would I flip out or anything?” Erin asked.

“Promise?” Cali’s eyes both went wide. “I mean, this is important, Erin. This party is going to go a long way toward making sure you don’t lose the bar. That’s all that matters here, okay? You have to remember that.”

Okay. This was getting weird. “What is it? The cops? The alcoholic beverage commission? Little green men?” When Cali didn’t even crack a smile, Erin began to get nervous. She pried her arms free and said, “No flipping out. Or anything. I promise.”

“If you do, I’m dragging you out of here. I swear.” Cali made a spinning motion with one finger.

“No flipping out. I promise,” Erin said then turned to face the grotto—and immediately forgot how to breathe.

Ryder Falco stood behind the grotto table, hands at his hips, the long tails of his black duster caught back like flared batwings. His black bad-guy hat was pulled low on his forehead; his black bad-guy bandanna was pulled high on the bridge of his nose. Only his eyes remained visible.

His eyes were all Erin needed to see to know who he really was. To remember the way he’d looked at her from across the bar the first night he’d come into Paddington’s. To relive the moments he’d watched her only hours later as she’d walked into his home and shared his shower. Except suddenly his eyes seemed to be that of a stranger. She felt as if she didn’t know him, had never known him, at all.

A man she assumed was his publicist stood at Sebastian’s side, talking to the member of the caterer’s staff responsible for the Falco book display. Yet, for all Sebastian’s appearance of listening, Erin knew he wasn’t. His attention was on her and no place else. They could easily have been the only two people in the room.

She loved a man who had lied to her, she realized, even as another painful truth struck. She had been equally dishonest with him—about the truth of her feelings, about the shallow and selfish reasons she’d invited him into her life. Still, her sin of omission hovered in the realm of petty. And, according to the weighted fist crushing her heart, Sebastian’s ranked above the seven deadly.

And, now that she’d finally begun breathing again, she wanted to kill him almost as much as she wanted to do herself in. When had she become so blind? So gullible? And where could she get her hands on a weapon to slash his heart into shreds resembling hers?

How in the hell did he plan to justify his deception? Anger quickly followed denial. This she could not wait to hear.