The Unblocked Collection (30 page)

“Have who?”

“The girl who takes vanilla creamer in her coffee.”

Hayden looked rough this morning, which had a lot to do with the bottle of Jack we had polished off last night, and the four hours of sleep that had followed. “I know you didn’t come back for coffee. What’s on your mind?”

She shrugged and looked around the kitchen, her hands fidgeting with the cup. “You’re usually at Timber Towers well before eight. It’s almost nine now so why are you still here?”

“I needed a little sleep.”

“Bullshit. You function fine without sleep.”

“Well, I’m hung over, too.”

“I’m calling bullshit again. You never get anything more than a headache, which a few aspirin can take care of.” She sat up straighter and held the mug under her chin. “Maybe you’re expecting someone?” I could read Hayden better than anyone. Her bark was coarse and unforgiving, almost always misinterpreted—characteristics that made her a very successful lawyer. That was how I knew her shaking hands weren’t just from a hangover. Something had gotten to her…or someone.

“My real estate agent is coming over,” I told her.

“Your agent?”

I walked to her side of the island and put my arm around her shoulders. “The one I hired for Timber Towers.”

“And what’s this real estate agent’s name?”

I smelled whisky and hairspray that blended with her coffee. She was right: all I’d woken up to this morning was a headache, and now the scents in the room were making it worse. “I hope you don’t have an important meeting in the next hour or so, because it doesn’t look like you’re going to make it.”

She took a side step and turned to face me, gripping her cup like I might try to steal it. “No meeting, but I have to get home to shower…
I
do have to go into work today.” She finally took her eyes off the mug and looked at me. “What’s your agent’s name, Derek?” she asked again.

“Her name is Frankie Jordan.” An emotion passed over her face. It happened quickly, and left as fast as it came. “Hayden, is everything okay?” The only time I’d ever seen that look was when she spoke about the bastards from her past.

“I’ve got to get going. Walk me to the door?”

I slid my arm around her shoulders again, holding her tightly as we moved to the foyer. It didn’t feel like she needed me to keep her steady physically, but I felt like she needed the support somehow. I wondered what had shaken her in the short time she had left my place and came back…and why she wouldn’t answer me.

“Stay here,” I said, opening the front door, “I’ll catch you a cab.”

“No, I’m good. I’m going to walk for a bit.”

She hated mornings. She hated the cold even more and this was a bitter one. Something was definitely eating at her. “You sure about that?” She went down the front steps without responding and turned when she reached the sidewalk, holding out her mug. “Keep it,” I said. “I’ll get it later.”

“Right.” Her eyes followed several cars that drove by before she faced me. “Frankie might have stopped by earlier when I was on my way out.”

“She
might
have?”

She nodded.

“And you recognized her?”

“I know who she is…she seemed to be in a rush to leave.” She took a sip. “Looks like your meeting got cancelled, brother. Thought you should know.” She waved as she dragged herself down the sidewalk.

It didn’t surprise me that she had heard of Frankie; she had done enough digging on Randy to know anyone of importance in the real estate industry. What surprised me was that Frankie had come here, and had left without making contact.

I pulled out my phone and hit Frankie’s name in my contacts, and hung up when I got her voicemail. Where the fuck was she? And what was so goddamn important that she had taken off without telling me? I hung up when I got her voicemail a second time and went back into the kitchen.

Bailing on a meeting wasn’t like her. She was the type to keep her promises, and she had promised to be here…and I had promised not to touch her. That was going to be difficult.

Maybe she’d just gone to grab some coffee…

I went into the office that was off the kitchen and booted up my computer, scanning the emails that filled my inbox. None were from her. Neither was the text message that appeared onto my phone…or the one that followed. I took my time replying to both and to the emails that required a prompt response.

When I looked at the clock again, it was almost nine-thirty.

I wasn’t just the man who knew the intimate angles of her pussy; I was her client, goddammit. Just like she wanted me to be.

Fuck this.

I opened our last text message conversation and started typing:

You’d better have a hell of a good reason for not being here right now.

She usually responded immediately, but the bubble under her name that showed she was typing didn’t appear. When several minutes passed with no reply, I called Will. “Have you heard from Frankie’s office?”

“Not a thing,” he said. “Why?”

“Hayden said Frankie pulled up to my townhouse this morning, then took off without coming inside. She still hasn’t returned.”

“Maybe she doesn’t trust herself at your place?”

Will knew so much—not just about my business; my personal life, too. “Nah. She has more self-control than that. Backing out isn’t her style. She finishes what she starts.”

“Hold on for a second.”

He put me on hold, and I finished my coffee and stuck the cup in the dishwasher. The sound of a vacuum came from the second floor; my housekeeper was working on the bedrooms now that Hayden and I were out of them. Since my dick had become fixated on Frankie’s cunt, the stream of women passing through my bedroom had disappeared, and she had a lot less to clean. There was a notable absence of used condoms in the trash, washcloths in the bathroom, tissues and panties on the floor. The woman deserved a small fortune for picking up after me. And if I couldn’t persuade my gorgeous pink ivory to let me taste her again, things would soon go back to the way they had been.

It wasn’t time to consider that yet.

Will clicked over. “Brea hasn’t seen her either,” he said. “She thought Frankie was with you.”

Brea wouldn’t rat out her boss. She knew exactly where Frankie was, and it wasn’t with me.

“I’ll see you in twenty,” I said, and we both hung up.

FRANKIE

A TEXT MESSAGE
from Brea lit up my screen, telling me that Will had called the office and inquired on my whereabouts. I hadn’t returned Derek’s phone calls or text when they came; I fully expected my office to be the next in line. I knew I should have replied, should have used some excuse about an emergency having arisen. But every time I attempted to write back, the image of that woman walking out of his townhouse would shoot through my mind, and my entire body started to shake. It had been hard enough making the decision to keep things between us platonic. Seeing how he had moved on so quickly—and with her, of all people—was just too much.

Instead of replying to Brea’s text, I called. “We’re going out tonight,” I said as she answered. “Can you leave the office before five?”

“No problem, boss lady.”

I’d spent the last few hours holed up in my condo. There was probably chocolate in my hair and on my shirt, and I was positive it was under my nails. I needed a long soak in the tub and a pedicure…maybe even some touch-up waxing. “I’ll call you when I’m on my way,” I said.

I hung up, tossed the throw off my legs and stood from the couch, headed for the bathroom. Derek had once told me I wasn’t allowed to masturbate unless he gave me permission. He’d controlled my orgasms, even from a distance. But he didn’t control anything anymore, and I intended on proving that the minute I got into the tub, when I buried two fingers deep inside me and let the water from the jets caress my clit.

***

“I’m almost positive we don’t have to cheers after the third glass of wine,” I said. Still, I hit my glass against Brea’s. I was more than a little buzzed and could no longer feel my wrist—or my fingers, or my lips…

“No way…we need to, girl.” She paused to hiccup. “I feel like it’s been so long since we’ve gotten wasted together—and
damn,
it feels so good.”

She was right about that. The last time we’d had a drink together was the afternoon we had run into Derek and Julia having lunch, before the contract, before the sex. So much had changed in such a short time.

“It’s been ten days since we’ve had wine,” I practically shouted. It was past happy hour and the dinner crowd was filling the bar, making it difficult to hear.

“That’s still too long. Pre-D, we used to get drinks at least twice a week.”

“Pre-D?”

She nodded, her eyes widening and her lips spreading into a silly grin. “D for Derek. Or Derek’s capital-D Dick. Whichever you prefer. Both are large and gorgeous and beyond perfect.”

“Oh God…I tell you way too much.” I lifted my wine and took a huge sip. “Well, it’s now post-D, so we’ll be having many more happy hours like this.”

She leaned into the narrow high-top to get closer, her arms crossing over the table. “The wine wants me to tell you something.”

My brows rose. “What would that be?”

“You’re the one who decided to end things. You can’t be upset with him for moving on. It’s not like he knew you had a past with that chick.”

I remembered the text message I had seen on his phone from Hayden the morning after we had spent the night together.
I need to see you tonight
.

“But he barely even waited a day, Brea. That’s just wrong.”

The candle on the table made her teeth glow and showed how big her smile was—I knew that grin, and I knew what it meant. “You wanted him to fight for you, didn’t you?”

When I told him I wanted to end things physically, he acted as though he agreed. He didn’t resist; he didn’t argue. He just complied. Then minutes later, his text asked me to come to his townhouse the next morning. Was that his way of fighting for me, or was he trying to make sure our professional relationship stayed smooth? I didn’t know. All I
did
know was seeing that woman come out of his place made my entire body ache. I hated that his dominant hands and ravenous lips had been all over her—
her
or any woman, really. I didn’t want to share him…but he wasn’t mine, and now he never would be. “Let’s order a shot.” I raised my hand to call over our waitress. “What do you want? Tequila? Bourbon?”

“Slow down there, little lady,” Brea slurred. “Shots and wine aren’t a good combination. Don’t you remember that from the morning after the gala?”

“Two shots of tequila, please,” I said to the waitress. I glanced at Brea’s scowl. “And two extra-large waters.”

Brea put her hand on top of mine. “It’s okay to like him. It’s okay to feel something for him. And it’s okay to talk about it.”

I shook my head, the wine making my brain tingle. “He’s not someone I’m supposed to have feelings for. He’s not…” My thoughts drifted to our night at the hotel, how it had felt when his attention was focused on me, how my body had responded to it. No man had ever gotten me to bend, to buck, to scream the way Derek had. Our connection was more than just physical; I knew that the moment he had touched me. It wouldn’t have been that intense if there weren’t some level of emotional involvement. “He’s not what I need right now. He could never settle down…I think he proved that pretty clearly this morning. And I can’t handle another Reed situation.” I took a breath. “I just can’t.”

“Oh shit.” The look on her face concerned me. “Whatever you do, do not turn around. We’ve been spotted.”

“By who?”

She didn’t get a chance to respond. A second later, Reed appeared at our table. “Brea,” he said, nodding. His eyes slowly moved to me, and his hand cupped my shoulder. I started to shake it off just as he moved it away. “Frankie, I didn’t know you were still coming here.” His eyes narrowed.

When Reed and I were together, we came to this bar frequently; it was close to both our offices, which made it an easy meeting place. It was also a favorite of Brea’s, and only a few blocks from her apartment, which was the reason we were here now. I hadn’t even thought about whether Reed would be here too.

“I don’t usually,” I replied.

He gripped the stem of my glass, giving the wine a quick swirl, looking over the top of it. “A 2012 reserve? Let me buy you another—”

“No,” Brea and I said at the same time.

“Thank you,” I continued, “but we’ve had plenty.”

“We definitely have,” Brea confirmed.

“Fair enough.” He released the glass and moved closer, his hand returning to my shoulder.

Everything about his touch felt wrong…and his scent, and his pleading eyes, and the way his cufflinks rubbed against my skin. I wanted to feel soft flannel and a strong grip, to be filled with the scent of spice and woods, to feel the heat from an electric blue gaze. I wanted dominance in its rawest form, not refinement.

I wanted Derek.

I wanted him more than I was willing to admit out loud, although the wine was making it much easier.