“Super-helpful for people looking to contact you.”
“Oh, well, it’s helpful for me when I don’t want to talk to anyone.”
“Well, I’ll call you when I get back in town. As long as you aren’t screening.”
“I probably will be.”
Quin couldn’t help but laugh as he walked away. Even if he and Celia wouldn’t be lovers, having her back in his life, even as a friend, was good enough for him.
Because he’d walked to Celia’s the night before, he called a cab to take him home. But in the back of the car, instead of giving the driver his own address, he gave the man Reid’s address. He was starving and knew that like every Sunday, Reid and his girlfriend, Lila, would be hosting brunch.
The car pulled up outside Reid’s house and he paid the driver. He jogged up the stone walkway, noting the colorful flowers that lined it on both sides, and the vibrant decor that had been added recently to the porch. Lila’s influence, no doubt. Reid had been in the house for years and had nothing that wasn’t black or grey. But since the upbeat, colorful travel blogger had moved in, she’d made several positive changes, and not just to the decor, but in Reid’s life, as well.
Quin didn’t bother knocking and just walked inside, where he was greeted by the telltale aromas of brunch—bacon, pastries and, most importantly, more coffee.
“I hope you guys haven’t eaten yet,” he called from the hallway, finally alerting them to his presence.
“We’re just about to,” Lila yelled back from the kitchen. “You better hurry and get in here before your brother eats all the bacon.”
Quin walked into the kitchen and saw that his sister, Gemma, was there also. “Gang’s all here.”
Gemma handed him a mug of coffee, which he gratefully accepted. The cup he’d had a cup at Celia’s hadn’t been nearly enough to wake him up.
“You’re a little overdressed for brunch, aren’t you, Quin?” Lila asked. “If not also rumpled.”
His younger sibling sidled up next to Lila, tilted her head and looked at him, as well. “Weren’t those the clothes you were wearing at dinner yesterday?” she asked. He could feel Reid’s eyes on him also.
There was no point in lying to them or covering up what he’d been up to the night before. “Yeah,” he said, fixing himself a plate of scrambled eggs and bacon. “These are the clothes I wore yesterday,” he confirmed.
Reid snickered. “So you had a good night.”
“I did. But it was a confusing one, too.”
“How so?” he asked.
“Do you guys remember Celia Evans?” he asked, taking a seat on the tall stool at the island.
Gemma seemed to think about it. “Your friend from college? That quiet girl?”
“That’s the one. She’s back in town and we saw each other at a club.”
“Oh, really?” Reid asked. “She left town pretty quickly after graduation. But then you barely mentioned her again. I thought you were good friends. What happened between you?”
Quin blew out a breath; having to tell the story again made him wish he’d just gone on home. He’d told Gemma, but he’d never told his older, sensible, more old-fashioned brother the full unvarnished version. “We were friends. But it got complicated.”
“What happened? Who’s this girl?” Lila asked, as she took a seat at the table next to Reid.
“We were best friends in college,” Quin explained. “We had a great relationship. We shared almost everything.”
“‘Almost everything’?” Lila asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Yeah, extra emphasis on almost,” Quin confirmed. “It never got physical between us until graduation. I threw this huge party. We had too much to drink and she led me up to my bedroom. We fooled around a little. And then she told me that she had feelings for me. But I, of course, didn’t handle it so well.”
“What did you do?”
“I told her to get dressed and we left the room. She was hurt then, of course, but I imagine it was nothing compared to seeing me an hour later naked in the hot tub with two other girls.”
Lila gasped and he heard Reid grumble some sort of curse around his coffee mug. Reid was always disappointed in him over something, so that tone was nothing new.
“You’re such a dirtbag,” Gemma reminded him, not surprised, as she’d heard the story before.
“I know. It wasn’t exactly my finest moment,” he admitted. “The next day, I tried to call Celia, but her mom told me that she’d left town for New York. We never kept in touch.”
A silence filled the room, and the shame that Quin still felt over that night still hung on his shoulders. But the disappointment coming from his family affected him the most. Quin tried to lighten the mood with a smile. “Well, that’s the thing I’m most ashamed of. What about anyone else? Any deeper, darker secrets you want to share with the room?”
“I don’t understand, though,” Reid said finally. “Why did you freak out when she told you she had feelings for you?”
“I don’t know. I’ve asked myself that every day for the past eight years.”
“You were scared,” Gemma remarked.
“Scared of what?”
“You were scared of actual romantic emotion. You pushed Celia away and found the hot-tub girls because you’re scared of any sort of romantic connection, besides the physical.”
“Come on, Gemma, that’s not true.”
“Isn’t it?” she asked. “You’ve never been in a relationship that’s lasted more than a weekend. Sure, you’ve had women, but what happens once they get too close, or call you to chat and not have a booty call?”
He thought about that. The minute a woman got a little close, he dropped her like a hot pan. “What does that have to do with Celia then?”
Lila shrugged. “I obviously don’t know you as well as your sister does, but maybe she’s right. Maybe you pushed her away because you were afraid of catching feelings, too. Or maybe you already had already caught feelings, and realized that you felt the same way, but you weren’t ready for it. So, you fucked two girls in a hot tub.”
“You really have a way with words, darling,” Reid said with a laugh, draping his arm around Lila’s chair.
“Admit it, you love my potty mouth.”
“I wouldn’t have you any other way.”
“You didn’t always say that.” She looked at him with meaning. Quin smiled at his older brother and the woman he loved. They’d been through a lot and Reid had almost pushed her away. But they’d found their way, and they were happy.
Lila turned in her seat to face him again. “Anyway, back to Quin. Maybe you thought that if you could repulse her, she’d be the one to walk away so you didn’t have to take any responsibility in it not working out?”
“Or,” Gemma began, “even then if it did work out, that would have scared you, too. You’re too scared of being vulnerable with a woman.”
“I didn’t really come her to be psychoanalyzed. I came for bacon,” he told the women, biting into a crispy piece for emphasis.
“I think you started it, Quin,” Reid said with a smirk.
“I’m glad you’re enjoying this, Reid.”
“So what happened last night? Why was it so confusing for you?” he asked. “Spare us the intimate details, though.”
“Must I?”
“No, tell us all the intimate details there are,” Lila told him. “You started it, Quin. Now you have to finish the story.”
“Fine.” Quin told them about meeting Celia at the club, sitting with her on the beach, walking her home, spending the night.
“It’s just a one-night thing?” Gemma asked.
“Yes. We agreed that it was probably best. Sex just made it so awkward. It was almost impossible to have a normal conversation. She told me that I broke her heart and she wouldn’t let me do it to
her again.”
“She regretted it,” Reid said simply.
“She said she didn’t. But I don’t know. When I walked in on her in the kitchen this morning, she didn’t look very happy.”
“Do you regret it?”
Quin stayed quiet. He wasn’t sure. He couldn’t regret his night with Celia. But if she was left with regret, that didn’t sit well with him.
“Want to change the topic?” Reid asked when Quin was silent for an uncomfortably long minute.
He relaxed. “Yes, please.”
“You ready for your trip with Seacoast Prestige?”
And just like that, he felt the tension rise again. Not only was he not looking forward to being in Jared Foster’s company, but professionally, this was also his chance to prove to Reid that he could make the right decisions for the business. “I am as ready as I’ll ever be.”
“I figured you would have been stoked to spend a few days on a mega-yacht in St. Martin.”
He shook his head. “It’s not the boat that’s the problem, it’s the owner. Foster is an asshole.”
Reid nodded. “He definitely has a reputation as hard to deal with. I wouldn’t have followed the lead on this one, but you did a good job of courting him. If we can make this deal, it’ll be huge.”
In the past few months, they’d reached massive mainstream success. But it was important to Reid and the company that they maintain their position as the premier luxury rum brand in the country, as well. Stocking Rexford Rum on Seacoast Prestige’s yachts, jets and in their villas would more than do that.
“And we will,” Quin assured him. “It’s already in the bag. Just got to get him to sign off on it.”
“Maybe a yacht trip to St. Martin will be good for you. Give you some space and clarity.”
Quin sighed, and his thoughts immediately went back to Celia. He might be headed to the Caribbean, but all he wanted was to see Celia again. “Yeah, maybe you’re right.” Maybe a little space was exactly what he needed.
CHAPTER FIVE
WITH HER DARK sunglasses covering her red, tired eyes, Celia sipped her coffee. After Quin left, her friend, and coworker, Amy suggested getting brunch at a hip beach club. They’d met a month ago when Amy had started with Seacoast Prestige, and had become fast friends. They’d shared much, but the other woman had no idea the real reason why Celia had chosen to work for the company.
Without Jared Foster at the helm of the company, Celia’s position at Seacoast Prestige would have been a dream job. She got to do what she loved, for good money, in one of the world’s most beautiful cities. But in just her short time working for him, she had seen enough of Jared’s personality to know that he hadn’t changed, nor was he going to.
She knew of Jared’s propensity for cruelty and abusive behavior—she’d seen it firsthand years ago when she’d worked for him in New York. Celia had been young, and he’d taken advantage of her, propositioned her and, when she reported him, gotten her fired, and ruined her reputation within the industry, as she’d essentially been blacklisted. She’d struck out on her own and worked for herself, and been successful. But when she saw that Jared Foster’s company was hiring, she’d jumped at the opportunity. Things might be different, and if they weren’t, now that she had the confidence she needed, she would gladly take him down. The kicker, however, was that all it had taken was a change in hair color and he hadn’t even recognized her or her name. That was how little he valued the people who worked for him.
Working for Jared again was every bit the struggle she’d thought it might be, but at least she’d met Amy, who used the cubicle next to her, and with whom she had a standing Sunday-brunch date. Bottomless mimosas were on the menu, and Amy ordered one, but Celia desperately needed caffeine. Really, she probably should have just gone back to bed after Quin left. But despite her fatigue, she had an energy radiating through her—one that came from finally sleeping with him. She still couldn’t believe that it had happened. Even if they’d agreed to just be friends, she couldn’t help but think they would never get back to a place where they were just friends.
Amy put down her champagne flute and looked at her. “What happened to you at the club last night? You just disappeared. I tried calling you. And when you didn’t answer, I was worried.”
What had happened to her last night? She’d suffered a moment—okay, several hours—of insanity, beginning with what she and Quin had done on the beach. And then at her door when she’d invited him in. And then this morning when she woke up and almost crawled on top of him for another round.
“I ran in to an old friend,” she responded casually.
“Oh, really? That mystery guy who had the bottle of rum sent over.”
“Yeah. That was Quin. We used to be friends in college. We were catching up.”
“And what did you guys get up to that kept you up until the wee hours this morning?” She reached across the table and pulled Celia’s glasses from her face.
“Hey!” Celia protested, reaching for her glasses and putting them back on.
“With those dark circles under your eyes, you look like you didn’t even go to bed.”
“Thanks for that,” Celia said, rolling her eyes. She’d learned that Amy was always one to speak her mind. “Nice of you to say. Quin and I went to the beach. We talked. We caught up. It was nice.”
“And that’s it?” Amy asked.
“That’s it.”
Before Amy could question her further, Celia’s phone rang in her purse. She’d turned on the ringer after Quin had left. Not because she thought he might call. No, that’s stupid, she’d told herself. But still, as it rang in her purse, she quickly put her hand in to retrieve it. She frowned when she saw the name on the screen.
“Who is it?” Amy asked.
“It’s Jared.”
“Jared Foster?” Amy made a face. “Why’s he calling you?”
“I have no idea.” She knew it couldn’t be good. “Excuse me for a second.” The last thing she wanted to do was talk to him, but she knew if she didn’t answer it, she would face ramifications. Walking off the terrace, she found a quiet spot at the side of the restaurant. “Yes, Mr. Foster,” she said, answering the call.
“Pack your bags,” he said, skipping any traditional greetings. “I need you on a flight to St. Martin later this afternoon.”
“What?” she asked, not quite understanding him.
“Did you, or did you not, hear what I said?”
“I heard what you said. But why do you need me in St. Martin?”
“Why are you asking questions? Just get on that plane.” He disconnected the call before Celia could say anything else. She looked, stunned, at the phone in her hand, and jumped when it chimed again, signaling an email notification. She clicked and saw it was from Jared’s personal assistant. It was a detailed itinerary for a three-day trip on one of Jared’s yachts, where he would be hosting several of Seacoast’s top shareholders, and some other guests.
She wasn’t sure why Jared had requested her presence, but she had an idea. And it made her skin crawl.
When Celia walked back to the table, Amy was sipping on her mimosa. “What was that about?” she asked.
“Jared wants me to meet him in St. Martin.”
Amy shivered. “Seriously? Why?”
“I’m not sure, but I know it’s not to do code.”
“What if you don’t go?”
“I can imagine he’ll fire me.”
“Being on a yacht with Jared Foster seems like a fate worse than firing.”
“You’re telling me,” Celia agreed. But she remained silent as to the real reason she was doing it. She didn’t need the job. Her freelance work had paid the bills for years. She could easily walk away and forget he even existed. But this was her opportunity to entrap Jared, to catch him on audio and video being a creep to his employ
ees. And if he got physical? Celia had martial-arts training in the form of the Krav Maga classes she’d been taking since her first run-in with him. She could take care of herself, and she smiled to herself. Once she got enough dirt on Jared, he would lose everything, and she couldn’t wait.
“So are you going to do it?” Amy asked.
“Yeah, I guess I have to.”
“He’s such a creep.”
“I know.”
“I don’t like it.”
“I’ll be okay,” she told her.
“But—”
She reached across, placing her hand on top of her friend’s. “I’ll be fine.”
Celia could tell by Amy’s deep sigh that she was worried, and she knew she had to tell her friend something. “Can you keep a secret?”
“Of course.”
Celia leaned in and lowered her voice; she told Amy about her past with Jared, that she’d worked for him, and that after he’d harassed her she’d lost her job after reporting it. Then she told her what she hoped to do to him. When Celia was done talking, Amy sat back in her seat and picked up her glass. She drained her mimosa and slammed the glass back on the table with so much force that Celia was sure she’d broken the stem.
“Wow,” Amy said quietly. “Are you serious?”
“I’m deadly serious.”
“And he has no idea who you are?”
“Not yet,” she confirmed. “I was a blonde back then, but he hasn’t connected my name or anything, either. But it’s not like he would look at a woman and see anything but tits and ass, anyway. He’s such an idiot.” Jared may not remember her from the past, but there was no way he’d forget her when she was done with him.
* * *
The sun was starting to set in St. Martin as Quin stood on the dock and looked up at the large white yacht. He’d seen nice boats before, but the seventy-foot yacht was one of the most luxurious things he’d ever seen. Except for the name emblazoned on the back—If This Boat’s Rockin’... “Jesus Christ,” Quin muttered, rolling his eyes. Imagine having more money than 99.9 percent of people in the world, and no more class or sense than an ant.
As You Crave It Page 5