by K. A. Linde
And yet he had never tried to make it right. They couldn’t mend the crack that had shattered their love. It was irreparable. No matter how much he wanted to fix it, to make it better, he couldn’t. They couldn’t.
His heartbreak ate away at him beneath his confident façade.
Parker turned her gaze in his direction, and he quickly diverted his eyes. He didn’t want her to see him. It would be too much. She was dating someone else. She didn’t love him anymore. It was over. It had been for a long time. Seeing her here, now, would just be another reminder of how much he had lost…how much he had given up.
Out of his peripheral vision, he took a closer look. Parker was blatantly staring at him now. He could almost see the clock working inside her brain as she eyed him, registering who he was. Would she come closer? Would she say anything? Or would she avoid him, just like he was avoiding her?
And then he saw it even in the dimness, and his heart contracted. She was not his Parker. She looked a whole hell of a lot like her, but she wasn’t her. No one else could ever be her.
He sagged in his seat, hating himself for the disappointment that settled in his gut.
Oh, God, she was getting up and walking directly toward him. It was now or never. It was his call. If he turned away, she might leave him alone. She might not come after what her walk was suggesting she wanted. But he couldn’t do it. Christ, she looked like Parker. And those hips were coming his way, and he wanted what they were screaming.
She tripped just as she neared him, her heel catching in some unknown crack in the floor, and she yelled out, “Oh!”
His move.
He reached out catching her body, as light as a feather, in his arms. She was tiny, but all toned muscle underneath her scat clothing. It wasn’t something he normally saw in women like this. He always expected them to be soft and pliable not to be fit. He liked fit.
The girl’s hand reached out and rested on his chest. Once she realized that she was safe, she still didn’t move it immediately. He righted her, keeping his hand firmly planted on her slender hips.
Getting a better look at her, he was just as shocked by her resemblance to Parker. Same dark hair, same dark chocolate eyes, same goddamn height! But he had to force himself to see the differences. This girl was much tanner than his Parker, who was alabaster pale in the hottest of summers with soft freckles across the bridge of her nose. This girl was a different build too. Parker had an athletic build from various sports—soccer, mostly. So, her thighs and calves were solid. Whoever this was had a much lither figure, less to hold onto. And now that he was looking, her face was slightly different shaped. Parker had a circular face, which her waves covered half the time, but this girl had a heart-shaped face and almond seductive eyes. It worked for her.
“I am so sorry. I just can’t seem to keep my balance in these things,” she purred and he glanced down at her heels.
He slowly dragged his eyes back up her body and into her face. Still all he saw was Parker. Her voice was more musical, but it was easy to ignore the difference. He was about to earn his one-way ticket to hell. At least it was all done with good intentions. Maybe.
“It’s no problem,” he finally said, still holding onto her hips. “Did you twist your ankle or anything? Did you need to sit down?”
She paused, sucking her bottom lip in between her teeth and giving him a doe-eyed expression as if she were contemplating the question. It was damn sexy, and the last fleeting thought of his interview left his mind.
“I’m not sure,” she conceded.
“Here. Take my seat. Do you need ice or something?” he asked, not taking his eyes off of her as she slid past him and occupied his stool. Damn, she was making this easy.
“Oh no, I think if I just sit a minute, I should be fine.”
“At least let me get you a drink,” he said, flashing her an award-winning smile. That always worked. He didn’t even need to use it. She was already pretty drunk and clearly on the prowl. It wouldn’t be wrong if he let her use him as much as he was about to use her, right?
She giggled as if she had been expecting that. She probably had been. Parker always got offered drinks when they had gone out too.
“That’d be great,” she drawled, crossing her hurt leg over the other.
“What’s your guilty pleasure?” he asked, his voice laced with seduction. He was really laying it on thick. “You seem like a Sex on the Beach kind of girl.” She blanched at his words. All right. Guess not. He would change tactics. “Or are you more of a whiskey girl. I hear a Southern accent in there. Did you want a SoCo or a Jack and Coke?”
He waited for her response. He wasn’t sure what nerve he had touched on, but she began to fidget at the suggestions. But he knew a Southern accent when he heard one especially up here. He hoped he hadn’t offended her, because now that he had started, he wanted to see this through.
Ramsey tilted his head and studied her as he waited for a response. Why was she trying to make this difficult? Her body language was an open book, and all she was screaming was read me.
And he intended to.
“Shots,” she yelled over the music.
Finally, she made up her mind. At least it didn’t mean that she was backing out. They had a bargain. Well, she didn’t know about the bargain, but it was a bargain nonetheless. “Do you care what of?”
“Anything but Jack,” she stated firmly.
He smirked at her answer, and then nodded his head. He leaned over the bar and smiled at Lacy. She sauntered over immediately and he ordered the shots.
Lacy looked at him incredulously. “Really?” she asked, glaring at him. “Two?”
“Don’t be difficult,” he said.
She started pouring the drinks. “Don’t forget about pie.”
“Never.” He added a smirk for good measure.
Ramsey snatched the two shots off the bar and handed one to the girl. They downed them happily. He liked a woman who could hold her liquor, and she was a tiny little thing. He ordered another round, more replaced that round, and then another round after that. She melted into him, and he let her. With his hand around her waist, he could almost close his eyes and picture another.
His eyes snapped back open and brought him back to reality. Could he really do this? The alcohol was taking a toll on her tiny body and her breast brushed up against his hand. She seemed very pleased to be past the point of intoxication.
Yeah, he could do this.
4
Trust
“So,” she slurred, “what do you do?”
He looked at her glazed eyes wondering if he could answer that question. Deliberating was futile in the long run. She was in the VIP section of a high-end club. There was no way that she wanted to actually know what he did. She just wanted to know whether or not he had money. And he did.
He leaned in closer to answer her. “Live off a trust right now,” he said, giving her the answer she wanted to hear.
“Oh?” she asked dryly, clearly unimpressed.
He was thrown off. What did she want if not for him to have money to take care of her? Wasn’t that why girls came to these places dressed like that in the first place? He didn’t understand. He had used that line dozens of times…more than that probably, and it had worked every time. The girl was putty in his hands. They tried to tell you that money didn’t matter, that they cared for you regardless, but it was a lie. They wouldn’t have cared half as much if he’d been broke. He knew. He had tried that too.
So what made this one different?
“Yeah,” he said, trying to recover from her obvious distaste. “Not really my thing, but it helped me when I was in a pinch.”
He shrugged, trying to push aside the discomfort of having to backpedal.
“Well, what are you doing here, Mr. Trust?” she asked, giggling. It was adorable.
“Daddy’s work,” he said coldly. Why was he telling her this? She didn’t need to know anything about him. “Just trying to get a feel on a gu
y they’re interviewing for a job, and he’s in New York. I happened to already be in New York. It was a win-win for them.”
“Oh,” she said, nodding along as if she cared.
He doubted that she did. He didn’t even care about his father’s stupid interview. He was already trying to forget that guy.
“Where are you supposed to be meeting this guy?”
He smiled, wanting nothing more than to get the subject back on her. He didn’t talk about himself. All women talked about themselves. Begrudgingly, he answered her questions, “Here, actually. I tend to feel more comfortable in clubs, but he hasn’t showed yet.” His eyes left her for the first time to scan the VIP area once more. Might as well make sure he wasn’t going to miss the guy now that he had already invested in this girl. “Guess he got caught up.”
She reached forward, pulled his blue and white striped tie between her fingers, and tugged lightly. This was more like it. “Well, then it’s your lucky day, isn’t it?”
He smiled wide. “I suppose it is. How’s your ankle? Can you dance on it?”
She nodded. “It’s just fine.”
Ramsey pulled her out onto the dance floor. She was a good dancer, clearly trained in some way. It would account for the way her body was built, and right now he was getting a pretty good grasp on what her body was like. They moved together really well, and soon even he was forgetting what he was going to do later.
As the music changed, he guided her hips to match his and she followed easily. He liked that. Meant good things for later. Or now.
“Do you want to get out of here?” he questioned into her ear.
She leaned her head back against his chest and swayed to the music. “I’m here with a friend. I can’t leave without her.”
He sighed. Seriously? She was going to pull that?
Suddenly she was going to get all guilty on him. He hadn’t heard of any friend up until now. Seemed a bit suspicious…like she was trying to find a way out. Not sure why. She had been throwing herself at him all night.
The girl started describing her friend, who apparently was gorgeous. He could appreciate exotic beauty, but he was really just ready to take this one home and have his way with her.
Now he had to ditch her friend, who he hadn’t seen all night. It would be easier to just pick someone else up, but this girl had him intrigued. She looked like Parker and didn’t care about his trust fund. He had never met anyone else like that. He had wanted to sleep with her with only the first criteria. The second was a fucking bonus.
Ramsey located her friend much more quickly than she would have been capable of alone. His height gave him a distinct advantage.
“Chyna, time to go,” she commanded, peeling her friend, Chyna, off of some guy she had locked lips with. Whoever he was didn’t look too pleased, but after seeing Ramsey, he quickly backed off and vacated the premises.
“Alexa,” she shrieked, “the love of my life!”
Alexa giggled as Chyna tackled her, forcing them both back into his hard chest. He could appreciate this. The friend was pretty fucking gorgeous. She was probably a model though and self-absorbed. Now that he had what he was looking for, he had no interest in the other. A threesome would have been icing on the cake, but he kind of wanted this Alexa to himself. And she probably wouldn’t be up for it.
“Oh, excuse us,” Chyna trilled, batting her long lustrous eyelashes.
He nearly rolled his eyes. This was what he had been expecting. “It’s not a problem. I was just helping, Alexa, find you.”
“Ohhhh,” she said. Her eyes moved from Alexa back to him. “Well, thank you for that. She’s hardly ever able to find me on her own.”
“So, she told me,” he said, glancing back over at Alexa.
“It is time for me to go,” Chyna said, faking a yawn. Yes, go! “I guess I should check out. I’m sure you can find your own way home, right chica?”
Alexa glared at her friend, and Ramsey wondered why. They were going home together. It was time to leave.
“Can you excuse us for a minute?” Alexa asked him.
As he nodded reluctantly, she yanked Chyna out of earshot from him. God, he hoped she was telling her to get the fuck out and quickly. His place at the Plaza was calling his name, and he was pretty much ready to fuck her in every room in his suite. Maybe multiple times in one room. After all he had the bed and the floor in the bedroom, there were two chairs in the den, a shower and bath…
He wasn’t sure how long their conversation lasted as he envisioned what he had planned for her, but they soon returned. Alexa looked sheepish. What was that about?
“Sorry, we have to get out of here,” she said as she turned toward him.
“We?” he asked incredulously. She pointed between her and Chyna, and his face transformed at the realization that she was going to leave without him.
Fuck! She had to be joking! He had put in all the effort. He had done all the right things. Okay, so maybe wanting to fuck her because she looked like Parker wasn’t exactly the right thing, but she had been after him anyway. It wasn’t like she was all sweet and innocent. And now she was going to leave him hanging? What the fuck!
“Sorry. I know you have that meeting,” she added quickly. He knew she was lying. She didn’t care about his meeting and neither had he. “Maybe we can meet up some other time.”
“I’m leaving the city tomorrow,” he told her, trying to keep the sexual frustration out of his voice.
He couldn’t push her. She was pretty set even if she did look sorry. He didn’t need her regret. He needed her in his hotel room. He responded warmly anyway, “But maybe I could get your number and the next time I’m in town we can meet up.”
Chyna grumbled something in her ear, but she swatted her away. She clearly didn’t want to hear a voice of reason. “Sure. Here’s my number.”
She quickly punched her digits into his Blackberry and then dragged Chyna to the door. He watched her walk out of the club in a state of shock.
How did he keep letting Parker just walk out of his life without a fight?
5
Starving
Ramsey had to remind himself that whoever that girl was, that Alexa, she wasn’t Parker. She just happened to look like her. And he had been about to use her. Man, he was fucked up.
He glanced down at the screen, where she had put her phone number under just the name Alexa. He smirked as he recognized the Georgia area code. She did have a Southern accent.
He should probably delete the number. He wasn’t going to call her anyway. When he sobered up, he would realize how big of a mistake this all was. If he was already recognizing it now, then it would be ten times worse tomorrow. Or maybe he wouldn’t care. He didn’t normally care about anything, especially not some girl who had refused him a one night stand.
Ramsey sighed, running his hand back through his blonde hair, and walked back to the bar.
“You look like you got hit with a ton of bricks,” Lacy said, pushing a drink toward him, “and you probably need that.”
He nodded not acknowledging her statement.
“Did that girl actually turn you down?”
Lacy sounded disbelieving, and he didn’t want her to think that. He very rarely was turned down. Actually, when was the last time that had happened? He couldn’t remember. Maybe it hadn’t happened. Not until Alexa.
“I could go for that pie,” he said, swirling the drink around, but not indulging.
Lacy turned and looked at the clock. “It’s only two.”
“So, get out of it.”
“It’s Saturday, and it’s swamped,” she told him. “I’ll make another couple hundred in tips alone tonight. No chance.”
“Lace, the money. Really?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.
“I’m not letting you pay.”
“I’ll be buying the pie.”
“You have such a way with words,” she said, rolling her eyes.
He smirked wishing he could put more effort into it,
but he was glad he didn’t have to with Lacy.
“Fine,” she said, giving in. “I’ll meet you out front.”
Ramsey nodded, relieved that at least something was going as planned, and left the club. It was surprisingly nice to leave the ever-present din behind him. After Alexa’s departure, all he wanted was to forget ever thinking about Parker. Thinking about Parker only stirred up old feelings and old memories. It brought up why he had bought the clubs in the first place, and didn’t let him escape in them as easily. After what had happened tonight, he needed a bigger distraction than that.
Since he figured he had awhile to wait for Lacy, he pulled out his phone and dialed Bekah’s number. He wasn’t sure if she would be awake at this hour, but he might as well let her know about the interview…or lack thereof.
She answered on the first ring as if she hadn’t even been sleeping. Strange. “Hey,” she said, her sugary sweetness melting through the phone.
“Hey, your interview never showed,” Ramsey told her.
“Yeah, he called and said he had to cancel. Something came up,” Bekah told him. “Did I not mention that?”
“No, you didn’t,” Ramsey said through gritted teeth.
“I hope you didn’t wait long for him,” Bekah said in her sugar sweet voice.
“I didn’t. Is he rescheduling? I’m only here until tomorrow.”
“No. I think I’ll make him wait. He has promise, but he’s going to have to come to Atlanta if he wants the interview this time. Maybe I’ll give him a month,” she said with a giggle.
“It gives you some sick pleasure torturing this guy, doesn’t it? You don’t even know if you want him for the company, and yet you’re going to make him wait a whole month before another interview.”
He wasn’t sure why he was bothering with Bekah. She never listened to him. And he didn’t want to be a part of the company. Sometimes he just wanted to shake some sense into her.
“If he wants it bad enough, then he can wait. It’s not like we’re dying to fill the position anyway,” she said.