Tempt Me

by Shiloh Walker

  Three days later, buried under an avalanche of paperwork, Rocki grimaced as she checked the cost of the upcoming masquerade party she’d be hosting for Valentine’s Day. It was a yearly event for her and had been since the second anniversary of her husband’s death.

  Absently, she stroked her thumb along the curve of her wedding ring. She didn’t always wear it, but today, she’d felt the need to. Actually, it wasn’t today. It was how close it was to the anniversary of his death. Five years now. He’d been gone for five years.

  A knot lodged in her heart and she rubbed her left hand over her chest. The ache wasn’t as bad now as it had been. She wasn’t living her life in mourning over him. She just hadn’t found anybody who’d ever made her heart stop the way he had.

  Tears pricked her eyes and she threw the pen down, pressing her fingers to her eyes. She needed to quit thinking about it or she wasn’t going to get this shit finished tonight. And she needed to get it done. The benefit was next week. It was the way she kept her mind occupied this time of year. So she didn’t have to think about him lying in that hospital bed... It shouldn’t have happened.

  A sob caught in her throat. Brant had been a cop, a detective working what should have been a rather mundane burglary case. But when he’d knocked on the door to a suspect’s apartment one night, he’d found more than he’d bargained for. His partner had died on the scene. Brant took a bullet in the spine that severed his spinal cord. He’d fought...so damn strong.

  And he’d lingered.

  Then, pneumonia settled in, and it was the infection that ultimately killed him. Rocki had been able to say good-bye. It didn’t make it any easier, she didn’t think.

  He was still gone. She was still alone. Blowing out a breath, she grabbed a tissue and wiped the tears away, frowning as she saw the smear of mascara. “Smudge-proof, my ass.” She swallowed around the knot in her throat and then closed her eyes. The ache of loneliness lodged inside right now was a living, breathing beast...her constant companion.

  Brant wouldn’t want this. She knew that. Hell, she didn’t want it. But she couldn’t look at another man without wishing he was more like Brant. And unless she could find somebody she liked enough for who he was without comparing him to her deceased husband...well, that was a relationship doomed before it got started.

  She couldn’t even think of a guy who came close.

  Suddenly, one face danced through her mind. She shoved it aside. Mr. Gorgeous wasn’t even a possibility. Whether he was engaged to an ice-bitch or not, he was still very much taken. She didn’t even want to dream about a taken man.

  “Especially if he has taste that bad,” she muttered, trying to cheer herself.

  It didn’t work.

  Sighing, she forced herself to focus on the mess on her desk. Everything for the benefit still needed to be checked and gone over so she could get back to her assistant. She needed to go through the mail. The Lush designs needed to be looked at, orders checked.

  The joys of being a small business owner...

  Nearly two hours later, Rocki had finished the paperwork and focused on the mail. Bills, bills, junk, bills, bills, tax-related crap—oh, joy, more bills. She frowned as she came across a heavy-weight envelope. The blocky handwriting on the front was unfamiliar, but it was addressed to her. Not the business. Her.

  Odd. Using her letter opener, she sliced it open and pulled out a card.

  The card was blank. But not empty. The photo that spilled out was her, in black and white. An image of her walking to her car one evening. A shiver raced down her spine.

  Not again...

  Swallowing, Rocki turned the picture over. And when she saw that it was blank, she breathed all over again. Shit. Oh, shit. For a minute there, she’d been...

  But this wasn’t the same. If it had been the same, he would have written something. He would have to let her know it was him. Memories from years earlier tried to rush out at her. But she pushed them back. She wouldn’t let that time overwhelm her. Her fingers tightened, and she almost crumpled the picture. She stopped herself, though. With fingers that shook, she tucked the photo back into the card, and the card back into the envelope.

  No, there was nothing on it. Not like before.

  But that didn’t mean anything. She wouldn’t call about it yet.

  She’d be careful, though. Damn careful.

  It could very well be nothing.

  However, she knew from experience, it could also be bad, bad news…

  “You know, you could just find your own supplier,” Cole pointed out as he watched Mara adjust her costume.

  She glared at him in the mirror. “I want Lush. Every damn person I’ve talked to has only thing to say: Lush is the best lingerie designer around. So Lush is who I’m going to get. She only does designs for that Rocki bitch and a few others, though, and she doesn’t have a website or any way for me to contact her. So if I want to talk to her, tonight is my best chance.”

  Then she looked away from him and focused on her image. Her blonde hair was swept up in some intricate knot, leaving her neck and shoulders bare. The gown she wore was cut so low, it left next to nothing to the imagination. She smiled at him. “How do I look?”

  “Beautiful,” he replied honestly. And she did. Mara would be hard-pressed not to.

  “Excellent.” She squared her shoulders and reached for her mask. “Do you have your mask?”

  He glanced down at the black one he’d picked up to wear with his tuxedo and sighed. “Yeah. You realize you may not even get through the door without an invitation, right?”

  “I’ve asked around. All they care about is a donation—a sizeable one. The charity is some police thing—can’t remember what. We’ll make a donation and we’ll get in. Just make sure you have your checkbook. It’s not a concern.”

  My checkbook. Shit. He sighed. “Fine. Whatever.”

  “Really, Cole. You should be more excited for me. You know how badly I want this information.” Mara leaned forward and adjusted her mask, studying her face in the mirror. “You know, you could see if you couldn’t get some of the information from Rocki yourself.”

  Something cold and unpleasant settled in his gut as he stared at her. “What?”

  Mara laughed. “I saw how she looked at you. The dumpy bitch probably hasn’t had a good lay in years. No telling what kind of sorry loser she’s married to. She was all but stripping you naked with her eyes. Play up to it.” Slowly, she turned around and leaned back against the dressing table, smiling at him. “What do you say? Could you put that pretty face of yours to use and see what she’ll tell you?”

  Cole sauntered up to her, keeping his face blank. He dipped his head, placing his lips right next to Mara’s ear. Slowly, he breathed her scent, waiting as she shivered. Then, in a low voice, he whispered, “Hell, no.”

  Unwilling to look at her, he stormed out of their bedroom. Their bedroom...with a bed they shared, yet sometimes it felt like he was sleeping with a stranger. They hadn’t touched each other in more than two weeks, or maybe it was three? Oddly enough, other than waking up with a typical morning hard-on, he didn’t even care.

  One thing that did bother him, though, was the fact that lately he’d been wondering if this marriage was really the ideal for them. But now, he was almost certain—it might be okay for Mara, but he was pretty sure it wasn’t right for him.

  He’d go to the damn party. More out of a sense of obligation and to make sure Mara didn’t do anything that he might regret—he was a silent partner in her business, but he was still a partner. But then he was going to take a few days away. Decide whether this marriage was the right thing, or just the convenient thing. And if it wasn’t right, he was getting out before it was too late.

  He was almost certain that he and Mara would be having an interesting discussion come Monday.

  “Would you yank that stick out of your ass?” Mara bit off in a low voice as they settled into the line wrapping around the block.

  Cole glanc
ed down at her and then away. “Sweetheart, I’m so pissed off right now, you’d be wise to leave me alone unless you just want to go in there alone.” Unlike her, he didn’t bother lowering his voice. She squeezed his arm, her nails biting into his skin through his jacket. “And I’m rather certain you didn’t bring your checkbook.”

  “What is your problem?” she snapped.

  “Other than you expecting me to play man-whore just to get you information you don’t need?” He looked at her, tried to remember when she’d become this self-centered, this cold. Had she always been this way and he just hadn’t seen it? He didn’t know.

  People were staring at them now. Cole didn’t care.

  The line shifted forward and Mara waited until they’d settled again before she whispered, “Would you keep your voice down?”

  “If you don’t want people to stare, then stop talking to me about this,” he replied. “We can discuss it later or not at all.”

  He stared down at her, at that icy beauty and realized...he felt nothing. Absolutely nothing. He couldn’t even remember when that had started, but it wasn’t a new thing, this apathy. Shit, this was sad. Abruptly, the anger drained away and he just felt tired. Damn tired. But one thing was clear...he didn’t need a few days away to decide what he needed, what he didn’t need, what he wanted, what he didn’t want.

  Rubbing the back of his neck, he looked away. “Mara, we need to talk, but now isn’t the time. Let’s just try to relax and enjoy the night, okay?”

  “Enjoy it?” A smile curled her lips, but there was nothing pleasant about it. “This isn’t about enjoying ourselves, baby. It’s about getting what I want. We’ll enjoy ourselves later.”

  She slid him a coy look that left him unmoved. Blowing out a breath, he focused on the line as it shifted closer to the shop. This must be one hell of a party, considering how many people are here, he mused.

  “It’s one hell of a party,” Lacey said, smiling at her best friend in the mirror as Rocki checked her reflection one last time.

  It was almost nine. Almost time for her to make her appearance.

  Lush & Lace shared a wall with the restaurant next door, and in the back, in an area that was generally for “employees only” on Rocki’s side, there was a door that connected the two businesses. For the yearly benefit, those two double doors were open wide and people flowed back and forth, checking out Rocki’s merchandise, nibbling at the finger foods, helping themselves to the cash bar.

  By the time the auction started at ten, both bachelors and bachelorettes would be feeling mighty fine and ready to bid. Rocki was heading the event as she always did, but she still wanted to look good. After all, her store’s merchandise was being displayed here. And on her...

  Smoothing a hand down the front of her red corset, she turned to make sure the laces in the back were smooth and even. Bare skin showed underneath, gleaming pale against the garnet red satin. Satisfied with the way the back looked, Rocki turned around and studied the front. The garter straps, each set with a rose the same color as her corset, held up the floor-length satin skirt to just a little above mid-thigh, displaying her legs, encased in black silk stockings.

  She was objective enough to admit she looked good. Taking the black top hat, Rocki set it on top of her head, adjusting the angle. Five more seconds—she gave herself five more seconds to hesitate, to be alone with her thoughts.

  Five more seconds to think about the fact that another one of those odd cards had arrived, with another picture of her—this one of her inside the store, taken through the window. There hadn’t been anything on the back, again. But it still disturbed her. And she couldn’t ignore it if any more came. She was probably being careless to ignore them this long. Brant had enough friends on the force that she knew—she could get in touch with one of them. Show them the pictures...maybe even somebody would remember. She could talk to Lacey’s brother. She knew Clayton would take her seriously.

  Okay, five seconds gone. Worry about it after.

  Rocki blew out a breath. “Okay. Let’s go blow people out of the water,” she said, smiling at Lacey in the reflection.

  “Can’t you at least try to help me find her?” Mara demanded as he swirled his wine around and stared off into the crowd.

  “Find who?” Cole asked, even though he knew exactly who she was talking about.

  “The designer, damn it. You know who.” She blew out a breath. “I’ve asked like five people and they just say ‘she’s around’ or ‘she’s busy’ and nobody will point her out. Maybe they’ll talk to you.”

  “You think?” He studied her disgruntled expression. “Not likely. You see, I’m not going to ask.”

  She gaped at him. “Why not? Don’t you realize how important this is?”

  “No. Because you can get another designer.”

  “I don’t want another one.” Flags of color rode high on her cheeks, her hands closing into tight fists. “Damn it, Cole, I can’t believe how difficult you’re being.”

  “Am I? Hmm. Maybe. Too bad,” Cole muttered, lifting his wine glass and knocking back the merlot like it was whiskey. Wishing it was. He could use some whiskey. Desperately.

  The music abruptly changed cadence, and both he and Mara looked up, as did everyone around them. He hadn’t noticed the spiral staircase when he’d been here before. He noticed it now, though. Noticed it...and the very nice pair of legs descending...long, shapely legs that would close perfectly around a man’s hips, he thought. Oh, hell. He damn near swallowed his tongue as Rocki came down the stairs, one hand trailing along the banister. She paused halfway down, smiling out at the crowd. Smiling...and letting everybody get one damn good look.

  Again, he found himself thinking...Lush.

  It was a word that described her perfectly.

  A lot of the women in the crowd were wearing a hell of lot less clothing than she was. Mara was wearing less. But Rocki managed to cast them all in shadow. Looking at her made his hands sweat. The swells of her breasts rose above the corset she wore, all but begging for the touch of a man’s hands, her ivory skin glowing against the deep, rich, red silk. He wasn’t sure which would be softer to touch. Her waist looked impossibly small just before her hips flared out into another lush, ripe curve. The skirt was somehow hitched up, revealing those long legs encased in dark, smooth stockings.

  A wet dream come to life, Cole thought, staring at her. Shit. He gripped his wine glass tightly and tore his gaze away from her. Mara was still staring at her, her lips pursed. “She’s making such a spectacle of herself, dressed like that.”

  “A spectacle?” he echoed. “She looks lovely.”

  Mara rolled her eyes. “She’s too fat to dress that way.”

  Cole almost choked on his wine. Fat? Damn it, what in the world was wrong with her? But instead of replying, he just turned away. Mara only saw what Mara wanted to see. He was tired of it. So tired of it. And it was something he wasn’t going to deal with much longer.

  “I wonder if she ever tries to put herself up in the auction,” Mara mused.

  “She’s married,” Cole said.

  “Oh. Yeah. And even if she wasn’t...” She broke off, laughing. “It’s a laughable thought.”

  “Damn it, would you shut up?” he snapped, slamming his glass down and turning his head to glare at her.

  She stared at him. “What is your problem?”

  He clenched his jaw shut, determined not to say anything, not to do this here.

  “Cole.” Mara’s eyes narrowed.

  He went to brush past her.

  She shot out an arm, her nails digging into his wrist like claws. He paused, staring down at her. Somewhere inside, he ached, because he could remember a time when he’d loved her. A lot. But that was before she’d changed. When had all of this happened? And had she changed so drastically, or was it him?

  “We’ll talk about this later, Mara,” he said quietly.

  “No. We’ll talk about it now.”

  He glanced around, spi
ed the back door he’d seen the first time they’d visited the store. It was marked “private,” but everybody was too focused on Rocki to even notice them. Fine. Mara wanted to have it out tonight, they’d have it out tonight.

  With his hand at the small of her back, he guided her toward the door. It led them to a private dressing area, a long narrow hall with a series of doors, all done in ivory and gold. Feminine and soft, Like Rocki, he mused.

  Shutting the door, he leaned back against it. “We should talk about this at home,” he said again.

  “You’re being a bastard...we’ll talk about it here.”

  “You’re being a bitch,” he pointed out. “I paid a grand to get us into a party we weren’t even invited to...”

  “Well, they don’t care. They just asked for the donation,” she replied. Smoothing a hand back over her hair, she gave him an aggravated glance. “It’s not like you need the money, darling.”

  “No, I don’t. But you never asked if I wanted to come. You told me to. And now that you’re here, all you can do is insult the owner. Mara...I don’t even know you anymore. And what little I do know?” He paused, reaching for the words. He didn’t want to hurt her.

  Mara crossed her arms over her chest, one blonde brow lifted impatiently. “Yes?”

  “I don’t like.”

  She stilled. Finally, something flickered in her pale blue eyes. But it was gone almost as fast as it had appeared. “That’s just silly, Cole. You know me. I’m the same woman I was when you proposed—the same woman I was the night you told me you loved me and wanted to spend the rest of your life with me.”

  “No, you’re not. You used to smile. And laugh. Now you only smile if you’re mocking somebody. Or being cruel.” He looked away as he pushed off the door. “And that’s not who I want to spend my life with.”

  Taking a deep breath, he said softly, “This engagement is off, Mara. I’ll pick up my stuff and move out of the condo next week. I’ll sign it over to you—you can have it. And I’ll honor my agreement on the store. But that’s it. We’re done.”