by Mandy Baxter
Where r u?
Babe, answer ur phone!
I need to see you.
Call me!
Coming over.
Galen’s heart dropped into his gut like a stone pitched off a thousand-foot cliff and he clenched his teeth hard enough to grind the enamel. Shock turned quickly to bitter anger, burning his throat as if he’d guzzled acid. Even though they’d agreed to no names, they’d likewise agreed to total honesty in all other things. She’d asked him last night if he was single, but it had never occurred to him to ask her if she was seeing anyone. A lie by omission was still a damned lie. Christ, what an idiot he was, acting like some sort of lovesick puppy. He’d saved her ass from being drugged last night and she’d given him the thank-you of a lifetime. End of story. He was nothing but a fling. A one-night stand she could talk to her girlfriends about the next day. Awesome.
This was the reason why Galen didn’t do relationships. There was no such thing as a grand connection between two souls, no deep respect to be treasured and nurtured. People lied, end of story. He’d let his own hero complex paint the events of last night in some ridiculous romantic light. What a joke. He didn’t have the time or patience to play games—he had a flight to catch. He’d busted his ass for his position on the SOG team, and it was time to cut bait and get back to Louisiana.
Galen flipped the switch on the side of her cell to vibrate, lest the asshole in desperate need of a visit from the grammar police wake her up before he could make a stealthy retreat. Yeah, it was a total dick move to sneak out before she woke up, but as far as Galen was concerned she was reaping what she’d sown. In fact, she was lucky he didn’t wake her up now and tell her exactly how he felt about being played. She wasn’t worth his time or the effort it would take to tell her off, though. Shit, she probably wouldn’t even care. She hadn’t cared enough last night to be honest with him. Fuck her and every cheater in the world like her. He didn’t appreciate being made a fool of and there was no way in hell he was going to waste another minute of his time in this apartment.
Slipping his arm out from underneath her, Galen slid off the bed without even jostling her. She sighed, the sound a caress in Galen’s ears that he forced himself to ignore as he threw on his clothes. He was missing a shoe, and dropped to the floor to look under the bed, finding it buried under a pile of her clothes. He’d come here with nothing but the clothes on his back. A quick pat-down confirmed that his own phone was still tucked in the back pocket of his jeans. Unlocking the screen, he noticed he had a text from Landon and a missed call from his supervisor at Camp Beauregard. He’d call everyone back in the cab on his way to his apartment. After that, he’d grab his shit and head for the airport with plenty of time to spare to make it through security checkpoints.
As he headed for the door, Galen chanced one last look back at the bed. Even in the innocence of sleep, her face bore a soft, seductive quality that made his stomach clench tight with lust, longing, and most of all, loss. He knew he had no right to feel that way. Was it even possible to lose something that he’d never truly had? The doorknob turned under his hand and the door whispered open as if aiding in his quiet retreat. When the elevator doors slid open at the end of the hall, he ran to catch the car before it went on without him. Once inside, he closed his eyes, unwilling to remember anything that had happened in this exact elevator the night before. His trek through the lobby was equally quick, and he hailed a cab as soon as he shot through the door. He chanced a quick look back at the awning with REGENCY APARTMENTS scrawled across it, but he fought the urge to gaze higher toward the fourth-story window. Only minutes before, he’d been ready to take a chance. To open up for this first time in his life. What a joke. Now he was reminded why he needed to keep his mind on the job and stay on track. Forcing his gaze away, Galen jumped in the cab and gave the driver the address to his place.
The sound of someone banging on her door caused Harper to bolt upright in her bed. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes, and gathered the tangled mass of her hair and twisted it up in a bun, tucking the end of her hair into the knot to keep it secure. The details of the previous night came rushing back to her, and she looked to her side to find the bed empty where there should have been a naked male body that would have made Adonis feel self-conscious.
Another round of frantic knocks came on the heels of the first and Harper’s brow furrowed. Maybe he’d gone out for coffee and locked himself out? His clothes were gone. She quickly wrapped the sheet around her body like a toga, tripping as she made her way toward the door. Her pulse quickened at the thought of opening the door to see his face on the other side and her body warmed at the prospect of a repeat of last night’s performance.
“Hey . . .” The word died on her tongue as she threw the door open only to see her ex, Chris, standing on the other side. Harper’s heart jumped into her throat and she swallowed down the lump of disappointment that nearly choked the air out of her lungs. “What are you doing here?”
“I’ve been texting you since last night, Harper. What the hell?” Chris pushed his way past her into the apartment, looking ready to come unglued.
Thoughts raced through Harper’s mind, too fast for her to grasp onto a single one. She’d broken it off with Chris over three months ago, yet he still insisted on inserting himself into her life as though nothing had changed. He craned his neck as he entered the apartment as if looking for something—or someone—then poked his head in the closet. “I can’t find my running shoes and I’m pretty sure I left them here.”
“Bullshit, Chris. You didn’t leave anything here. This place is marginally larger than a shoe box, and the chance of me overlooking any of your things is slim. What do you want?”
Chris leaned against the kitchen counter, looking her over from head to toe. “I just want to talk, Harp.”
The contrast between Chris and the man she’d been with last night was almost laughable. Chris gave the impression of a skinny child in comparison: a little too short, dirty, and unkempt. His hipster vibe was a big hit with the college set. It had been what attracted her to him in the first place. But the thick black-rimmed glasses that framed his dark brown eyes were where the measure of Chris’s ambition and intelligence ended. Chris didn’t even have his own place; he camped out wherever he ended up after the sun went down. He was a vampiric hipster mooch, leeching off anyone he could talk into giving him a free ride. Harper was done with him and boys like him. Running shoes, her ass. He didn’t run anywhere. Ever. What a loser.
“There’s a reason why I haven’t been returning your calls or texts,” Harper said, standing at the door still held wide open. “We broke up. Three months ago. I don’t want to see you, talk to you. We’re through.”
“Harp. Come on.”
“Leave, Chris,” she said, indicating the door. “I’ll be sure to let you know if I find your shoes.”
He pushed himself off the counter, his lip curled in a sneer. Brushing past her, he walked through the doorway and then turned to face her. “I talked to Sophie this morning. She said you had a good time out at Score last night. But it still looks like you woke up alone. See you around.”
Harper slammed the door in his face, the bite of Chris’s words slicing through her like myriad razor blades. Had she imagined everything that had happened last night? Maybe her mystery man had been a drunken fantasy come to life. Because the guy she’d brought back here never would have walked out without even saying good-bye.
Oh no? A niggling voice mocked in her mind. You asked for it, Harp. Played the whole secret-identity angle, refusing to give him your name. And then you jumped into bed with him like you made a habit of hooking up with strangers. He probably ran out of here this morning, thankful you hadn’t killed him in his sleep.
No. There was no way she’d imagined the connection between them. He’d felt it, too. He had to have. He’d treated her with such gentleness that she’d never once felt like what happened between them was simply sex. They’d made love last night. A
nd it was the most intense, most intimate experience of her life.
Then why did he walk out on you?
Harper shuffled through the apartment like a zombie and flopped down on the bed. She closed her eyes, but it did nothing to block out the memories of the previous night that buffeted her subconscious like a spring hailstorm. His touch, his mouth on hers, the way he’d wrung pleasure from her body with just the flick of his tongue. The intensity of his navy-blue eyes as he looked down at her. The heat of his body as he entered her.
Tears stung at Harper’s eyes as a chasm of grief opened up inside of her. If she’d done something differently, told him her name, taken things more slowly . . . would it have changed the outcome of this morning? Maybe he would have stuck around for breakfast, hung out with her for the rest of the day. Or maybe he simply would have left with an awkward kiss to her cheek and an empty promise of “I’ll give you a call” spilling effortlessly from his lips.
Or maybe he still would have snuck out in the middle of the night, just like he did.
Her cell vibrated several times and Harper rolled over to retrieve it from the nightstand. Funny, she didn’t remember turning the ringer off last night. It always bugged the crap out of her mom if she turned the sound off so she made it a habit to always keep the volume up. She checked the caller ID to see Addison’s picture pop up on the screen. Harper grinned. No doubt Addison was checking in to make sure she hadn’t been chopped into bits, her body disposed of in the Columbia River.
Rather than answer, she fired off a text letting her cousin know everything was good and she’d give her a call later. Addison’s response came a few seconds later in the form of a colon and capital D, the wide smiley face an obvious assumption as to why Harper was too occupied to answer the phone.
Harper lay in bed staring at the ceiling for what felt like forever. The sun crested higher in the sky and she sighed. She had too much to do to mope around her apartment all day. She needed to follow up on the résumé she’d dropped off at The Oregonian last week. If she didn’t find a job pretty soon, she’d be moving home whether she wanted to or not. At least a busy day would take her mind off of her heartbreak. Heartbreak she had no right to feel for a perfect stranger.
But he hadn’t been a stranger to her last night. He hadn’t.
Her phone vibrated again in her palm and she brought it up to check the ID. Sophie. Unlike Addison, Sophie wouldn’t quit calling until she answered. Text messages or not. With a sigh, she slid her finger across the screen and brought the phone to her ear.
“Oh. My. God,” Sophie said without even waiting for Harper to say hello. “Tell me everything.”
Chapter Five
One year later
“Are you sure I can’t convince you to stay? The food’s great, the pay’s better than all right, and if you’d go out every once in a while you’d know that working personal security makes the girls go weak in the knees. That’s got to count for something.”
A corner of Galen’s mouth hitched into a half smile, but Corrine had a point. The personal secretary to Ambassador Wallace had been trying for months to get him out and socializing, her argument being that if he made friends—or found a girlfriend—in Paris, he’d be more inclined to stick around.
“Who needs a complicated relationship when I’ve got you? You’re all the woman I need.”
“Oh, stop.” Corrine swatted her hand in his direction as she gazed at Galen over the rim of her glasses. “I’m old enough to be your mother. I just hope they don’t send us some cocky little upstart with something to prove, because that will seriously ruin my year.”
Galen looked up from his computer screen. “It doesn’t matter who they send. You’ll have him whipped into shape before the first week is over.”
“You’re probably right.” Corrine let out an exaggerated sigh. “My hard-ass nature is why they keep me around. Sign here and here,” she said, pointing to the appropriate lines of the release papers she’d placed on his desk. “I’m going to miss you, kiddo, but I bet you’re excited to see your sister.”
“She’s the only thing that could tear me away from you, Corrine.” Twelve months wasn’t all that long, but with the time difference and Michelle’s busy schedule, Galen hadn’t talked to his sister much over the past year save an exchange of e-mails and a few short phone calls. Her bakery was up and running, and pulling in some great reviews from the local food critics. “I’m excited to be going back to Portland. I’ve missed it.”
Corrine snatched up the stack of papers from Galen’s desk and returned them to the file folder she held in her hand. “You be sure to stay out of trouble,” she teased as she headed for the door. “And please, promise me you’ll go out every once in a while. You’re too good a man not to have a sweet girl to come home to.”
“I’ll see what I can do, Corrine.”
She gave him a wink in response. “Fais bon voyage et prends soin de toi.”
He smiled at her formal departing words—“Have a safe trip and take care of yourself”—because they were spoken with motherly affection.
“Tu me manqueras aussi,” he replied as she closed the door behind her. And he really would miss her, too.
It had been one hell of a year. Not disappointing by any means. In fact, the ambassador had been so pleased with Galen’s job performance, he’d put in a special request to his supervisors that he stay on another year. When Galen respectfully declined the offer, the ambassador had offered him a private gig working personal security for his family, along with a hefty pay raise. Though he’d been tempted to take the offer, there was so much more he wanted to do with his life. In his career. And he wasn’t going to get any of it accomplished staying here.
The e-mail alert went off on his laptop and Galen glanced over at the preview window to see a message from Michelle. He opened the e-mail and skimmed over the text:
Less than forty-eight hours to go! Can’t wait to see you. Woohoo! I attached another awesome review for A Slice of Heaven. Bet my beignets would give the ones you’ve eaten over there a run for their money. So. Excited!
Shel
Galen had a feeling that if he agreed to stay on for another year, Michelle would have flown over here and dragged him home herself. All they had was each other, and it saddened Galen that he hadn’t been there for her when A Slice of Heaven opened. She never let him forget, though, flooding his inbox with copies of the menu, pictures of the dining area, and the many reviews that had started to come in. He clicked the link and a page from the “Life and Leisure” section of The Oregonian popped up in his browser window.
A SLICE OF HEAVEN DELIVERS THE GOODS: STOP FOR THE PASTRIES, STAY FOR THE AMBIANCE AND SERVICE.
He skimmed over the article, smiling. It looked like the business was taking off and he knew it wouldn’t be long before Michelle’s little bakery was the talk of Portland. Two days and then he could tell her in person how proud he was of her. Galen was about to close the window and get back to work when a link to the next article caught his eye. From life and leisure to politics, the next feature focused on an up-and-coming super PAC that had thrown their substantial money behind an emerging GOP senate candidate. But what caught Galen’s eye wasn’t the story. No, what made his heart rate kick into high gear was the photo and byline of the reporter.
Harper Allen.
How many times over the past year had he dreamt about her? How many days had he spent imagining her soft lips, warm body, and sweet voice? How often had his mood turned sour when he thought of how she’d played him, deceived him, used him?
As if getting her out of his head wasn’t hard enough, now he had a name to go with the face that haunted him. Great. Maybe reassignment wasn’t such a great idea. No chance of running into her on the streets of Paris, but once he got home . . . Fuck. Would he approach her if he saw her? Would he say anything if they passed on the sidewalk? Like it mattered. As far as he knew, she still had a boyfriend. What was the jackass’s name? Cameron? Carson?
<
br /> Not that he cared. She was his past. A meaningless one-night stand to remind him that relationships brought nothing but heartache. Galen didn’t have room in his life for that kind of bullshit. Corrine wanted him to find a nice girl to settle down with? He let out a derisive snort. Nice girls were as rare and elusive as the Loch Ness Monster. The nice girl he thought he’d met a year ago . . . nothing more than a reminder that besides Michelle, there wasn’t a woman on this planet Galen could trust.
Still, he couldn’t help but stare at her picture for a second longer before closing the link and exiting from his e-mail. “Harper Allen.” He liked the way it sounded, the ease of how her name rolled off his tongue. A couple of days and he’d be home, and then what? Then you go back to your job, and your old life, and your family. Nothing changes. Instead of making him feel better, the thought left him feeling just a little too goddamned hollow.
“Harper, do you have that story on the IRS scandal ready to roll?” her editor, Sam Yates, asked as he approached her desk.
“E-mailed it yesterday.” She shot him a disappointed look. “Seriously, Sam, you should check your inbox more often.”
Sam’s gray eyes sparkled with humor as he rapped his knuckles on Harper’s laminate desktop. “You know, just for that smartass remark, I don’t think I’m going to tell you that I heard Senator Mark Ellis is in town this week before he heads back to DC. Rumor has it that he’s finally meeting with the Oregon League of Conservation Voters this evening.”