Wishful Sinful (Rock Royalty Book 5)

by Christie Ridgway

  That was all right. Better. For the best.

  Murmuring something to himself, he leaned down. His warm lips touched her brow.

  Then he moved away, and a few minute later he left the villa.

  Honey heard the echo of the door closing like a mournful knell in her empty chest. Her legs were leaden as she walked into her room and examined herself in the mirror. The goddess had been a fleeting idea. That sense of being able to fly short-lived. Her happy mood was gone.

  Sure, tomorrow she was going home with a golden glow to her skin, a different hairstyle with sun-kissed highlights, and a brand new appreciation of sex.

  But no goddess was without a heart—and Walsh had taken hers.

  There was no way to deny the truth. She was in love with him.

  Back in L.A., Honey didn’t even bother to open her house and stow her suitcase once the driver brought her home. Instead she threw her bag into the trunk of her car and hastened to Payne Colson’s salvage yard. It was her twin siblings’ afternoon to work, and she wanted to check in with them in person.

  Seeing her brother and sister would reassure her, and reassurance was what she was after. She wanted to be certain that life could go back to what it was before those days in Mexico.

  The plane ride back had been uneventful, and she’d even slept some, but the California skies were gray and the smell of wet asphalt was in the air, quite the letdown after the brilliant days by the ocean. She used the wipers to clear the light rain off her windshield.

  She’d feel sunny again once she saw Jeb and Lucy, she told herself. By the time the day ended, when she was settled snug in her home among her own things, she’d feel like the old Honey Brooks, the uber-admin of MadSci.

  Her route to the commercial district took her away from the more heavily trafficked areas, and soon she was pulling into the parking lot behind the fence of chain link and razor wire. This facility was Payne’s newest and was dedicated to vintage car parts. When he’d bought the property, along with all the salvage already collected there, among the first tasks had been to build a catalog of what was currently on site. Part of the twins’ job was working with that database.

  She found them in the back office, gathered around one of the computers.

  “Hey!” Rushing forward, she bent to give each of them a hug from behind. At sixteen, they were still at the gangly stage, but both were taller than she was—Jeb by several inches. When she stepped back, they spun their chairs, and she took a longer look at them, beaming.

  “I think you’ve grown in the few days I’ve been gone,” she said.

  Their eye rolls were identical.

  Honey only laughed, and reached into her purse. “I brought presents from Down Under!”

  “That’s Australia,” Jeb said, shaking his head. “Honey, get with it.”

  Since she’d made the remark just so he would have the opportunity to sound superior, she laughed. Then she passed to Lucy the pretty silver and turquoise bracelet she’d selected for her. For Jeb, she’d chosen a tooled leather cuff.

  When they put them on immediately, her spirits sailed high. Pleasing teenagers was a tricky business.

  A shabby loveseat sat against the opposite wall and she plopped onto the cushions. “How’s work going?”

  Jeb shrugged. “Okay, I guess. Payne thinks we’re making good headway. He’ll be back pretty soon if you want to talk to him.”

  “I came to talk to you. I missed you guys.”

  “I like your hair,” her sister said. “I’ve been telling you forever—”

  “Yeah, yeah.” Honey touched the curls. “I finally did something because it went bonkers in the humidity. But that’s enough about me. How’s school?”

  The twins exchanged glances.

  Uh-oh. “Calculus? Physics?”

  Lucy looked down. “It might be calculus and physics. We didn’t do so well on our quizzes last Friday.”

  “I’m sure that—” Honey had been about to offer Walsh’s tutoring services, but something halted her now, even though pre-Mexico Honey wouldn’t have hesitated. “Do you need to hire someone to help? I’m sure Mom—”

  “We’re not talking to Mom,” Lucy said hotly.

  Double uh-oh.

  Honey sucked in a breath. “I know you’re mad about not being able to go out on the weekend.”

  “It’s not just that,” Jeb said. Though the less emotional of the twins, the grim set of his mouth told her he was upset too. “And it’s not just Mom. They’re getting worse, Honey. Shouting at us, shouting at each other…”

  Unfortunately, not a new occurrence, not really. But when the twins were younger, she’d been there to usher them out of rooms or out of the house altogether. She’d actually thought their parents’ separation, which occurred around the time she’d moved out of the family home almost two years back, would improve the situation.

  But living together or apart, her parents found ways to enrage each other.

  Honey bit her lip. “Why don’t I make a call to Mom and see if she’ll be okay with you guys coming to live with me for a few days.”

  Lucy shook her head. “It would take us forever to get to school in the mornings from your place.”

  Heaven forbid sixteen-year-olds would rise a half-hour earlier than usual. Honey sighed. “At least let me take you out to dinner, then,” she said, glancing at her watch and noting the time. Nearly five o’clock. “Don’t you get off soon?”

  “We can’t do that, either.” Jeb rose from his chair and stretched. “Gotta get home and hit the books so we do better on the next quizzes.”

  “In order to get accepted to a faraway college where we’ll be out of range of Mom and Dad,” Lucy added.

  And out of my range, too, Honey thought, already feeling a pang of loneliness. She wished she knew how to make things better between her siblings and her parents, but experience told her outright interference always backfired. So she sat quietly while they finished up work and then walked them to their car, trying to sound upbeat when she didn’t feel that way at all.

  “I’ll see you soon,” she said. “We’ll think of something fun to do to celebrate you guys acing your next tests.”

  Then she waved them off, wearing a big smile. It died as soon as their car receded in the distance, and she barely noticed another vehicle pulling into the lot.

  “Hi!” Cilla Maddox waved as she climbed out of the driver’s seat. Her soon-to-be sister-in-law, Cami Colson, got out on the passenger side.

  The two women approached Honey, smiling. “You look amazing,” Cami said.

  “I…oh…” Suddenly self-conscious, she brushed at her hair.

  “And what a cute top,” Cilla added. “Those are the jeans we helped you pick out, right?”

  They were hot pink and kind of tight, and she’d never thought she’d wear them, except they’d been in her suitcase when she’d dressed for the flight home and matched the flowers on the embroidered top she’d picked up while shopping on the island with Dayna. It was cream muslin, peasant-style, with puffed sleeves and decorated with colorful, hand-stitched vines and blossoms.

  Cami glanced at Cilla. “Honey looks like a totally different person.”

  “No, no,” she protested. “I’m the same. I’m totally the same. Walsh’s assistant, nothing more.”

  Oh, crud. That sounded suspicious even to her own ears. She pretended her face wasn’t flaming with embarrassment. “Well, it was great to see you, but I should get going.”

  “Not without a fuller trip report!”

  At that moment another car pulled into the lot. Noting it held Payne and one of Cilla’s brothers, Brody, she resigned herself to a few more minutes of small talk.

  Since it began to drizzle again, they persuaded her to go inside the office to continue their chat.

  “After Payne locks up we’re going out for drinks,” Cilla said. “You should come with us.”

  “No, thanks,” Honey glanced once more at her watch. “I haven’t even ha
d a chance to unpack yet.”

  “Walsh is probably back at his desk already,” Brody said. “Knee-deep in super secrets.”

  “He actually flew out a day earlier than I did for some important meetings on the East Coast,” Honey said. “I’m not sure when he’ll return.”

  “Ah.” Payne rubbed his chin. “That explains why I got that cryptic text about keeping an eye on you.”

  “What?” It came out like a squawk. “That’s…strange. Of course I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

  Cami poked her with an elbow. “Did something happen? Did you meet some sexy man like I forecasted? I bet that riled up ol’ Walsh. He probably wants to make sure you got back to L.A. instead of opting for a quickie wedding across the border.”

  “Don’t tease, Cam,” Brody put in. “That’s not nice.”

  “What are you talking about, teasing?” the other woman replied. “Walsh’s world would fall apart without his second brain.”

  Was that why he’d never considered Honey as wife material? Because she already had a more important—to his mind, anyway—role in his life? Not that she’d marry a man who didn’t love her, no matter how strong her feelings for him.

  Her mood descended lower, and she reached for her keys. “I really need to get home,” she told the group. “It was good catching up with you.”

  She had her car door open when Brody jogged out of the salvage yard office. “Got a second?”

  “Uh, sure.” When he stopped beside her, she looked up. “What is it, Brody?”

  A smile flitted across his face. “Not everyone can tell me apart from Bing. You always seem to know, even at first glance.”

  She shrugged. “My special talent, maybe?”

  “I’m sure you have more than one of those.” He studied her face, then smiled again. “Let me take you out to lunch tomorrow.”

  “Um…” She blinked, and a question spilled out of her mouth. “Why would you want to do that?”

  “Maybe I feel like going out with a nice woman.”

  For a change, went unsaid, but Honey thought she heard it anyway. The Rock Royalty had become fierce in their interest in one another’s well-being, and rumors flew about the group that Brody Maddox had a habit of pulling disappearing acts—and coming home the worse for wear. Booze and bad women, they worried, the good twin finally succumbing to the legacy of the Velvet Lemons.

  Whether that was true or not, Honey liked the man—and MadSci would seem so lackluster without Walsh’s presence at his desk. She could use a break from that.

  “Sure.” She smiled. “Sounds great.”

  The rain clouds disappeared on her drive home. Though darkness had fallen by the time she reached her neighborhood, the intersections were illuminated by streetlights and the houses by cheery fixtures along the front walks or by the front doors or both. Her own—operated by a timer—welcomed her as she pulled into her narrow driveway.

  Voices called to her as she crossed to her entry, her wheeled suitcase clattering behind her. Honey glanced around and noted her next-door neighbors were snuggled under a blanket on the wicker love seat placed on their postage stamp-sized front porch. Leaving her suitcase, she traveled the seven steps across her tiny lawn to smile at them over the low fence separating their yards.

  “Hi, Maggie, hi, Trev.”

  Newly married, they were a good fit for the block. They didn’t leave their garbage cans out all week—a terrible disgrace according to Honey’s neighbor on the other side—and their Christmas decorations had been festive but not garish. Right now a heart-shaped wreath fashioned of dried red roses hung on their door. It had probably been gifted to them by Grace Gowdy across the street, who’d been a florist in another life and who still loved to work with her hands—arthritic as they might be.

  “How was your trip?” Maggie enquired.

  She’d told them about Mexico and asked them to watch over her place while she was gone. “Great,” she said. “Sunny and warm.”

  The two glanced at each other. “It got us thinking…”

  “About?”

  “We booked our own trip for the end of the month,” Trev told her.

  “Wonderful.”

  “I know we had a honeymoon a mere eleven months ago…”

  “It can be an early anniversary trip, then,” Honey said.

  “Just what we were thinking.” Maggie beamed.

  “If you need to borrow sunscreen…”

  “Well…” Trev hesitated. “We hoped you’d help us out in another way.”

  “Sure, if I can.”

  Maggie clasped her hands under her chin. “Lemon and Sassafras? Could you look after them for five days?”

  “Of course” Honey smiled. Lem and Sass were the couple’s cossetted cats. “You know I love them.”

  And the newlyweds professed to love Honey right back for accepting the responsibility. She waved away their gratitude and returned to her house, this time getting her suitcase all the way to her bedroom.

  “Home sweet home,” she said aloud, expecting to feel her usual contentment when tucked inside her own four walls. While waiting for it to arrive, she threw open her closet door in preparation for unpacking.

  She frowned, dismayed by the sight of the orderly yet uninteresting row of boxy clothes in dusky colors. Maybe it was the hot pink jeans she wore now. Maybe just a tropical hangover. But they looked so dismal. So depressing. So lackluster.

  Her old clothes, her whole place was doing nothing to improve her mood.

  Maybe she needed her own cats to liven things up.

  Yeah, she thought, lip curling. Because being the Woman with Cats would make things better.

  Not at all.

  With a sigh, she sank to her mattress, low and lonely. Tomorrow would be even worse, when she’d go back to MadSci which would seem strange in Walsh’s absence…and probably stranger yet when he returned and treated her just the same as before.

  The way he’d promised it would be. Like normal.

  But “normal” would not be enough for her, she worried, ever again.

  Chapter 12

  It was late afternoon on a dreary Wednesday in D.C. and Walsh felt as if he’d been in meetings since he’d stepped off the plane’s jetway and into the Ronald Reagan International Airport. He had, actually, because York Featherstone had met him at the gate—he’d been on a separate flight from Mexico—and they’d discussed strategy nonstop the rest of that day and into the night. The following morning they’d been slammed in a Pentagon conference room, and he hadn’t had a free minute until now.

  He wasn’t due anywhere until the next day, unless either he or York decided another confab between the two of them was in order. Walsh wasn’t sure he had it in him to huddle with the other man again, even if asked.

  Christ, he needed caffeine or an energy drink or…

  Maybe he just needed to hear Honey’s voice. She’d been delivering brisk emails and dry texts at a regular pace, but none were especially invigorating.

  He needed a power boost in the form of someone from home.

  Her number was the first on his speed dial.

  “Yo,” a man’s voice answered.

  Jerking the phone from his ear, Walsh checked the number. Honey’s.

  “Who is this?” he asked. Demanded.

  “It’s me, man. Brody.”

  “Why the hell do you have Honey’s phone?”

  “I’m great, thanks for asking,” Brody said. “How are you?”

  “Why the hell do you have her phone?”

  “Because she left it on the table, and I saw your number come up on the screen. I figured you’d want to hear from the guy you love like a brother.”

  Even from approximately 2500 miles away, Walsh could see the asshole’s blue eyes glinting with laughter. “Brody—”

  “Those curls of hers are damn cute,” the other man continued. “Looks like Mexico was good for her.”

  Maybe Brody could hear Walsh gnashing his teeth
through their cell connection. “Problem?” he asked now.

  “Not at all,” Walsh answered, ignoring the green tinge to his vision. “Just trying to understand why I’m talking to you and not to her.”

  “Oh. We’re eating lunch, and she spilled.”

  “Lunch?”

  “Remember, you asked us all to keep an eye on her. Just doing my part.”

  “I didn’t say you needed to eat with her.”

  “Well, I am. We are,” Brody replied cheerfully. “And she got a stain on her blouse, so she opted to take it off.”

  “She’s taking off her clothes for you,” Walsh repeated in a deadly tone. The green tinge morphed into the red of rage, and his voice rose. “What the fuck?”

  Brody let out a long whistle. “Get a leash on that inner Rottweiler, yeah? We’re at a restaurant. She’s in the restroom.”

  “The whole of which she’s going to flash when she comes out?” The top of Walsh’s head felt ready to explode.

  “Chill, Walsh.” Brody once again sounded amused. “Get a grip. She has a jacket that will cover her up just fine.”

  “Shit.” He pressed his fingers to his aching temple. “Sorry. I’m tired. And sick of being cooped up in windowless rooms with self-important brass and lousy lukewarm coffee.”

  “Maybe you’re frustrated, too.”

  Walsh narrowed his eyes. How the hell would the other man know he’d spent the dark hours of last night pummeling his pillows and endlessly shifting to find a cool spot on the sheets? He’d finally delved under the waistband of his boxers to grab hold of his aching cock and jack-off to conjured images of his admin, her curls bouncing at the back of her neck as he fucked her from behind.

  Something he hadn’t gotten around to.

  Damn it.

  Brody spoke up again. “Now that you’ve decided on a wife hunt, I’m sure it’s aggravating to have meetings get in the way.”

  Walsh’s phone was submersion-proof and shatter-proof, rugged enough for the battlefield. Thank God, because his fist would have pulverized a more delicate model.

  “Who told you about that?” he demanded, then huffed a breath. “Don’t bother answering. Reed can’t keep anything to himself.”