by West, Harper
It was a start, anyway. There was still more work to be done, more people calling for interviews, and various Christian groups denouncing Kevin as a pervert and a sinner.
There was only so much I could do about that.
I dragged myself back to the beach house in the car I'd rented for the occasion and sat there for a second, just letting the day wash over me.
I worked a lot. Anyone who knew me knew that. I loved my job, honestly. Sometimes the clients could be obnoxious (case in point), but it was interesting work, and I was good at it.
But that didn't mean I didn't get tired sometimes. Sometimes I wanted a break, but that didn't seem to be in the cards for me any time soon.
After a bit I pulled myself out of the car and headed up towards the house, frowning when I saw smoke coming from the back.
All I needed was for Kevin to be involved in a fire or something to well and truly ruin everything.
I dropped my things off in the room I'd chosen for myself and then went to find the source of the smoke.
It was Kevin, because of course it was, but he was manning a grill at the back of the house, flipping what looked like thick cut steaks with a pair of tongs.
He was shirtless for some reason, even though there was a chill in the air as the sun got ready to set, and there was a beer in his other hand.
I bristled immediately, but then remembered we were alone, and he wasn't being disorderly, so I let out a breath.
"Do you still like your steaks practically still mooing?" he asked, not even turning around to look at me, but somehow knowing I was there.
I jumped a bit and then scowled. "Just because you like to gnaw on shoe leather doesn't mean there's anything wrong with the way I eat steaks."
"Medium is not shoe leather," he said, laughing. "Did you eat yet?"
I actually had to think about it. There had been coffee and muffins at the coffee shop I'd set up at for the day, and a plate of quiche for lunch, but that was about it.
"You don't have to feed me," I insisted, even though the smell wafting from the grill was amazing and it made my stomach growl.
"I know I don't," he replied. "But it's the least I can do. You had to come all the way out here, and you're working for me, so the least I can do is try and show you a good time while you're here, right? Take some of the stress off?"
"You are the stress," I muttered back, but I was hungry enough that I wasn't going to turn the food down.
He just laughed. "Fair enough. Streak, baked potatoes, and asparagus sound good?"
My stomach growled again, loud enough that he could hear it, and I supposed that answered that question.
"Great," he said, turning his head to grin at me. "We're about ten minutes out if you want to get changed and washed up."
I was tired enough that I just went along with it, going back to my room to change into leggings and a t-shirt. I could hear Kevin banging back into the house and the clink and clatter of dishes as he got things ready, and I let out a breath.
The last time we'd tried to have dinner together had been a disaster, but maybe this would be better. I'd keep my temper, and he wouldn't say anything stupid, and we could get through a meal together.
I was too tired to fight with him, anyway.
So I padded down the stairs and into the kitchen, in time to see Kevin pouring rich red wine into two glasses.
I arched an eyebrow. "Is this a wine sort of dinner?"
He shrugged. "Sure, why not? I mean how many times in life are you eating steaks in Hawaii, right? Might as well live it up."
I considered resisting that for all of about five seconds before giving in that he was right. There was no reason not to enjoy ourselves. So I just nodded and moved to sit down at the table, watching him as he moved around the kitchen, plating things and laying out condiments and such.
I hadn't seen him in a kitchen in years, and I would have assumed that he was too busy or too rich to still know how to cook for himself, but there was an ease to his movements that spoke to practice, and it was hard to look away.
It helped that he had put his shirt back on.
I sat there watching until he came back to the table with two plates. He set down one in front of me, following it with the glass of wine, and then put the other plate down on the other side of the table, bringing over steak sauce and cheese and sour cream to go with the meal.
For the first bit I busied myself with my food. I cut into my potato and added cheese and butter and sour cream, stomach growling even louder as it all melted together into a delicious mass of dairy.
I put a little steak sauce on the meat and then cut into it, tasting a bite. Of course it was seasoned well, and it was the temp I liked, too.
He'd done a good job, not that I intended to tell him that.
He was too busy plowing through his own meal to even notice if I liked it anyway.
It was silent in the kitchen as we ate, just the scrape of forks and knives on the plates. I drained the first glass of wine quickly and reached for the bottle to pour another.
It was fine. I was relaxing after a long day. There was nothing wrong with that.
Kevin didn't comment either. He just smiled at me. "Steak okay?" he asked.
I nodded. "Yeah. It's good." The wine was working its magic, making me feel more relaxed in his company than I had in the whole time I'd been working with him.
I finished that second glass and poured another. Just for good measure. Being angry all the time was exhausting, if I was being honest, and it was nice to be able to leave that behind for at least a little bit.
"So," Kevin said, speaking up again. "How was your day?"
I shrugged. "It was work. I'll have to get up and do it all over again tomorrow." For once I didn't tack on the part about it being his fault, and Kevin looked surprised.
"But you like your work, right? I mean it's what you always wanted."
I nodded, pushing a piece of asparagus around on the plate. "Sure," I said. "It's...it's the field I wanted to be in, and I'm doing work that I'm good at."
"But?"
"Who says there has to be a but?" I asked.
He gave me a look. "There's usually a but. I love my career, but there's buts."
I kept my eyes on my plate and shrugged. "It's harder than I thought it would be. To make a name for myself. I'm working hard, I know I am. I'm in the office until nine or ten at night multiple days a week. Clients like me, and I get results."
"But?" he asked again.
"But it's hard to get ahead. My boss takes a lot of the credit, and I've been gunning for a promotion for the last couple of years."
I didn't talk about that with a lot of people. I had friends, but a lot of them didn't understand why I wanted it so bad. More than one of them had mentioned that I already worked myself more than was healthy, so they didn't understand why I wanted to take on more responsibility.
But it wasn't about that. It was about being recognized and having people know that I could do the work and I deserved the promotion. And the raise that went along with it.
"So, what, they're just passing you over when it comes time to hand out promotions?"
I shrugged. "Sometimes. This is supposed to be my big break, you know. If I can turn things around for Kevin Porter, it will be enough that they can't keep overlooking me. And if they do, I could probably get in with any other firm in town."
"Am I that important?" he asked.
I shrugged again. "You're a big name. You know that."
He didn't do the false modesty thing, which I was grateful for because I didn't have the energy to deal with that.
"I hope it helps, at least," he said. "You deserve to be recognized for how hard you work."
I ducked my head, horrified to feel myself blushing. It must have been the wine. But still, it was nice to hear that. Especially from someone who understood the value of hard work. That was always something we'd had in common.
"I've thrown so much of myself into thi
s job," I continued. "So it would be nice to get something back, you know? To have something to show for it. It's not like I have much else."
I didn't mean to let that slip out, but the wine and the comfortable atmosphere had me saying all kinds of things, apparently. Usually when people asked, I told them I was fine with how my life was. I didn't need other things to be happy.
And Kevin was the worst person to be admitting things like that to.
"I know how that is," he said, and I glared at him.
"Sure you do."
"I do," he said, and for once there was no grin or smirk on his face. He just looked sincere. "I mean, for a while now all I've had is the game. I've dedicated my life to it, and yeah, I knew going in it was going to be the kind of thing where it was all or nothing, but that doesn't mean I don't wish I had more."
"You have friends, though," I pointed out. "And a million admirers."
He shrugged. "Sure. But that's not always enough. And none of those admirers know me at all. I mean, you see how fast a bunch of them turned on me as soon as Christine started lying to the press. It's all fickle as hell, and as soon as they catch you slipping, they go in for the kill."
Working in public relations and publicity, I knew he was right. Fans could make or break a celebrity, and they watched them with a fanatical zeal that turned into a nightmare if it got bad enough.
I couldn't blame Kevin for being upset about that.
"Is that why you party so much?" I asked him. "Because you're looking for fulfillment?"
He finished his own glass before acknowledging he'd heard my question at all.
"Is that why you work so much?" he shot back, which was completely fair.
I considered telling him to fuck off because it wasn't any of his business, but that would be hypocritical, considering I'd asked him first.
So instead I sighed and finished my steak. "Maybe. It's something I can control. Something I can do that I know will work out for me, without the added complication of feelings and other people." I made a face, immediately regretting being so candid with him. "I've been drinking too much," I muttered. "I don't even know what I'm saying."
He just smiled, looking at me with warm eyes. "You're beautiful when you're not so in your head, you know," he said, and then stopped like he was considering something. "And even when you are, actually."
I just rolled my eyes at him. "Don't start. I might have had a couple glasses of wine, but that doesn't mean I'm going to turn into one of those women who can't wait to get naked in a hot tub with you. I'm not that easy."
To my surprise, he just laughed. "Believe me, I know," he said. "You're a much harder sell than that, and I respect that about you. You don't give a damn if I'm Kevin Porter, baseball star. I can always depend on you to keep my ego in check."
For some reason that had me blushing again, and I considered another glass of wine before firmly cutting myself off. I had to work the next day, and I was already feeling too loose and comfortable as it was. I had to keep my wits about me.
Kevin was still too handsome and charming for me to feel comfortable lowering my guard that much around him. I didn't need any more complications.
Chapter 12
Kevin
When Caro came back on the second night, I was in the groove. I had water boiling on the stove, seafood simmering in a pan, and a good playlist going on the bluetooth speakers in the kitchen.
I danced around while I got wine out to use in the sauce I was making, half singing along to the parts of the song I knew. It was a good time, and when Caro came in, I grinned at her, doing a little exaggerated hip shimmy just for kicks.
She looked amused, but then I could see her shut that down, going for a more blank expression. I had to wonder when the last time was she'd really let herself cut loose and just have fun without being in her own head.
I also had to wonder if it was partly my fault she was like that. I hoped not.
"Hey," I greeted her with a grin. "Hungry?"
She sniffed the air and then came over to peer at the stove. "What are you cooking?" she asked.
"Seafood pasta. Shrimp and scallops in a white wine sauce. Just something I made up."
Caro raised her eyebrows, looking impressed. "Sounds good. I guess if you're cooking, the least I can do is eat."
"That's right," I agreed. "It would be rude not to."
She snorted and lingered for a bit, like she wanted to say something else, but wasn't sure what to say at all.
It was a tense moment, but in the awkward kind of way where neither of us knew what we were doing or how to proceed.
The song changed to another dancing song, but this one was a little slower, a little softer. A little more made for two people and not just one.
And Caro was just standing there, so taking a chance that she might try to punch me in the face, I reached for her hand and pulled her closer to me.
I didn't think we'd ever really danced together back when we were dating, and I had no idea if she even knew how to dance at all. But that wasn't the point. The point was to be close to her, to try and sweep her off of her feet a bit.
I still expected her to pull away and tell me off, but instead she just snorted. "What are you doing?" Caro asked, letting me pull her into position.
"Dancing with you," I replied, twirling her and swinging her around the kitchen to the music.
I didn't really know what I was doing, but her hand was warm in mine, and the feeling of her so close to me was intoxicating. I wanted the song to last all night.
She actually laughed when I spun her and then pulled her back, moving with the music and matching my movements well enough that we were dancing together, even if it was clumsy.
I grinned at her and then went for the dip, one hand pressed to the small of her back and the other still holding onto her hand.
She looked breathless and surprised, and I hovered over her, realizing in a split second how close I suddenly was to her mouth.
For a moment, it felt like neither of us was breathing. Her eyes were wide and then shuttered, lashes brushing her cheeks before she looked back up at me.
I couldn't look away from her for a second, struck by how gorgeous she was up close, and how I wanted to be closer.
It would be nothing to draw her up towards me, or lean down to her, to close that distance and finally give in to the fantasies I'd been having since I decided I needed her back in my life.
Time stood still for that moment, the air thick with the tension between us. I felt like I could cut it with a knife it was so thick, but I still didn't move.
And neither did she. It was like we were frozen there, neither one of us knowing how to proceed next.
And then two things happened.
The timer I'd set for the pasta went off, trilling shrilly and cutting into the music that I'd all but forgotten about. Caro used that moment of distraction to pull away from me, standing up straight and putting distance between us.
"I need to go shower," she said, and she turned so she wasn't looking at me anymore.
It was like breaking a spell or being doused in cold water. The moment was gone, and I wasn't sure how to get it back, or even if Caro wanted to. But for a second there, it had seemed like she was just as interested in what was going on as I was.
"Okay," I said, nodding and dragging a hand through my hair. "I'll holler when dinner's ready."
"Sure," she replied. "Thanks."
And then she was gone, speeding out of the kitchen and disappearing up the stairs. I stood there for a moment, swallowing hard and trying to focus, listening to the water come on through the pipes upstairs.
The timer going off again finally shook me out of it, and I cursed and went to rescue the pasta from overcooking. Ruining dinner wasn't the way to woo someone, after all.
Twenty minutes later, the food was ready, but there was still no sign of Caro. I half wondered if she was so tired from working so much that she'd fallen asleep upstairs. I was gonna feel
pretty guilty if that was the case.
"Caro?" I called, but there was no response.
So I took matters into my own hands and headed up the stairs myself to look for her.
Her door was cracked a bit, and I peeked in, expecting to see her on the bed asleep. That was not what I saw.
Instead she was standing in the middle of the room with her back to the door, dressed in nothing but panties. My mouth dropped open and my eyes were wide.
I knew I should have moved away as soon as I saw she wasn't asleep and wasn't dressed, but I felt rooted to the spot, unable to look away.
She was so fucking beautiful.
I'd always known that, but Jesus.
Six years had been good to her, and I watched as she took her hair in one hand to run fingers through it and then let it fall down her back in damp waves.
It nearly brushed the top of her ass, and my mouth watered. I wanted to run my tongue all over that creamy skin, trace the places where water droplets skimmed over it.
I wanted to go into the room and pin her down, kiss her all over and make her beg for me.
My cock was already swelling in my pants, and I cursed to myself silently. Having dinner with her after seeing that was going to be hella awkward because all I was going to be thinking about was her delicate her ankles seemed and how I wanted to bury myself between her thighs.
I was being real creep though, just standing there staring at her naked back, so I backed up as silently as I could, taking myself back to the stairs and then doing it all over again, stomping a bit this time so she would hear me.
I stopped well short of the door. "Caro?"
"What?"
"Dinner's done."
"Okay, I'll be down in a second." Her door clicked closed quickly, and I let out a breath. That could have ended much worse. I just needed to get ahold of myself so I didn't act like an idiot while we were eating.
I went back downstairs, and Caro wasn't far behind me. She came into the kitchen dressed down in a pair of soft pants and an oversized t-shirt.
Her hair was still down and still damp, and when she got close enough to me, I could make out the scent of the jasmine from her shampoo.