The Sweetest Taboo

by Alison Kent

  Erin’s morning would be going a lot better if she could understand why Sebastian had left her bed so suddenly. For the first time this week she’d felt as if they were on the verge of making love. No, she had been making love. And she had a feeling that was exactly what had driven Sebastian away.

  Because he was right. If all they were doing was sleeping together, she didn’t need to know more of who he was than the little bit she’d learned. And the very fact that she’d asked meant…what?

  “Yes, Samantha. I know. I know. I’m in love with the sex, not with the man,” she grumbled to herself while pulling up her accounting software. But for some untold reason, Erin didn’t believe a single word she said.

  She went back to close down her inbox, stopping when the subject line Anniversary Party—Paddington’s On Main caught her eye. The sender’s name wasn’t familiar, doubling her curiosity.

  She opened it up, read through, read through a second time while her heart pounded wildly in her throat. The note was from the publicist who represented Ryder Falco. The Ryder Falco, the bestselling horror novelist dogging Stephen King’s heels.

  Falco was to be in Houston the weekend of Halloween and his publicist understood she was hosting a good-versus-evil themed party. Would she be interested in having Falco sign advanced copies of his newest Raleigh Slater release, The Demon Begs to Differ? Af ter all, was there a single pop culture figure to better embody good-versusevil than Ryder Falco?

  Erin rocked back in her chair, shoved all ten fingers into her hair. This was totally insane! Unbelievable and wholly unreal! The post-party results of implementing every single one of last night’s Save Paddington’s brainstorming ideas wouldn’t have half the impact of a Ryder Falco signing.

  But how? No one knew of the recent conflict with Crewe Courtland’s pre-grand opening event but Cali and Will and Sebastian…

  Of course! This was Sebastian’s doing. Erin hadn’t a single doubt that this man about whom she knew next to nothing was responsible. Tied into his reticence to reveal personal information and the incredible library of books he owned, this made perfect sense. The business associates he’d mentioned had to be in publishing.

  Surely he’d realize she’d put two and two together? Had he planned to tell her about making this amazing contact on her behalf? The very fact that he had made it…

  She rocked her chair forward again, propped elbows on her desk, chin in her hands and stared at her electronic salvation. How would she ever be able to thank Sebastian for the invaluable gift when the very fact that he’d given it had her struggling for words?

  HALLOWEEN NIGHT ARRIVED, finally, only to find Erin pacing madly through the bar, checking on the caterer’s serving tables and fretting over decorations. The black and white, good-versus-evil theme had been played out from glittering snowflakes falling through shadowy spiderwebs to the jailhouse black and whites worn by the caterer’s staff to the incredible array of visually contrasted food and drink.

  Never in a million years would she have believed in the neutral color scheme’s sensory appeal. But she had to admit the bar had never looked better. Even the black and white cookies worked, she realized, thinking about scarfing down a quick dozen. Nerves had kept her from eating for days and she suddenly found herself famished.

  Yes, all the work she’d poured into the party had paid off—at least in presentation. She wouldn’t change a thing. And her ace in the hole, Ryder Falco, virtually guaranteed she’d pull in the crowd she needed. She laughed, amused by the ridiculous understatement.

  Ryder Falco guaranteed more of a crowd than she could ever fit into Paddington’s and remain within code. Which was why she’d put two bouncers at the front door to man the line of Falco fans here for the autographing only. She realized she was dealing with a logistical nightmare and prayed for cool tempers and a zero percent chance of rain.

  Once the bar hit capacity and hopefully stayed that way, the success of the night would be out of her hands and solely contingent on the work that had gone before. All she could do would be to cross her fingers that the party paid off at the cash bar and in returning customers.

  She’d been a total wreck for the past three weeks, working to pull everything together and thinking this night would never arrive. The anniversary had loomed like an execution date when it should’ve been an exciting celebration marking the past year of her dedication on top of the dozens of years Rory had spent behind the bar. She hated that she still felt so bound to Paddington’s instead of reveling in her success.

  She and Sebastian had continued to see each other, their affair losing none of the initial intensity, settling into an intimately comfortable accord. She’d been grateful beyond reason for their shared schedule. More than once she’d stepped into her building’s elevator at 3:00 a.m. and pushed “7”, not bothering to stop on her floor before heading for his.

  He was always awake as she’d known he would be. And he was always waiting, never surprised that she’d been drawn to his door. What had surprised her, however, was the way she’d so quickly grown secure enough in their involvement to invite herself into his shower instead of cleaning up in her own.

  Sebastian’s shower did come with one benefit hers didn’t offer. Sebastian. She’d come to think of him as Poseidon, king of his water-filled domain. And, yes. Serving at Sebastian’s feet had become one of her life’s greatest pleasures—even if they’d yet to have sex in his bed. They’d slept there together but, the mornings she’d come awake in his place, she’d hurriedly dressed and left.

  She’d never forgotten his first hasty flight from her bedroom almost a month ago. He’d never explained; she’d never asked. But she hadn’t again made the mistake of thinking their coming together was about making love. They were here for the beauty of joined bodies. Love was the antithesis of having a Man To Do.

  Her Man To Do had dodged her inquiries into his connection to Ryder Falco and the Halloween night signing, admitting to nothing more than calling in a few favors. After that, she hadn’t asked him anything else personal. He seemed to prefer to talk about her, or to not talk at all.

  She wouldn’t be surprised to learn she was the first person he’d ever told about his showers. Or about the little toy truck, the ashes of burned-out fires, and a five-yearold’s crushed birthday cupcake. And an intuitive female part of her doubted her knowing those crucial parts of his past sat well with the way he now lived his life.

  More than once on the nights she did go straight home, she arrived to find him sitting outside her front door, waiting, wordlessly watching as she walked down the hall. Her heart blipped each and every time, and it was all she could do to rein in her emotions before she reached him. Harder still was the struggle to keep her feelings hermetically sealed while he stripped off her clothes and covered her with his bare body.

  Tonight her emotions clashed in a virtual riot of ups and downs, sky highs and barrel bottoms. When deciding on her costume earlier in the month, she’d wavered between good and bad, uncertain whether or not embracing the dark side would reflect negatively at all on her position as hostess and as Paddington’s owner.

  Next she’d considered coming as the opposite of Sebastian, except that he’d never mentioned a costume or even his intent to attend. She’d tried not to be hurt, though it was difficult to maintain the detachment when she had started thinking of them as a couple of sorts.

  Once this party was put to bed, she’d make the decision she knew she had to make about continuing their arrangement of seeking out one another for sex. Yes, it had been her idea to pursue Sebastian as a Man To Do, but it was also her female prerogative to change her mind. Continuing to deny her emotions was bound to blow up in her face. She loved him. Not that it did her a bit of good…

  In the end she’d decided to dress as the epitome of good and had donned flowing white scarves over a cat suit of ecru-hued lace and presented herself as the mythical virgin sacrifice Cali had once accused Sebastian of looking ready to consume. Totally ap
ropos, Erin thought, since he consumed her on a regular basis.

  The setup for the Ryder Falco signing was absolutely perfect. Erin had paid the caterer extra to work with Falco’s publicist and create an ambience suited to both the party theme and the author’s notoriety as a mysterious recluse. She’d read his first novel, The Demon Inside, and had decided she’d stick with Nora Roberts for her fiction.

  Falco’s work was too sinister for Erin’s tastes—exactly the reason the grotto of stones and live plants in the bar’s darkest corner, lit with black lights casting a red-tinted ultraviolet glow, fit so well with the ambience of both the room and the man’s reputation.

  She circled through the room one more time then headed to her office to dress. When she returned thirty minutes later, Cali was already behind the bar, checking the crates of mugs and racks of wineglasses as well as the stock of hard liquor. She looked up as Erin joined her, twirling in a pirouette that sent her scarves floating.

  Cali’s eyes grew extra wide. “Oh, my God! You look totally awesome. Sebastian is so going to jump your bones.”

  Ignoring Cali’s prediction, Erin raked her gaze over the other woman’s costume of white shorts and a ribbed white tank that showed off her gorgeous curves. Cali also wore a halo atop of her mop of blond curls and a huge set of iridescent angels wings flapped on her back.

  “You look pretty damn cute yourself.” Erin felt her mouth twist into a wry grin.

  “Are you the angel of Will’s salvation?”

  “Something like that,” Cali said with a bit of a prurient expression. “I couldn’t decide on being good or bad and finally went for a combo.”

  Erin gave her friend another once over. “Well, you succeeded in a big way. He’s not going to know what hit him.”

  Cali’s smile begin to fade. “If he even notices.”

  “Why wouldn’t he? How could he not notice?” Erin glanced toward the door as a party of four vampires came in.

  “Oh, he’ll notice, but he won’t care.” Cali pushed the crate of mugs back beneath the bar. “You know how guys get when they’re pissed off. Whatever they’re mad about is the only thing they can think of. They couldn’t care less that someone went out of her way to make sure she looked good enough to eat.”

  “Wait a minute.” Erin waved a scolding finger. “You know we’re supposed to dress for ourselves, not for men.”

  “Puh-lease,” Cali said with a huff. “What kind of Cosmo girl are you anyway?

  You can’t tell me you dressed like that and never thought of Sebastian.” A teasing light dawned in Cali’s eyes. “Unless maybe you were thinking of seducing Ryder Falco.”

  Erin frowned and snorted. “Right. I dressed to seduce a man I don’t even know.”

  “You didn’t know Sebastian when you seduced him,” Cali countered.

  “That was different.” Erin had known Sebastian. She’d been making love to him for months in her mind. They just hadn’t yet met—a horse of an entirely different color.

  “And I dressed this way for me. I don’t even know if Sebastian is going to be here.”

  Cali’s hands went to her hips. “What’re you talking about? Why wouldn’t he come?”

  A trio of goth females—pale white complexions, dark lips and eyes, spiky black hair…oh, wait. One was a guy, Erin realized, shaking off the illusion. She turned back to Cali. “I imagine he will. He just never committed to coming.”

  “Maybe he assumed he didn’t have to commit. Like he knew you knew he’d be here.” Cali hesitated. “Y’all are still together, right? I mean, now I’m the one doing the assuming but you haven’t said that y’all weren’t still dating.”

  “C’mon, Cali. When have Sebastian and I ever dated? You know what our involvement is all about.” It was exactly what it had been intended to be about from the get-go, Erin admitted, logic nicely stepping in to remind her of the facts.

  “I know. I just thought…” Cali sighed, waved off the rest of her comment with one hand. “I don’t know what I thought. I obviously have no business analyzing relationships since I don’t even have a handle on my own.”

  “You never told me what’s going on with Will. What’s he being a grump about?”

  “The screenplay. What else?” Cali picked up her serving tray to make a round through the bar. “He’s not too happy that I discussed it with Sebastian.”

  “Hmm. Where is Will anyway?” Erin glanced up at the clock above the bar. “It’s almost eight. Oh, God. It’s almost eight.” And Ryder Falco was due at nine. “Can you tell me about Will later? I’ve got to make sure Robin knows Falco is her number one priority tonight.”

  “Relax, Erin. Robin’s been working for you as long as I have. She knows her stuff. Everything’ll be cool,” Cali added before heading out into the crowd to circulate.

  All Erin could do was take a deep breath and trust that Cali was right.

  11

  WALKING THROUGH Paddington’s back door without first giving Erin full disclosure wasn’t going to be fair. Sebastian knew that. Had for the last three weeks, in fact, recognized the building ache in his gut as guilt over what he was going to do. During tonight’s short limo ride from his publicist’s hotel to the bar, he sat expecting to physically implode.

  Revealing his identity any earlier would’ve rendered the admission worthless. He knew that as well. Erin would’ve gone and canceled the signing and told him to get the hell out of her life. He’d be doing that soon enough. Tonight, as a matter of fact. But he didn’t want to go without showing her that he’d never taken their involvement lightly.

  He cared about her in ways he didn’t know it was possible to care for another human being, ways he’d never once experienced throughout his thirty-four years. Except for the time spent learning what he had from Richie, Sebastian had been on his own from day one—and had followed his personal creed to the letter.

  He never relied on anyone but himself. He never looked to another for what he couldn’t beg, borrow or steal using his wits, his street smarts or the education he’d received in lockup, compliments of the State of Texas.

  At least he’d never looked elsewhere before now.

  Until lately, when he’d been looking to Erin for things he couldn’t name, things indefinable yet significant, that had doubled his creative energy, spurred his enthusiasm toward the bitch of a project he’d been warily circling for months.

  He didn’t know what exactly was going on with her in regards to Paddington’s and her grandfather. She hadn’t been particularly up-front, had been damned evasive in fact, when he’d asked her those questions a few weeks ago while lying in bed at her side, holding her close, pulling her back into his body, content to do nothing but touch.

  Okay, so he’d only been a temporary fix and not a permanent part of her life. She didn’t owe him any answers. That said, he still wanted to know. His interest was real and true and drawn from that place where he felt too much and too strongly for this woman he was going to have to let go.

  Slumped in the limo’s back seat, he stared out the tinted window at the taillights on his left, shoving away the encroaching emotion he couldn’t afford to feel. Not tonight. Tonight was going to be tough enough, worrying about her reaction to his deception, unable to talk to her, to explain until the signing’s end.

  Dealing with his own strange sense of loss on top was too much of a distraction to his focus. Later, maybe. After gaining the distance he needed. Then he’d be in a better position to look back objectively, to appreciate the time she’d allowed him into her life. For now, however, he would be the bastard he played so well.

  Since Paddington’s was spitting distance from his loft, his only caveat to the signing was going in costume. His publicist was used to his covert way of doing what little promotion he agreed to do and wasn’t concerned by the subterfuge, just thrilled to have the reclusive Ryder Falco making a personal appearance.

  Sebastian didn’t want to be recognized in his own neighborhood after tonight. It
might happen, but he was taking what precaution he could. Funny how tonight’s chance for exposure registered lower on his personal radar than it had in the past. He added that inconsistency to his list of “laters” growing longer the more he sat and stewed.

  The costume had worked. No one had looked at him twice on leaving his publicist’s hotel where he’d dressed. Erin, of course, would recognize him immediately. Like he’d said, totally unfair. But it was either do it this way and give her the boost Paddington’s needed, or never say a word about who he was and watch her suffer while Courtland’s pulled in the landslide business that should’ve been hers.

  He figured this way was the lesser of two evils. And, yeah. The signing went a long way toward assuaging a conscience he shouldn’t have had. A self-reproach tied into the fact that he wouldn’t be seeing Erin again after tonight. If he expected to string together one hundred thousand words that made sense and prove he had more in his creative repository than detectives and demons, he needed to shake off the sweetest distraction in which he’d ever indulged.