Caught Up In Us

by Lauren Blakely

  Caught Up In Us

  Lauren Blakely

  Copyright 2013 by Lauren Blakely

  Smashwords Edition

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Printed in the United States of America

  First Printing, 2013

  Cover Design by Josyan McGregor

  www.LaurenBlakely.com

  This book is a work of fiction. No part of the contents relate to any real person or persons, living or dead. All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any person, living or dead, any place, events or occurrences, is purely coincidental. The characters and storylines are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Table of Contents

  About

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Acknowledgements

  Contact

  Caught Up In Us

  Genre: Adult Contemporary Romance

  (NOT appropriate for younger readers)

  Five years ago, Kat Harper fell into a dizzying summer romance with her brother’s best friend Bryan. It was a mad, crazy love full of kisses all through the night — but he broke her heart and she had to move on.

  Five years later, Kat is finishing her graduate degree and building her business as a jewelry designer, when Bryan, head of his own successful company, walks back into her life. Bryan has been assigned to Kat as her new business mentor and the rules are clear. No hanky panky permitted. That works for both of them. Kat needs to grow her business to help her parents; Bryan needs to run a clean operation after his former business partner’s romantic scandal that rocked his firm.

  Kat can handle that because she's totally over him... right? Except, he still makes her laugh. And he remembers all the things she likes. And he's more handsome now than he was then. Then there’s the spark between them — the simply undeniable chemistry.

  Can they resist each other? Or are they willing to risk everything for a second chance at first love?

  Dedication

  This book is for the readers.

  For all of you — the lovers of words and romance.

  Chapter One

  He was my first favorite mistake.

  I hadn’t seen him in five years, and now as he walked to the front of the small classroom, every muscle in my body tensed, and my brain went into hyperdrive as I told myself not to think of lights going down in movie theaters or of hot summer nights miles away from here tangled up in him.

  Be strong. Be cool. Be badass.

  I ran my index finger across the silver charm I made when I left for college, as if the miniature movie camera could channel steely resolve into me, as it had these last few years. Even though I’d absolutely moved on. That’s why it hadn’t even occurred to me that he might be here today, even though, technically, I suppose I should have known it was a possibility since he graduated from this same business school. We even walked around this campus together the last time I saw him, as we made plans with each other, as we made promises to each other.

  Until he broke my heart and became a charm on my necklace instead — the very first one, and the inspiration for my jewelry — a cold, metal reminder that mistakes can make us better.

  But I was safely on the other side now. I was over Bryan, over the anger, over the whole thing. I was totally fine, thank you very much. Except, as he neared the whiteboard with the name of the class, Experiential Learning, scrawled in blue marker on it, I was being educated on a new definition of the word unfair. Because I so wanted to be the girl who didn’t even notice he was here, but instead I catalogued every detail, from the slightest trace of stubble on his jawline, to the way his brown hair still invited fingers to be run through it, to how the checked navy blue shirt he wore had probably never looked quite so good as when it hugged his arms and stretched across his chest.

  Bryan froze when he saw me. His green eyes hooked into mine for the briefest of moments, and maybe for real, or maybe just in my imagination, I saw a tinge of regret in them. But then he recovered a second later, and flashed a quick, closed-mouth smile to the class. Of course it wouldn’t bother him to see me here. He didn’t care about me then. He wouldn’t care about me now.

  But I could pull off indifference too, so I looked away first. There. Two could play at this game.

  Bryan stood next to the professor at the head of the classroom, along with the other business school alum who would be matched with my fellow graduate students for this mentorship program. In his trademark three-piece suit, spectacles and a silk handkerchief, Professor Oliver was his usual peppy self as he introduced the mentors. One of the gals ran a venture fund she’d started herself, another had been a superstar skateboarder then launched a line of skatewear that was now hugely popular with teens, one of the guys oversaw a firm that had designed some of the most successful iPhone apps, and another founded a health video service.

  Then there was Bryan Leighton, five years older than me, and I already knew what he did for a living. I knew other things about him too. I knew what his lips tasted like. How his arms felt under my hands. How his kisses went on and on and I’d never wanted them to end. And like a snap of the fingers, I was back in time, no longer a graduate student, no longer in the first row of the classroom. I was just a girl fresh off high school graduation, wrapped around her brother’s best friend. Bryan was running his hands through my hair, and kissing my neck, and I shuddered. Everyone else, everything else faded away. He was the only one there.

  I could have stayed trapped like that, beholden to the memory of the way he felt, the things we said. The words only I said.

  I gripped the charm to break away from the past. I let a tiny kernel of latent anger in me start to come out of hiding. I needed that anger, because I needed to focus on the present, and there was no room for him, or those kind of memories, in it. I was a different person now. I was a savvy twenty-three. I’d already earned my bachelor’s degree from NYU, and now I was finishing my master’s degree from the same school and growing a business, all while paying the rent in a Chelsea apartment. I wasn’t that lovestruck teenager anymore. Besides, there was just a one-in-five chance I’d be paired with him. Wouldn’t it make the most sense for my professor to match me with the skatewear gal since we were both in the fashion business? I was a jewelry desig
ner after all, with a line of necklaces already selling well online and in several boutiques around the city.

  Professor Oliver rocked back and forth on his wingtips, full of energy, while he rattled off names of my classmates, then the mentor they’d work with. The first student was paired with iPhone guy. Okay, there was a one-out-of-four chance now. I crossed my fingers. Venture Girl was partnered off next with a different student. One in three. I made a quick wish on an unseen star. Professor Oliver read off the names of another student and the health video service guy. I took a deep calming breath. Clearly, the professor was saving me for the skateboard gal. She looked so cool too, so hip with pink streaks in her black hair and cat’s eye glasses. Yes, she’d be a perfect mentor and I’d learn so much about a business that wasn’t that different from mine.

  I held my breath and hoped. But Professor Oliver called out someone else’s name for skateboard gal. My heart dropped, and I felt my insides tighten.

  “And that means, Ms. Harper, that your business mentor for this semester will be Bryan Leighton. Allow me to officially introduce you two.”

  Bryan held out his hand, as if it were the first time he was touching me.

  “It’s a pleasure.”

  “All mine,” I said, wishing there weren’t some truth to my words.

  Chapter Two

  One of the reasons I’d wanted to attend New York University’s Stern School of Business was for this class. Today would be our only day in the classroom. The rest of the semester we’d spend time with real businesses, tackling real issues, and gaining insight into how to make our fledgling little ventures better. Ever since a boutique owner in my hometown had stopped me at age nineteen and asked where I’d gotten my unusual and eye-catching charm necklace — I’d made it myself, I proudly told her — I had wanted to learn the ins and outs of building a bigger business. I never told her the genesis of my jewelry line. I never revealed to anyone but my best friend Jill that I’d started it out of rejection. That it was fueled by hurt. The charms were my way of taking something back, taking me back after Bryan’s callous brush-off. If I were a rock star, I’d have Taylor Swifted him and written one of those anthemic I don’t love you anymore songs. Instead, I did the only thing I could do. I turned to my one talent and uttered a quiet screw you, Bryan Leighton with my jewelry.

  The boutique owner had started carrying my necklaces and the My Favorite Mistakes style had become a — well — a favorite in her store, and soon at my parent’s shop too, then at others in Manhattan. The trouble was my charms were all handmade. By me. And the grassroots nature was getting a little challenging. I needed practical skills and knowledge to grow, and I was more than ready to get them through this mentorship.

  But that wasn’t the only reason I needed this class. My parents had stumbled into hard times when the tough economy hit the tourist town of Mystic, Connecticut where they ran a little gift shop and had for years. They took out a loan to keep inventory stocked, and I hated to see them struggling especially since the store was their nest egg, their third kid, their key to an eventual retirement. They’d worked so hard my whole life, putting my brother and me through college, weathering many storms of the financial and the health variety for years. Now they were within spitting distance of retirement, and I wanted to do all I could to make sure they could enjoy some well-deserved time off. I’d taken out loans to pay for business school, but they weren’t due for several years, so my plan was to ramp up my own business quickly to help pay off theirs.

  So, really, was it so much for me to want to learn in a distraction-free fashion? Working alongside the man who’d broken my heart one summer night five years ago wasn’t conducive to focusing. Especially not when he looked even better than he did then. He’d had a sweet boyish face when he was in his early twenties. Now, he was twenty-eight and while the boyish charm was still present in spades, there was also a sophistication to his features, to his style, to his clothes. Five years running a corporation would do that to you. As I sat down next to Bryan, I did my best to put on my bulletproof even though I could tell his arms were even stronger and more toned, and that his forest green eyes could still reel me in with one look.

  I gritted my teeth. This was not going to work. Clearly, I’d need a new mentor. I had to graduate, and I had to succeed in this class. I tried to picture my strong and sturdy mom, from the way she’d managed her recovery from a car accident years ago with a tough kind of optimism, to how she could stare down an overdue loan notice by brushing one palm against the other and saying, “Let’s get to work.”

  Work. Yes, work. I was laser-focused on work.

  “This was my favorite class when I went here,” Bryan said, breaking the silence.

  “Oh. It was?”

  “Well, I guess it’s not a class, right?” he added, correcting himself, then laughed awkwardly. He must have been nervous. That made me feel the slightest bit vindicated. “What do we call it? A workshop?” I shook my head. “Not an internship,” he continued, and I shook again. “Practicum?”

  I wanted to laugh at the word, but I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. Instead, I shook my head once more.

  But he was agile at playing both parts and picked up the baton of the conversation himself. “That’s kind of an awful word, isn’t it?”

  “It’s dreadful.”

  “Terrible.”

  “Wretched.”

  And as if no time had passed, we were back in banter, one of the things we’d always done well — play with words.

  “Whatever you call it, the class was my favorite. When you couldn’t tear me away from the statistics and econ books, that is.” He flashed his lopsided smile that showed off straight white teeth.

  He was trying to smooth over the past, but I wasn’t going to have it. I wasn’t going to let myself go any further in the chatter, the conversations, the back-and-forth that had fueled us that one summer. So I didn’t respond, giving a curt nod instead.

  The other students chatted with their mentors, and the buzz and hum filled the small classroom. I glanced over at Professor Oliver, who looked as if he were about to whistle a happy tune as he watched how well the initial “get to know you” session was going. But it didn’t matter if everyone else was getting along with their mentors. My success or failure would be based on what I accomplished outside of the confines of this classroom as I worked in close quarters with my mentor.

  I had to be re-matched with someone else.

  Bryan and I didn’t say anything for a stretch. He locked his eyes on me, then lowered his voice. “Look, Kat. I had no idea.”

  “No idea what?”

  “That you’d be in this class.”

  This was supposed to make me feel better, but it didn’t. It made me feel worse. He probably wanted out of this too-close-for-comfort deal as much as I did. But I couldn’t let on that he’d pierced me again. “It’s nothing. I’ll just ask to be reassigned,” I said coolly, praying Professor Oliver would agree. He had office hours tomorrow morning. I’d be lined up outside his door ready to make my request.

  Bryan shook his head, and lifted his hand towards me, as if he were about to rest his palm on my leg, or my arm. I inched away. Almost imperceptibly, but enough for him to notice. He clasped his fingers together instead. He parted his lips. Paused. Then, in a low voice that sounded smoky at that volume, he said, “But I’m glad you are. I’m glad it worked out this way.”

  I’d spent the last five years juggling classes and making jewelry, building my business and moving past my first big love. The last thing I needed was to be thrust back into the fire. I would only get burned again.

  ******

  I was the first one to leave the classroom. I made a beeline for the ladies room where I busied myself reapplying lip gloss and trying to fluff out my dark brown hair to pass the time. I grabbed an always handy clip and twisted my long hair into a quick updo. I tucked a few loose strands behind my ears.

  I looked at the time. Only a few minutes
had passed. I brushed off a piece of lint from the short suede boots I’d snagged at a bargain price from a vintage shop in the Village, then readjusted the neckline of the chocolate-colored top I wore that brought out the brown in my eyes.

  Another minute gone.

  I rooted around in my purse for my mascara, touched up my lashes, then checked the time once more. Satisfied that Bryan had likely left the building, I ventured out. I dialed the number of my parent’s shop as the heels of my boots echoed across the wide hallway. I wanted to talk to my mom, but I also needed to root myself to the realities of my life. My parents, my plans for them, my goals for the business. My mom’s voice alone had the power to ground me and keep me steady.

  “Mystic Landing. How may I help you?”

  “Hey, Mom.”

  “Hey, sweetie,” she said, and dived into her usual million questions. “How are you? How’s school? How’s Jill? How are My Favorite Mistakes?”

  “I’m great. School is fine. I’ve never had a better roommate. And I’m working hard on the business. But, how are you? What’s going on with you and Dad and the shop?”

  I could picture her waving a hand in the air to make it seem like my question was no big deal. Then sharing a smile as a customer walked into the store. Then again, maybe there weren’t that many customers.

  “Everything is just fine. A young woman even came in this morning and tried on one of your necklaces.”

  “Awesome. Did she buy it?”

  “No, but she said she’d come back tomorrow.”

  “So, are you still getting plenty of late summer tourists?”

  “Oh sure. Of course,” she said quickly, but I wondered if she was just trying to seem strong for me.

  “What have you been up to today?”

  “I rearranged some of the window displays.”