by Grant, KT
Chapter Two
The wall of the bathroom stall felt cool against her clammy forehead. Erika inhaled deeply, already benefiting from the inhaler puffs. She deserved a pat on the back for not having an attack on stage. It wasn’t until she hugged her father, who whispered how proud he was of her and of Chris, who’d made funny faces at her, that she could find a quiet place to restore her confidence. She’d exited the stage and rushed into the bathroom. Her panties were somewhat damp from an instant of fear leading to her releasing a drop of pee before she’d joined her father on stage. But she didn’t smell anything sour. Opening her purse, she grabbed a small canister and sprayed lavender body mist to cover the possible acid stench of her miniscule accident. Next time she went to a big event, she would remember to bring an extra pair of underwear just in case.
She brushed over her dress to get rid of the wrinkles and then boosted her bodice up. She frowned, noticing how hard her nipples were—another reaction due to nervousness. It wasn’t too conspicuous, or so she hoped. Maybe she should wait a few more minutes before she joined the world again.
She eyed her leg. The run in her stocking had traveled up to her knee. “Shit.”
She should have stuck with her biggest clothing splurge—besides the dress she wore tonight—her over-the-top, expensive, French silk thigh highs that never ripped. Of course she would have terrible luck when she tried something different, thinking control top panty hose would make her look slimmer. Sighing, she removed the ruined hosiery. She would have to go bare legged.
After flushing the toilet, she left the stall. She threw the stockings in the garbage and washed her hands. Staring at her reflection in the mirror, she patted her cheeks with one of the towelettes she always carried. Her skin was a little damp, but it gave her a nice…glow.
The curls framing her face had more of a bounce than normal. Straightening her hair took forever, so she left it natural. At least it didn’t frizz too often. It was something she shared with her mother who had the most beautiful hair she’d loved playing with as a child.
“Miss you, Mom.” Kissing her fingertips, she raised them up to the ceiling.
Taking another deep breath, she exited the bathroom. Her cell phone pinged. Tapping the screen, she opened the envelope showing the text message.
Where are you? Are you okay? Call or text me ASAP.
What a sweetheart. Maybe she could lure Chris outside for some air to get away from all the people. They could then talk about the next step in their relationship.
Stopping in the doorway to another room, she typed him a message. Pausing, she glanced up. In the corner, a man played a piano. The laid back atmosphere was more her style, not at all congested or busy. She wouldn’t have one of her attacks here.
Approaching the bar, she asked for a glass of Merlot—her favorite wine. While she finished sending her text, the bartender set a glass in front of her. As she reached for her wallet to pay the bill, someone appeared at her side.
“I’ll take a glass of whatever the lady’s having.”
The first thing she noticed about the man standing next to her was his fingers. The nails were blunt, the thumb nail shorter than the others. Based on the state of his ragged cuticles, he chewed on them. His hands looked rough and were at odds with the owner’s refined voice. She went to peek at his face but stopped when he held out a twenty-dollar bill.
“I’m paying for the lady’s drink also. Keep the change.”
“Hey, you don’t have to pay—”
He sat next to her, causing her breath to catch. His face was tanned, his eyes almost purple with specks of gold. Wrinkles lined his eyes and forehead, but the odd thing was, not much lay around his mouth—as if he didn’t smile enough. A dusting of dark scruff covered his upper lip, chin, and cheeks. She eyed his chest through the open section of his unbuttoned shirt. Hmm, no hair. Maybe he waxes? She almost giggled. How naughty of her.
“If you’re finished inspecting me, why don’t you introduce yourself?” The man granted her a beautiful smile.
Wow, he’s hot. Even though he slouched in his chair, he seemed tense. His bearing, although inviting, clashed with his piercing stare.
“You like wine?” she asked, not volunteering her name.
Her companion swirled the liquid, sniffed then took a healthy swallow. “I love all types of wine, but I’ll always choose a red over a white or a blush. How about you?”
“Ah, I like red wine also. But if there’s nothing else, I’ll drink white or a blush. Actually, I’m an equal opportunity wine drinker.”
He laughed, a deep galvanizing chuckle that had her locking her knees together. “That’s good to know.”
Good to know? Why, for the next time we meet? She bit down on her bottom lip but then released it.
“You’re annoyed. Would you prefer I leave you alone?” Instead of standing, he shifted toward her, his slack covered leg brushing her bare one.
“It’s not you. I just thought of something silly. Don’t mind me.” Goosebumps rose on her arms, and she smiled to hide her nervousness.
He moved again, bumping her thigh with his. Heat lodged in her belly.
“No stockings. You must be cold,” he murmured and drank his wine.
She twisted to face him, her knee inadvertently wedging between both of his. If he locked his legs together, she would be captured.
“I had a run and threw them out. I hope that’s not considered too gauche.”
The man snickered. “Not to me. Hey, I’m wearing red among a sea of black and white.” He indicated his handkerchief.
“Red suits you. Is it your favorite color?” Maybe his underwear is red? Heat stole up her cheeks as she considered his possible answer.
He leaned toward her. “I’ll tell you my favorite color if you tell me your name.”
A giggle erupted from her, a small sound—thank God. When a woman started singing near the piano, she looked away. The vocalist had a pleasant voice, not too loud or overbearing.
Something brushed over her arm, causing her to scrutinize the man. Did he just touch me? His forehead wrinkled and lines appeared around his mouth as if he concentrated on something, or perhaps he was in pain. “I’m Erika. My father is Roger Walsh, the man who received the Lifetime Achievement award.”
His eyebrows rose. “Roger Walsh was a visionary. I’m honored to be sitting here talking with his beautiful daughter.”
“Why thank you. Correction…he is a visionary. Dad might retire, but he has many years left in him.” Oh my God, he thinks I’m beautiful!
“You’re correct, my apologies.” Dipping his head, he waved at the bartender. “Have another glass with me? Unless you have somewhere to be or people to see?”
“Not really. I’d rather stay here. I’m enjoying our conversation.” Finishing her wine, she set down her glass, nodding at the bartender in thanks when a full one replaced her empty one. “What’s your name?”
“It’s Max. A pleasure to meet you.”
She took the hand he offered, giving it a pump. Before he released her, he brushed his thumb over her knuckles.
“You have beautiful hands. These must be ones of a writer.” He lifted her fingers to his mouth.
She withdrew from his grasp. “I don’t allow a man to press his lips on my skin until he buys me dinner,” she said with cheek, the alcohol giving her the courage to flirt.
“Am I correct?” He sipped his wine.
“Bingo. I write under a pseudonym. Have you heard of the Tammy and Whiskers series?”
His eyes lit up. “Yes I have. You’re the author of those books?”
“Yup, I’m Rosie Harper.” She gave a slight bow.
“I’m in the presence of a celebrity. In celebration, I’ll have to buy another round.”
“We haven’t even finished our second glass, and you already bought two. I should buy the third, but I might have to pass because three glasses in under an hour makes me sleepy.”
“Just sleepy?” His
eyelids drooped while the corner of his mouth tilted up in a playful leer.
“You’re a big flirt, aren’t you?”
He sat up, his gaze losing its softness, changing back into an unflinching focus. “Not really. It’s just you. I like the verbal bantering.” His finger swiped down her arm.
She dug her nails in her leg when all she wanted to do was push her legs together to stop the buildup of pressure between her thighs. She couldn’t do that without him noticing. He seemed like the type who would catch her reaction and comment about it.
“What do you do?” she asked, ignoring her body’s out-of-control response.
“I work in publishing, including television and movies. I’m a jack-of-all-trades.”
“You’re a freelancer? You must do well for yourself. Most of those jobs have dried up since the downfall in the economy.”
He tapped his glass and said nothing.
Did she cross a line? How stupid could she be? She was a rich CEO’s daughter and a bestselling author who made more money than he did. Smooth move, Erika Rose! “I didn’t mean—”
“I do well for myself. I also own a side business that supplements my income.” He took a swallow of his wine. “I’ll let you in on a secret. My mother left me a nice inheritance.”
An ache squeezed her lungs. “I know it might not mean much, but I’m sorry for your loss. When did she pass?”
“She died of breast cancer when I was twelve.”
“Oh my God.” She covered her mouth. “My mother died of breast cancer when I was in college.”
“It looks like we have something in common.” His grip tightened around his glass.
She was unsure how to break the tension between them without coming across as too flighty or silly. She set her palm on his wrist. “We’re three for three.”
“Huh?” He shook his head a little, giving her his attention.
“We like wine, we both work in creative fields, and we had mothers we lost too soon.”
She waited for him to say something, but he just studied her until she looked away. A flash of heat crackled through her body, landing low in her stomach. She’d never been so turned on by a stranger, albeit a magnetic, suave gentleman like the one next to her. She withdrew her hand, but he latched onto it. Her tummy somersaulted, her breathing quickened. She melted under his penetrating stare.
“You’re exactly what I need.”
Her cell rang. She jerked in her seat, knocking into his legs. Pulling her hand away, she answered her phone.
“Where you are?” Chris sounded agitated.
“I’m in the bar down the hall. I’ll come find you.” Ending the call, she stood. “I need to go.”
Max also stood. His height dwarfed her, causing her to tilt her head back. Wow, he’s tall. “It’s been a pleasure chatting with you. I would love to—”
“Erika?”
Chris stood at the entrance. When he spotted her, he grinned.
“I better go. Perhaps I’ll see you in the ballroom?”
Max nodded.
She walked to the doorway. “What’s the matter?” she whispered to Chris, peeking back at the handsome man she’d left at the bar.
He dragged her out of the room and down the hall, the smile on his face disappearing. When they reached the main ballroom, he guided her over to the French windows near the balcony where it wasn’t as congested.
She wrenched her arm away. “Why did you drag me away? What could Max be thinking?”
“Max?” he growled. “You know who he is?”
She’d never heard him so snappish. He thrust his bangs away from his forehead. His mouth twisted into a grimace.
“He’s some freelancer I had a drink with. By the way, you need a haircut and some color to your face. You’re too pasty. How hard is my father working you?” she joked to lighten the mood.
He rolled his eyes. “Honey, the man you shared a drink with isn’t a freelancer. That’s M.L. Crawford. His first name is Maxwell. He’s the owner of Crawford Media and one of your dad’s biggest competitors in publishing.”
She winced. “Oh.”
“Oh?” Chuckling, he rubbed his hands up and down her arms in a comforting gesture. “I’m sorry for being rude, but I got worried when I couldn’t find you. It was a shock seeing you consorting with the enemy.”
“Enemy, really? Max…M.L. was a gentleman the entire time. He didn’t press me for any trade secrets that could take down the company.” She ran her tongue across her bottom lip. “He looked a bit sad, lonely even.”
“Lonely?” He snorted. “The man is never alone. He has a new flavor every week. He just broke up with one of the hottest supermodels in the U.S. A few months prior to that, he was fuc– um, dating some Broadway star. He’s a real prick. Doesn’t care who he hurts.”
His harsh tone was baffling. “Kim told me you and Max had some altercations while you were in school together. What did he do?”
His hold tightened. “What did she say?”
“I’ve been looking all over for you two.” Sidling up to them, Kim took a sip of her martini then rattled on about all the cute men she had talked with.
Chris released Erika, resting his hand on her lower back. A troubled look on his face, he drew her closer.
“I’m sorry by the way I overreacted,” he whispered in her ear. “I’m feeling a little possessive after what we shared together a few weeks ago.” His palm dipped lower, nearing the curve of her butt.
A warm, fuzzy feeling washed over her, and she wrapped her arm around his waist. Who knew it took another man to make Chris jealous?
She smiled up at him. “I forgive you.” She placed a kiss under his jaw.
He nuzzled the side of her head. “If we were alone right now, I’d—”
“Have you two been listening to me?” Kim tapped her foot, her drink sloshing over the rim as she waved her arm around.
“Looks like someone’s cut off.” Snatching his sister’s drink, he gestured toward the French doors. “How about we go out on the balcony for a few minutes? The view is fantastic. I think we can brave the chill. Right, Erika?”
She nodded. When he held out his hand, she took it, and they went outside. Kim toddled along, speaking nonsense while Erika stared up at the night sky.
The stars dazzled, luminous above the city’s skyscrapers, giving her a sense of peace. A soft jazzy tune came from the ballroom, much like the one she’d heard from the piano in the other bar. Her thoughts went back to Max. Would their paths ever cross again?
***
The streetlights cast shadows across Max’s lap as his driver cruised down the West Side Highway. He spread his legs open, his erection tenting the front of his pants. All he needed to do was reach inside and jerk himself off for relief, but he wanted to wait, to feel the burn. His release would be all the sweeter for what he had planned.
He called Catherine on his cell.
“Hello, Maxwell. Have you finished playing nice at your boring party?”
“It wasn’t as boring as I thought it would be.” Slouching in the backseat, he groaned, his dick pulsing. He dug his fingers into the seat, taking deep breaths through his nose.
“You sound like you’re in pain. How can I help?” She sounded amused.
“Have a room ready for me in twenty minutes. I want candles, paddles, and not one but two gagged and tied up.”
“Gender?”
“Both women with a nice pair of tits, shoulder-length curly hair. If you can’t get both with the hair, I’ll take one, but I want them busty and willing for whatever I dish out. Warn them it’s going to hurt.”
“You’re the boss. It’s packed like always, so I’ll have no problem finding two ladies who’d love to service you.”
“That’s what I’m hoping for. I’ll see you in a few.” He ended the call. His entire body was strung tight, the throbbing in his groin increasing. He closed his eyes, losing himself in thoughts of Erika, tied to his bed as he straddled her face, and she
deep throated his cock, swallowing his cum.
Chapter Three
“I didn’t expect to see you here today.” Erika clicked off the Internet browser and got up from her chair to hug Alyson, another author best known for her popular vampire romance series. She invited her to sit on the couch in the corner of her office. “It’s great to see you. How long are you staying?”
“Until Thanksgiving.” She tucked a strand of red hair behind her ear. “I’m visiting my parents and the rest of the Bristol clan.”
Erika hid her pang of envy. Her fellow author came from a large family with three older sisters and two older brothers. She’d always wondered why her own parents stopped after having one child. She would have loved at least a sister or brother.
“How did the awards ceremony go? Meet any interesting people?”
She thought of Max and his somber mood. “The ceremony was all right. No one too interesting.”
“You must have had a busy weekend.” The redhead narrowed her eyes. “Those shadows under your eyes tell me you didn’t get enough sleep.”
She wasn’t ready to bring up her interaction with Max or how she spent most of the night awake, confused about her attraction to him when she was still interested in Chris. “I spent the entire weekend finishing up the next Tammy and Whiskers book. That makes fifteen now. I already told my editor I want to take a break. I also did some prep work for the interview I have with the Mayor’s wife and her new puppy.”
“How do you handle it all with writing two books a year and penning articles on celebrities and their pets? I’m overwhelmed as it is with my current series as well as the new teen series I’m contracted for.”
“You sold it? Congratulations!” she said, more than happy for her friend.
Alyson beamed, her eyes sparkling with delight. “It’s going to be announced in Publishers Weekly next week. I’ll barely have time to celebrate because I’m under a deadline to finish the next book in time for its June release.”
“You’ll make it. You always do. This time you’ll reach number one in hardcover instead of number three.”