“Looks like Emily’s doing a terrific job with the Foundation.” John’s voice held a smile. He’d always had a thing for Clark’s mother and Clark was pretty sure she knew it.
“She is. Lots of kudos from clients. I honestly didn’t expect that.”
“No? Why not? You had to know she’d do a better job than Clark.” His voice dropped then and Clark had had to strain to hear it without making it known he was hovering in the hallway. “If that boy spent as much time on business as he does on honing his sex appeal and flirting with everything in a skirt, he’d be a force to be reckoned with.”
There was a beat and Clark stood there wearing a half-grin, fully expecting his mother to leap to his defense, as she always did. What she actually said pulled the corner of his mouth right back down again.
“While it’s okay for me to say such things about my son, John, I do not appreciate them coming from you.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Callen had stuttered. “I apologize.”
“That being said,” his mother went on, “you’re absolutely right. He was becoming an embarrassment to the company. A horny teenage boy who refuses to grow up. Probably my fault for coddling him. Emily was a smart choice. She’s really cleaned up a lot of his mess…”
Callen said something else, but Clark couldn’t listen to any more. He hurried back the way he’d come, wondering if he’d make it to the men’s room before he got sick.
Now, he drove. The sky was gray, like dull steel, and he scoffed as he decided he needed to take off the Ray-Bans. They looked damn good on him and he knew it, wore them for that reason. Since nobody was in the car to see him—and he couldn’t see much of the road with them on—he opted to look not quite as awesome.
The intensity of the snow picked up as he glanced at the clock on the dash. Almost ten. He’d kept careful track of the few cars he’d passed on the slick road and none of them had been his sister’s baby blue Beemer. He hoped Emily was still there. He was surprised when his father mentioned she’d gone to the cabin for the weekend. Seemed unlike her, but maybe the job was getting to her. Maybe she was stressed out and needed some space and he could say, “See? I told you so,” even as he asked her what he could do to make things better in his own new position. And better in the eyes of their mother. Emily was logical like that. She’d have some suggestions.
It bugged him that his mother’s disappointment stung him so much. He’d like to not care. Who gives a crap what your mommy thinks? But the sad truth of it was that he’d always cared what his mother thought. Always. Everything he’d ever done was to please her. He couldn’t care less what his father thought. Didn’t matter. His mother was his light and his world when he was a boy, and it hadn’t changed all that much as he’d grown. But to be in his thirties and have her be disappointed in him? That was a pain he never expected to feel.
He had to fix it. Emily would know how.
Trying to shake the fog out of his head, he drummed on the steering wheel and attempted to rap along to Jay-Z as he approached the driveway of the cabin and turned in. Emily’s tire tracks had been covered overnight and apparently, the plow guy hadn’t shown up yet this morning. His Benz slid several times and it was slow-going, but he finally made it to the end, where the driveway spit him into a clearing and he saw a car he didn’t recognize, but no sign of Emily’s.
“Huh,” he said aloud, as he turned down the music. “That’s weird.”
***
Catherine knew she was being a bit…ginger…when she walked, but it made her grin regardless. Honest to God, she’d never been so deliciously sore in her entire life. Between bracing herself above Emily’s gorgeously naked body and keeping her own legs spread wide for longer periods of time than ever before, her quads were screaming this morning, as were her biceps. In fact, her entire body was sore and she could do nothing but smile about it.
Sex with Emily.
Catherine stood still in the living room, gazing down at the rumpled blanket and the pillows from the bedroom that Emily had commandeered in the middle of the night when they’d woken up with stiff necks and had each other yet again. It was obvious what had happened in front of the fire. One look painted a very clear picture and Catherine knew she should clean it up, but instead, she simply stood there and stared. And remembered. And smiled.
Sex with Emily had been…what was the right word? Mind-blowing? Limb-melting? Insanely wonderful? Intensely erotic? All of those things and more? Catherine had no idea what would happen next, where they’d go from here, and at this moment it didn’t matter. She refused to allow herself to panic and try to plan out the future (which would be her normal course of action). No, she’d decided to do the very best she could, to make the most distinct effort possible, to follow her mother’s advice. To let all her worries go and just live in this moment.
She touched her fingertips to her lips as she recalled all the things her mouth had done last night, everything it had tasted, sucked on, bitten, and she felt a surge of dampness between her legs. So much for my clean change of clothes, she thought with a grin. She’d showered, had refused to let Emily in with her, knowing there would be little to no actual washing being done. Her hair was still damp, but she was in her clean clothes and all packed up, just waiting for Emily to finish her own shower and come join her. She’d promised she’d clean up the living room, but if she left it all where it was, maybe she could convince Emily to go one more round with her…
Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the front door opening, which startled her so much she let out a tiny gasp.
Clark Breckenridge stood in the foyer, looking just as surprised as Catherine judging by his wide eyes and the way he’d pretty much screeched to a halt. He was dressed impeccably, as always, and Catherine was suddenly reminded of how much he and Emily looked alike. Hair color, the shape of their eyes—though his were underscored by dark circles today. His jeans were expensive, as were his boots and winter coat. He hadn’t shaved, and the shadow on his face gave him an air of mysterious sex appeal.
His eyes left Catherine’s as they scanned the room, stopping briefly on the Christmas tree, Catherine’s overnight bag she’d set on the couch, and the makeshift bed in front of the fire. Catherine practically watched as the pieces clicked into place for him and his expression went from wide-eyed surprise to understanding to…something else. Something unpleasant.
“Well, well, well,” he said, as he kicked off his snow-covered shoes and slid out of his coat, and his tone started a slow churning in Catherine’s gut. “ If it isn’t the lovely Miss Gardner. Right here in my family’s vacation cabin. An unexpected surprise, to say the least.”
Catherine cleared her throat. “Hi, Clark. Did Emily know you were coming? She didn’t say anything. She’s, um…” She glanced toward the bedroom. “She’s in the shower.” She felt suddenly, weirdly uncomfortable, like she was scantily dressed in front of him, even though she wore jeans and a sweater.
“Oh, no. No. She had no idea I was dropping in. I called but…” He cocked his head and gave her a conspiratorial look as he lowered his voice to a near-whisper. “I bet she turned her phone off.”
His implication made Catherine blush, and she couldn’t help it. She couldn’t help it, and that pissed her off. She didn’t like Clark Breckenridge knowing what she and his sister had been doing. It was none of his business and, judging by the wicked smile on his face, he didn’t plan to let it go.
He sauntered into the room and flopped himself back onto the couch, propped his ankle on the opposite knee, and spread his arms out that way that guys do, so he claimed ownership of the entire piece of furniture. Catherine remained standing and fought the inexplicable urge to cross her arms over her chest.
“Well, damn,” he said and his eyes indicated the makeshift bed in front of the fireplace. “Looks like Emily won.”
“Won what?” The churning intensified.
“Our bet.”
Catherine narrowed her eyes at him.
&n
bsp; “Oh, she didn’t tell you?” He sat forward, forearms on his knees. His creepy smile widened, and for a split second, Catherine wondered if he’d been drinking. “We had a bet, me and Em. We made it that first day when I brought her to the shelter to meet you guys.”
Catherine swallowed hard.
“It’s a thing we’ve been doing for a long time. At least since she told me she liked girls. So…high school?” He chuckled and it was like needles scraping at Catherine’s skin. With a shrug, he went on. “I usually win. News flash: Emily’s not terribly competitive. But it looks like you were all the incentive she needed.”
Their gazes held as the sound of the shower continued in the next room, both of them knowing that Catherine would ask. She couldn’t not, but she fought it as long as she could until it tore its way out of her. “What was the bet?” she whispered.
Clark grinned triumphantly. “Why, to see which of us could bed you first, of course.”
Catherine’s eyes immediately filled with tears and that made her angry. “I don’t believe you,” she said, but her voice cracked with its lack of conviction and that made her angry.
“Aw, that’s cute.” Clark tilted his head slightly as if he was talking to a small child. “And you were obviously quite a challenge. What’s it been? Almost two months now? But let’s be honest. You don’t really know my sister very well, do you? Think about it. You have no idea what she might actually be like.” He leaned toward her and she took a step back, even though he was far enough away not to be able to reach her. He spoke quietly and his voice was like a razor blade, slicing through her feelings, peeling them away to reveal the uncertainty underneath. “And so somewhere in the back of your mind right now, you’re replaying the night, aren’t you? ‘What did she say? Was she lying to me? Was her goal to get into my pants? Did I resist enough, or was I just an easy lay?’”
Catherine flinched at his words, hating that he was actually reading her thoughts even as she fought them.
“I can see it on your face, Catherine,” he said, cruelly. “You do believe me. You don’t want to. But you do.” He sat back again, spread his arms out once more along the back of the couch, glanced at his expensive watch. “How long does it take a woman to shower, anyway?” he asked, his voice back to normal volume. “Come out here, little sister. You need to collect your winnings.”
He winked at Catherine and that was it. She couldn’t stay any longer. She needed to get out, to get away from him, away from Emily, away from her stupidly naïve decisions. With a small cry of anguish, she grabbed her bag from the couch next to him and crossed to the foyer, shoved her feet into her boots, grabbed her coat and her keys and was out the door before the tears spilled over. The cold air hit her like another punch to the gut and she wondered for a moment if she might be sick right there in the snow. Somehow, she choked it down and managed to get into her car. It took three tries, but she got the key into the ignition despite her shaking hands and turned it. Giving the engine no time at all to warm up, she yanked the gearshift and spun her tires in the snow before rocketing down the driveway, heading for home as a sob ripped up and out from her lungs, the tears blinding her to anything but the rapidly falling snow. She didn’t want to believe it, didn’t want to believe that Emily was the kind of woman who would do this to somebody, but…what evidence did she have that she wasn’t? She’d mentioned no exes. She didn’t seem to be dating actively. And the biggest question of all, the one Catherine had tucked away in a box on a shelf so she wouldn’t have to answer it: what would somebody like Emily, with her family status and more money than she knew what to do with, want with somebody like Catherine, a modest, job-driven middle-class woman who didn’t even come close to being in Emily’s league?
“I was a bet,” she said out loud, and the idea was so horrifically embarrassing, so unthinkably humiliating, she didn’t know if she could bear it. “Oh, God, I was a bet.” Was she in an honest-to-God romantic comedy—as the butt of the joke? “I should have known better.”
Too good to be true.
The thought blasted through her brain on an endless loop as she covered her mouth with a hand and let herself cry.
She was too good to be true.
***
Emily had stayed in the shower until the water ran tepid, and she knew that she’d smiled like an idiot the entire time. What a night. What. A. Night. She still couldn’t believe it had actually happened. Sure, she’d hoped it would, but she wouldn’t have pushed if Catherine had seemed at all hesitant or unsure. That hadn’t been the case. Instead, Catherine had been right there with her, every step of the way, giving and taking in equal measure, and so, so hot…
My God, that was the best night of my life.
That thought had played through her head all morning long, from the moment she’d opened her eyes, her body curled up around Catherine’s still sleeping one, warm from the dying fire, pleasantly sore from the lovemaking gymnastics they’d performed together…
She took a deep breath and covered her face with the thick, red towel and just reveled in memory, just let herself flash back for one more moment before drying off and grabbing the soft robe off the back of the door. She ran a comb through her hair as she wondered how she could stretch the day. Catherine needed to get home, to pick up her dog, and had some errands she wanted to run, but Emily was fairly certain she could convince her to stay just a little longer.
The smell of coffee brewing caught her nose and tugged her out into the living room while she silently hoped maybe Catherine hadn’t cleaned up their little fireplace bed quite yet.
The sight of her brother sitting on the couch sipping from her mug brought Emily up short and she practically skid to a stop like a cartoon character.
“Clark. What the hell are you doing here?” She glanced toward the kitchen as she quietly hissed the question.
Clark shrugged, looking far too comfortable. “I came looking for you. Dad said you were here.”
“You came all the way out here? Why didn’t you just call?” Emily tightened the belt of the robe around her waist, suddenly remembering that she was naked underneath.
“I did.” He looked pointedly at her and she could feel her face heat up.
“My phone died and I forgot to charge it.” She looked around now, wondering where she’d left it. It hadn’t been a concern last night; she hadn’t wanted anything to distract her from the beautiful woman who’d graced Emily with her company.
“Not smart, Em. What if there’s an emergency?”
“Judging by the way you’re nonchalantly lounging on the couch and drinking my coffee, I’m gonna go out on a limb and guess this is not one.”
“Yeah, but you wouldn’t have known that.”
Glancing at the kitchen again, Emily’d had enough. “What do you want?”
“Oh, she’s not in there.” He sipped his coffee, and Emily noticed his eyes, slightly red.
“Have you been drinking, Clark? Jesus, it’s not even ten in the morning.” His words registered belatedly in her brain. “What do you mean she’s not in there?” Emily pushed into the kitchen, but Catherine was nowhere in sight. The cabin wasn’t large and there really was no place else she could be. Picking up the pace, she went back into the living room. “Where is she?” she demanded of her brother, who was now looking so smug she had the nearly irresistible urge to slap the expression right off his face.
“She left.”
Emily blinked at him, not sure she’d heard him right. “What?”
“Yeah. She left.” He glanced at his watch. “About fifteen minutes ago. Man, you take long showers.”
“Clark.”
He sat forward and set his mug down. “So, I need to talk to you about Mom.”
“Clark.” She said his name through gritted teeth as she glanced around the room, noticing for the first time that Catherine’s bag, coat, and boots were all gone, as were her keys off the table. “Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God.” She raced to the front door and yanked it open.
Catherine’s car was gone.
“I told you. She left.” Clark patted the couch cushion next to her. “Come sit so I can get your take on this situation with Mom.”
Emily slowly closed the door, then stood with her forehead against it for long moments. “What did you do?” she asked quietly.
“Nothing. We just had a conversation. Now come sit down with me for a minute. I need you.”
She turned slowly to look at her brother, this man she’d alternately admired and been embarrassed by her entire life, and her heart began to pound. Her voice still low and even, she asked him again. “What did you do?”
For the first time, a flash of hesitation crossed his cocky expression, like the shadow of a bird flying between the sun and his face as it passed overhead. “Come on, Em.” He chuckled, obviously forcing it. “Your big brother needs your help. I was at the office yesterday and—”
“What did you do?!” She screamed it at him, shocking herself almost as much as she shocked her brother, judging by his rapid blinking and the way all the color drained from his face.
“I told her you’d won the bet,” he said so quietly, she almost didn’t hear him. And then she wished she hadn’t.
“Oh, my God, Clark, please tell me you’re lying. Please tell me you didn’t say that to her. Please.”
“I was just kidding around,” he said, but his lame tone combined with the sheepish expression on his face told her the truth and her anger bubbled up like hot lava ready to erupt.
“You just couldn’t take it, could you?” she said crossing the room toward him. “You just couldn’t take me having something you couldn’t. Our entire lives, it’s been like that.” She looked at him then, saw a spoiled, self-centered man who thought of nobody but himself and her heart broke. For the brother she thought she had that she obviously didn’t. For Catherine, and how horrible it must have been to hear what he said. And for herself. Mostly for herself. Her eyes welled up, much to her horror—she’d spent her entire childhood conditioning herself never to cry in front of her big brother—and she said quietly, “You bastard. I love her.” Wiping angrily at her face, she shook her head, unsure if she could ever look at Clark the same way again. “What have you done?” she asked softly. “What have you done to me?”
Run To You (Puppy Love Romance Book 2) Page 24