One Taste

by Cari Quinn

  Rachel leaned into their private conversation, smiling sweetly. What did she care if they made a sex connection? If it kept Chrissy from pursuing other avenues of male interest, she’d get onboard quick. “Yeah, he is. Aren’t you, Ryan?”

  Chrissy pursed her lined and glossed peach lips. “You two have one of those open relationships I’ve heard about on Maury Povich or something?”

  Ryan waggled his eyebrows. “You into that?”

  Rachel had to laugh as she signaled for the check. She’d had about enough of these lovebirds in the making, not to mention she desperately needed a shower. And to make a call home to do some damage control.

  “Sadly, no.” Chrissy sighed and twirled a lock of her hair around her finger. “If I had been, maybe I wouldn’t have minded that Cord and Jenny did the deed on my desk.”

  She almost asked who Cord and Jenny were, then thought better of it. But there was one thing she couldn’t let pass, high potential embarrassment factor aside. “Chrissy, you’re not…interested in Shawn, are you?”

  “Oh God, no.” She laughed and waved her talonlike peach and navy striped nails. “I’m not stupid enough to get involved in another train wreck in the making. Cord was enough for me.”

  “I heard about you two ending things.” Radiating benevolence and gentlemanly concern, Ryan rubbed Chrissy’s shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

  “Excuse me.” Rachel tapped the Formica tabletop with her ragged nails, currently missing half their burgundy polish. Rough sex tended to ruin even the most meticulous of nail jobs. “What do you mean, a train wreck in the making? He’s a good guy.” She cleared her throat. “I mean, there’s nothing wrong with him.”

  Smart, with a solid career. Check. Kind, considerate, tolerates chick flicks with minimum fuss. Check. Hot-as-hell body that he knows exactly how to use. Double check.

  What more could Chrissy want?

  “He seems great actually.” Chrissy dragged herself away from mooning into Ryan’s eyes, and nibbled a french toast point she’d snagged from his plate. “I don’t know many guys who would’ve been so concerned I’d had all those blue pussies.”

  “Huh?”

  “I had a few too many adult beverages last night, so Shawn took me home. But we went out to eat first, because he knew how hard I was bumming about Spidey and Marilyn.” She sighed. “Shawn’s a sweetheart, but he’s hung up on you. Might as well have a neon TAKEN banner across his chest.”

  Even as she wanted to smile at that piece of news, Rachel pressed, “Did he tell you that?”

  “What is this, twenty questions? Ask your lover if you’re feeling insecure.”

  The waitress bustled over with the check, then noticed Chrissy and promptly put it away to take her order. But since she’d already been steadily eating Ryan’s meal, she begged off, claiming she was “dieting.”

  “Aw, honey,” Ryan said, stroking Chrissy’s hand. “You don’t need to lose weight just to keep some worthless guy.”

  Which, of course, prompted more innocent blinking from Chrissy. “I don’t?”

  More stroking. “Of course not.”

  “As fascinating as this is,” Rachel interrupted, pulling a twenty out of her purse, “I need to be going. Chrissy, nice to see you again. And Ryan…” She shook her head as she handed him her money and slid out of the booth. Sometimes you just had to laugh. “Enjoy yourselves, kids.”

  As soon as she hit the sidewalk, she reached for her phone with a grin. She had to tell Shawn --

  All at once, the conversation they’d had in his suite crashed down on her. Her smile disappeared as she flipped her phone closed.

  She’d see him tonight. That was soon enough.

  Shawn worked through breakfast and lunch, hunched over his laptop with a mug of coffee at his elbow. He had the most productive day he’d had in a while, whipping off revised plans and sketches and answering e-mails in a flurry that probably set his father’s secretary abuzz in the California office.

  Though as a rule he didn’t miss deadlines, he was known to be a mercurial sort, the kind of guy who was as likely to be sailboating in Marina Del Rey as attending meetings. He didn’t like being indoors for long stretches of time, and since he had a laptop, he could do much of his work anywhere, including on his schooner. He made no apologies for it either.

  As a result, some of the people his father employed took issue with him, assuming he was yet another privileged brat who could do whatever he wanted. They didn’t know he often stayed late at the office, working long into the night so he could keep his days free for the occasional impromptu boat trip or late lunch with Rachel after she’d finished teaching for the day. Nor would they have cared if they had.

  “Break out the violins,” he muttered, rising to stretch and check out the view. It wasn’t like him to dwell on the very few negatives in his life, but it beat focusing on the biggest negative of all. Anything did.

  After a cursory glance out the window, he rubbed his jaw and realized he’d forgotten to shave. Then he glanced back at his laptop and the half-dozen e-mails he’d yet to answer. He also owed a phone call to his father, but as he didn’t like saying things he might regret eventually, he’d decided to hold off on that one. Still, he had more than enough to keep him busy well into the evening, and he had absolutely no interest in Chinese.

  He picked up his cell and hit the first programmed number. She always got number one with him, even if the reverse wasn’t true. When he got her voice mail, he left a brief message, without any indication when he’d call back.

  Truth was, he didn’t know. He also didn’t know why he hadn’t booked a return trip to Calvin Bay. What the hell was he staying for? This whole trip to NYC had been a colossal waste of time. For all he knew, Rachel could be in bed with Halston at that very moment, but it didn’t matter anymore. She’d made her choice.

  The phone rang in his hand. Without looking, he knew it was Rachel. And for the first time ever, he didn’t answer.

  In her hotel room, Rachel stared at her phone. Despite having just called, now he wouldn’t pick up. She might believe he didn’t want to see her yet, but if that were the case, how could he have pulled off such an amazing act? For God’s sake, he’d sounded as indifferent as if they were nothing but acquaintances.

  “Hey, babe. Can’t make dinner. Sorry. Catch you later.”

  Numbly, she set aside her phone and pulled out her desk chair. Silly to be so upset. He needed space. She understood that. Besides, it was better for both of them if they explored other options.

  “What options?” she whispered, closing her eyes.

  He wasn’t perfect, God knew, and she had bones to pick with him on any number of issues. Like his blabbing to Chrissy they’d had sex at the Zenith party. How classless could he be?

  But that didn’t make sense. In all their years of friendship, he’d never broken a confidence or ever made her think she couldn’t trust him. Loyalty ran as deep with Shawn as the green in his eyes.

  Then there was the disappearing act he’d pulled at the gala, which he’d never adequately explained. And he’d obviously been conspiring with his father about which tactic to use to win her over.

  She rubbed her grainy eyes. That was bad why?

  Her phone beeped, and she leaped upon it, saying hello without glancing at the readout. Who else could be calling?

  “As much as I appreciate the warm reception,” Morgan began drily, “somehow I doubt it’s for me.”

  “Of course it is.” Rachel forced a laugh as she lowered her forehead to the back of her hand. Don’t sound desperate. Everything’s fine. “I saw who was calling.”

  “Uh-huh. If you’re so excited to hear from me, why haven’t you returned any of my calls since you’ve been in New York?”

  Because, for once, she’d fought not to answer her phone every damn time it rang. Especially when she knew prying questions waited on the other end of the line. “I’ve left voice mails.”

  “You have, that’s true. You’ve a
lso conveniently left them in the middle of the night, California time. You must be having a fabulous vacay.”

  “Oh yeah.” She nearly snorted at that one. Had she ever had a worse vacation in her entire life? “I tell ya, Mor, you can’t get entertainment like this in Calvin Bay. If only the airline had lost my luggage, everything would be perfect.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “What isn’t?” Hearing her slightly manic tone, Rachel took a long breath. “How are things back home?” Do you know I had sex with Shawn?

  “Eh, same old, same old. We just finished the center spread for Yenzi’s summer collection. They have these great new sarongs, done in this new silk-blend that never needs to be dry-cleaned. I snatched them in every color.”

  “And Mother and Father? They’re well?”

  “Well, and busy. With the new magazine’s launch, no one has had a spare minute to breathe lately.”

  Rachel toyed with the end of her braid. “So they haven’t…seen the Griffins? Or talked to them? Like today?”

  “Why?”

  “No reason. Just curious.”

  “We all had dinner tonight at the club, so yes, we’ve all chatted quite recently.”

  “Oh. So --”

  When Morgan started to laugh, Rachel’s stomach clenched. “If you’re wondering if I know you and Shawn have been enjoying your vacation, the answer is yes.”

  Rachel cursed under her breath.

  “What did you expect? There’s been an open-door policy between our families for thirty years. Did you think it would stop just because you and Shawn did the nasty?”

  “All I asked for is a little privacy. A little respect.”

  “For your little vacation fling? Get real.” She laughed again. “It’s no big thing.”

  “You’re not even here. You don’t know what happened.” Heck, she was there, and she wasn’t sure.

  “Why are you getting so defensive? I can’t tell you how many times I’ve had a hot night that didn’t mean anything.”

  “It did mean something, okay?” Rachel shoved to her feet, sick of this conversation. Sick of everything. “I wouldn’t just jump Shawn because I’m horny.”

  A long moment of silence ensued until Morgan murmured, “Have you told him that?”

  Something in her sister’s voice, in the answering echo in the pit of her belly, told her she’d walked into yet another setup. And she was too weary to even get mad. “He won’t talk to me.”

  “What’d you do?”

  “We had a fight.”

  “And the sun rises in the East. So what?”

  “Not that kind of fight.” Rachel lay down on her bed and hugged a pillow to her chest. “He said he’s in love with me.”

  “And?”

  “And?” Rachel repeated, stunned. “Doesn’t that surprise you, just a little bit?”

  “No. Nor would it surprise anyone else who knows him, or anyone who knows the two of you together. It’s fairly obvious, Rachel.”

  “To everyone but me.”

  “Pretty much. So let me guess. You lit into him, saying he didn’t know how he felt because he’d been brainwashed by our parents.”

  “I didn’t go that far, but, yeah, the thought occurred to me. Mor, it doesn’t make sense. We’re together all the time. Why didn’t I see it?”

  Her sister released a long breath, letting Rachel know she wouldn’t like her answer. Big surprise. “Maybe because if you had, you would’ve had to deal with it. Then you would’ve had to face your own feelings.”

  “What feelings?” Rachel scoffed, tossing aside the pillow as she bolted up in bed. “You don’t think I’m in love with him?”

  “You’re the only one who can answer that question.”

  “I’m not.”

  “If you say so.”

  “Morgan, I don’t need this. Not tonight.”

  “Would it be so bad, really? To have a man who freaking adores you, who would do anything for you? You have no clue how many women would kill for what you have, and you’re determined to throw it away.”

  “I know what I’m doing.”

  Morgan didn’t bother hiding her sigh. “For your sake, I hope you do.”

  Even after they ended the call, Rachel didn’t move from her bed. She sat in the shadows of twilight, then in the moonlit dark, with her arms linked around her knees, and her mind in an uproar.

  She couldn’t lose him. There had to be a way to make this right.

  If he truly loved her, he wouldn’t let this end them. Because she truly loved him, she was going to ensure it didn’t.

  Throughout the long night, she tossed and turned and fretted and planned. She didn’t sleep, so there wasn’t a need to set her alarm. She even managed to convince herself that staying up all night had been a smart idea, because, hey, who else would be using the pool at three thirty a.m.?

  Nobody, that’s who.

  She finished her swim at five, then dragged herself up to her suite for a long shower. After dressing in the first pair of jeans and T-shirt that came to hand, she pulled her hair back in a ponytail, hooked her sunglasses on her collar, and went out to meet the day, to-go coffee cup in hand.

  The sun was shining. Not even a single cloud blemished the cerulean sky. Around her, the city that never slept was shaking off the night and beginning its day.

  “First day of the rest of my life,” she whispered, trying not to rush as she made her way to the Pancake Hut. For some reason, she felt like she needed to jog, as if she couldn’t wait even one more hour to pick up Shawn’s lousy pancakes.

  Afterward, she hurried to the first cab she saw. Nerves gnawed at her empty belly as she studied her watch and tried to pinpoint the cause of her worsening anxiety. He wouldn’t even be up yet. The guy habitually slept till noon.

  But as the car swung to the curb -- and this time, the cabbie actually stopped before hitting it -- she saw why she’d been so nervous. Apparently the mental connection between them was in fine form, because she saw him up the block, wheeling his suitcase to his rental car.

  He was leaving. Without even saying good-bye.

  Tossing out a hasty apology, Rachel pushed a bill she was reasonably sure was a fifty at her cabbie, then grabbed the container of pancakes and ran. Just ran, dodging pedestrians and fluffy dogs with bows on their ears, while she hoped to heaven he wouldn’t shut the door in her face before she’d said her piece.

  She also hoped she figured out what her piece was soon. Like now.

  Shawn didn’t see her approach. Good thing, as she suspected she looked more than a little crazed. He rounded the hood and reached for the door. At the last second, his head came up. The instant their eyes connected, her sneaker caught on a raised lip of sidewalk, and she pitched forward onto his car.

  Styrofoam went flying, drenching his windshield with splattered butter and maple syrup. The double order of blueberry pancakes scattered across his hood, one landing precariously close to the hand he braced on the frame.

  Caught between laughter and tears, she lifted a sticky, stinging hand to her hair. “Hi.”

  To his credit, he didn’t laugh, but he also didn’t ask if she was okay. “What are you doing here?”

  “Bringing you breakfast.” She waved a hand at the mess. “Feel free to dig in.”

  “Not hungry, thanks.”

  When he again moved to get into his car, loaded windshield and all, Rachel hurtled off the curb and around to the driver’s door, risking life and limb by opening it fully into traffic. “Shawn, please. Hear me out.”

  He started the ignition, seemingly unmoved by her plea. “If that door gets torn off, your name’s going on the accident report.”

  “And if I get hit, it’s what? Collateral damage?”

  “You’re the idiot standing in traffic,” he said as a sports car whizzed by a hairbreadth behind her, horn blaring. “Shut the damned door. We’ll talk some other time.”

  “We’re going to talk right now. Right here.” She stepped
back intentionally, though not too far. She wasn’t completely suicidal. “If you don’t come out of there, I’m going to keep moving backward. So unless you want to see my blood and guts splattered all over the street…”

  “Rachel,” he warned.

  Casting up a fervent prayer, she took one more step, holding her position even when a car came so close her skin blazed from the hot rush of air. A flurry of horns blasted, nearly knocking her off her feet. Either this was the bravest thing she’d ever done or, more likely, the most asinine. “Last cha --”

  His hand hooked around hers, and she flew forward, somehow managing not to whack her head as he yanked her into the car. He pulled the driver’s door shut an instant before a bus lumbered past, air horn bleating.

  They ended up sprawled in a jumble of arms and legs across the front seat. When she could breathe again, she angled back to survey the damage. Syrup smeared their clothes, and she tasted butter on the trembling fingers she pressed to her lips. But that wasn’t all that trembled when she caught Shawn staring at her.

  “You frigging fool. You could’ve been killed.”

  She could’ve tossed anger back to match his. God knows, her blood was boiling. But what she wanted was something words could never satisfy.

  Her gooey hands came up to frame his face as he glowered at her silently, almost challenging her to take the first step. Finally, finally, their lips met in a crazy fusion of heat and desperation. The sweet scent of the maple syrup mingled with his spicy cologne as the kiss went on and on, her fingers driving into his hair, his hands gripping her jaw to allow him access to the deepest recesses of her mouth.

  She hadn’t caught her breath after the fall, but it didn’t matter. He was all she needed.

  When he pulled away, breathing as hard as a runner after a sprint, she pulled him right back again. “Not done yet,” she panted, diving down for round two.

  She poured herself into loving his mouth until his erection swelled hard and thick against her belly. Inwardly, she rejoiced. God, she’d been frantic for tangible evidence he still wanted her. His body wouldn’t respond that intensely if he hated her.

  She hoped.