One Taste

by Cari Quinn

  Vincent tensed. “We couldn’t be more different.”

  “Yeah, sure. How you doing, pretty girl?” Brent chucked Bathsheba on the chin, and she barked and leaped up on her hind legs to plant her paws in his lap.

  Vincent shook his head. Brent never failed to score with the ladies. “So who’s spreading rumors then, if it’s not Kiki?” He swallowed, surprised how hard it had been just to say her name. Stupid. What the hell was the matter with him? “Your new lover?”

  Brent shrugged. “She knows you and Kiki are done, and she’s pissed.”

  “Because it’s automatically my fault.”

  His friend cocked a brow. “Isn’t it?”

  “Goddammit.” Vincent yanked off his glasses and ground his palms against his gritty eyes. If he didn’t get some sleep soon, he’d end up blind as well as half-crazy. “What am I supposed to do? Pretend I’m like you?”

  “I always suspected she had a thing for me.”

  Dropping his hands, he saw Brent puffing out his chest like an oversized peacock, and he let out a laugh. “Nice try, but that’s not what I meant.”

  “Then?”

  “Shit, I can’t talk about this with you.”

  Brent shrugged. “So talk about it with her.”

  Vincent patted Bathsheba’s bulging sides as she finally deemed him worthy of sniffing. “Doubt she’d talk to me now. And she’d be right.”

  “Okay, then. Have it your way.” Brent pushed to his feet and lumbered to the doorway. Bathsheba immediately abandoned Vincent to trail after him, yipping like a puppy. “Continue sitting here sulking or whatever the hell it is you do when you’re locked up in here alone.”

  “I’m not sulking.” Much. He lifted his head and caught Brent’s gaze as his friend gripped the doorknob. He was sick and tired of hiding. “Prepare yourself.”

  “For?”

  “I write romance novels. The kind women get delivered to their homes every month.” Vincent let out a halfhearted laugh. “Probably some men, too, since men write them. At least this one does.”

  Silence descended, but Brent’s shocked expression did most of the talking. “Christ, man, you’re serious,” he said after a moment.

  “Deadly.” Vincent averted his gaze to the Christmas tree standing in the corner of the room. He hadn’t turned it on in days, and he doubted he’d be turning it on anytime soon. There had only been one person he’d lit up that tree for. “Kiki was helping me write my latest one.”

  “Kiki writes?”

  “Apparently.” A smile flitted across Vincent’s face. “She can do anything she puts her mind to.”

  Brent continued to stare at him, but when he next spoke, he didn’t say what Vincent expected. “Jeez, you’re hooked. Line and sinker.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me. What the hell are you doing still sitting here?”

  Vincent started to deny it, then let out a breath. He claimed to always be honest, didn’t he? That applied even when the truth was lowering. And possibly fodder for gossip. “She’s better off without me.”

  “You told her that?”

  “Among other things.”

  Brent propped an arm on the doorjamb and shook his head. “So she’s better off going back to her ex, too?”

  “Yes, I—” Vincent’s brain shut down even as his muscles locked. He stared at Brent. “What?”

  “Her ex-fiancé is creeping around. Lyn told me he called her last night with some sob story about having made a mistake. How he didn’t know what he’d had. Guess he thinks she’s up for more where that came from.”

  “You’ve gotta be kidding me.” Vincent sprang to his feet so fast that his left shoulder nearly popped out of its socket. “She knows better. He’s scum. Lower than. He left her at the altar, for chrissakes.”

  Brent slipped his hands into the back pockets of his jeans. “I’m sure she knows what she’s doing.”

  Vincent tightened his hands into fists. And he’d thought seeing red was just a figure of speech. “She wouldn’t go back to him.”

  “Why not? She’s single, isn’t she?” Brent sent him an innocuous smile as he opened the door. “Hey, man, have a good night. Thanks again for letting us use the house.”

  But Vincent was already on his way out of the room.

  “Nope, I’m staying home tonight. With my pint of Cherries Jubilee and a stack of DVDs.” Shifting the phone to her other hand, Kiki flipped through the assortment of movies she’d picked up at the video store. Now that she was working at her father’s firm, she actually had a couple bucks to spare on entertainment for her pity party. “Watching a triple feature. Die Hard one through three.”

  If that reminded her of Vincent, too bad. She wouldn’t let him spoil her favorite movies. Or anything else. Tonight, she was going to have fun.

  “Sounds like typical chick flicks to me.” Lynsay laughed. “Sure you don’t want some company in case Nico stops using the phone and starts using the doorbell?”

  “Thanks, but I can handle him.”

  “Okay. But you know where I am.”

  “Yeah, in Brent’s bed.” Kiki smiled. “Thanks, Lynz.”

  She hung up and picked up the TV remote. Even twenty-four hours later, she still couldn’t believe the phone call she’d gotten the night before. Nico must really be feeling trapped if he’d become desperate enough to call her. Or else he’d decided two women always trumped one.

  Regardless, she wasn’t biting. How stupid did he think she was?

  She dipped her spoon into her ice cream, trying to convince herself she was really into a solo night of ice cream and flicks, as the previews rolled. Nothing she enjoyed more than curling up with a vat of calories and Bruce.

  Except curling up with Vincent and savoring the sensation of his warm laughter dancing over her neck. Or running her fingers through the crisp hair on his chest until his groans spilled into her mouth. She loved making him lose control. She loved him, period.

  She swallowed the partially melted lump of ice cream on her spoon. That it tasted like lukewarm chalk didn’t make her feel one iota better.

  So much for having fun.

  Kiki was on her way into the kitchen to dump her supposed treat into the sink when the doorbell rang. Her conversation with Lynsay flashed into her mind, but she dismissed it as she turned back to answer the door. Whoever her visitor was, she’d get rid of them. Short and sweet. Tonight was for her and her alone. That was the whole point of wallowing.

  Steeling herself, she flung open the door. Relief and joy coursed through her despite her frantic efforts to squelch them, and her knees loosened to the consistency of the ice cream she’d just dumped on the hall table.

  Vincent. Lunging into her hallway. “Dammit, what the hell’s wrong with you?”

  So much for a romantic reunion.

  She nudged him right back out again. No reason to encourage him. “Excuse me?”

  “You know exactly what I’m talking about. He dumped you. He’s just using you.”

  As realization dawned, everything but the pain of the last few days drained away. She drew herself up, holding her ground as he attempted to barrel into her hallway. “You’d know all about that, wouldn’t you? Not only did I help you write your book, I screwed your brains out, too.” She hadn’t meant to say that, but who did he think he was to charge into her house as if they were a couple? As if they’d ever been a couple?

  Vincent stopped short, his mouth closing with an audible click of teeth. “You’re the one who crawled into my bed, in case you’ve forgotten.”

  “Trying to.” She shot him an icy smile, not meeting his gaze. Those dark eyes were her kryptonite. “Putting the past behind me is one of my specialties.”

  “Oh, yeah? Then what’s going on between you and your ex? Hell, Kiki, it’s only been days since we made—” He fell silent as her head swung up, her gaze colliding with his.

  His mouth was so close that his breath fanned over her lips. She inhaled mint toothpaste an
d Vincent, the most wonderful combination she’d ever known. A fierce wave of longing swept through her. “Say it.” Her voice trembled. “Say what we did.”

  “We made love.”

  The tears gathered in her throat before they pooled in her eyes, but this time, she couldn’t blink them away before they fell. “Please. Just—”

  He cradled her cheek in his palm. “What?”

  “Go. Just go.”

  “I can’t.” His fingers flexed against her face. “Not until we talk.”

  “There’s nothing to say.” She removed his hand, though every fiber in her being yearned to cling. “You told me how you feel Saturday night. Your being jealous doesn’t change anything.”

  “I had a kneejerk reaction to spending time with my Gran and Alistair’s family on Saturday. There were so many of them, I wasn’t thinking straight. I didn’t tell you the truth. Not all of it. If you’d just let me explain—”

  “You asked someone else to go to Comtek’s party.”

  He didn’t wince, but close enough. “No, I didn’t. But I agreed to go, which probably amounts to the same thing.”

  “You didn’t tell me.”

  “No.” He broke her gaze to stare somewhere over her shoulder, his jaw clenching. “I didn’t.”

  “You weren’t the only one who had a kneejerk reaction Saturday night. Weren’t the only one who wasn’t honest. I’m in love with you.” The words tumbled out before she could catch them, but once they had, she was glad they’d been said. “It doesn’t make sense.” She swiped at her cheeks. “We hardly know each other.”

  “It makes perfect sense.” He cupped her face in his hands. “I love you, too.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Vincent waited through Kiki’s interminable silence. A reply, any reply, would be wonderful. Preferably sometime soon.

  She stared at him. “Huh?”

  “I know you heard me, but I’ll say it again. Might as well get used to it.” He stroked her damp cheeks with his thumbs. “I love you, Kiki Wyatt.”

  Whatever response he was expecting, her shoving his hands away wasn’t it. “Don’t make this any harder.”

  “Harder?” He couldn’t keep the incredulity out of his tone. “I thought that would make it easier. We can find a way to make this work.”

  “Be real. Do you know what I almost did Saturday night? I almost asked you to go with me to my parents’ Christmas party. Fifty people, Vincent, most of them my family and friends. And our annual New Year’s party is even bigger. We rent out a hall! Can you make that work?”

  He tried to keep his features relaxed, but he knew his inner horror must have scrolled over his face when she let out a short laugh. “I know big family scenes freak you out, so I tried to keep you separate from them. But my family’s part of the deal with me, no matter how annoying they may be.”

  “I understand that.”

  But she didn’t seem to be listening anymore. “I need someone I can trust to have my back. You’re just not ready for the kind of relationship I’m looking for, and I can’t settle for less. Not again. Please, just go.”

  He’d just told her he loved her—twice—and she was asking him to leave? “Kiki—”

  “I can’t do this. I’m sorry.”

  As much as he wanted to argue his case, he couldn’t ignore her tears. If anything, his declaration had made them multiply. Dammit, he couldn’t stand to see her cry. “I’ll go.” He stuffed his hands into his jeans pockets. “But we’re not over.”

  She didn’t stop him as he headed back outside into the cold night. The door closed behind him the instant his boot touched the stoop.

  Vincent walked down the steps to his Jeep. Yeah, this love stuff was grand. No wonder some people preferred reading about it rather than experiencing the joy firsthand.

  He drove home with the heat on high. Screw saving gas, even if Brent had told him over and over again that running the heater didn’t use any. As if he believed him. At any rate, it was out with the old, in with the new, blah, blah, blah.

  Talk about a theory he’d never subscribed to. He’d always resisted change, probably because he’d never had much choice when it had come knocking during his childhood. But that was then, and this was now. He wasn’t a scared little boy who didn’t have a clue how to handle his feelings.

  Okay, at least he wasn’t a little boy. If he didn’t know how to handle his feelings, he’d have to figure out how in a hurry because he intended to get Kiki back. And this time, he wasn’t letting her go.

  He swung into his driveway and climbed down out of the Wrangler. A grin lifted his lips as he tossed his keys into the air and caught them. She loved him. Maybe she didn’t trust him yet—and who could blame her there—but she still loved him.

  When he made his move, he’d have to make it big. Nothing halfway. Kiki deserved something splashy, and he was an erotic writer, after all. He knew how to pump up the romance.

  He slipped his key into his door’s lock, wincing. That reminded him. Had he actually told Brent he wrote romances? What the heck was his problem?

  The dopey grin returned to his face. Oh, yeah. He was in love. A reasonable explanation for all manner of insanity.

  But tonight, he had a romance to worry about other than his own. If he had his way, this would be the last solo all-nighter he pulled for a while.

  Kiki returned her movies late and paid ten dollars in fees. Here it was, five whole days after she’d rented them, and she’d never even bothered putting discs two and three in her DVD player.

  Die Hard was officially on her off-limits list. As were Vicenza Bishop’s romance novels, candy canes, Old Spice cologne, and pornos. Good thing she’d only spent a couple weeks with Vincent or else she would’ve ended up housebound in one room, staring at a blank wall.

  I love you, Kiki Wyatt.

  God, when would she stop hearing that in her head? The voice she loved, saying the words she’d dreamed of hearing.

  “He wouldn’t lie.” She stopped dead in the center of the video store, staring down at the new selections in her hand. Chick flicks now. The weepy kind. But she didn’t want to cry over someone else’s ruined love affair. She wanted to fix her own.

  “You know he wouldn’t,” she whispered, her fingers flexing around her movies. “Not about something like that.”

  He loved her. And she loved him. Despite all the obstacles in their path, both his and hers, could she really turn away without giving them a try?

  “Katherine?”

  Another voice now, one that set off an icy tickle between her shoulder blades. She turned, gripping her videos. “Nico. Hi.”

  She hadn’t seen him in more than a year, but he looked the same. The same stick straight dark hair cut close to his head, the same piercing dark eyes that assessed and rejected in one minute flat. Thin lips, hawkish nose. He wore an ordinary black suit with wingtips.

  No sneakers with lime laces for him. Nico had never been that creative.

  “What are you doing here?”

  She shook her movies meaningfully. Odd that he seemed a little bit dazed, too. Was that what happened when you bumped into old flames? For a moment or two, no matter how well prepared you thought you were, the past sucked you in. “Renting a couple movies. And it’s Kiki, remember?”

  Nico’s lips compressed. “Never liked that name.”

  And shazaam. The past spit her right back into the present. “Luckily for me, I don’t live my life based on what you like.”

  “Katherine, wait,” he said as she turned to take her place in line. “Kiki,” he corrected when she didn’t respond.

  “Sorry, I’m in a bit of a hurry.” She jolted when he laid a hand on her coat, but not from desire. That fire had burned out long ago. “Best watch that hand.”

  “Maybe you didn’t understand my call the other evening. I expected to hear from you, but when I didn’t—”

  “When you didn’t, did you buy a clue?” Though it was hard, she resisted laughing i
n his face. Who said you couldn’t be stupid with a law degree from an Ivy League school? “Perhaps you need a refresher. How I said I wouldn’t take up with you again even if we were the only ones left to repopulate the earth?”

  “‘Taking up’ sounds so cheap. I just want to talk. We’ve lost touch.”

  “I’m not interested in touching you, verbally or otherwise. You have a wife. A baby on the way.” She moved forward in line and kept her gaze straight ahead. “And I have—” She had Vincent, if she could figure out what to do with him.

  “There’s someone,” she said, and left it at that.

  “Someone important?”

  She swallowed over the barbed wire lining her throat. “As important as it gets.”

  “I’m not suggesting an affair,” Nico said quietly.

  “We can’t be friends. Acquaintances, fine. But I choose my friends carefully, Nico, and you would never qualify.” She handed the clerk her card. “Give my best to your parents and Megan.”

  She looked up from signing for her purchases to find him gone. Good. Maybe he’d go home and fix his crumbling marriage.

  Yeah, right. He’d just find someone else to “give him what he was missing,” as he’d put it the other night.

  She shuddered as she walked back to her car. Thank God Nico had cheated on her or she might’ve been the one in Megan’s position, carrying a baby her husband didn’t seem to want.

  Instead of going right home, she drove to the mall. Tonight was her parents’ party, and she needed a dress, one that would show the world she’d survived. Her comeback dress.

  Tonight was also the Comtek ball. Vincent would be taking Stacie, she’d discovered from Lynsay. Office scuttlebutt had surfaced that he’d only agreed to take her at Stacie’s insistence because she didn’t have a date. Now the rumor was that Stacie was trying to ditch Vincent to get back her ex, Jag. On and on it went.

  Kiki blew out a breath as she pulled into a parking space. Her comeback dress also needed to wow a certain man, the man she needed to stop hiding from.