by Katee Robert
Because she was too terrified to follow through and tell him the truth. A little bit of Landon was better than none at all, and she was so afraid she’d be left with less than that if she shared what she’d done.
She took an unsteady step away. Then another.
“Hey, where are you running off to now?” He circled her wrist, holding her for an all-too-brief moment while their gazes met.
She used the element of surprise to twist her arm free and darted around him, running like she would lose her best friend if she didn’t get the hell out of there. Even her skyscraper boots didn’t slow her down.
She lunged for the doorknob while he swore and fought to close the distance between them. He didn’t reach her right away, probably due to the condom disposal issue. His hand slammed on the wood above her head a second before she yanked the door open. They tussled and she managed to shake him off, using his innate gentleness as a weapon against him to escape. He would never harm a woman, no matter what. As much as he longed to keep her there, she was even more desperate to get away.
“Goddammit, wait. Just fucking hold on.” He grabbed for her shoulder and missed. His fingers tangled in her hair—by accident, she was sure—and caught her earring as well. The pull in her lobe as the hook gave way made her eyes smart, though she didn’t let the momentary pain slow her down. Blindly, she raced down the hallway to the stairs, descending them so fast that his curses soon receded. She melted into the crowd at the bottom of the staircase, then pushed through the steady stream of partiers until she arrived at the front door.
Without a glance back, she rushed outside into the night.
…
Landon made his way through the guests, his fury propelling him through the crowd. He wasn’t prone to temper tantrums, but holy fuck, was he ever pissed.
Before the night was through, he would have a damn name for the woman who’d just blown through and fucked him—and fucked him over.
It wasn’t the idea of a one-night-stand that bothered him. He’d had plenty, though the pleasure they brought had become hollow, like chocolate that tasted good going down yet wasn’t quite worth the inevitable sugar crash. This was not that. Somehow, as crazy as it seemed, he’d believed their encounter wasn’t just some shallow hit-and-run. Stupid. He didn’t know anything about her. Momentary lust and a flash of the possibility of more didn’t mean squat. Whatever he’d felt, however briefly, obviously wasn’t reciprocated.
Distracting himself from Steff didn’t include getting hung up on some other chick. But there he was. Fucked twice over.
He shoved his way through the dancing masses in the living room, managing to smile at one of the senior law partners and assorted others, including one of the firm’s long-term clients. His cheeks hurt from the strain, but he fought to keep a pleasant expression on his face until his eyes narrowed in on his target, currently doing his best version of vertical screwing while fully clothed.
“Craig.” Landon tapped his best friend on the shoulder, gritting his teeth when Craig only continued to dance. Craig’s hockey mask bobbed on the back of his head, making him look like an escapee from a Friday the 13th movie set. “Dude, can you give me a minute? It’s important.”
Craig glanced back at him, his brows knitting as if he were trying to place who exactly Landon was. No wonder, since his dance partner was grinding against his groin with unabashed exuberance. That she managed that feat even with her bulky mouse costume was kind of amazing. And disconcerting. “Huh? What?”
“Need to talk to you. Now.” Landon didn’t give Craig a chance to protest and dragged him away from his pouting new friend.
“Be right back, babe. I swear,” Craig said over his shoulder. Then he socked Landon in the stomach. “Jesus, Lan. Did you happen to notice I was about two layers of stretchy material away from getting lucky?”
“Get your head out of your damn groin for a second.” The irony of that statement wasn’t lost on Landon. He pulled Craig into the nearest corner, then lifted his piece of contraband and dangled it in front of his pal’s annoyed face. “Recognize this? I need to find the owner of this earring.”
“Why? Want to compare fashion tips or something?”
Landon nearly spilled what had happened. The words were on his tongue yet he couldn’t make himself actually say them. Really, who could blame him for kissing and telling in this situation? Still, it just didn’t feel right.
None of this did.
“Well?” Craig prodded. “You gonna answer or just stand there clutching that earring?” He stroked his finger down the shimmering pink crystal drop. “Which is kind of hot, by the way.”
Landon snatched the earring away, like a kid with a special toy he refused to share. Craig’s touching his mystery woman’s earring was too intimate somehow, when what had happened upstairs still felt too raw and new. “Have you seen someone wearing this tonight?”
Craig’s expression sharpened. “What’s going on, man? Seriously.”
Despite Craig’s reputation as a soulless shark of a lawyer and occasional man-whore, the guy didn’t completely lack empathy. If Landon explained the situation, he knew his friend would commiserate, maybe even help him look for the woman who’d chosen him over a package of batteries.
It wasn’t like it made sense for him to keep what had happened to himself. Why should he care about protecting the privacy of someone who hadn’t even been considerate enough to let him down gently?
He raked a hand through his hair, realizing he’d never grabbed his bandanna off the balcony floor. It was a miracle he’d managed to zip his damn pants. He didn’t know why he’d bothered, since his cock still ached as if he’d never had sex at all. She’d gotten him so hot and bothered that one round had barely touched his need. At least that need was no longer visible. Anger had a tendency to douse even the most persistent flames.
“Goddammit. I just need to find the owner of this earring. It’s crucial.”
Craig scratched the back of his head. “Why, exactly?”
“Just trust me, okay? Keep your eyes open.” Landon started backing away. “I’m going to hang out here for a while longer, then there’s a horror movie marathon on TV with my name on it. Tarantula Tames Texas One, Two, and Three.”
Craig grinned. “Since Steffi was too busy to spare some time for her best friends tonight, I think you should invite her over for that little D-movie fest. Bet she’ll get unbusy for you.”
Landon stopped walking and shoved his hands into his pockets. It was only sheer force of will that kept him from averting his gaze. “Not so sure about that. We haven’t seen much of each other lately.” Your fault, his conscience reminded him. Loudly.
“Yeah, what’s that all about?” Craig shook his head and held up a finger to calm his antsy mouse friend. “I’ve never seen Steffi miss a Halloween party. What’s the deal with you two?”
Landon shifted. “What deal?”
“You know exactly what. You’re rarely in the same place at the same time anymore, and when you are, things seemed strained. For months, I’ve tried to ignore the odd tension between you two, figuring it would resolve itself on its own. Maybe the two of you need some help hooking back up.”
Before Landon could untangle his tongue—what the hell did he mean by helping them hook up?—Craig leaned closer. “You should’ve seen her last week. The girl was up on every dude at Frogger’s.” Craig tugged on the hockey mask he’d shoved atop his head. “Gotta say, Lan, our Steffi has some moves.” Craig let out a low whistle, shaking his head. “Who could’ve guessed she knew how to swing her ass—”
Landon’s gut clenched in tandem with his fists. “Watch it. Steff’s not some piece of meat.” What the hell was he talking about? Steff didn’t do stuff like that. She snarked on other women who were crawling all over guys at the bar.
Landon unclenched his hands and frowned. Maybe he’d made a mistake steering clear of her. Someone needed to look out for her, make sure that the guys knew who they were messin
g with. She wasn’t some random bar chick. They’d better freaking treat her like platinum or they’d be answering to him.
“Of course not. Listen, I gotta go. Good luck with your earring search.” Craig was gone before Landon had a chance to say good-bye.
Landon twirled the earring between his fingers, holding it up to the light in a futile effort to see if he could glean some wisdom. Weren’t crystals supposed to be magical or something? He blew out a breath. He’d just take another sweep of the place before he left, in case his mystery woman reappeared. He’d also ask some questions. Surely someone had to know who she was or how to find her. If that turned up nothing, he’d head home, curl up with some TV tarantulas, and hope he had a sudden burst of inspiration on how to find the woman who’d driven him to distraction.
He’d also try like hell not to think about Steff grinding on strange men.
Chapter Three
Steff tossed the makeup-covered cotton ball into the sink. She’d been scrubbing at her face and cleavage for what seemed like hours. Oh yeah, because it had been. She’d layered her makeup on with a damn trowel, only thinking about disguising her true identity from Landon and not about actually having to remove the stuff afterward.
She also happened to be crying her eyes out while she scraped and soaped. At least she’d finally removed the red hair extensions and tamed the waves she’d created with her rarely used curling iron.
What in blue hell had she been thinking with this whole crazy scheme? She’d been practicing her new flirtation skills at the bar lately, all with the purpose of seducing Landon. It didn’t feel natural for her to act overtly sexy, but she’d figured she would need to in order to catch Lan’s roving eye.
Little had she known that he would see her at the party before she’d even fully worked up the nerve to approach him. He’d given her that arousing “no quarter” pirate line and she’d been ready, willing, and able for anything he threw her way.
Except for the aftermath of having the best sex of her life and no one to talk about it with, because she’d deceived her best friend—who didn’t seem that interested in having her in his life anymore, anyway.
She rubbed at the tears dripping off her chin and stared at her splotchy face in the mirror. Pale was her natural state of being, but she looked positively ghastly. Her eyes didn’t even seem as blue anymore. Misery tended to do that to a person.
Swallowing hard, she glanced at the phone. There was one person who could tell her what to do. The only one who might keep her terrible secret and not think she was the most awful person who had ever lived. Craig was also, at this very moment, most likely cozied up with some gorgeous nympho who got off on doing it in the closet at a party.
Oh God, why was she even thinking about nymphos at a party? She’d become a nympho who had sex at a party. Eagerly. Lustily. Without shame. She’d turned into a wanton woman who lacked the moral fiber needed to tell the truth, and no good could come of that.
Wincing, she shifted on her painfully sore feet and braced her forearms on the sink. The only part of her chafed was the sensitive skin between her legs. She hadn’t had sex for a while. Especially sex like that. Holy-wow-freaking-amazing sex.
As good as it had been, it had actually made everything worse. Because if she couldn’t be honest about her feelings before she’d screwed him over in the name of twue wuv, how was she supposed to come clean after?
Fear of rejection didn’t give someone a license to be deceitful, especially to a man she’d been so close to for years. Even if said man had hit the pause button on their friendship and confused the hell out of her. How could she ever look him in the eye again?
She finished her makeup removal operation and took a long, hot shower to rid herself of any reminders of her sexpedition. Any traces of Landon’s cologne were erased by copious amounts of watermelon bodywash, but the hickeys she’d glimpsed on her neck weren’t going anywhere. Luckily she’d always thought the mock neck was a nice look for her, because she’d be wearing a lot of them for the next few days.
After her shower, she went into her bedroom, only to be confronted by the costume she’d shed as fast as possible and strewn all over her carpet. She gathered up the pieces from her arsenal of deception, shoving them into various drawers. She pulled off the lone earring still in her ear and tucked it in her jewelry case. The stupid tail ended up in her closet, hanging beside her belts.
Masochism must be the name of the game tonight. First she’d seduced Lan, now she was keeping all the junk she’d used to do it.
Sighing, she pulled on her most comfortable Wingdings hockey jersey before curling up on the couch to watch the tarantula movies she’d been looking forward to for days. She’d set up the DVR so she wouldn’t miss them if she fell asleep early, a likely possibility considering she’d had a long week of classes with her extremely active, often adorable, frequently exhausting group of kindergartners.
This afternoon they’d cut out ghosts and pumpkins from construction paper to put up in the windows. Next week they’d add finger-paint art to the glass. By the time Halloween arrived two weeks from now, her classroom would be fully decked out. She loved this time of year. The decorations, the kids’ enthusiasm. The sense of possibilities…and magic.
Tomorrow she had to get up early to help chaperone a Dads and Daughters event at the school. Her students would have lunch and play games in the gym, and she’d have to be extra perky, sex hangover or not.
She’d signed up Craig to spend some time with the girls who didn’t have dads. Last fall both he and Lan had volunteered, but she hadn’t felt right about asking Lan to participate this year, just like she hadn’t felt right asking him what his deal was with her and had instead crafted a plan to screw him silly in lieu of actual conversation.
She bit her thumbnail while she studied the gigantic tarantula scaling the side of a silo on TV. She hoped Craig remembered. The guy had enough trouble showing up for work, and she’d forgotten to remind him when they had lunch earlier in the week.
Crap. She should call him just to make sure. The last thing she wanted was to have a couple of disappointed kids on her hands. Or a cranky Craig who needed to be hauled out of bed and into a pair of presentable pants.
Yawning, she tucked her cheek into the sofa cushion and shut her eyes. She’d just rest for a couple minutes first.
When she opened her eyes again, a bouncy cartoon with a demented-looking clown was on her TV and sunlight cast wavy patterns across her living room rug. She blinked, sure she was dreaming. However, if she was dreaming, that meant she’d been sleeping.
Shit.
Her phone rang as she stumbled to her feet and tossed off her plaid throw. She glanced at her watch, saw the time read 7:00 a.m., shrieked, and answered her phone without looking at the caller ID. “Yeah?”
“Yeah to you, too.” Craig sounded uncharacteristically grumpy. He wasn’t a morning person, unlike her, but this was above and beyond. “Why didn’t you remind me about Dads and Daughters today? If it hadn’t been for the reminder on my cell, I never would’ve realized. Lucky for you I fixed it.”
She sank onto the couch and dug her fingers into her eyes. “Sorry, I forgot. I’ve been busy. What do you mean, you fixed it?”
“Jeebus, you’re slipping. You always remind me about everything ten times. I have breakfast scheduled with a client this morning and I can’t miss it. Mrs. Wentworth is going through enough with her slimebag husband not to have her lawyer bail on her emergency meeting. I’ll hate not seeing the kids, but I’ll make it up to them. Besides, they’ll be better off, anyway, because Lan—”
“Oh God.” She clapped a hand over her mouth and rocked, praying she wouldn’t be sick. This was not good. She was going to upchuck all over her favorite nightshirt and that still wouldn’t stop Lan from showing up. “Please tell me you didn’t call him. Why would you do that?”
The line went suspiciously silent. “Okay, I’ve had about enough of this shit. Last night he was acting l
ike you had the plague when I suggested he watch the stupid spider thing on TV with you, now you’re moaning because I offered a perfectly reasonable solution to a time conflict. Are you going to tell me what’s going on or do I have to ask Lan again? Which is basically pointless, because he’s male and therefore probably doesn’t even know you had a fight. So…did you have a fight?”
“No.” She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to block out the memory of Landon’s harsh pants into her ear as he coaxed her to come. “We’re just growing apart, I guess. It happens.”
“It happens to people who don’t care enough to stay close. That’s not Lan, and that’s definitely not you.” He let out a long breath. “You know, maybe it’s a good thing I can’t go today. If it forces you two to get your heads out of your asses, then it’s worth it.”
“Craig, you don’t understand.”
“Bullshit. You don’t understand that people don’t always get fourth and fifth chances in life. You need to fix this, whatever it is. If I can do something to help, I’ll do whatever it takes.” His voice gentled. “You guys are good together.”
Her eyes filled. Dammit. If only he knew.
“Sure I can’t do anything? Make some of my world-famous quesadillas, don a sombrero, and sing ‘O Sole Mio’ until you’re both laughing too hard to be mad anymore?”
She had to laugh. “Thanks, but no thanks. You can mix Mexican food and Italian music some other time.”
“Fine. Stop fucking around and talk to the guy then. I’ll call you later.” He hung up before she could respond.
Steff sighed and stabbed the end button. Yep, that convo had gone spectacularly well. Not. She’d probably unintentionally stirred up painful memories for Craig to boot. He’d lost his parents in a private plane crash shortly after his high school graduation and she knew he regretted not spending more time with them before their unexpected deaths. She’d always wondered if that was why he’d always kept her and Lan so close. They’d become his surrogate family, and he’d always been the glue that kept them together. She had a feeling he wouldn’t allow her and Lan to drift any further apart without them facing a fight.