Sweet Seduction Sabotage

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Sweet Seduction Sabotage Page 3

by Nicola Claire


  That sickness I'd felt earlier had come back in full force. But where that had been washed in a mire of alcohol fumes and lost memories, this was crystal clear.

  I was saying goodbye to a friend.

  I sucked in air as though I was drowning, feeling the water lap at my nose. I lifted my hand and pressed fingers to my lips, noting they still felt bruised from last night. Not able to recollect how they'd gotten that way, only guessing it had been video store guy.

  There are times when your life stretches out before you, bright sunshine and clear skies for miles and miles.

  And then there are times when you hit a pothole, bump over the edge painfully, and see the ground rush up before your eyes.

  Video guy was my pothole. Matt was the ground I was about to hit at high speed.

  This was going to hurt.

  He reached for my hand and laced his fingers through mine. I knew he was watching me unravel. He must have already seen the writing on the wall. Part of me wanted to deny everything. Keep going as I was. Searching for that next hit of unrestrained joy.

  But whenever I thought those things, my stomach would roll, reminding me of last night.

  I may never get those hours back. I couldn't keep doing this.

  "What's on your mind, Kelly?" Matt asked quietly. He wasn't making this hard, he was trying to help me get the words out. But he wouldn't say them for me.

  I liked him. There were things about him I actually loved. But I didn't really love him. He was fun, carefree, ridiculously good in bed. He accepted my need for variety. Hell, he had a girl or two on the side as well. We were mirror images of each other.

  At least, we had been up until last night.

  "I've been thinking," I started, rolling the words over my tongue, tasting the truth. "It's time for a change."

  "A change?" He wasn't happy with that explanation, and I couldn't blame him. It was a cop out.

  "I need to change some things in my life, Matt," I explained. "Starting with this." I waved a hand between him and me and then out around the bar in a vague movement.

  "You finally found someone to go solo with?" The question was a mix of incredulity and happiness. Shocked Kelly Quayle could be settling down, but pleased for me at the same time.

  Nice guy. Solid guy. A good friend.

  "Nothing like that," I corrected him, with a small shake of my head.

  I straightened my back, lifted my chin, sucked in a fortifying breath of air.

  "I'm taking a break," I announced. "Re-evaluating my life."

  Matt whistled. It said a hell of a lot. 'What the fuck' being part of it. He shook his head, smiled to himself and then reached for his beer.

  "Am I the first you're cutting loose?" The swallow that followed covered the hurt I saw in his eyes.

  "Everyone, Matt," I replied, instead of answering that uncomfortable question.

  "Even the lawyer?"

  What the hell did Drew have to do with any of it? Well, other than the fact he was one of my five. Not all of them knew who was who, but Matt had spotted me out with Drew one night, and somehow knew him from way back when. He'd been able to put two and two together, but thankfully no one else had.

  Drew was still a secret. At least in my normal everyday life.

  "Well," he said, voice a little more gruffer than before. "I really didn't see this coming."

  "You didn't?" He flicked me a strange look. "You did say I stood you up three times in a row," I pointed out.

  "So, this has been going on for weeks?"

  Oh. I shifted in my seat.

  "I don't know," was all I could say. Had it been going on for weeks? It didn't feel like it. It felt like everything had unravelled this morning. Or got twisted up.

  I stared at the table, at the slow drops of moisture sliding down the outside of my glass. Silence reigned between us, the sounds of the busy bar heating up as the minutes passed.

  "OK, babe," Matt finally said. "You gotta know I had fun."

  My eyes flicked to his, noticing his empty beer glass on the way there.

  "It has been," I agreed. "Fun," I added, lamely.

  He smiled. It wasn't quite his Matt wow them and take them to bed grin, but pretty close.

  "I'm going to miss you," I whispered, feeling the sudden urge to cry.

  "Kels," he murmured, leaning forward and wrapping me up in his arms, laying a soft kiss to my head. "Take care."

  And then he was gone. And I was sitting alone at a table in a packed bar staring at a barely touched gin and tonic on the table before me. Feeling like I wanted to bawl.

  I don't know how long I sat there, stunned at the depth of pain I felt at saying goodbye to Matt. I'd finished relationships before, that'd been easy. And although Matt had been part of my life for more than a year, he'd never held more of a place in my heart than any of the others. I pretty much shared myself between them fairly. Until recently and Drew decided to rain on my parade.

  I pushed thoughts of the adventurous lawyer aside and concentrated on what made my heart feel gouged out, leaving a gaping hole in my chest right now.

  It took a while. The condensation on my glass had long evaporated. Matt's empty beer schooner disappeared at least ten minutes before that. I was starting to get strange looks from the wait staff. The place was pumping, they needed my table for drinking/paying guests. But I hadn't moved an inch since Matt left, my mind reeling, my heart aching, my life on pause.

  It wasn't Matt, as such.

  It was what he represented.

  The end of my past.

  I'd done it. I'd broken off with one of my guys, I'd whittled the number down to four. Did I feel any different? A new and better and healthier Kelly Quayle emerging at last?

  I shook my head, sucked in a deep breath and then lifted my eyes from the table for the very first time.

  Coming face to face with pale grey across the room.

  I held his gaze, unable to react for the depth of surprise I felt. How long had he been there? Did he see Matt leave? Had he watched me moping ever since?

  Why did he keep turning up at my dates? Actively planning to sabotage them? Making each night his and not theirs?

  I wasn't sure I was strong enough to battle Drew tonight. I'd just broken the tie to one of my five and it had hurt. If I faced him now could I do it again? I needed to. All five needed to be culled. But I really wasn't sure I had it in me to go through what I'd just been through, so soon afterwards.

  I needed to leave.

  I needed to get up and walk out that door without a backwards glance.

  I needed...

  Ah, fuck. I needed to feel. Anything other than this wretched emptiness and a familiar sense of being alone.

  I hadn't thought about what would follow the act of cutting ties. I hadn't considered how much it would bring back old and hated feelings. I was spiralling down a bleak, dark hole, knowing what waited at the bottom. And there wasn't a thing I could do to stop it.

  I didn't want to go back there. It had been years since that awful time. But I was staring into the same black place, and all I could see to reach for was soft, gentle grey.

  He was suddenly standing before me, hands in trouser pockets, expensive suit unbuttoned showing a broad chest beneath. He'd come here from work, I could tell. Drew only wore these suits when he had to be in court. He'd probably worked late, decided to grab a quick drink on the way home, and then spotted me.

  Coincidence, nothing else.

  "Are you going to drink that?" he asked, the world disappearing to just him.

  I knew people still bustled around us, I knew glasses were clinking, and laughter was ringing out in the air. But for a moment, like it does every time he looks at me, no one else existed but us.

  "Not really," I mumbled, flicking my gaze back down to the drink.

  "How long are you going to sit here for?"

  How long had he watched me?

  "A while."

  His lips twitched, lopsided, but still a smirk.
>
  "Do you wish to be alone?" he asked. Not the Drew I'd come to know.

  Andrew Kline demanded. Walked into a room and stole all the air. One look and I was his. One nod of his head towards a hidden spot and I was there. One touch and I was gone.

  But tonight I was empty, and even his presence didn't fill me up.

  Is that why he was treading so carefully? No look. No nod. No touch.

  Until I asked.

  I shook my head in answer to his question. It happened naturally. I hadn't meant to make the move, but there it was.

  I'd cut one of my five off tonight, I couldn't manage a second within an hour of the first. That's what I told myself, but when Drew finally reached forward and slipped his hand into mine I realised I was a hopeless liar. Even to myself.

  Drew was never going to be the next I would cull. I was always going to save him 'til last. I'd not consciously acknowledged that until now. With his big, smooth hand in mine, his quiet, steady grey eyes holding me trapped, I finally felt something fill that emptiness inside.

  This was dangerous. I knew it. Drew was not the answer to my fucked up life. He was part of the problem.

  Wasn't he?

  He pulled me slowly from behind the table and then wrapped my arm up in his to guide me from the bar. We came out into the brighter atrium of Sky City Casino, pausing for a few tourists to pass. I had no idea where he would take me. He'd never taken me home to his bed before. Would he break that rule now? I'd never wanted him to. Had that changed?

  Or would he simply book us into the hotel attached to the Tower, offer to shag me behind the slot machines, drag me to the lifts and hit the emergency stop button halfway between floors?

  "Ever played Roulette?" he asked, from out of nowhere.

  "Ah, no. Blackjack, Poker. Anything with cards." That you could strip to, I didn't add. The evening had taken on a surreal quality. I was well out of my normal depth.

  "Roulette's a game of chance, Kelly," he said, leading me towards the entrance to the Casino itself. "Take a gamble on life. Press forward and see what pops up."

  In any other circumstances I would have considered those words a come-on. But Drew wasn't looking at me, he was searching for an available place beside one of several big spinning Roulette Wheels, concentration, not flirtation, marring his commanding façade.

  A sense of burgeoning excitement filled me, somehow dulling the ache of just moments before. The Sky City Casino is a bright and frantic place, full of colours and lights, noise and laughter. The clink of plastic chips, the rattle of dollar coins spilling out of a One Arm Bandit machine. House calls and croupier catch phrases making for a heady mix of anticipation and fun.

  I slid into the seat Drew offered, feeling his hand linger on the back of my neck before he sat himself down. Handing over a credit card to the croupier, he passed me two large predominantly yellow plastic chips he'd received in exchange. A picture of One Tree Hill was on the centre and small lettering bordered the edge, that let me know they were worth a whopping great one thousand dollars a piece.

  I stared at the chips, feeling Drew's heated gaze.

  "All at once, Kelly? Or are you a dip your toe in first, to see if it's warm, kind of girl?"

  My eyes came up to his, a sparkle of mischief glinted in amongst the grey.

  "Take a chance, Kelly. What's the worst that can happen?"

  "We lose two thousand dollars of your hard earned cash?"

  He shrugged elegantly clad shoulders and leaned forward to whisper against my ear, the first truly provocative move he'd made since I'd laid eyes on him tonight.

  "I think you're worth it, Ms Quayle."

  I pulled back and frowned at him. What, just two grand? Those bloody beautiful lips tipped up at the edges again.

  "Well, if that's what you think," I said, turning back to the Roulette Wheel and reaching across the red felt covered table, placing both chips on the first number that sprang to mind.

  "Black twenty-eight?" Drew asked. "Why?"

  His arm draped around my shoulder, his breath tickled my ear. He gave the appearance of not giving a toss I'd just placed two thousand dollars onto one single number, making odds of winning any money at all pretty damn slim.

  "Black suits my mood," I admitted. "And I'm twenty-eight years old."

  There was a long, silent pause before he answered.

  "I know how old you are," he whispered as the croupier called for last bets. "But black you are not."

  "Should I have chosen red?" I asked automatically.

  "For fire. For passion. For the way you live your life."

  "Well, there's the problem," I murmured, as the wheel began to spin in a rainbow of red, black, brown and gold colours, the glint of green swishing past every now and then. "I'm not sure I want to be red anymore."

  The last was said under my breath and I was certain he hadn't heard it.

  The wheel slowed, the sound of the little ball jumping from slot to slot rang out. Everyone held their breath, except Drew. His was hot against my skin at the side of my neck, his index finger slowly running circles above my knee.

  The marble stopped on a red number. The croupier called out, "Red. Sixteen." A few moans, a couple of chuckles, but not one hoot of a winner's excited joy to be heard. I watched stunned as the hooked croupier stick hauled the yellow disks back towards the house pile.

  Two thousand dollars gone. Just like that.

  I turned to look at Drew prepared to apologise for losing all his money. A ridiculous thought to have. He'd insisted we play this stupid game and given me those bloody yellow chips. It was all his fault.

  But the breath and words were stuck in my throat when my eyes found his.

  Grey, the colour of doves' feathers. And a hunger that clawed at my soul.

  "Roulette didn't do it," he declared, voice low. "Time for plan B."

  I raised an eyebrow at him.

  "Plan B?"

  "I'm taking a chance, Kelly. All in. Odds aren't particularly in my favour right now, I think. But I have to know."

  Know what?

  He pulled me up from the table, with a curt nod at the croupier before we left, and hustled me off the casino floor. His arm wrapped around my waist, his steps quick but smooth.

  "What do you need to know, Drew?" I asked, scurrying to keep up.

  "Hmm?" he said distractedly, leading the way across the atrium floor, heading towards the Tower elevators. "What did you say?"

  He was doing this on purpose. He knew exactly what I'd said. I dug my heels in, bringing us to a halt a few feet from a private elevator, being held open patiently by a uniformed man.

  "Drew!"

  "Kelly," he replied with a smirk.

  "What do you have to know?"

  He flicked a glance at the uniformed elevator guy who nodded and slipped back inside the lift, still holding the door open. I was getting the feeling Drew had planned this. Probably while he sat watching me mope, alone at that table in the Red Hummingbird Bar.

  He stepped closer, his eyes holding mine prisoner where I stood. His arms snaked around my waist and he leaned in, lips hovering above my mouth. I could feel his breath; warm and inviting. I could sense his body; hot and enticing. I could smell his cologne; exotic and alluring.

  "I need to know if you're still in there," he whispered and I jerked.

  This was more intense than Drew ever got. More intimate than sex. This was peeling back the layers and he'd never attempted that before. All from watching me at that table, after Matt had left.

  "Wh..what?" I stammered.

  "Ever joined the mile high club?" he murmured softly.

  "The.. what?"

  "Can't arrange a flight plan at such short notice, but I can take you up the Sky Tower and watch you fly." Huh. "It's over three hundred metres to the tip, a couple of hundred to where we can go, that's no where near a mile high, but it's as close as I can get you tonight."

  Ah, mile high club. I stared at him, at a loss for words. But a famili
ar feeling was stirring inside. A stomach curling, butterfly flapping, excited and anticipated sensation deep, down inside.

  "The three hundred metre high club?" I clarified and he chuckled.

  "Doesn't sound as good. But I promise it'll feel just as high." He watched me for a moment, then cocked his head and said, "Will she do it? Or is there no more red left?"

  Was there? I may have cut off one of my guys tonight and had plans to cull the rest. I may have wanted to seriously re-evaluate my lifestyle and try to figure a few things out in my head. But could I turn down a challenge, walk away from a situation that made me feel.. alive?

  "Why are you doing this?" I asked instead.

  He blinked, straightened himself up from the lean he'd had towards my lips and offered that crooked smile.

  "Do you really need to know?" he finally said.

  Black Kelly would analyse, would dissect and disassemble.

  Red Kelly would take the chance, dive in and enjoy life.

  Could I embrace black so completely that I wouldn't allow red anywhere in my life anymore?

  I looked into Drew's beautiful grey eyes and decided I'd done enough rebuilding tonight. I'd take it one step at a time. Tonight was Matt. Tomorrow might be Dan.

  Right in this moment was Drew, and I wasn't ready to say goodbye.

  Enough!

  I took a step towards the elevator and still opened door.

  Drew followed silently behind.

  Chapter 3

  What Colour Are You?

  The ride up took forever. We had an escort; the elevator guy studiously keeping his eyes on the overhead numbers flashing on a digital screen as they indicated how high we were going. How fast we were ascending. He didn't look at us, he pretended he wasn't even there.

  But he was, and Drew and I stood on opposite sides of the elevator as it whizzed up the Sky Tower heading for - what was it? - a couple of hundred metres high. My stomach dropped away, and it wasn't entirely to do with a change in altitude. Drew had something planned, and knowing him, it would involve an audience, or the prospect of one.

  He knew how to push my buttons, from the very first day we were intimate, he'd worked me out. I'm not sure if it's because he's observant, or just that I am an open book when it comes to such things. Everyone thinks they know Kelly Quayle. They don't realise I show them what I want them to see.

 

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