by Sandy Lowe
They stared at each other. The awkwardness like a fourth person in the conversation. Beck hadn’t changed much either. Same sandy hair that looked like the wind had picked it up and tossed it around, same buttery brown eyes that reminded Kaitlyn of toasted croissants and lazy Sunday mornings. Her mouth curved when she smiled, just the way Kaitlyn remembered. Beck had grown up of course, a suit now instead of jeans, a Rolex where her Timex had been. Some muscle to even out a frame that used to look lanky. Smart. Successful. Hot.
No. Not hot. Not even in the same…oh who was she kidding? Beck Delmar was hotter than Utah in July, damn her. She’d been forget-your-own-name sexy when they’d started dating at sixteen, and the not quite a decade between then and now had only honed her appeal. Kaitlyn firmly pushed aside the urge to strip naked in front of her. She wasn’t as successful in ignoring the flood of warmth that settled between her legs, and she cursed her stupid, traitorous body. Thank God they were in a public place and she couldn’t get away with it, because she was pretty sure the stripping urge would win and the last thing she wanted was to humiliate herself in front of Beck. Again.
What was it about Beck anyway? Kaitlyn was a grown woman, and she didn’t go around weak at the knees and damp in the panties for every attractive female. For any attractive woman. Except this one. The one that got away. The one she’d thought would be her only. The one that dumped her ass and left town without looking back. Kaitlyn hated her. She really, really wanted to be fantasizing about ripping Beck’s eyes out of their sockets and feeding her intestines through a meat grinder. But was Kaitlyn allowed a perfectly acceptable under the circumstances homicidal fantasy? Oh no. Her body had to go all soft and melty, and her heart was beating too damn fast for her to think straight anyway. It wasn’t fair.
“So,” Tara said, a little too brightly. “Beck’s the attorney I was just telling you about. I’d love to set something up, Beck, to tell you a little more about how Forrester Fund operates, see if we can work together.”
No. No. No. No. The last thing Kaitlyn needed was her high school heartbreak showing up at the office looking all GQ magazine gorgeous and offering her services for free out of the goodness of her heart. Beck’s heart wasn’t good. She’d sold it in advance for the opportunity to clerk at the Supreme Court a year out of law school. She’d had it all planned out. Step one, top of her class at Harvard Law. Step two, clerkship at the Supreme Court. Step three, fast track to partner at the best law firm in DC. Step four, political career. Beck was hard-nosed, uncompromising, ambitious to a fault, and only in it for the win. Those might be good traits in a lawyer, but she didn’t want this woman anywhere near her charity or the vulnerable people they served. Someone like Beck would squish them like bugs. Just as she’d squished Kaitlyn. She wasn’t about to let some ridiculous biological reaction get in the way of her common sense. Beck might have rocked her world once upon a time, but she’d walked away and left Kaitlyn behind.
“Sounds like a plan. I’d be happy to help out Forrester Fund, and I know Mark has been looking to increase his profile with some good press. We could—”
“Of course,” Kaitlyn interrupted. “The good press you’ll get from being a savior to the downtrodden. You wouldn’t want to practice law to actually help people, not when all those non-billable hours can earn you a few worthy sound bites. Think of all the brownie points you’ll score with your boss, because we both know that’s all that really matters to you.”
Tara’s mouth dropped open while Beck’s pressed together in a firm line. Kaitlyn knew she shouldn’t have said that, and she was making an ass of herself, but she didn’t care. They weren’t going to be working together. She’d pay for a lawyer from her personal bank account before she hired Beck to so much as clean the office floor.
Beck wasn’t coming near her charity, her life, her heart. No way.
“We won’t be needing your services,” Kaitlyn said as crisply as she could manage. “Thanks anyway.” But she desperately needed the services of a good psychiatrist. Someone who could tell her exactly how she could loathe Beck and want her, all in the same confusing breath. Someone who could explain to her why Beck had to look so good in her sky-blue button-down and navy pants. Even her silver edged wingtips were sexy. Kaitlyn needed to pull herself together. Stop thinking about Beck’s clothes. Thinking about her clothes was a slippery slope away from thinking about her naked, and if she did that, she might actually start begging.
“Kait,” Beck said, “if this is about what happened between us, don’t let the past keep us from a mutually beneficial arrangement.”
“Of course it’s not about that,” Kaitlyn said. “That was just a few dates, remember?”
“I was hoping to downplay our prior relationship status to save my dignity, considering your vibrator appears to be more talented than I was.” Beck smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. Her eyes were all you’ve-got-to-be-kidding-me-with-this-shit.
She was pissed and that made Kaitlyn smile. “Well, you were young. I’m sure you’ve improved.”
Tara’s cough sounded a lot like a snort, and she studied the champagne glass in her hand with intense concentration. “You know, this one’s warm. I’m going to go to the bar for a refill. I plan to get very lost on the way back.” She kissed Kaitlyn on the cheek and whispered, “Told you she was your type,” then sped away in a swirl of blush colored chiffon.
“Was that really necessary?”
Beck’s words were so clipped Kaitlyn was surprised they resembled English. Yup. Definitely pissed. Suddenly a lot more cheerful, Kaitlyn shrugged and sipped from her glass. “I’m sorry, did I say something wrong?”
“Your vibrator is not better than me.”
“How do you know?” Kaitlyn kept her tone light and easy.
Beck opened her mouth, then closed it again. The faintest hint of red crept up her neck. “I seem to remember you were pretty satisfied.”
“Hmm.” Kaitlyn drained her glass and twirled the flute around her fingers like a baton. “I was pretty satisfied. But it doesn’t take much when you’re seventeen, does it? These days pretty satisfied doesn’t really do it for me.” If Beck thought she could just waltz back into her life, just show up like nothing had ever happened, she had another think coming. Kaitlyn considered herself a nice person. On a good day she’d even go so far as to say she was a kind person. But a woman scorned was a woman you didn’t want to mess with, and boy, had she been scorned. Beck never should’ve come back, and if she had to, she should’ve stayed the hell away from her. Luckily, she knew Beck’s weakness as well as the back of her own hand. It was one they shared. The one thing that busted promises and broken hearts didn’t appear to have diminished.
Kaitlyn stepped so close that if she breathed deeply her breasts would brush Beck’s shirt. She could smell the citrus of her shampoo, and for a second, she almost lost her nerve. She loved that scent. The desire that had been simmering in her belly since the moment she’d heard Beck’s voice sparked again, and her inner thermostat kicked up a notch. Her nerve endings hummed in anticipation. She told herself to forget about it. She couldn’t let Beck see how turned on she was. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t make Beck want her just as much. She’d learned a thing or two since the last time they’d seen each other, and the situation was ripe for a little revenge.
“My vibrator is called the Reducer. As in, reduce you to a wet mess of need.” She lowered her voice and spoke so her breath washed against Beck’s neck. “It feels so good to have it against my clit. Working me just the way I need it. Did you know I think about my new neighbor in the apartment downstairs? She’s a mechanic. In a relationship with some tech guru someone or other, but that hardly matters. She comes into the building with grease on her hands every afternoon, and it turns me on so bad I have to race up to my apartment and start up the Reducer. I fantasize about how talented she must be with those fingers. There’s something about manual labor that’s just sexy as hell, don’t you think?”
&nbs
p; Kaitlyn spoke until she could all but see Beck’s pulse race against her throat, barely an inch from Kaitlyn’s lips. She wasn’t going to look at Beck’s face. If she met her eyes she was afraid she’d kiss her. Just grab Beck’s face and plant one on her right there, and not stop until they were both hauled out for too much PDA. That would never do. Her own racing heart and trembling knees were as inconsequential as they were inconvenient.
She watched Beck swallow. “She could satisfy me, I bet. The Reducer sure does.” Kaitlyn stepped back, and without looking at Beck, turned away and started walking. She took three steps in the opposite direction, enough for a little breathing room, before she stopped and tossed over her shoulder, “But you?” Kaitlyn made a show of looking her up and down slowly. Assessing her like a piece of livestock presented at auction. “You were pretty satisfying at seventeen, but I’ve had better.”
She walked away. Away from a past that hurt too much to remember. Away from the game she’d just played, the gauntlet she’d just thrown, and the lies she’d made herself believe. Beck had been her everything once. Her first kiss. Her first orgasm. Her first broken heart. Kaitlyn slammed the door shut on all of it. It wasn’t relevant, and she’d gotten over it a long time ago.
The bright lights and bustling streets of Manhattan were where some dreams came true, and others were shattered. Kaitlyn Forrester’s dreams had been made to be broken, and Beck Delmar had done the breaking.
Chapter Sixteen
Faking It
The only downside of verbally seducing your ex-girlfriend, getting in the last word, then storming off, was that Kaitlyn wasn’t sure where to actually storm. She couldn’t leave, at least not without Sarah and Avery, and both had mysteriously disappeared after they’d come inside from the balcony. The way Sarah had looked at that chef Ryan, Kaitlyn would lay odds they were tucked up in a corner somewhere making out. And speaking of making out, Avery had kissed Spencer again. They’d headed inside arm in arm and were now incommunicado. It didn’t take a genius to figure out where they’d gone and what they were doing.
Kaitlyn wanted to find the nearest wall and slide down it until the cleaning crew scraped her up sometime after two a.m. She was glad for her friends, and if this had been a regular party on an ordinary night, she’d have toasted their success and not given her own lackluster love life more than a passing thought. But this wasn’t an ordinary party. Beck had hijacked her good time, and now all she wanted to do was go home and worry over why Beck was here, and why Beck had made a point to talk to her, and why Beck had said they’d only had a few dates. She’d happily spin those questions around and around in her mind, the answers growing more and more ludicrous until finally, exhausted by it all, she’d collapse on her bed in her dressing gown and fuzzy slippers and not get up again for three days. She wanted to obsess and bitch and wallow, and none of those things were half as much fun without her friends.
“Oh, thank God.” Eleanor came rushing up to her, risking a broken neck in her high heels. “You have to save me.”
Not the blonde she was looking for, but an Eleanor shaped distraction would do just fine in a pinch. Kaitlyn rested her hands lightly on Eleanor’s bare shoulders to slow her down so she didn’t end up on the floor. “Whoa. What’s wrong?”
“It’s Sarah. She’s insane. She wants me to kiss her girlfriend.” Eleanor’s eyes were just a little wild, and her hair was fast falling out of its chignon. It was a good look on her.
“She what?” Of the three of them, Sarah had always been the go-getter, the overachiever, the one who had big plans and bigger dreams. She made stuff happen. But asking Eleanor to kiss her girlfriend was crazy. Why? The Sarah/Eleanor hate-fest was entrenched. Did Sarah even have a girlfriend now? Had her relationship status changed in a couple of hours? That didn’t seem like her either. Whatever was going on tonight, Kaitlyn had missed it all.
Eleanor shook her head. “Please. You have to come with me. Talk some sense into her.”
“Well, okay.” Kaitlyn had no idea what was going on, but at least Eleanor knew where Sarah was, and with Sarah, she’d be halfway to her goal of getting the hell home.
Eleanor led her through the crowd. They were forced to stop every ten feet to make small talk and thank guests for birthday wishes. Kaitlyn had done just this dance so many times she could compliment a woman’s shoes, shake hands with her husband, and rave over how tasty the menu had been without engaging more than three or four brain cells. Ten minutes later, they’d escaped out the ballroom doors and Eleanor led the way to a tiny parlor tucked into the side of the entrance hall. Inside, Kaitlyn found Sarah, Ryan, and seventy million wraps, sweaters, and scarves all hanging from rolling clothing racks like a tasteful fabric army.
Sarah rolled her eyes. “You didn’t have to bring in reinforcements. Kaitlyn’s not going to save you. She’s on my side.”
Eleanor turned to Kaitlyn. “See? She’s insane. I told you.”
Kaitlyn looked from Sarah, who was standing in the middle of the room with her hands on her hips, to Ryan, who was grinning from ear to ear while resting a hip on a table that held a handful of beautifully wrapped presents, and back to Eleanor, who was now wringing her hands like someone’s maiden aunt Martha. Kaitlyn let out the breath she’d been holding. There was no blood and no fire, so the crisis level could be considered medium at best.
“Anyone care to fill me in?” she asked.
“Sarah wants to get her rocks off watching me make out with Ryan,” Eleanor said.
“Oh, I do not,” said Sarah. “Why do you always have to be so dramatic?”
Eleanor folded her arms across her chest.
Apparently, Sarah and Eleanor seemed to think this explained the situation, but Kaitlyn’s head was spinning. She looked to Ryan as the only other sane force in the room. “Huh?”
Ryan’s smile got even wider. “Sarah’s had a brainwave on how to get back at Peter. The plan, more or less, is to orchestrate Peter walking in on Eleanor and me kissing, and then have Eleanor break up with him.”
“Seriously?” Kaitlyn couldn’t help the incredulity. She turned back to Sarah. “Don’t you think that’s a bit juvenile?”
Sarah grinned too. “Of course it is. But more juvenile than fucking some loser in a bar?”
She had a point.
“Why can’t Eleanor just break it off? What does the fake kissing accomplish?” Kaitlyn asked.
“Aside from floating Sarah’s boat?” Eleanor said. “I have no idea.”
Sarah sighed. “For the last time, Eleanor, I’m not doing this to watch. You’re really not my type.”
Eleanor raised her eyebrows. “You said I was sexy.”
“I said you could do sexy, and that’s me giving you the benefit of the doubt frankly, because the stick up your ass must make it difficult to keep your legs open long enough.”
“Sarah!” Kaitlyn and Ryan said in unison.
Eleanor narrowed her eyes and got up in Sarah’s face. “You don’t think I can do it, do you?”
Sarah shrugged. “I think you’re an uptight little princess if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Screw you.”
“I’d rather watch Ryan do that and get my boat all floaty.” Sarah smirked.
Kaitlyn could feel a headache coming on and pinched the bridge of her nose. This whole idea was ridiculous. Someone had to inject some rationality, and it looked like she was the only one for the job. “It’s not going to work,” she said. “Kissing isn’t the same thing as having sex. As revenge goes, it’s weak.”
Sarah frowned and turned to Ryan. “You think you should fuck her instead? I’m not sure how I feel about that.”
Eleanor gasped.
“I think that might be above and beyond, baby. Plus, well, Eleanor is as pretty as they come, but I’ve known her since I was five years old, and it would just be weird,” Ryan said.
“Thank you,” Eleanor said.
“You know,” Kaitlyn said, not quite believing she was actua
lly getting caught up in this silliness, “kissing isn’t enough. But the three of you…” She let the thought hang as she used all her willpower not to picture what she was suggesting. Too weird. Just too, too weird.
Ryan nodded slowly. “That’s an idea. Not sex. But if Peter walked in on the three of us together, and we made it look like we were seconds from an impromptu raunchy lesbian sex party, I’d say that’s about on par with public bar shenanigans.”
Eleanor’s mouth dropped open. “You can’t be serious.”
“It’s not all that different from the kissing idea, we’ll just need to loosen some clothes and up our acting. You can’t deny it would throw Peter for a loop,” Ryan said.
“It would,” Eleanor said. “He hates Sarah almost as much as I do. Did,” she amended quickly. “Almost as much as I did.”
“Why?” Ryan asked.
“Sarah called him a spineless little fucker,” Eleanor said. “I think he must’ve been hitting on her. Wouldn’t surprise me. He has a thing for blondes.”
Kaitlyn and Ryan looked over at Sarah, who’d been suspiciously quiet on this new idea. Ryan jumped up and joined her so the three of them were standing in a tight circle with Kaitlyn on the outside. “Hey, what’s wrong?”
“I can’t do it,” Sarah said. “I’m sorry.”
They had a plan that might actually work, one that Sarah herself had instigated, and now she couldn’t do it? Kaitlyn groaned.
“Do you hate me that much?” Eleanor asked, doing a decent job of covering the tremble in her voice.
Sarah leaned against Ryan and dropped her head on Ryan’s shoulder. “I only hate you about fifteen percent of my usual amount. I just can’t be caught in an almost sex party compromising position because Reginald owns my ass. If he gets wind of this and is pissed I fake-kissed his very real daughter, it would cause a lot of trouble for me. I could lose Cakewalk, and hell if I’m going to let you stomp on my dream a second time.”