by M. S. Parker
She spun away and stalked toward the counter. There, she turned around and leaned back, crossing her arms over her chest, eyeing him as though he were something she would scrape off the bottom of her boot.
“You hurt her,” she said again, her voice low, all but vibrating. “All the damn time. Every time I think the two of you might actually be making a go of it, you do something stupid and I want to shake her because she just puts up with it. You were at the club with her the other night—she looked as happy as I’d ever seen her, and then she goes to the bathroom and within thirty seconds, that bitch Grace is hanging all over you.”
“Now wait a minute.”
Rocki shoved off the counter. “You shut the fuck up,” she said. “Or I will smash that ugly face of yours in. You come into my store after breaking my friend’s heart, you will hear what I have to say.”
Brogan blinked, caught off guard. Rocki had claws—he’d always known that. It was part of why she and Lacey got along so well. Both of them had a streak of mean a mile wide. But he hadn’t had too many women threaten to…how did she put it? Yeah, threaten to smash his face in. Running his tongue across his teeth, he rocked back on his heels and waited.
“I don’t care if you two have an open relationship and I don’t care if you and Grace go way back,” Rocki said, her eyes glinting. “I go way back with Lacey. And you treated her like shit. I was the one watching her try not to cry after you humiliated her. So if I want to call you an ass and that woman a bitch, I damn well will. You don’t deserve Lacey.”
Brogan set his jaw and shifted his attention past her to stare at the wall. There was an unframed print mounted there, the woman in a shimmering bronze corset, vivid, red-gold curls spiraling down her back, her hands gracefully tying the laces. The viewer couldn’t see the model’s face, but he knew who it was. Lacey. He stared at the print for a long, long moment before he finally shifted his attention to Rocki and said gruffly, “I know.”
“You know.” Rocki arched a brow. She paced forward, that look of acute dislike still on her face. “I hear you wanted to take her to the cabin. You broke her heart. You humiliated her, and then you called and offered to take her to the cabin. Let me guess, you thought taking her away for a romantic getaway, fucking her brains out for a few days would make it all better?”
There really wasn’t any way to respond to that, Brogan decided. So he stayed silent.
“Nothing to say now?” Rocki asked mockingly.
“You seem to be dead set on saying it all.” He rubbed his hands over his face and turned away. He had to fix this. “Look, I’ve screwed up, a hundred times, a thousand times. But I do care about her, and I’m going to fix this.”
“Yeah.” She snorted. “Good luck with that.”
He shot her a dirty look. “I’m not giving her up.”
“Too late. She’s given up on you.” A cat’s smile curled her lips.
He opened his mouth and then just snapped it shut, shaking his head as he headed for the door. He didn’t have time to play Rocki’s games. He had to find Lacey and start fixing this. As he hit the door, he paused and looked back.
Rocki stood there, still watching him with a smirk.
Something about the look in her eyes should have warned him. But he was so determined to get to Lacey, he just wasn’t thinking clearly. All he could think about was the fact that he had to fix this. Had to make Lacey understand that he hadn’t done anything to hurt her, not intentionally, at least—that he was just screwed up and he needed time to level out.
She’d understand…right?
Lacey lived in a redesigned loft across town. It acted as both studio and home. It was meticulously neat, rarely a thing out of place in his experience. But this was…unreal. After he’d used his key to let himself in, he found himself standing in the middle of the main room, staring at…nothing. Her things were gone. Logically, he knew what that meant. But he wasn’t letting himself admit it. Not yet. She couldn’t be gone.
No.
He’d only left town on Friday. He’d been gone two damn nights. Two nights. He couldn’t have been so fucking stupid as to let her leave him like that.
Except the evidence was right in front of him. Right in front of him… She was gone.
Hurling his keys across the empty cavern of a room, he stormed into the kitchen and hit the lights. The glass-fronted cabinets revealed empty shelves. The refrigerator was empty. The pantry was empty. The bathroom had none of the numerous soaps and lotions she loved. Everything was gone. Her bedroom…the same.
Finally, in the extra bedroom that she rarely used, he lucked out and found some sign of life. As in boxes. A number of them. Packed up as if ready for storage. The sight of it was like a fist to his chest.
Stunned, he leaned against the door frame. She was gone…
Hearing the familiar sound of a door opening, he turned. Lacey—
Taking off down the hall, heart racing, he came to an abrupt stop. The man in front of him wasn’t who he wanted to see. Cole Stanton, Rocki’s fiancé, stood there, his hands in his pockets and an appraising look on his face.
“She’s not here.” Cole—the master of understatement.
“I see that,” Brogan snapped. “Where the hell is she?”
The other man shrugged. “That’s not for me to say. I just promised to make sure things got moved into storage. She’s subletting her loft for a while and I need to get this stuff put away before the new tenant moves in next week.”
New tenant… Brogan’s stomach dropped to his knees. This…shit. This wasn’t a temporary thing. She wouldn’t be giving up her place if she was coming back any time soon. “Damn it, where is she?”
“Why do you care?”
Brogan stalked across the floor and reached out, fisting his hand in the other man’s shirt. He hauled him close until just a few breaths separated them. “If you don’t tell me where she is, I’m going to pummel that pretty face of yours.”
A tight smile curled Cole’s face. “You can try.” Then Cole’s hands shot out and, with surprising ease, he broke Brogan’s hold. After he’d moved a few feet away, he smoothed his polo shirt down and pushed a hand through his hair. Just like that, the pretty boy looked like he was ready to step onto the cover of GQ. “Here’s the deal, Brogan… You want to go a round with me? I’m game. I’d love to hurt you some for what you did to Lacey. But I’m not telling you shit. Go put that fancy-ass security firm of yours to use or figure it out on your own. Lacey left you. You treated her like shit and she needed to be away from you. If you don’t like that, then I suggest you start figuring out what the problem is, fix it and then go after her. Because if you can’t fix it? You don’t deserve her.”
Chapter Three
“Sir?”
Brogan looked up from the report spread out over his desk. It was the Layton account, one he’d almost lost because he had his head up his ass, one he couldn’t focus on while he was worrying about Lacey, and even though it was one of his biggest accounts, he couldn’t even care.
He was fucking rich and he had a number of big accounts—he ran one of the better security firms in the region and he didn’t give a flying fuck if one of his biggest clients was unhappy. Which just went to show how fucked up he was.
He couldn’t find Lacey… Yeah, he had his head up his ass. He was in security. And he couldn’t find the woman he needed to find—
“Sir!”
Looking up, he saw his administrative assistant standing in the doorway. Seth wasn’t exactly the typical assistant, but he did a hell of a job. “Yes?”
“I think I’ve found her.”
“Shit,” Brogan muttered, shooting up from the desk. “Why didn’t you say so?”
The look in Seth’s liquid, dark eyes spoke volumes, but the black man said nothing, just held out a file.
Brogan snatched it away and flipped through it. There wasn’t much. She’d had a paycheck cut. That was about it. Nothing about where she was living or anything. Nothin
g on her credit cards, nada.
But a paycheck… That was good enough. Because now he knew where to look for her.
“It’s from a bar,” he said quietly. “This is all we have?”
Seth nodded. “I ran the place. No problems that I can tell—owner is new. He inherited it from an uncle about a year ago. His name is Louis Rainier.”
That name…
Brogan glanced up, frowning. “Rainier.”
“He’s a photographer too. They were in school together. I went ahead and did background on him, saw that they attended college together. They were there at the same time, had some photography classes together, so it’s safe to say they knew each other.”
A knot clenched in Brogan’s gut. He tried not to think about it. Nothing mattered. Three weeks had passed since Lacey had disappeared but he had an idea where to find her now.
He checked the address for the bar.
Lexington.
He could be there tomorrow.
“I need you to clear my schedule.”
Seth smiled. “It’s already done.”
Brogan stared at him.
With a shrug, Seth said, “Everybody but you can see how you feel about her…sir. I’m just trying to do what I can to get you back to your normal state.”
Eying his friend, Brogan said, “My normal state?”
“Yes.” Seth turned away, heading back to his desk. “You’re normally an asshole and I can say this without worrying about losing my job for two reasons. One—you’re my best friend and I figure you’re not going to fire me for speaking the truth. Two—you won’t find anybody to replace me, considering the way you’re acting lately. So let’s get you back to normally cheerful self.”
“I’m never cheerful.”
“True,” Seth said. “But you’re usually not this bad.”
Put on my blue suede shoes and I boarded the plane…
Lacey closed her eyes and lost herself to the music. Lou was playing the piano and the lights were so bright, she couldn’t see the crowd.
That was fine with her.
She loved music almost as much as she loved photography. She loved losing herself to it, loved the rhythm, the beat…
And very few could match her the way Lou did.
He’d launched into “Walking in Memphis” the minute they’d talked her onto the stage and she didn’t know if she wanted to smile or sigh. The song held painful memories now. Memphis wasn’t the playground it had once been—Brogan had figured out she loved the city and they’d visited a few times.
But it was a bittersweet memory and she still loved the song.
Her voice was huskier than normal as she reached the chorus, but she didn’t let it stop her. He’d taken enough from her. He wasn’t taking this too.
The song ended and Lou didn’t even give her a chance to catch her breath before hitting the next one.
“Summer of ’69”. That’s more like it, she thought. Just the beat of it was enough to bring her spirits up and she was all but dancing on the stage by the time it ended.
They did another three songs while the regular band finished up their break and then, before she could retreat into the crowd, Lou caught her around the waist and dipped her back, taking her mouth with a kiss that stole her breath away.
She heard the crowd whooping and she was gasping for air by the time he let her go.
Laughing, she let him lead her offstage. She should have gone back to the bar.
But part of the reason she was here was to forget. To feel better about herself. And to heal.
Nobody could make her feel better the way Lou could, she figured. Why not let him do it?
Walking in Memphis…
The moment he heard that husky, throaty voice, he knew who it was.
Standing in the back of the crowd, he stared at Lacey up on the stage and fought the urge to tear through the crowd to get to her.
Not right now, Brogan told himself. He could wait until she wasn’t in front of a damn crowd.
She was here to sing?
He scowled. Had he known she did that? He knew she could sing, but had he known she did professionally? Was that how she was making a living now? What about photography? He’d known she was doing something here at the bar, but he’d assumed she’d done some photo shoots or something.
Not singing.
She was standing up there on the stage wearing one of the corsets Rocki had likely designed for her, and her alone. It was blue, matching the song she was singing rather well, sapphire blue and it gleamed against the ivory smoothness of her skin. From here, he couldn’t see the smattering of freckles that dotted her shoulders. He loved those freckles, loved tracing them with his tongue, teasing her as he touched her. He couldn’t see them, and he hadn’t thought about how much he missed them until that very moment.
But he could see the way her skin gleamed, the way her breasts swelled above the corset, the way it nipped in at her waist. The short skirt she wore rode low on her narrow hips, cut high on the thigh, and she wore a pair of boots that went up over her knees.
She looked hotter than hell and it wasn’t for him.
Jealousy twisted inside him, but he battled it down. He had no right to be possessive, not after the way he’d acted. And he needed to be calm, rational…because sometime soon, he’d find a way to talk to her. Convince her to give him another chance.
Of course, he was doing okay with that plan…right up until the fucking pussy playing the piano came up and grabbed Lacey, kissing her. Acted as if he had a damn right to. Lacey smiled at him. Smiled. Laughed. And when he led her off the stage to the cheers of the crowd, she was still smiling.
Dimly, he realized somebody was up there talking.
“Man, our Lacey has a set of pipes on her, doesn’t she? We need to forget having her work the bar and just have her sing!”
The crowd broke into a chorus of bellows and screams.
Work the bar…?
She’d left Asheville, and him, to come here and work behind a fucking bar.
He couldn’t believe it.
Okay, yeah, he could. She’d needed to get away from him and that was enough of a reason to leave, but what he couldn’t believe was that he’d pushed her that far away. Asheville was home to her. She loved it.
He’d made her need to leave.
I’ve got to fix this.
With that in mind, he started to work his way through the crowd, elbowing through rows of bodies three and four and five people deep at times. The place was packed, full of people laughing and talking and in general, just loving life. It made him that much more aware of how empty his life was.
How much he needed Lacey back.
So he’d find her.
Fix all of this. Bring her back home.
Maybe find a way to belt the bastard who’d been pawing her in front of a bunch of people.
* * *
Lou’s clever hands managed to make rather quick work of her corset.
“I’m impressed,” Lacey said. Then she was too busy gasping as he boosted her up onto his desk and dipped his head, closing his mouth over her nipple. “Most people can’t undo one of these things so fast—I don’t think I can.”
“I’m a man of many talents,” he mumbled against her damp flesh. “Haven’t we established that?”
Groaning, she arched closer.
A face flashed in front of her mind but she blocked it out. She was here to forget.
Lou slid a hand up her calf, teased the sensitive flesh at the back of her thigh. “Lacey, I love these boots, you know that?” He skimmed his lips up her neck to whisper in her ear.
“Good to know. I’ll keep it in mind the next time I want a raise.” She dipped her hands into his hair and squeezed her eyes shut.
“A raise, huh?” He chuckled. “That mean you’re going to hang around a while?”
“Hmmm. I dunno…oh.”
Lou slid his hand between her thighs, under the lacy edge of her panties. And without paus
ing, into her. Her eyes flared wide and she fell back, catching her weight on her hands and staring at him.
“We okay?” he asked quietly.
She saw all the questions in his eyes. Three weeks…and she hadn’t been able to bring herself to this. But she wasn’t going to stop living. Three weeks wasn’t a lot of time, no, but the sooner she cut all ties with Brogan, the sooner she’d have it through her head they were done. She couldn’t think of a better way to cut ties than to give herself to somebody else…and the only person she could even think of getting close to was Lou.
She reached for him, tugging him closer. “We’re okay.”
His eyes, as blue as the sapphire satin on her corset, searched her face. Reaching up, she tugged the band out of his hair and caught the back of his head. “Come on…did you bring me back here to talk or fuck my brains out?” she asked, all too aware of the desperation edging into her voice.
If something didn’t happen soon, she’d start to think.
And she couldn’t do that. No way, no how.
“Hey, I’ll have you know, I can do both,” Lou muttered, sliding his hands up her thighs, pushing her skirt higher and higher, until it was bunched up over her hips, leaving her bare from the waist down, save for her boots. “I can talk…and tell you how much I’ve missed you. How damn hot I got watching you sing.”
“Yeah, yeah…” She grinned at him, relieved that he wasn’t going to make her think.
As he went to his knees in front of her, Lacey sagged back, bracing her weight on the cluttered surface of the desk behind her.
His fingers curled into her butt, tugging her closer to the edge. “Spread your legs for me, Lacey…yeah, like that.”
As his mouth touched her, she closed her eyes.
And tried not to let herself pretend she wished it was somebody else.
Say no, damn it.
“We okay?” he’d asked her.
Brogan had honestly expected her to say no.
But she hadn’t.