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“You … what?” His mind reeled.
“Kissed her.”
“In front of…?”
“Everyone.”
“Oh, goddamn it.” Christian whipped out his iPhone and searched for Rory St. James on Google, and lo and behold, there was a video already posted on YouTube of his friend and … Bayli.
Christian tossed the phone on the table and it skidded to a halt before Rory. “Nice going. She’s supposed to be our secret weapon. You know, we spring her on the unsuspecting world and take everyone’s fucking breath away?”
Rory didn’t even bother glancing at the screen. “What can I say? She took mine away. I couldn’t help myself. And who are you to talk? You nailed her Saturday night.”
“I did not nail her,” he insisted. Then shook his head. “Jesus. Yes. I nailed her. She was just so vulnerable and sexy and willing … so willing.”
His groin tightened. He said, “Damn, I wanted her. From the moment I saw her. And, granted, it took a little while for her to warm up to me because she was interested in the job you aren’t going to give her and she had some other things going on, but once we cut through all that minutiae, it was downright electrifying.”
“Yeah.” Rory clenched his fist and rapped his knuckles on the table. “I can identify with the electrifying part. Problem is, we never actually cut through any minutiae. We somehow created all that after we’d had sex. And then she just … left. Stormed out is more like it, but what’s the difference, right? She couldn’t get out of my apartment fast enough.”
Christian’s gut clenched. Was that the reason the Polenski Agency had been so amenable with his legal team, so that they could hash out terms this quickly and have contracts drawn up this afternoon? Had Bayli said something to her agent, mentioned the possibility of pulling out of the show because of whatever altercation had happened with Rory yesterday, and so her agent had jumped on the negotiations to execute the deal before Bayli backed out?
“Oh, goddamn.” He yelled out, “Pierre! Scotch on the rocks, please!”
“Oui, monsieur,” came the curt reply.
Pinning Rory with yet another unyielding look, Christian said in a measured tone, “Please tell me you did not run her off on purpose.”
Rory glared. Then very bluntly said, “You fucked her. Tell me you didn’t completely lose your mind over her. She’s unbelievable, Christian. More than beautiful. More than sexy. More than charming. There is something about that woman that grabs you by the balls and doesn’t let go. But here’s the problem—”
“No, Rory,” he interjected. “There was no problem. Not when I left her Sunday morning. Not after I met with you Sunday afternoon. There was no problem!”
“Would you calm down for two seconds?”
Pierre delivered the entire decanter of scotch, two glasses, and a small ice bucket. He served both men before discreetly wandering off to do whatever else it was that needed to be done before dinner service.
Rory said, “Bayli and I were getting along great. Enough so that I kissed her in public—you’ve seen the video. I was completely and totally into her, and I was convinced she was feeling the same way. We went back to my place to make dinner but got all tangled up with each other instead, and it was worth every diverted moment.”
“So why the hell did she walk out on you?”
“Because I don’t know who she is!” Rory exploded. “Because Bayli Styles is some gorgeous femme fatale one moment and some fragile flower the next—who isn’t even really a fragile flower. Oh, no! She’s got some serious wind in her sails and she isn’t afraid to unleash the tempest.”
Christian sat back in his seat. Sipped his drink. Felt infinitely calmer. Even grinned. “You fucking idiot.”
Rory glared again. “As if you’re telling me something new.”
Christian sighed. “I had a feeling when I watched her act out cigar hostess at the gala
that there was something special about her—something that would intrigue both of us. When I slept with her, that feeling only intensified. But, Rory, she’s not a full-on femme fatale. And you’re right; she’s no fragile flower. She’s got some issues, a past. Not pleasant stuff. And being thrown into our mix? Can you even doubt for a second that it would make someone from very humble beginnings and a shitload of hardships falter?”
Rory’s jaw tightened. “Hardships.” He shoved away from the chair and paced. “We talked a little about her mom. I know her cross streets because you gave the info to Denny while I was making breakfast. But goddamn it, Christian, what went haywire with Bayli and me yesterday wasn’t about her financial situation or where she came from.”
“Then what was it about, Rory?”
He stopped pacing. Planted his hands on his waist and said, “It was about how intense the sex got between us, the fact that my back and my ass look like I went a round with a lion defending her cubs—and she might as well have been a vampire snack, in turn. Her neck…” He let out a harsh breath. “I bit the hell out of it. I couldn’t help myself. Didn’t even really know I was doing it. And all I wanted was more. I knew she did, too. But the more I offered … the more I mentioned what I wanted … the more she tried to digest it all or whatever … It was too much for her. She bolted.”
“Interesting.” Christian stood as well. He drained his glass and poured another. Then restlessly prowled the space between their table and the fireplace.
“I knew exactly what I wanted from her,” Rory told him. “But, truthfully, I didn’t care if I got exactly what I wanted from her. I just wanted her.”
