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Her love.
It was as if she needed him to know what she didn’t have the balls to say and how fucked up was that, considering she knew he could never return her feelings?
With a groan, Tucker broke off their kiss. “Unless you want me to bend you over the sofa and have at it, I suggest we head that way.”
Flushed, Abby nodded, letting him take her hand and lead the way to his bedroom. A low slung table near the fireplace caught her attention and she stumbled as they passed it.
There were photographs, but one in particular caught her
attention.
Tucker. A much younger looking Tucker smiling down at a woman as they sat on the edge of a boat. A cute, little blond thing.
It was Marley. Of course it was Marley.
“Coming?” Tucker said gently.
For one second, Abby could have turned around and marched her ass out of his apartment. She could have told him this wasn’t going to work. She could have told him that she had lied to him. That she was in love with him and headed for heartbreak.
She could have done the whole self-preservation thing. That would have been the smart thing to do.
But she didn’t.
Abby followed Tucker into his bedroom. She let him undress her. She let him pull her hair out of its tie and run his fingers along her scalp. She let him kiss her. Touch her. Make love to her.
And it felt so good to be with him. She reveled in the feel of him. In the taste and energy in him. She fed from him and told herself that things would be all right. That when the time came for this to end—when he finally realized her lie—the pain would be worth it.
She lied to herself.
Because she was that weak.
Chapter Nineteen
“Tucker Simon. I have a bone to pick with you.”
Jesus. H. Christ. Was he going crazy? Had he forgotten she’d be here?
Tucker glanced at his brother Jack, tossed back the last bit of scotch in his tumbler and turned to face the ice queen behind him. Sonya Devonish. Great.
The tall, platinum blonde had poured herself into a little black number that didn’t leave much to the imagination, and neither did her glacial death stare. The woman was more than a little pissed off and was going to cause a scene.
“This should be good,” Jack said, leaning against the bar, not even bothering to hide the grin on his face.
The brothers were attending a benefit for endangered species. Held in the Terrace Room at the Plaza Hotel, it was a yearly event that brought together artists, musicians, and a lot of society types with deep pockets. Proceeds went to the Simon Foundation, which in turn used them to fund projects that protected wildlife habitats, not only in Florida but all over the United States.
Beau was in attendance with Betty—though they were off somewhere with Shane Gallagher. The up and coming artist had donated several pieces of artwork for the silent auction and was in New York City with Betty’s sister, Bobbi.
Tucker’s parents had been unable to attend this year because of a scheduling conflict, but that was probably a good thing considering what was about to occur. Tucker’s bullshit meter was dialed to low and God knows his mother hated public scenes.
Tucker eyed Sonya. Was this going to be loud, or was she going to use some sort of decorum?
“I left messages.” She paused dramatically, throwing her hands into the air. “Many, many, messages.”
Shit. This was going to be epic, he could tell. And he didn’t get it. Not really. It wasn’t like they were exclusive or had shared anything other than a sexual relationship—if relationship was even a word that applied to what they’d shared. And it wasn’t just Tucker’s call—Sonya had been more than upfront about it as well. She cared more about his pedigree and having a Simon on her arm than she did him. Anything else didn’t interest her.
“Sonya, I’ve been busy.”
“Don’t give me that bullshit, Tucker.” Her European accent was more pronounced and her voice was a tad higher than normal.
