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“Shut up!” I growl through the corner of my mouth. “She isn't.”
“Oh, c’mon man!” Darryl’s face creases again as he captures his bottom lip between his teeth and draws in a noisy breath in through his nose, letting his laughter die. “You've been in love with her for at least a decade. You're not going to convince yourself of otherwise.” Darryl casts a glance over my shoulder. “Why don't you just admit to yourself that it’s not over between you two?”
“Give it up, Doc.” I stare out the window with my back to the rest of the room. But all I see is Ashleigh’s reflection. “As far as I'm concerned, last night was a mistake.”
“She's been back in the country for less than forty-eight hours, and you've already done all the things you said you wouldn't.”
“Don't ever order the forget-me-not cocktail. It’s the last thing I—”
Wait a second, what did he just say? She’s been out of the country? No, she hasn’t. I’ve been almost stalking her for the past fifteen months. I knew her every move. She hadn’t left LA for months.
“What do you mean she's been back in the country less than forty-eight hours?” I ask.
“Nothing.” Darryl’s eyes widen and his voice goes up an octave. His gaze darts around the room as though he’s sending out a mayday message. “That's not my point.”
“That’s exactly your point.” I give him an unblinking stare. A stare that demands an answer. It’s served me well over the years, with stubborn sources who don’t want to answer my questions. “My point is I’ve known her minute-by-minute movements right up until The Jackson Matthews Show, and now, she's here.” As I press the subject with Darryl, I ignore the appealing aroma of spiced apples enticing the hairs on my arms to attention. “So what did you mean by she's only been back in the country forty-eight hours?”
“He means”—her soft voice reaches my ears from behind—“I had to leave the country and I didn't want anyone to know. That includes my own personal stalker-like ex. So Mimi's been keeping you occupied.”
Ashleigh makes it sound so simple. So, matter-of-fact. As though it has no consequence to me. Of course, it matters to me. I still cared enough to sleep with her, didn’t I?
C’mon, Anderson. Get a grip! This is how she got to you last time.
It doesn’t matter to me what she’s been doing or where she’s been. It matters that she’s been using JT Preston as a media cover up tool. “For how long?”
“For as long as it took.”
“How long?”
“Sean!” Julia snaps marching up beside us. “You promised me there would be no shop talk. That means no grilling Ashleigh!” She scolds me before she leans into Darryl and places her lips against his for a brief kiss. “Darling, the registrar is ready.”
Suitably admonished, I look down and my attention is caught by those adorable pink satin slippers hugging Ashleigh’s feet. The pirouette with the same grace and poise of a ballerina as she turns her back on me to watch Julia and Darryl move toward the registrar.
“No shop talk, huh?” Ashleigh’s voice is quiet enough that only I can hear her as she watches Julia and Darryl greet the celebrant. “I think instead of ringing Candice and getting you fired like she told me to, I’ll just enjoy watching you figure out how you’re going to get that exclusive interview out of me without upsetting Julia, hm?”
One step puts me close enough to feel the warmth of her body against mine. The dizzying fragrance of spiced apples is at its most powerful when I lower my head and bring my lips closer to where I know she’s most vulnerable to me. “I can think of a hundred things I'd like to do with you and not one of them involves shop talk.” The way her head angles away from my voice and the sudden change in her breathing doesn't escape my attention. My mind races with the satisfaction I still affect her in the same way she still affects me.
Careful, Anderson!
What was I telling myself just a few moments ago? I’m not interested in her story anymore. My daughter is more important. My eyes flicker to Stephi. She isn’t watching, so I continue with caution. “Every one of them would make you beg for mercy and you'd give me what I want.” Her waist feels warm beneath the delicate pink silk as I draw her closer, and closer, until our bodies mold together from shoulder to thigh.
I watch. I’m ready. I can’t wait for her reaction. I know she’s lost in me and isn’t expecting this because she’s closed her eyes. Mine remain fixed on her face. “Maybe I should start with that insurance policy you mentioned this morning.”
Her chest halts mid-rise. Her throat bobs slowly before her eyes flutter open and meet with mine. “You wouldn't?”
No, I wouldn't. But I will call her bluff. “Are you prepared to test that theory?”
I can’t decide if the slow careful turn to face me is part of her recovery from my taunting, or if the graceful move is just part of her typical supercilious bitch routine…until she looks me straight in the eyes and says, “Yes Sean, yes I am.”
Supercilious bitch it is!
CHAPTER 8
SEAN
Argh! The woman is driving me crazy!
How the hell does she do it?! How on earth can she just stroll off as though nothing happened while my nerve endings hum with the memory of her body against mine?
