Addicted to Love Page 17

  “A souvenir of three perfect encounters.”

  “Four,” he corrected.

  “Four,” she agreed. “Of course.” She stood up and started to clear the dishes.

  “You don’t have to do that.”

  “You look annoyed,” she said. “I thought I’d let you brood alone. Isn’t that what nineteenth-century romantic poets did?”

  Kyle ignored that. “I’m not annoyed.”

  “You just haven’t exhausted your store of games so you want to keep playing.” Lauren shook her head. “But that’s just it, Kyle. If you need to freshen things up with me to make it new by playing games, then it’s over for you, too. I know you like the variety of lots of women and I’ve enjoyed these nights. But ultimately, I need more than a physical connection.”

  “I know that.”

  She paused to look at him. “You knew it all along, but you let me come here.”

  He shrugged. “Of course. I know you need something I can’t give. Glad to have helped in the interim.”

  “You don’t look glad.”

  “Well, I am.” He forced a smile and stood, taking the empty plates out of her hands. “Keep the shirt if you like. Do you want me to call you a cab?”

  She stared at him and he had to turn away from the vulnerability in her gaze. She was turning him inside out. What did she expect? That she could say she was leaving and he would pledge to be someone he could never be? He nearly broke a dish on the lip of the sink in his agitation. He wished she would just go.

  He also wished she would stay.

  She had a talent for tangling him up inside, that was for sure.

  He began to stack up the empty take-out boxes.

  “I can get my own cab, thanks,” she said coolly, then left the kitchen. She didn’t need him and Kyle knew it. He was glad she knew it.

  Sort of.

  He watched as she scooped up her clothes and shook his head when she closed the bathroom door with a resolute click. She wasn’t going to call him again. He’d succeeded in his mission. He should be glad. He snuffed the candles savagely, hating that they were parting like this.

  He was doing the right thing.

  He was protecting her from the way he was.

  So, why did he feel like such an asshole?

  That was nothing compared to how he felt after Lauren had left. She’d given him a peck on the cheek, said “thanks again” like he was a stranger who’d held a door open for her, and marched out the door with her chin held high.

  She was gone when he discovered the denim shirt, abandoned on the floor of the bathroom.

  He picked it up, inhaled the scent of her, and hung it in the closet again. He thought of her wearing it that first time in Santa Cruz, and again this past week, and was glad she hadn’t taken it. He turned away, impatient with himself.

  It was time to get some rowing in.

  Eight

  On Monday, Marie was late arriving at the salon. Lauren wasn’t in the mood to deal with any challenges at all. She’d spent a restless night, second-guessing her decision to forget Kyle.

  She’d awakened late and wet, her mind filled with a very hot dream about Kyle. That she’d still dream about him irritated her as little else could have done. She felt irrationally that it was Kyle’s fault that she’d overslept and she stormed through the apartment to get ready. She raced to the store, hating that she was opening late, only to find that Marie was missing and her first client was waiting outside in the rain.

  It was unlike Marie to neither come to work nor call. Lauren called her cell phone a couple of times when she had the chance. Every call went straight to voicemail, but Lauren only left a message the first time. She hoped Marie wasn’t sick. She flicked through the appointment book once her first appointment was done and figured out how she could accommodate Marie’s other bookings for the morning.

  Fortunately, Monday mornings weren’t that busy. They had a few regulars who liked to come in when the salon was quiet, but walk-in traffic was almost non-existent.

  Lauren was shampooing Marie’s client and making small talk when a very chic woman stepped into the salon and looked around with curiosity. “I’ll be right there,” Lauren called.

  “No problem. I’ll just look around.”

  Lauren and the client exchanged a glance of mutual suspicion. “Go,” the woman mouthed and Lauren wrapped her hair in a towel before she did. She dried her hands as she walked to the front of the salon. “Can I help you?” she asked, fully expecting that the woman wanted an appointment. She was in her late twenties and dressed all in black, a choice that showed off the fabulous dye job on her hair. Lauren counted a dozen colors, all expertly blended. She wondered who had done it. “Although it looks as though you have an excellent colorist already,” she said.

  The younger woman smiled. “Thanks. Could you put me in touch with the owner of the salon?”

  “If you have a complaint, please let me know. I own it.”

  “Hi!” She offered her hand. “I’m Ashley Golden.”

  “Hi. Lauren McKay.”

  “I’m actually interested in buying your salon. The location is great, and the space is good. With some redecoration and a new name, I think it could really rock.”

  Lauren bit back a reply because she thought it rocked already. “I’m not interested in selling, but thanks.”

  “Oh!” Ashley pouted. “Well, maybe we should talk price and that will change your mind.” That was when Lauren noticed that Ashley’s clothes were expensive and her purse wasn’t a knock-off Louis Vuitton but the real thing. Hair stylists seldom were rich, and she realized that Ashley was counting on that. She wondered who was funding her ambitions.

  “Maybe not,” Lauren replied with a smile.

  Ashley rummaged in her purse, then offered a card. “That’s my cell. Give me a call if you want to talk, although if you wait too long, I might have bought another salon already.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.” Lauren accepted the card and waited until Ashley had left. Then she locked the door, because there were no appointments for an hour, and tossed Ashley’s card into the drawer at the front desk that was a catch-all for everything that seemed important but that no one wanted.

  She turned back to her customer. “I’m going to give you a complementary in-depth conditioner today, as a thank-you for your patience,” she said with a smile to the client at the back. “We have this new one that leaves your hair feeling amazing...”

  * * *

  It was the day of Damon’s photo shoot, although Kyle wasn’t really in the mood for marketing. He liked to be positive and upbeat when taking care of these jobs, but on this particular Monday, he was uncharacteristically grim.

  The world could go to hell, as far as he was concerned, which wasn’t exactly a mood conducive to capturing the perfect persuasive shot.

  He’d decided against taking the week off, mostly because of the shoot, but once he got to F5, he wondered if that had been a bad choice. He stayed away from the room the photographer was using, not wanting to taint the proceedings with his black mood. He went only when Cassie called him, clearly thinking he’d forgotten the time and date.

  She wasn’t even giving him a hard time about his nose.

  His lethal mood must be obvious.

  Damon looked fantastic. He’d been working out hard, concentrating on where he built his mass. His physique had always been impressive, but he’d tweaked it to perfection with Kyle’s help. He’d done some tanning so that his olive skin was a rich brown. Waxed and oiled so that his skin gleamed, he looked great. The big tribal tattoo on his shoulder looked dangerous and mysterious, just like Damon. The stylist had given him a touch of eyeliner which gave him that perfect brooding look.

  Cassie smiled at Kyle when he entered. “I could eat him with a spoon,” she confessed. Damon shook his head in amusement, and Cassie spoke to the stylist. “Can we get a little hair loose over his forehead? I think he should look a bit tousled.”

&
nbsp; “And his swimsuit needs to slide a little lower,” Kyle contributed.

  Damon gave him a quelling look. “This is going to be public.”

  “I know, but the ladies like to see the Vee.” Kyle winked because it was expected of him.

  The stylist smiled and edged Damon’s black briefs down a little lower on his hips.

  “I feel like a man-slut,” Damon growled.

  “Just eye candy,” Cassie said.

  “Of the very highest quality,” Kyle agreed.

  “I want you looking at me,” the photographer said. “Mr. Rock-hard-abs.”

  “A bicep curl,” Kyle said and Damon picked up a weight to follow his instruction. “Everything tight. Everything pumped.”

  “This is as pumped as it gets,” Damon muttered.

  The shot wasn’t right. It felt too posed. The photographer was clicking away, but Kyle knew it was off. Damon wasn’t exuding emotion and that’s what they needed.

  “Put some heart into it,” Kyle said.

  Damon rolled his eyes. “I am!”

  “No, he’s not,” Cassie muttered.

  “I don’t pose in front of the mirror all the time, like a kid,” Damon complained.

  “Don’t talk!” the photographer said.

  Kyle decided to provoke Damon. “Just think what your little Friday night lisichka will think when she sees you twenty stories high in Times Square like this. She might want you more than once a week.”

  Damon glowered at him. “That’s none of your business,” he began, but the photographer was clicking like mad.

  “That’s it! That’s it! Hold it.” He was holding down the shutter button on the camera so that it took a stream of photographs. “Now give me more. I want that look. I want that intensity. Come on, Damon, give me all you’ve got.”

  Cassie came to stand beside Kyle. “It’s a gift you have.”

  “A kind of magic,” Kyle agreed easily.

  “So, maybe we should keep track of new sign-ups,” she continued lightly. “See whether more people want to get wet or get hard at F5.”

  Kyle smiled. “It’s going to be the ‘get-lucky’ poster that brings them to the doors in droves.”

  “But Ty doesn’t want to do it. You know how protective he is...”

  “What if they wear their wedding rings? We could pose it so that Amy’s face is hidden or in silhouette. If she had her back to the camera and her hand on his shoulder—”

  “Her left hand, with the sparkly,” Cassie said with a nod.

  “And his left hand on her back, holding her against him.”

  “Big hand spanning that little waist, and with a wedding ring.” Cassie nodded. “We could crop Ty’s face, too, if he preferred, but I’d love it if he was looking out, too.”

  “If you paint that big fake dragon tattoo on his shoulder, no one will realize it’s him.”

  Cassie smiled. “Mr. Finance unveiled.”

  “His crowd never come so far north as Times Square anyway.”

  “You’re right. They go right past it to Connecticut.” She pursed her lips. “It would be so great. Maybe with the rings, he’d go for it.”

  “And what about you and Theo?”

  She shook her head. “I haven’t thought that far yet.”

  “But you will. You’ll come up with something awesome.”

  “You’re the one with this idea for Ty and Amy. I hope he goes for it.”

  “Tell him it was your idea.”

  She turned to look at him. “You don’t want the credit?”

  “I think a woman would have the idea of the wedding rings.”

  Cassie smiled slowly, understanding dawning in her eyes. “Which means it wasn’t your idea in the first place.”

  “No.”

  She pivoted to face him. “How many women do you discuss F5 marketing with?”

  “It was just the one,” Kyle admitted, feeling like he was on the spot.

  “One might be too much. We’re in a really competitive market, Kyle, and I know you know that...”

  “It was Lor. Ty’s sister. We were talking about the club and she proposed that solution. She knows Ty better than any of us, and that’s why I think it’s a good idea.”

  Cassie stared at him for way too long. “Tell me that you are not doing Ty’s sister.”

  “Didn’t you hear about her ex coming to the club Friday night?”

  “I did, but I assumed he was full of shit.” She reached up and touched his nose with a fingertip.

  Kyle winced and took a step back. “Leave it alone.”

  But Cassie leaned closer. “Are you doing his sister?”

  “I did, because she asked for it, but it’s over.” Kyle glared at his partner. “Satisfied?”

  “Not nearly,” Cassie said. “But I’m guessing you won’t tell me more.”

  “You’d be right about that,” he agreed, then spared a nod to the clock. “I’ve got a class to teach.”

  “Of course.” Cassie smiled but Kyle felt her watching him all the way out of the room. Damon was probably watching him, too. He stalked toward the weight lifting room, wanting to put his fist through something and knowing that he had to move past this sense of having been denied.

  Not seeing Lauren anymore was exactly what he wanted, he reminded himself.

  He’d better get used to it quick.

  * * *

  Marie showed up at the salon at lunch time. Lauren was sure the other woman was sick when she saw her, because there were shadows under her eyes and her skin was pale. “Are you sure you should be out of bed?” she asked and Marie forced a smile.

  “Some things have to be done,” she said enigmatically. She sat down in one of the chairs in the waiting area, landing heavily, and rubbed a hand over her brow. “If I barf again today, I will lose my mind.”

  Lauren didn’t make the obvious joke. Marie didn’t look as if she’d appreciate the humor. “Do you have the flu? Do you need to see a doctor?”

  “I’ve seen a doctor,” Marie said grimly. “This isn’t going to go away for nine months.” She gave Lauren a significant look.

  Oh.

  Lauren pulled up another chair. She knew, of course, that Marie was single. They’d never been friends but they were friendly. Lauren always figured that Marie liked to keep her private life private, which was fair enough.

  “You want to talk about it?”

  “We both know how it happens,” Marie said with a ghost of her usual humor.

  “Damn toilet seats,” Lauren said just to make her smile.

  Marie did.

  Then she made a face. “Look, there’s something I have to tell you and I’m not looking forward to it, so just let me do it, okay?”

  “Okay.” Lauren sat and waited, assuming that Marie was going to quit. She was responsible and probably worried about leaving Lauren high and dry. Ingrid could probably work more shifts and Lauren could find another part-time stylist to take the chair. She was already planning how best to manage the change before Marie spoke.

  Marie cleared her throat and kept her gaze fixed on the floor. “I never said I was sorry about you splitting up with Mark, because I actually wasn’t sorry,” she admitted in a hurry. “I always thought he was attractive, and actually—” She fidgeted. “And actually, I’d been sleeping with him for about six months when you two split up.”

  Lauren thought she must have heard wrong.

  But Marie squirmed and looked embarrassed, and she knew she hadn’t.

  A cold weight landed in Lauren’s gut.

  “Just off and on, kind of a casual thing,” Marie continued as if that made it all right. “But when you threw him out, I thought that he and I could have a future. So, he stayed at my place for two weeks.” She peeked at Lauren who couldn’t completely hide her surprise.

  Not one woman but two.

  How many others were there?

  She wondered if Marie knew about the blonde, although she doubted the blonde cared about Marie.

&
nbsp; “Until I found out that I was pregnant.” Marie released a shuddering breath. “Then he left.”

  “Ah!” That seemed to be a safe comment to make.

  “Mark wants me to terminate the pregnancy.” When Lauren didn’t say anything, Marie continued. “He says it will interfere with his career.”

  At least he was consistent about not wanting kids.

  “I believe I’ve heard that point made before,” Lauren muttered.

  “But I want this baby, and I want to be with him with this baby.” Marie gave her a hopeful look.

  “And?” Lauren invited.

  “And I wondered if you could talk to him about it, maybe convince him to do the right thing.”

  Lauren laughed. She couldn’t help it. She didn’t think Marie’s plight was amusing at all, and was more than a little horrified by Mark’s behavior, but the suggestion that she could convince her ex-husband of anything, particularly since they weren’t speaking to each other, was absurd.

  The idea that she would encourage him to make a commitment to another woman when he’d failed to keep one to her was nuts.

  It wasn’t a happy laugh. It was more bittersweet.

  Maybe she was laughing at herself for having been so blind as to believe for three years that her marriage had any merit at all.

  Laughing was better than crying.

  “It’s not funny!” Marie fumed. “If you’d ever been pregnant, you’d know...”

  Lauren cut her off. “What’s funny is that you slept with Mark and conceived his child while I was still married to him, and that you want me to fix this mess for you.” She pushed to her feet. “I think we’re done here, aren’t we?”

  “No! I need your help.”

  “You’re not getting it.”

  Marie appeared to be startled. “But you always do the responsible thing.”

  “What you’re asking wouldn’t be responsible, not by a long shot.”

  Marie snatched at her hand. “Don’t you want to make things right for Mark’s baby?”

  Lauren shook off her touch, a little bit repulsed. “No. In fact, I’m done with fixing things. I’m being honest and having fun instead.” She propped her hands on her hips. “So, here’s honest for you, Marie: you made your own trouble. You had an affair with a married man and didn’t use contraception or compel him to do so. It’s up to you to find a solution. It’s also up to you whether you continue to work here or not.” She tapped her wrist. “My next appointment is due any second. I’d better get her color ready.”