I didn’t sleep well that night. I spent most of it wandering around my apartment, remembering how Kyle had looked when I’d finally snapped. He didn’t deserve that, even if he was playing around on Natasha. It was his life to live, however he wanted. My own baggage was weighing me down.
Still, I felt guilty for kissing him. Or for letting him kiss me. We shared the responsibility, and I wouldn’t have blamed Natasha if she’d been furious with me. Because no matter what I’d said to her outside the house, I thought about Kyle more often than I dared admit. He’d been right. I did want him. The idea that he might also want me was like salt in a wound; a wound I’d been carrying around for months.
It was time to put on my big girl panties and move on.
Which would have been a whole lot easier if Adam hadn’t kept calling me. After the third, pointless conversation that week, I’d started ignoring his calls. But as I sat there in my apartment, licking my wounds and vowing to avoid any further entanglement with Kyle Chase, my phone rang. It was Adam. Again. If I hadn’t already been feeling like a bit of a heel, I never would have picked up.
“Hello, Adam.”
“Hey, Firecracker,” he said. He was drunk. I could hear sounds of a party going on in the background. “How’s my girl?”
I rubbed my forehead. “I’m not your girl, Adam,” I said tightly. Why had I picked up the phone? “And you’re drunk. Go home.”
“It ain’t home without you, baby.” He sang the words, and my heart cracked a little. His voice was as smooth and rich as I remembered. “Why don’t you come over and make me feel good?”
Feel good? I hadn’t felt good around him in just this side of forever. I stiffened.
“Never again, Adam,” I said sharply, and hung up. He called me back almost right away, but I turned my phone to silent mode and tossed it on the cardboard box next to my bed. Furniture hadn’t been in my budget when I’d moved in here.
I threw myself back on the mattress and stared at the ceiling. How would Natasha feel if she knew I’d had sex with her boyfriend? She’d probably kill me. I’d certainly wanted to strangle some of the groupies that draped themselves over Adam. But it wasn’t entirely their fault. As the old saying goes, it takes two to Tango.
I rubbed my forehead again. I had to be mature about this, and apologise as soon as I had the chance. To Kyle first, and then – if I could summon up the bravery – to Natasha. She didn’t deserve it any more than I had.
I finally managed to fall asleep by three. Which, of course, made me late getting to Kyle’s the next morning. I dashed up to the front door just as the clock struck nine. Despite Walter’s insistence, Kyle still hadn’t given me a key to the house. I wasn’t going to press the point, though. His staff was always around, and I didn’t want to invade his privacy. If he hadn’t given his own manager a key, there had to be a reason, right?
Arthur answered the door before I even had the chance to knock. How did he do that?
“Miss Reid,” he said drily. “Mr Chase is upstairs.”
Wow, still? After the weekend, when he’d been up and dressed and waiting for me, I thought maybe it would become the new normal. I guess old habits really do die hard.
“I’ll go wake him up,” I said, and headed for the stairs.
“No, Miss Reid.” I glanced back at Arthur. He closed the door and turned to me. “I believe he’s in the office.”
Kyle was in the office, sitting in one of the leather chairs that suited the décor so well. This room was nothing like his bedroom; it was warm and inviting, and looked as though it would be a wonderful place to have a glass of wine at the end of a long day. The small loveseat that sat against the back wall faced a modestly-sized television wedged into a mahogany bookcase, and I wondered if the sofa was as comfortable as it looked.
Kyle was reading something, clasping a piece of wrinkled, cream-coloured paper lightly between his fingers. His writing was scrawled across the back, and I had to suppress a laugh. For all that he teased me about still using a traditional day planner, the man was as low-tech as I was when inspiration hit.
I paused in the doorway, and he looked up and smiled at me.
“Hey, doll,” he said, his voice warm and friendly. As if I hadn’t snapped at him the night before. As if nothing had happened.
“Hi,” I said carefully. “Are those the interview questions?”
“Yep.” He held up the rumpled piece of paper. “I’m so ready for this shit. You’ll be impressed.” He grinned. He’d shaved, and I realised that I hadn’t actually seen him with a smooth face. Ever. It looked good on him, and I felt my heart beating a little faster. And then the guilt came crashing down again.
I laughed weakly. “I’m sure you’ll do fine, Kyle,” I said. I glanced around the room. He’d already drawn up the second chair so that it faced him. There was nothing for me to do. “I’ll leave you alone to look over the questions.”
He shook his head, his blonde hair spilling into his eyes. “No,” he said, and crooked a finger at me. “Come here.”
I hesitated, then crossed the room and stood beside him. He lifted himself up off the chair and leaned down to whisper in my ear.
“I just made you come with one finger,” he said softly. “Imagine what I could do with my whole hand.”
I blushed deeply and shoved him, and he landed back in the chair, laughing.
“You’re a brat,” I said, but I couldn’t suppress my smile.
He grinned up at me and ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah, but I’m your brat,” he said, and winked.
There was a sudden ache in my chest. Mine? He had to be joking.
“You’ve come a long way since Walter hired me,” I said, dropping myself into the empty chair. “I’m pleased with your progress.”
He inclined his head. “Thanks, doll. I learned from the best.”
I snorted softly, and he grinned again.
“How long is this thing supposed to last, anyway?” he asked, crumpling the list of questions and tossing it into the garbage. Direct hit. If he ever wanted to give up rock music, he might make a decent basketball player.
I glanced at my watch. Not that I needed to, but it was more habit than anything.
“An hour, I think,” I said. “It depends how long you keep her talking.”
“Her?” He frowned. “Oh, fuck, not another woman.” He gazed at the ceiling. “God save me from all these women in my life.”
I hid a smile behind my hand. “You’ll survive, lover boy,” I said, and he looked back at me and winced. I hadn’t missed Natasha’s little term of endearment. It was kind of a low blow, and I reminded myself that I was supposed to be apologising later. “What’s an hour in the scheme of things?”
He chuckled. “It’s an hour I could spend with you,” he said softly, and I looked away, trying not to blush. “Speaking of an hour, where were you this morning?” He leaned forward, his arms on his knees. “I missed my wake-up call.”
I shook my head. “No more wake-up calls, Kyle,” I said, standing up. I looked down at him. “You don’t need me in the mornings any more.” I’d chosen the words carefully, but he still found a way to use them against me.
“Bullshit,” he whispered. He grabbed my wrist and pulled me closer. “I’ll always need you in the mornings, Charlie.”
I swallowed thickly. This was seriously complicating my plans to apologise for coming between him and Natasha. And my extended plan to avoid any possible romance with him.
There was a faint knock from downstairs.
“That’s my cue to leave,” I said, lifting my eyebrows slightly. I gave him a wry smile. “You can let go now.”
He shook his head, his intense blue eyes focused on mine. “No.” His fingers tightened around my wrist. “I’m never letting go.”
My cheeks were burning again. “Kyle,” I started, but Arthur knocked on the open door. Kyle frowned past me.
“Miss Reid; Mr Chase. Ms Rita Mitchell has arrived.” He stood aside and the reporter bustled in. She was a warm-looking woman of indeterminate age, with beautiful chestnut brown hair and glasses almost like mine. I smiled at her and tugged my arm from Kyle’s grasp.
“Ms Mitchell,” I said, extending my hand. “I’m Kyle’s assistant, Charlotte Reid.”
She beamed at me. “Oh, like the spider?”
I forced myself to keep the smile on my face.
“Yes,” I said. “Like the spider.” I gestured to the empty chair. “Please have a seat.” I glanced down at Kyle, who was still watching me with that intense look. “I’ll stay for a few minutes, but then I have some things to do downstairs.”
I could practically see Kyle’s bullshit meter going off. But it wasn’t as though he could argue with me while a reporter was in the room, right?
Rita sat down and pulled out a foolscap notepad, and I had to stifle a laugh. Another person who preferred paper over a tablet. This would drive Kyle nuts.
I’d only planned to stay for the first couple of questions, just to make sure Kyle was behaving himself. I wanted to escape his presence, and my own embarrassment at having blown up at him the night before. And I needed to go over the words of my apology. Despite my lofty goal, I still hadn’t decided exactly what to say.
The interview was going smoothly, and I was about to leave the room when Rita asked him a question that stunned me.
“So, Kyle,” she began, studying him closely. “We’ve heard that you and Tasha White split up about six months ago.” I stared at Rita, who had her pen poised over her notepad. “Is there anyone new in your life?”
That slow, sexy smile started on Kyle’s face, and he looked past Rita, straight at me.
“Yeah,” he said softly. “I’ve had someone on my mind for a few months.” He glanced back at Rita and chuckled. “But I’m still trying to get her to notice me.”
I couldn’t hear what Rita said in reply. All I heard was the pounding of my heart and the rush of blood through my veins.
I ducked out of the room and fled down the stairs.
Now what was I supposed to say?