Chapter Ten
From Natalie’s rules for Foster Boyd, v1
Rule #5: Something I often tell my clients is that they have to own their past. You’ve made mistakes, and the media documented them. You can’t change any of that, but you can move forward past what was done. Taking ownership gives you the power to move forward, and people respect and consider the ones who do own up to their mistakes brave. Be brave. Do not let old ghosts haunt you by simply shaking the skeletons out of the closet. It’s easy!
In the two weeks since what she liked to think of as “The Great Cell Phone Debacle,” working with the Boyd twins had been relatively uneventful. They’d stuck to her directions, and both twins were following her rules without complaint. She’d even had an inquiry from a potential client outside their company and scheduled a lunch to meet with them to hammer out details. All in all, things were going wonderfully. As far as distracting Conner…
She’d been somewhat less than successful in that endeavor, but she laid the blame for that firmly at Foster’s feet. For someone who wanted her to distract his brother, he sure did keep her busy doing anything but.
Aside from working with Foster to ensure his public statements and social media were on track, he’d given her a tidy bonus to hold a seminar for some of the corporate execs at Boyd Cosmetics. He’d also had her work one on one with their marketing team to discuss brand identity and recovery from the ad mess over Young cologne. They’d taken her Ageless idea, and were building a whole new brand that would use the scandal to further the sales rather than trying to squash the stories.
During all of it, she’d been brought to his penthouse rooms more than once to meet in the boardroom there, but she’d only been in his personal rooms a few times, and then in passing. Since they had a nine-thirty meeting planned, he’d asked her to stay in one of the rooms downstairs. The schedule he’d messaged included her joining him for breakfast before the marketing team met in his personal boardroom that day. Which was how she found herself guided inside his penthouse by a doorman. Usually, when she saw him in the morning, he was at the door waiting for her. The man seemed to run on sheer energy, so she was surprised to find herself standing in the entryway alone.
She called out his name, but no one responded, so she began to wander through the penthouse looking for him.
The penthouse was posh, but she’d expected as much from a man dubbed a prince by the media. The walls in the living room suggested he’d hired a female interior decorator or he had slightly feminine tastes. They were a slate gray, with a delicate forest pattern painted on in white. The trees swirled through the room, coming to a focal point at the creamy white ornate fireplace. A large mirror with a white frame hung above the fireplace, but it didn’t look like he’d been using it for fires. More decorative than anything else, if she could guess.
She called his name again, this time a bit louder. The couch was comfortable looking. Overstuffed, in a color almost like the gray of the walls, but a shade darker. A slight hint of blue kept her from dubbing the color charcoal. Accent pillows were situated at visually appealing points along the couch, and all in all the room invited her to sit, grab a book, get relaxed.
Still no sign of Foster. Strolling along the room, she came to a point where it opened up into a kitchen. Again, grandly appointed, as he’d clearly spared no expense on the room. The walls were darker, there, a visibly darker blue that both contrasted and worked with the colors in the living room. Cool tones, but warmed up in the dining room with rich woods. An elegant chandelier made of sparkling crystal hung low over the table. It’d be a pain to clean that, but she doubted Foster spent a lot of time cleaning his house.
She’d come to a hallway which she assumed led back to his bedroom. She didn’t know Foster well enough to go into his bedroom, she told herself. Then again, the man had put his face in her crotch. Wasn’t that bedroom visit variety acquaintanceship?
She swallowed hard. Would he be mad if she went back there looking for him? Deciding to risk it, she called his name again before pausing in an open doorway. She found Foster in his bedroom, lying on the bed, perfectly still. He was sleeping on his back, mouth slightly ajar. His chest was exposed in all its masculine beauty, but a sheet hid him from the waist down. Buffy lifted her head from her position at her master’s side and her tongue lolled out as she slowly stood, stretched, and then bounded off the bed. The dog brushed past Natalie, headed toward the rest of the house, leaving Natalie alone with a sleeping Foster. She considered Foster’s most private space, resisting from considering the man even though she wanted to stare.
There was an actual sitting room attached to his bedroom, again in that lovely shade of blue, and it was lined with bookshelves her fingers itched to explore. Another comfortable-looking couch sat in that room, this one white with dark pillows that were just a hair darker than the wall color. They were velvety looking, and she could imagine lying on that couch, her head on a fuzzy pillow, reading a book as the sun rose before she began her day. She figured that was what the designer intended—a room that invited someone to relax and rejuvenate.
She was so lost in her consideration of his space and what it said about him that when he said her name, she jumped.
His laughter had her flushing red. “You slept in,” she managed.
“The meeting was canceled, so I shut off my alarm. Didn’t you get the message?”
She scowled at him. “Clearly I didn’t. Why else would I be standing in your bedroom?”
He rose slowly from the bed, one hand holding the sheet in place at his waist in a way that was hell on her sanity. One little slip and he’d be nude. Him naked while she was fully clothed struck her as terrifically erotic and she swallowed hard, licking her lips to moisten them since her mouth had gone dry.
“I can think of a few reasons,” he responded. His smile was full of sin as he said the words, and she froze like a deer in the headlights.
She was in a room with a mostly naked Foster Boyd. And, if she was entirely honest with herself, she didn’t really want to leave. Memories of their moments in her apartment before they’d been interrupted flooded back into her mind, drowning her in possibilities and temptation. They’d made a deal, hadn’t they? One and done?
So what would it hurt if she kept standing there, hoping he’d cross the space between them?
She reminded herself that he’d said he wouldn’t be with a woman like her, that she deserved better than what he was offering. Yeah, maybe he’d done it to get the press off her back, but he should’ve done it in a nicer way or something, at least if he cared about her at all. And she deserved someone who cared… But right then—the reasons why she should scramble out of the room seemed outweighed by the very real connection sizzling between them. She could think of a few reasons to be in his bedroom, too, and none of them were innocent.
On one hand, if she gave into temptation and had sex with him, she would be a fool. He wasn’t offering her anything beyond a roll in the hay. On the other hand, wasn’t it more empowering to take what she wanted?
She was torn and didn’t say a thing. The silence stretched between them and Foster ran a hand through his hair, stretching out all of those glorious muscles. “I’m guessing by the look on your face that you can think of a few interesting reasons to be in my bedroom, too, Natalie.”
She could’ve turned around and left the room. Left his penthouse altogether. She could have very easily walked away or laughed his words off. He was joking, after all, right?
But she didn’t want to. For once, she wanted to do something wild and reckless. She wanted to be with Foster Boyd more than she wanted her next breath. So why not take what she wanted?
“I can think of a few,” she replied, sealing her fate with the playful words.
He came closer, crowding her with his strength and primal energy. She tilted her head back, meeting his hungry gaze.
“Oh, really…”
…
When Natalie called his name, he’d heard her and snapped awake. He’d just been dreaming of her, so for a second he thought he’d imagined it. But then it came again, closer this time, and he put two and two together rather quickly. She must not have gotten his message, and she had come in for the meeting.
And just like that, he became aware that she was in his space and he was naked and that he shouldn’t do a thing about those facts as they were unrelated.
But were they?
Would she come to the bedroom looking for him? What would her response be when she saw him? The temptation to see was too much for him, so he closed his eyes, listening to her progress through the house. When she’d made it as far as the bedroom, her presence woke Buffy, who’d been snoring at his side.
The dog stood and stretched, and Foster had to work really hard not to open his eyes and alert Natalie of the fact that he was wide awake. One thing was clear and had been for a while—Natalie Stolen, the image consultant he’d hired to distract Connor, was not distracting Connor.
But she was doing a helluva job at distracting him.
When she admitted she could think of a few reasons that she’d be in his bedroom, he couldn’t resist answering, “Oh, really?” when in fact he was doing a mental fist bump. This woman drove him to distraction, attracting him with her wit, her intelligence, and the memory of her taste on his tongue as she unraveled. Reaching out, he fingered one of her golden mermaid locks. Depending on which direction he moved it, it almost changed color in the light coming through his bedroom windows. Gold. Now red. Now gold.
Her hair was fascinating. She was in his space and she seemed to want to stay as much as he wanted her to stay.
When he tugged her closer, he found her soft and warm. Her arm slid around his neck, and her smile met his.
Her breathing hitched before she said softly, “Hey.”
“Hi,” he answered, dragging his hand over her hair. For curls as wild as hers, he was surprised by the softness of it under his palm. All of her was soft.
He tugged her backward onto the bed. She collapsed on top of him with a surprised little giggle. “Good morning,” he said, before capturing her nipple through her white shirt dress.
She gasped, not pulling away from him. “Well, you woke up in a good mood,” she mumbled.
“I could be in a better mood,” he told her.
“This might not be a good idea,” she whispered.
He paused, glancing up at her face as if he could see her second thoughts in the graceful curve of her cheek or the too-blue of her eyes.
“You don’t do seconds,” she reminded him.
Rolling to his side, he buried his face in her neck, smothering himself a little in the glory of her hair. He hugged her close, curving her body into his like a spoon. “So? You already knew that.”
She shoved her hair out of the way so she could twist her head to look at him. “I’m not sure if I can do this, not with that hanging over my head. I want you, but…” She trailed off, as if she wasn’t even sure what more she needed from him.
“No rules. We play it as it goes,” he offered. He’d already decided that once wouldn’t be enough with this particular woman, not that he wanted to share that. He craved her in a way that wouldn’t be satisfied that easily. Promising her more than once was more for himself than her, but it still gave him an out.
Just in case things got sticky.
“Like, you’d go back for seconds?” She looked intrigued and rubbed that sweet little ass back against him. He captured her hips with one hand, keeping her still while they negotiated.
“Maybe thirds,” he said.
“Hmm,” she answered, looking like she was considering it.
“But no commitment,” he warned her. “Don’t get attached or anything. Boyds normally don’t do seconds, but I’m not sure how much more than that I can promise you. I don’t want to lead you on.”
“Oh, Foster,” she said, rolling to cup his face in her delicate little hands. “No one can promise forever, not if they’re being honest. I’d be happy with ‘until we’re done.’”
Looking at her lovely face, he wondered how long until he could possibly be done with her? How long until the rush of acquisition wore off and he tired of the sound of her voice, her laugh.
She had a point, though. No one could promise forever. “I’m satisfied with those terms,” he told her.
She laughed, the motion making her breasts jiggle in a way that he couldn’t help but appreciate. “Damn, you do know how to talk sexy, don’t you?”
“You have no idea,” he said. With that, he began to drag the bottom edge of that teasing shirt dress up her thigh.