Chapter Fourteen
From Natalie’s rules for Foster Boyd, v1
Rule #9: There are people you do not like out there. There are a lot of people who do not like you, whether for your money, your power, or your perceived wrongdoings. You can’t change their minds, so wasting your time trying is just that—a waste. When faced with someone who doesn’t like you, instead of a public confrontation, try to change the venue to private. Or do not bother at all. There is no way to make everyone like you, so just work on walking away.
After the experiment the night before, Natalie felt loose limbed and beautiful. The sun on her head was warm, the skies were blue, and all in all, it was the perfect day. She breathed in the salty smell of the air and listened to the waves, in her own personal heaven.
Foster had been so passionate, so lost and out of control the night before. It sent a little buzz of arousal straight to her clit just imagining the way he’d maintained his white-knuckled grip on the chair. Then, remembering the way he’d growled, “Let me touch you,” right at the end? Right before he fell on her like he couldn’t stop himself, that iron control of his shattered? She was turned on just remembering it.
He’d held her. Cherished her. They really had something going. She might even be falling in love with the man. Not that she planned to tell him about it, but it was a distinct possibility. The thing was, it wasn’t just the sex. It wasn’t just that he was so different from any man she’d ever met. It was the feel of his breath on her neck while he slept. The sound of his voice when he made love to her. That telling tremble, when he lost control as much as she did. And the tenderness, which was new, that was often in his eyes when he looked at her. It was some magical combination of all of it, summed up together, that just might be love. Maybe.
Was she sure it was love? No. Was she willing to stick around and figure it out? Hell yes.
And when she’d heard he’d headed to the beach for a walk, her first thought was to find him. Then boink him. In whatever perverted way he wanted, she just needed to be near him again.
The last person Natalie planned to encounter on the beach was Margo Welles. The woman was sprawled on the sand, her famous face turned up toward the sky, expensive glasses hiding her eyes. Immediate fury filled Natalie, and she had to stop and take cleansing breaths to resist running at her full throttle and…
What? Yelling at her? Why, for not caring about the fact that her little secret—her ten-year-old secret—had crushed Natalie’s career?
Yeah, it wasn’t a good move and if it had been one of her clients, she would have advised just that. Walk it off.
But what really had her blood boiling was the fact that the person kneeling next to Margo was none other than Natalie’s current client and lover, Foster Boyd.
What in the ever-loving hell was he doing talking to that woman?
Then it clicked. The tits. The goddamned tits. She recognized those breasts, now covered with a crocheted bikini top that probably cost a fortune. She’d seen them before. Not in a movie or in a photo in a magazine, but on the internet.
In a sext to none other than Foster Boyd, leaked when he’d lost his phone.
The person who Foster was sexting a few months ago was Margo Welles. Natalie was sure of it, regardless of what her rational mind might want to believe, and it made her want to rip every last hair out of the other woman’s head.
Margo tilted back her sunglasses, peeking up at Foster, before sitting slowly, practically offering up those giant breasts like a buffet.
And Foster?
He licked his lips, clearly enjoying the view.
But if he was sexting her months ago, way before he met Natalie, wouldn’t he have been done with her at that point? He didn’t do seconds, right? That was his rule.
Except it wasn’t his rule anymore. It used to be his rule, before Natalie. But who was to say that the game hadn’t changed?
Spinning, she planned to run back to the hotel. And what? Call Harper? Pack her stuff and go? What was her game plan? After all, as she told her clients, having a game plan was pivotal if you wanted success.
But she didn’t make it far anyway, slamming into a broad and muscular chest.
“Hey,” said Connor, catching her arms and holding her in place. “I was just coming down to talk to you, Natalie, and…” He glanced over her head and shook his head. “I’m going to guess I can’t hide that from you, because you already saw too much based on your expression, right?”
She couldn’t answer. She was so mad that tears threatened. She just shook her head no and bit her lip, hard. She couldn’t cry. Wouldn’t cry over him. He didn’t deserve it, not if he left her side to go meet up with the woman who ruined her career on the beach.
“Come on,” Connor said. “Let’s get you out of here.”
His hands were sure as he guided her to the boardwalk and then back toward the parking lot. She still couldn’t find words, even to explain why it upset her so much. They were just talking, after all. For all she knew, he could be discussing with Margo the best ways to help Natalie fix her reputation and get her business back on track after the dual scandals.
Yeah, right, a little voice in her head snarled. Because they both knew when the sexting thing blew up exactly whose breasts those were all over the place, yet neither of them said a word to save your reputation, but they were starting today? On a beach, alone, while Foster licked his lips because he was gazing at Margo’s insanely perfect breasts.
Which were probably fake anyway, the angry part of her added. Not that she had a problem with fake breasts, but it would be so fitting if the woman who lived a lie—America’s sweetheart, my ass!—had fake assets to go with her web of lies.
Fake tits or not, Foster sure seemed to appreciate them.
Dammit. “Where are you even taking me, Connor?” she asked him.
“Away,” Foster’s twin promised. “To gather yourself. You’re safe with me. We need to talk.”
“I’m sick of talking to Boyds,” Natalie said, tugging her arm free when he tried to help her into the car.
“Then you can listen,” he answered, his cool gray eyes going even colder somehow.
“I’m even sicker of listening to Boyds,” she retorted.
“Get in the damn car, Nat, before I shove you in. I need to get you away from here before he sees you and before you burst into tears. Just listen for once, please.”
A camera glinted and Natalie heard the unmistakable sound of a shutter click. “Oh god, not now,” she muttered, ducking into the car.
“Told you,” Conner said, crawling into the opposite seat in the limo. “We don’t look for the press. They find us. And at the most inconvenient and easily misconstrued moments.”
Glancing through the window, she tried to see the beach. To spot Foster among all the people. To see if he was kissing the model or if he’d left her side to look for Natalie.
But he never even knew she was there, did he? Because he’d been too busy staring at Margo’s breasts. The tears erupted, and when they did, Connor crossed the space between them and gave her the shoulder to cry on that she needed.
Just as he’d promised her when he warned her about how she was making a mistake in the first place.