Chapter Thirty-Five

Annabel

Beau was sorry for a few minutes. After that we were tangled under the sheets. It was a long time before both of us were spent. I took the longest—no surprises there. I thought I was done, but one stroke of his fingertips between my legs, and surprise, I was not done.

We had enough energy left to shower afterward. I slipped into a fresh tank and shorts from one of his closet drawers. Beau will swear to me that there’s no pressure, but he has a drawer full of my clothes, in case. I can’t tell if it’s Beau or if all rich men do this kind of thing. Who knows? They might not be for me. They could a collection of clothes for dates who sleep over.

No, that’s not true. I know they’re for me. They’re my size. My brand, even.

Beau falls asleep right away, curled toward me. His face is the picture of relaxation. All is forgiven.

It’s completely forgiven.

I don’t begrudge him having to work late at night.

Unless it wasn’t a late night at work. Unless he had somewhere more important to be, with someone who isn’t exactly a colleague.

Kinsey comes to mind.

It’s crazy to imagine this. He wouldn’t come home from a night with another woman—especially not Kinsey—ravenous for me like he was.

Would he?

I press my face into the pillow and breathe in the scent of him. Clear the mind. Clear the heart. This is ridiculous. A man like Beau Bennett is not one for cheating.

Still, we haven’t had a conversation about being exclusive. We’ve never said exactly those words out loud to each other. And why would we? We met by happenstance, a random collision, and that does not make a real relationship. Not with me. He does need someone like Kinsey. Someone graceful and blonde who can rub elbows with all the other rich people they know.

I roll over and wriggle back against him. He stirs, then settles in with an arm around my waist. Within minutes his breathing is steady and slow.

The sound washes over me, deep and peaceful. My thoughts flow with the rhythm of it, coming and going, coming and going. I can’t believe my mother. It’s time to go. I don’t want to go. It’s okay to stay. Jump in with both feet and then back out. The sweet spot is running out. Make a move. Make a move.

Eventually they shift and turn. Doesn’t it feel nice here in his arms? It feels so nice. So safe. Go to sleep. Go to sleep. It’s late.

*****

Beau’s ringing phone jolts me out of a dream. In it I am fourteen years old, and my mother and I are at Disney World. It’s the first and only time she’s taken me to a place like Disney World, and I am sick with love for it. I’ve never been to a place where everything is so shiny. There are no sharp edges. Every mess is swept up as soon as it hits the ground. The worst that happens is that a ride closes for an hour, and all around us are people whose job it is to smile and soothe and be there every step of the way.

In the dream I lose my mother. She presses ten dollars into my palm and tells me to choose one of the hats I’ve been lusting after since the dawn of time. When I’ve bought it, black and classic, I come out onto the sidewalk.

She is nowhere to be found.

There are hundreds of people, but none of them are her.

The sun beats down on the theme park and everyone in it, and I clutch the plastic bag in my hand, my heart in my throat. I know she is gone—and not gone from the park, but gone so far away I will never be able to find her again. I circle the park again and again, until my feet ache, but she’s not there. She’s not anywhere.

Finally I find a person in a uniform whose face changes every time I look at her. “My mother,” I say as if she will know who my mother is among this crowd.

“One minute, sweetheart,” she says. The phone on her belt is ringing with a buzz that shakes me all the way down to my core, a vibration that’s too big for the size of the phone.

“Are you going to answer that?” I ask her.

She smiles, and the ringing gets louder, then louder again, until I surface with a gasp.

Beau is leaping into action at the same time, snatching his phone from the bedside table. “Bennett,” he says, sounding crisp and alert. You would never know he’d been sleeping. I’m impressed. “All right. I’ll be there in half an hour.”

He looks distracted as he throws himself out of bed and runs a hand through his hair. Then he looks at me curled under the comforter. Why should I bother getting up, honestly? “Sweetheart,” he says, a smile lighting up his face. “Join me in the shower?”

Yes, please.

I follow him into the bathroom. Beau keeps things relatively snappy, right up until I catch him on the way to rinse his hair and press my lips against his.

His erection is instant, or he was pointedly ignoring it, and he groans. “Annabel, I can’t. I have to work.”

“All day?” I murmur into his ear, the stream from the showerhead hot on my back. “Escape with me this afternoon. I—I need it, Beau.” It’s a dirty trick, and I know it, but it’s also true.

He pulls back, frowning. “Won’t you be busy all day at the Pearl? Opening night is in a week.”

The smile I put on is shaky. “Actually . . .” His eyes are on my face, and his frown deepens. “That gig is over. It turned out to be even more temporary than I thought.”

Beau draws in a breath so deep I wonder if it’s going to be a sigh. He reaches for my face and bends down to give me a soft kiss. “If you don’t want to go to your suite today, there’s no need. Stay here. I’ll send the cook.” He kisses me again. “I’ll be back this afternoon.”