thirteen
KING WALKED THROUGH the nearly empty lobby of the office building where Kingman Partners was located. At four thirty in the morning on a Tuesday, the place would remain deserted until the eight o’clock rush. He acknowledged the security guard at the front desk, bypassed the elevators, and went straight for the stairs.
Groggy from lack of sleep, he needed to get his blood pumping—and banish the images that had plagued him most of the night. He’d had that nightmare again about standing in an empty room. All of a sudden, the walls had started tumbling down around him. But once again, as it had since he and Sophie had worked in his home office last week, the bad dreams had morphed into a dream about Sophie. She’d lain naked underneath him with her legs wrapped around his waist. An expression of sheer pleasure had covered her flushed face as he’d cupped her ass and glided into her. Even though it was a dream, it had felt too real. He’d awakened covered in sweat with his hand pumping his cock.
He exited the stairwell. Just thinking about the wall dream made him uneasy. Did it have something to do with the accident? Sometimes, when he couldn’t fully recall something, it did seem as if the blank walls of his mind were closing in on him. Chilled air cooled the heat building up under his gray pin-striped suit. He had no clue where the fantasy of having sex with Sophie had come from, but that was one thing he didn’t need on his mind. Lately, he couldn’t control his thoughts around her. Luckily for him, she’d taken the morning off. To please Aiden and the doctors, he’d given in to spending just five hours a day at the office. The only good part of that was that he wouldn’t see her when she arrived at noon.
A light shone from Aiden’s office at the end of the hall on the right. Inside, Aiden sat at his solid oak desk, frowning at the computer screen. His brother had acquired a golfer’s tan in Naples, but he appeared haggard. His leather overnight bag tossed on the square wood table in the conference area of the office, along with his rumpled blue polo and the strong scent of coffee, indicated he’d probably come straight from the airport and worked all night.
King rapped on the doorjamb. “Welcome home. Glad to see you survived Florida.” He unbuttoned his suit jacket and dropped into the brown leather chair in front of the desk.
Aiden pecked at the keyboard. “Barely. What about you. You adjusting to being back at work?”
“I guess.”
“Head bothering you?”
“Sort of.” King straightened a silver cuff link and smoothed his gray-and-blue geometric tie. If anyone knew the answer to the question that nagged him, Aiden would. “Have Sophie and I ever hooked up?”
Aiden stared at him. “No.”
“Are you sure?”
“Where’s this coming from?”
“I keep having dreams about her. They’re pretty damn explicit.”
“Oh?” Aiden leaned back in the chair. “The doctors said you might experience confusion, especially if you’re struggling to remember.”
“This is more than confusion. I can’t concentrate when I’m around her. When I’m not, I’m fantasizing about her.” No longer able to tolerate the confines of the chair, King paced. “Why would I even think about her in that way?”
“First, she’s an attractive woman. Second, sex is the way you usually blow off steam. Third, she’s the only woman you’ve been around lately. Without your usual woman-a-week schedule, it makes sense that there’s some transference going on.”
“I don’t sleep with a different woman every week.”
Aiden shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. The point is, you need to get laid. And not by Sophie.” He huffed out a laugh. “Not that you could be with her.”
“Why not?”
“She’s the type you plan to have a future with, not casually fuck. She’s not interested in becoming one of your castoffs any more than you’re interested in commitment.”
Truth twisted into King like a knife. “No. I’m not cut out for that.”
“Look. Call one of your exes. Hook up with her and move on.” Aiden turned back to the computer. “After that, I guarantee you’ll stop thinking about having sex with Sophie.”
King released a long exhale and unlocked the door to the condo. The weekend had finally arrived. The concierge at the desk had said he’d let Tina in less than an hour ago. If Aiden’s theory was correct, after tonight his sexual dreams about Sophie would stop torturing him.
He stepped into the entryway.
The strains of a popular, slow R&B song filled the space, and the scent of succulent food wafted through the air.
A pretty, short-haired brunette emerged from the kitchen carrying a bottle of beer. She grinned. “You’re right on time.”
As Tina strode across the foyer in her bare feet, hip-hugging skinny jeans formed to her long legs. The hem of her blue halter top skimmed high on her small waist. “Hope you don’t mind I made myself at home while I waited for you.” She leaned against his chest and looked up. Her coy smile was a silent invitation for a kiss.
He smoothed his hand over her hip to her bare lower back. Illusive images and sensations zipped through him. The rustling of fabric. The color navy. Heated skin against skin.
Tina fiddled with the buttons on his black button-down shirt. “Hey. You all right?”
“Yeah. It’s been a long day, and I’m hungry.” The same remembered words echoed in his mind, but in Sophie’s voice. When had she told him that?
“Good. Because dinner is ready.” Tina’s hazel-green eyes darkened. She pressed her lips to his. “I thought we’d enjoy the main course in the dining room and have dessert somewhere a little more intimate.”
As she rose on her toes, expecting him to resume the kiss, King slipped the beer from her hand and backed up. “Sounds great.” He drank from the bottle, but the hops with a citrus finish failed to relieve the uncomfortable dryness in his throat. He could really use a whiskey.
He took another sip. “What are we having?”
“Chicken and potatoes.”
“Did you make broccoli?” The question slipped out.
She released a sultry laugh and gave him a baffled look. “I didn’t make any of it. I grabbed a ready-made meal from the gourmet market up the street. It came with a salad. Is that okay?”
“Sure.” Hell. He liked broccoli, but not enough to demand it with a meal. What made him say it? Especially since the mention of the vegetable served with chicken and potatoes struck him as unappealing at the moment.
As Tina sauntered to the kitchen, she smiled over her shoulder. “Well, come on, then.”
He remained rooted to the spot. Dinner didn’t interest him, but she should. She had a tight, beautiful body and was willing to please him.
King struggled to imagine her naked but drew a blank. Worse, his dick sat unresponsive in his jeans. It was a minor detail. Once he took her into the bedroom and stripped off that flimsy excuse for a shirt she was wearing, he’d get in the mood.
In the kitchen, Tina bent down to take the chicken out of the oven.
A vision arose in his mind of him skimming his hands over her hips to her taut stomach, then caressing lower to part the folds of her sex and strum over her clit. She’d fight having an orgasm, but he’d stroke his fingers inside of her. Once she came, he’d flip her over and grasp low on her waist, just above the diamond-shaped birthmark above her right hip.
Tina reached back in for the potatoes. Her shirt inched up and her jeans rode lower. Smooth, unmarked, light brown skin peeked out.
No birthmark. Tina didn’t have one . . . but Sophie did. The answer hit him like a slap, and he almost dropped his beer. Maybe she’d told him she had a birthmark. That’s how he knew.
As Tina arranged square paper plates on the counter, she smiled back at him. “See something you like?”
More images of Sophie swam into the present. Her shivering in pleasure as he thrust inside of her, begging him to go harder, deeper. Hot and cold tingles covered him. Sweat prickled on his back. “I can’t stay.”
A concerned expression erased Tina’s smile. “You’re pale.” She hurried to him. “Are you in pain?”
He sat the bottle on the counter. “Tina, I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have to apologize to me for hurting.” She cupped his cheek. “How can I help?”
King took her hand. He was about to do something he’d never done. Turn down sex with an attractive, willing woman. “We both know tonight was supposed to end with us in bed. You’re beautiful, and I know saying this sounds like a bad cliché, but the problem is me, not you. For reasons I don’t know how to explain, I can’t do this.”
“I see.” She slipped her hand from his. “I thought we were both just into having a good time. I guess that’s changed.” Disappointment showed in her eyes. “I’m sure you understand why I don’t want you to call me again.”
“I do.”
She picked up a black purse from the counter and gave him a wistful smile. “Whatever’s going on, I hope you find a way to fix it. I really do.”
Later, zooming down the interstate, King barely managed to stay within the speed limit. He followed instructions from the automated voice on his phone to take the next exit and turn left.
No doubt, walking away from Tina was right. What he was about to do seemed crazy. He just needed to hear Sophie say nothing sexual had ever happened between them. Then he could chalk up those images to pure fantasy.
He pulled into a space, threw the gear in park, and got out. Sophie’s shocked expression alone would whip him down to size. Guilt over dreaming of her naked would replace his attraction to her. That’s exactly what he needed. A heaping pile of remorse.
Signs with numbers and arrows led him through the maze of duplexes in the courtyard. In the past, he’d followed her from work after a long night to make sure she’d made it safely home, but he’d never actually gone to her apartment before. King located the right door and rapped on it. Not that he had a good reason to now.
A porch light flickered on above him. He heard movement inside. What if Sophie’s roommate answered? He’d forgotten about her. Shit. What was his excuse? A lost phone number. Problems accessing the presentation from his computer.
Sophie opened the door. Devoid of makeup, hair swept back into a ponytail, and dressed in a faded green tee and jean shorts, she radiated uncomplicated beauty. “King? What are you doing here?”
He barely squashed the need to take her in his arms and went inside. “We have to talk. Is your roommate here?”
“No. Robin’s at work.” She closed the door. “Why? What’s going on?”
“When were we together?”
“Yesterday. Don’t you remember?” The genuine concern in her expression made him feel like a cross between a jerk for thinking of her sexually and a man struggling to prove his sanity.
“No. I mean yes.” He raked his hair and pulled so hard his scalp stung. “When did we sleep together?” Shock. Laughter. An emphatic denial. He braced for them.
Sophie paled. She shrugged and brushed her bangs from her forehead. Her tell. She planned to deny what happened.
No way in hell was she getting away with that. “How long ago was it? Weeks? Days? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because it didn’t mean anything.”
The fury in her eyes almost backed him up. The vivid image of her shouting his name in pleasure spurred him on. “I don’t believe you.”
“It’s the truth.”
“Prove it.” He advanced on her, closing the distance to inches between them. “Kiss me.”