six
SOPHIE’S MORNING-AFTER-SEX HIGH deflated. Could King have run out of the room any faster? What was up with that almost kiss? Had she really considered revealing her breasts to tempt him into staying? She flopped back on the bed. King’s cologne lingered on the pillows she’d so desperately clutched last night to stifle her screams of pleasure. Her skin tingled with remembrance. Had last night really happened?
She flung back the covers and stood. Foil crackled under her foot. The empty gold condom package stuck to her heel. Magnum. More like mag-DAMN. She’d orgasmed harder than she’d ever had in her life. As she peeled it off, a grin she couldn’t stop emerged. She’d supersize any future fantasies about him.
But what about their future together in the office?
Anxiety started to mushroom inside of her. She took a long breath and brought it under control. Yes, she would have preferred a conversation with him before he left about what was next, but he had meetings to attend and she had an office to run. Discussing their personal issues would have to wait until Monday. It was only Friday.
That meant she’d spend the whole weekend thinking about what happened . . . wondering what was next.
Stop. You’re obsessing.
Sophie tossed the package in the bathroom trash can. Honesty had always existed between them, and when they did talk, the respect they had for each other would lead the way.
A white bath towel that King had used hung haphazardly on the rack, but the glass-enclosed shower remained pristine. He was running late. It was probably easier for him to clean up and dress at home.
Sophie snagged the lone white towel in the linen closet and wrapped it around herself sarong-style. She preferred a little homey clutter to the condo’s immaculate, Spartan-like appearance—although she could get used to having a maid service clean up after her. With their busy schedules, she and Robin always lagged behind on housework.
She searched the two cabinets and four drawers underneath the sink counter for shampoo and body wash. Except for a roll of toilet tissue and a couple of disposable toothbrushes, the storage areas remained bare. No courtesy bottles of conditioner or lotion. That was strange. Not too long ago, Aiden had told Carol to make sure the VIP guest quarters were fully stocked at all times. Normally she would say something, but she couldn’t tell Carol about it. Aiden’s curious assistant would want to know why she’d been there. King had to have noticed the lack of amenities. He’d sort it out.
She pulled on the left top drawer, but something prevented it from opening. She yanked harder.
A tiny blue box flew out and condom packages spilled onto the floor.
She opened the drawer farther. A half dozen more condom boxes sat inside of it. Condoms definitely weren’t on the restocking list in Aiden’s memo. Disquiet and a sudden need to leave slipped through her. She put on her wrinkled dress and grabbed her things. In the living room, she hobbled on one foot, then the other, as she put on her slingbacks.
Everything in the room—from the sofas to the coffee table to the flat-screen TV to the pristine cream carpet—appeared new. She ventured farther into the living room and went through the archway on the right leading to the kitchen. So did all of the stainless-steel appliances. She centered the fake white flower arrangement in a green basket sitting on the dark marble counter. Everything was carefully staged like a VIP residence, but something about the place was off. Sophie rummaged around.
No snacks in the cabinets. A six-pack of water in the fridge instead of a selection of drinks that included bottled soda and juices.
She opened a drawer and what looked like a utility bill sat inside of it. Prickles of anxiety moved along her nape. Morbid curiosity pushed her into reading the name associated with the mailing address on the paper. Nicolas G. Kingman.
But King had a house. Why would he need a condo in the city? Unless . . . She shoved the paper back in the drawer. This couldn’t be King’s love nest. Was it? The clash between wanting to believe the best in him but comprehending the truth brought a pang of nausea to her stomach and made her heart pound.
Two hours later, after Carl had driven her home to get ready for work and to the office, Sophie sat at her desk. She stabbed delete on her computer keyboard. She’d inadvertently typed fuck palace in the draft proposal. Twice. Her morning in the penthouse apartment that had obviously belonged solely to King wouldn’t stop playing through her mind. She wasn’t a prude or ignorant to the fact that King had a past lineup of women, but did he really have to take her to where he kept only a supply of water, condoms, and disposable toothbrushes? Fuck palace. She’d typed it again. Damn it.
“Hey, you.” Robin stood at the doorway. Her pink nurse’s scrubs matched the tie in her blond ponytail. She pushed the strap of her tan leather boho purse higher on her shoulder and walked in. The large brown paper bag she carried, with the top folded down, rustled. “What’s up with the massive frown?”
“No reason in particular.” Sophie sat back in the chair, welcoming the interruption. “I’m just having a weird, crappy day.”
“I know the feeling.” Robin dropped the paper bag on the desk. “I was called in late last night to the hospital to work in Emergency. We had an influx of kids with toy parts stuck in their ears and noses.”
“Sounds like fun.” Sophie pointed to the bag. “What did you bring me?”
“Sorry. I didn’t come bearing gifts. The cute guy working the reception desk downstairs asked me to bring this up to you. He said it was a personal delivery. I left my other key ring at work. It has the mailbox key. I’m too lazy to drive back and get it. I was hoping I could borrow yours. My new debit card should be here. My old one expired, so a few of my auto pays didn’t go through.”
“No problem.” Sophie opened the right bottom drawer of her desk and retrieved the key from the key ring in her purse. She handed it to Robin.
Robin glanced at the paper sack. “Expecting anything good?”
“Not that I know of.” Sophie peeked inside the paper sack. A purple boutique bag from Meagan’s Loft held yesterday’s work clothes. “Nope, nothing special.” She set it aside. “Do you have time for coffee? I could use a minute or two of distraction.”
“Sure.” Robin settled into the burgundy chair on the wall next to Sophie’s desk and dropped her purse on the floor. “Speaking of special, where’s Mr. Hotness?”
More like Mr. Condom Central. “He’s in meetings all day.”
“No wonder you look sad. You’re going through man-candy withdrawals.”
“Not really.” Sophie snagged her half-empty cup from the desk and went to the kitchenette. Being near a source of water would come in handy when her pink bikini underwear burst into flames for telling a lie. Despite finding out she’d stayed at King’s fuck palace last night, she couldn’t hold back the memories of tangling with him in the sheets.
Sophie took a mug from the cabinet and called over her shoulder. “Two sugars? Right?”
“No, just one, and only a half cup. I need to take a nap when I get home or I’ll drop.”
“I should lay off the caffeine, too, but I’m afraid of falling asleep.” Sophie filled both mugs from the coffeemaker on the counter and stirred a teaspoon of sugar into each. She went back out.
“It must have been an interesting night.” Robin accepted the mug. “Were you with King the entire time?”
Sophie dropped into the desk chair. “Yes.” And she’d spent it enjoying him satisfying her with his hands, his mouth, and his glorious cock.
Robin paused in the midst of blowing steam from her coffee. “Are you coming down with something? You look flushed.”
Warmth poured from the V of Sophie’s peach blouse. She resisted fanning away the heat and smoothed her camel skirt. “I don’t think so.”
“You just need to get some rest. Who wouldn’t be worn-out after all the late nights you’ve been putting in? Luckily, your boss having a distractingly cute ass to stare at makes up for him acting like a slave driver.”
King had more than just a cute ass. Sophie toyed with her mug on the desk. His was muscular and had been perfect for her to grab on to as she’d shouted for him to go deeper.
“I can see where it would be hard to say no to him.” Robin sipped her coffee. “I swear. You’re a saint. Not everyone could pass the test you face every day. If I were in your shoes, I would have ended up fired for spending the day dreaming about doing him on his desk instead of doing work.” She chuckled. “Who am I kidding? I would have fucked him a long time ago. You’re smart for not sleeping with him.”
Uncontrollable coughs took over as Sophie swallowed some of her drink. Her eyes watered.
“Are you okay?” Robin went to get up.
Sophie waved her off. “I’m fine.”
“You look strange. Are you sure nothing’s wrong?”
I slept with him. The unspoken confession burned in Sophie’s throat along with the hot coffee. So much for retaining her sainthood.
The desk phone rang and the accountant’s number flashed on the view screen. “I have to take this.”
“No problem. I can’t wait to get into bed.” Robin stood and placed the mug on the desk. “I’m off for the rest of the day. See you tonight.” She waved goodbye and left.
On the phone, Sophie apologized for not sending the budget report on time. Earlier, her computer had frozen for a moment, but she could have sworn it had uploaded correctly.
An outside call came in.
She forced a smile in her voice and picked up. “Nic Kingman’s office.”
“Hello.” The woman’s genuine cheeriness made Sophie want to snarl. “My name is Tina. I’m a friend of King’s. We’ve been playing phone tag. He said I could leave a message with you.”
Tina? Who was she? Irritation built inside of Sophie and she fought to keep her tone professional. “Yes. What is it?”
“First, let him know I can join him in Atlanta, but I won’t arrive until late Saturday morning. Also, I know he has to take off on Sunday, but I’m wondering if I can stay in the suite until Tuesday? I have meetings in the area. It would be so convenient if I could.”
King had plans with another woman? Cold tingles rained over Sophie. The rest of what Tina said was lost in the white noise buzzing in her ears.
“Hello?” Tina called out over the phone. “Are you still there?”
“I’ll give him the message.” Sophie hung up.
King had already moved on to his next conquest? Had he made those plans before or after they’d spent the night together? Not that he would confess one way or the other. He didn’t feel obligated to give a play-by-play of his personal life, and it wasn’t like she had a right to know. Hurt and reality fell on Sophie like a weight. She didn’t have a claim on King. He could be with anyone he chose for a month, a weekend . . . or just one night.