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Chapter Four

Kay

For the second time in only a week she was out late, not in bed, and not in her sleep pajamas.

Her heels made a little click click as she walked into the venue that was housing Heather’s fundraising event, and she had to resist the urge to tug at the straps of her bodice. She didn’t often wear dresses, and certainly not ones that were so limited in the fabric department.

But after the disastrous date with Garret, she’d wanted to feel sexy.

So, she’d ditched her glasses, put in contacts, and squeezed into her best pushup bra.

Paired with the long navy chiffon gown and she’d pulled her own teen movie makeup montage. The point was that Kay could be glam when she had to—or in this very rare case, when she wanted to.

Garret Williams could just stick that up his incredibly yummy ass. Which was so not the point, but still a nice thought.

Who was the cow now?

Hmph. He’d even had the nerve to send her flowers and expect her to accept his apology for being a jerk.

And chocolates, her brain reminded her. And a gorgeous journal and pen. And—

“Enough,” she growled.

“Are you all right?”

The college-aged boy running the coat check gave her a concerned look, and Kay realized she’d paused in the middle of taking off her jacket and was talking to herself.

Aloud. In public.

Yup. That was absolutely perfect.

Sighing, she forced the frown lines between her brows to relax and curved her lips up into a smile.

“I’m fine.” She shoved the coat at him, mentally promised that she’d give him a big tip for being weird later then hurried off with a cheery, “Thank you!”

“Get it together, Hart,” she muttered under breath once she was out of earshot. “You’ll go in there, say hello, have a bite to eat, a drink, stick around the requisite amount of time, then GTFO.”

Feeling better after reminding herself of her plan, Kay lifted her chin and walked through the double doors. Inside, the ballroom had been filled with round tables. They were adorned with gleaming white tablecloths, glittering candles, and gorgeous floral displays.

Each table had a different theme, and the accessories—flowers, vases, and other decorations—had been carefully selected to fit in with that theme.

How did Kay know all of that, just by striding through the door?

Well, the proceeds from tonight’s benefit were going to a local literacy charity and because of Kay’s experience in publishing, Heather had sicced her assistant Rachel on her. Together they’d selected a different genre of book for each table before going crazy with theming the items.

Kay hadn’t minded, however.

The one thing she’d never been able to get enough of was books, and getting to arrange an entire party around the love of her life?

She couldn’t lie. It had been the most fun she’d had in ages.

Besides the silent and live auctions, all the centerpieces would be sold. And she had her eye on table ten, which held the historical romance wares. Kay wanted that early edition of Pride and Prejudice, dammit, and she didn’t care who she had to take down in the process of getting it.

Heather walked by her then did a double take, jaw falling open.

“Kay?” She stopped, backed up a few feet. “Holy shit. You look amazing! That dress is incredible.”

“Thanks—”

Clay, Heather’s husband, walked up. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but—Kay?” he exclaimed. “Wow. That’s a beautiful color on you.”

Kay blushed. That was the reaction she’d wanted from getting dressed up, of course, but she wasn’t used to people noticing the way she looked. Still, she was going to take the confidence booster and leave it at that.

Look at her, all mature and shit.

“Go do what you need to do,” she told Heather. “I’m going to grab a drink. Are we still sitting together? Or did you bump me for someone more important?”

Heather grinned. “Would I do that to my favorite author?”

“For more donations?” Kay asked. “I would hope so.”

“And that”—Heather squeezed her arm—“is why you’re a good friend. I’ll see you later. Table ten.”

Kay waved before heading to the bar.

Once there, she ordered her normal Cosmo before leaning back against the bar top to look around the room.

Rachel had worked her magic, turning what could have been a bland ballroom into a really beautiful event.

And, though she’d only played a small part in it with the tables, Kay had to admit she was proud of her contribution.

“Here you are,” the bartender said.

She turned around, tipped him, and then returned to leaning against the bar, only this time with her Cosmo in hand.

Yeah, she thought as she took a sip, that was so much better.

“This must be up your alley.”

Kay froze, martini glass at her lips, eyes darting to her left.

She knew that voice.

And the last time she’d heard it, he’d been calling her a cow.

Okay, not exactly the last time , but taking a little creative license now and then was kind of her thing.

Garret mirrored her position, leaning against the bar as his eyes trailed down and back up. “You look incredible ,” he said, lifting a bottle of beer to his lips.

Kay sucked in a breath and nearly choked on her drink. But, hot damn, there was something about a man who drank straight out of a bottle. No fancy glass or prissy cocktail, but a man’s man who drank and fucked and—

Apparently, she’d gone too long without writing a true alpha.

Because Garret screamed alpha, especially in that form-fitting suit that showed off his broad shoulders and lean hips and, fuck, but his thighs. There weren’t any chicken legs in sight because Garret had great thighs.

Kay’s mind drifted for a minute, imagined those thighs shoving hers apart as he thrust home. Or maybe her straddling him, riding them both to completion. Or maybe—

She coughed again and then almost choked for a second time when hot, calloused fingers brushed the bare skin of her back.

Had she mentioned that her dress was backless?

A fact that Kay was simultaneously thrilled and dismayed about in that moment.

“Are you okay?” Garret asked, the brush turning into a gentle pat as she coughed. He snagged her glass from her hand, set it on top of the bar.

She nodded, slowing her breathing as she attempted to not cough up a lung.

“Fine,” she eventually managed to rasp. “Thank you.”

“Sorry if I startled you.” Chocolate eyes met hers. “And I’m sorry for the other night. I was an asshole.”

Her lips parted as a surprised breath slipped out.

An apology? No qualifications, no excuses? Just sorry?

Fingertips brushed her spine again. “I didn’t want to be there, and I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. Further that, what I said was—”

Except, Kay had stopped listening after I didn’t want to be there .

She’d waited an hour for the man, missed out on her beet salad and chocolate soufflé for a jerk who hadn’t even wanted to come in the first place.

She’d gotten out of her daytime pajamas for the man.

What. The. Fuck?

The callous fingers on her bare skin lost their appeal, the intimate fantasies speeding through her brain faded away.

“—completely inappropriate and wrong and—”

“I’ll have you know—” she started to say before stopping and shaking her head. This man would never get it. “You know what? Never mind. Thanks for the apology. Have a nice life.”

She grabbed her glass, started to turn away.

“Wait.” He snagged her wrist, causing her cocktail to slosh over the rim of the cup, splashing all along her arm. “Shit.” Still holding on to her, he turned for the bar, snagged some napkins from the pile and held them out to her. “Sorry.”

“Lot of that going around,” she muttered, slipping free of his grip and wiping her arm. She’d need to go to the bathroom to wash it, otherwise she’d be walking around with a sticky hand all night.

Snorting inwardly at that thought—sticky hand, te-he-he —Kay dropped the wad of napkins back onto the bar and lifted her chin. “Goodbye, Garret.”

“Wait,” he said again, though this time he didn’t grab her.

“No, I don’t think I will.” She whipped around.

He darted around her, stepping right in front of her and forcing her to skid to a stop on her heels. And fuck, because she really didn’t want him to, but he smelled amazing.

“I’m fucking this up.”

“Ding. Ding. Ding.” She took a step to the side and he mimicked the movement. “For God’s sake, why won’t you leave me alone?”

Garret winced. “Because I’m not normally an asshole.”

“Well,” she grumbled. “Reiterating the fact you didn’t want to go on a date with me at all certainly isn’t the way to prove that.”

“I—” He sighed. “That’s not what I meant.”

Kay rolled her eyes. “I mean, I got that loud and clear simply by the fact that you didn’t show up.”

“I—”

“Then there’s the small factor of the bovine reference to my appearance and making fun of my career.”

“I—”

“So, yeah, you’re not batting that high of an average with the whole not asshole thing.”

“I read your book.”

Kay froze, pulse speeding up.

“I liked it. A lot.”

She bit her lip, felt his gaze lock onto the spot, and though she’d written about it in many of her books, imagined it in her author brain plenty of times, Kay had never actually experienced the sensation of a simple look creating such a tangible feeling.

It. Was. Incredible.

She could feel his eyes, could actually feel her blood shift, moving toward her lips, plumping them, making them tingle.

Her tongue darted out and his chocolate stare heated, going molten until she could almost sense that melted sweetness dripping down her spine.

He leaned down. Her breath caught.

“I really am sorry.”

Just like that, the spell was broken . . . or if not broken exactly, then at least she’d regained a few of her senses.

Kay stepped back and glared at him. Why was he pushing this? Because she didn’t believe for one second that he was truly sorry. Sorry he got caught, maybe. Sorry his asshole move might jeopardize—

“Don’t worry,” she said, clarity finally hitting her brain. “I know that Heather is your investor. I won’t do anything to change that.”

He waved a hand. “That’s not why I’m apologizing. Yes, I’m in business with Heather. Yes, it would be a blow to lose her investment, but this isn’t my first rodeo. I’d figure it out.”

“Great. Well, kudos to you.” She blew out an exasperated breath when she tried to step around him, only to be blocked by him again. “What?” she snapped and poked a finger into his chest. “What’s so special about me that you’re pushing this?”

He caught her hand, and Kay bit back a gasp at the spark of desire that shot through her at the simple contact. “I—” He shook his head. “I don’t know.”

And then he was close again. Too close.

Not close enough.

She swallowed hard, heart pounding in the back of her throat, breaths coming in rapid inhalations.

He was going to kiss her.

Oh God. Did she want him to? He was such an ass—

He’d apologized. Seemed to genuinely mean it . . . or at the least was very determined that she believe it.

Garret brushed back a strand of her hair. “I’m not going to say anything,” he told her. “Every time I do, I stick my foot in my mouth.”

“You’re saying something right now.”

His lips curved. Her thighs clenched.

Shit. Shit. She . . . wanted his mouth to slant across hers.

“You’re beautiful.” One hand gently cupped her cheek. “And I’m so, so sorry.”

More words, but she wasn’t hearing them because he was coming closer, warm breath on her cheek . . . on her forehead.

He pressed a gentle kiss there before straightening, meeting her no doubt surprised eyes with warm chocolate ones. “I hope someday you’ll give me a chance to prove that I’m not usually an ass.”

Then he reached behind her, making her breath catch all over again and picked up a glass.

Somehow during all of the apologizing, he’d managed to order her another Cosmo. Her anger eased, not gone completely, but tempered, along with her hurt feelings.

Maybe he wasn’t so bad after all.

Carefully, he handed over the drink.

“You didn’t drug this, did you?” she blurted.

A raised brow. “Will it get you to accept my apology?”

She shook her head. “Not a chance.”

“Damn.” Garret smirked. “Not my speed, sweetheart.”

She eyed the drink then him.

“I’m happy to pay for a fresh one if you want to watch the bartender mix it up.”

Kay bit her lip, watched his eyes heat and drift to that spot again. “No,” she said, trying to pretend she wasn’t breathless. “That’s okay.”

One more brush of his fingers, this time along the outside of her arm and making her shiver. “I’ll see you later.”

And then he was gone, taking the rest of her anger along with him.

Maybe she was a pushover who forgave too easily.

But . . . maybe she wasn’t.