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She cried out against his mouth, rocked against his fingers, her mind nothing but a big pile of mush while her body convulsed.
When she finally came back down to earth, she found Brody watching her with surprising tenderness. “You’re gorgeous, Hayden,” he murmured, withdrawing his fingers and fixing her dress.
Her heart squeezed. She opened her mouth to thank him—for the compliment, the orgasm, the shoulder to lean on—but he didn’t give her the chance. “Will you let me come home with you tonight? No big deal if you say no. I just, uh, thought I’d ask.”
He was so polite, so careful, when the heat in his eyes and his unsteady breathing told her he’d probably die from arousal if she said no. But it touched her that he’d asked instead of assumed.
“If we go to the penthouse,” she began slowly, “what exactly will we do?”
A sensual twinkle filled his eyes. His voice lowered to a husky pitch as he said, “Well, I noticed there’s a removable showerhead in the master bathroom.”
She burst out laughing. “Do you make it a habit of scoping out the shower when you use other people’s bathrooms?”
“Who doesn’t?”
9
A FEW DAYS LATER Hayden was standing outside the lavish ten-bedroom home her father had bought for Sheila. It was only a few blocks from the Gallagher Club, in the heart of one of the wealthiest neighborhoods in Chicago.
Hayden had finally decided to talk to Sheila to learn more about her father’s drinking problem. Although a part of her still didn’t fully trust her stepmother, she knew this conversation was long overdue. If she had more information, maybe she could find a way to help her dad. And if his recent behavior was any indication, her father definitely needed some help.
Sheila answered the door wearing sweats, her expression clearly conveying her surprise at seeing her soon-to-be-ex-stepdaughter standing on the pillared doorstep.
“Hayden…what are you doing here?”
She fumbled awkwardly with the strap of her leather purse. “I think we should talk.”
With a nod, Sheila opened the door wider so Hayden could step inside. The enormous front parlor, with its sparkling crystal chandelier, was as intimidating as it had been the first time she’d seen it. The white walls were devoid of artwork, a sight that made her frown. She’d encouraged her father to pick up pieces at auctions she had recommended, but it looked as if he hadn’t bothered.
“So what’s on your mind?” Sheila asked after they’d entered the living room.
Hayden sat on one of the fluffy teal love seats, waited for Sheila to sink down on the matching sofa, then cleared her throat. “I want you to tell me about my father’s drinking.”
Her stepmother raked one delicate hand through her blond hair, then clasped her hands together in her lap. “What do you want to know, Hayden?”
“When did he start?”
“Last year, about the same time the pharmaceutical company he’d invested in went bankrupt. He lost a lot of money, tried to recoup it by making more investments, and lost that, too.”
Hayden fought back a wave of guilt, realizing that she’d had no idea any of this had been going on. Her father had always sounded so jovial on the phone, as if he had no cares in the world.
Was she a terrible daughter for not seeing through the lies?
“He didn’t want to worry you,” Sheila added as if reading her mind.
“So that’s when he started drinking?”
Her stepmother nodded. “At first it was just a drink or two in the evenings, but the worse the situation got, the more he drank. I tried talking to him about it. I told him the drinking was becoming a problem, but he refused to hear it. That’s when…” Sheila’s voice drifted.
“That’s when what?”
“He went to bed with another woman.”
A silence fell between them, but this time Hayden didn’t try to defend her father. That day at the law office, she’d believed Sheila to be a heartless lying bitch, accusing Pres of adultery, but after his blowup at the Gallagher Club, Hayden couldn’t deny her dad had a problem. And if that problem had driven him to cheat, she needed to accept it. No point sticking her head in the sand and pretending things were okay, when they obviously weren’t.
So she leaned back and allowed Sheila to continue.
“He told me what he’d done the next morning, blamed me for his infidelity, said my constant nagging forced him to do it.” Sheila made an exasperated sound. “And he kept denying he had a drinking problem. I might have been able to forgive him for the affair, but I couldn’t look away while he destroyed the life we’d built.”