Page 85 of Skins Game

That’s who Kingston had been talking to on the phone that day. Nicole asked, confirming, “Morrissey Sand?”

“Yes.”

“Odd.”

Kingston had said he had friends at Last Chance, and Gia Terranova had told her Kingston had someone powerful protecting him.

And that guy’s name was Morrissey Sand.

Huh.

36

New York City

NICOLE LAMB

Months went by, months of stolen moments, criminal glances.

Trysts in supply closets, locked offices, the stairwell, his car in the parking lot, and now that they could stay after hours without getting locked in until the following day, with her bent over the second-floor conference table.

When Kingston told her what to do in a dark, sexy voice, his eyes intent on her, Nicole did it, whatever he wanted, any way he wanted, and she didn’t want to say no.

Maybe it was the scientist in her, but she just wanted to see what would happen.

Maybe it was an addictive adrenaline rush of getting away with it.

Maybe it was a dopamine craving because he positively reinforced her obedience with mind-blowing orgasms to the point where she worried about her brain cells dying.

Or some serotonin because she was happy around him.

But surely it wasn’t oxytocin.

It wasn’tlove.

Because it was just sex. It was hot, seductive, obsessive, toe-curling sex, but love required more.

If it was love, she was on a fast track to getting her heart broken again, so it couldn’t be love.

Finally, one night when Kingston had taken her away for the weekend to a resort in Carmel by the Sea where no one from Sidewinder would discover them, he asked her as they lay in bed, sweat covering their bodies, “Come with me to New York for the Javits Center trade show.”

“We can’t travel together to hang out at a work event.”

“Why not?”

“Everyone will know,” she whispered in the dark.

“No one will find out, I promise,” he said, his voice rough. “Let me show you New York City. It’s brilliant.”

Sometimes he had a British accent, which was crazy, of course. He was born in Pennsylvania and now lived in Connecticut, but he did say he’d lived in London, Paris, and other places that West Coast Nicole had never been to. “I don’t know, Kingston.”

“Come, my little engineer. Let me take you to a Broadway show and supper at beautiful restaurants. Come see my life.”

“You sure live high on the hog for a small-time sales guy.”

“Oh my sweet, I do nothing small.”

Nicole put in for PTO, which was readily granted because she had four months saved up from the last few years.