Page 5

Sebastian

T he Sterling’s lobby bar was jumping for a Thursday night. Then again, it was Christmastime in New York City.

“Do you think you should be drinking the hard stuff?” Tristan asked, bringing expensive scotch to his mouth.

“Of all our problems, enjoying a few scotches a night didn’t even make the top one hundred. Plus, Kennedy liked her wine at night. This was a mutual vice.” I shook my drink to loosen up the clinking ice and downed the sweet tangy burn.

“Another?” Tristan arched an eyebrow.

“That was to take the edge off. I’ll wait for her to have the next one.” I sat back and crossed my arms. Looking down at my attire, I wondered if showing up in a suit made me look like I was trying too hard.

I suspected Kennedy seeing me in scrubs last week hadn’t helped my cause. Despite her telling me how fucking sexy I looked in them early on in our marriage, now those damn things just shoved our problems in her face. I’d rather her see the man. Not the surgeon.

“Hey...” I nudged Tristan. “That cruise of yours is coming up, huh?”

My cousin narrowed eyes at me. “Monday after the wedding. Why?”

Every year Tristan disappeared on a weeklong singles cruise where I had found out my cousin turned into a maniac fulfilling every no-strings fantasy a man could want.

It’d all been above board. Women were there for the same reason.

It may have made Tristan sound like a manwhore, but there were men all over Manhattan sweet-talking women into bed, getting their hopes up and never calling them. All year long.

Tristan had been drowning in his own heartbreak, never really getting over his college girlfriend. If anyone was ready to fall in love again, it was Tristan.

I shrugged. “I have a few days off after the wedding too. Maybe I’ll crash in your suite. You can keep it down, right? All the sex?”

“No.” His boldness was chilling.

“Just a thought. I need to get away from here for a while. Before I go out west. Do something fun for a change, but going away alone isn’t fun. You’re single and my best option right now.”

“Gee, thanks. Glad to be a convenience to you when you need me. Now I know how Kennedy felt.”

“Ouch.”

“ Here’s a better thought. Take your wife somewhere.”

I scoffed a laugh. “We’ll both go on your sex cruise and I’ll show her what’s in store for her if she wants to be single.”

Tristan put down his glass, loudly. The thick-cut crystal hit the wood table in protest. “First off, stop being an ass. To Kennedy and me. Second, it’s not a sex cruise.

And third, you’re right. Being single absolutely sucks.

Give that woman whatever she wants, Sebastian.

I promise you, you don’t want to lose her.

” He snagged both our glasses and then sauntered to the bar.

Every fucking female eye in that lobby of Tristan’s slid his way. I smiled in amusement, then looked up.

Kennedy stared at me from the railing near the stairs that led down to the entrance.

The Sterling’s front lobby rose up in tiers with seating areas on each level.

The lobby bar sat at the top tier followed by a long stretch of marble leading to the check-in desk toward the back.

The hotel was magnificent, and the glittery snowflakes against red and green lights all over Fifth Avenue glowed through the floor-to-ceiling lobby windows.

None of that, however, distracted me from Kennedy’s beauty.

I shot off my bar stool. An aching need for her had my feet moving fast to get to my wife. I wanted to kiss her again so damn bad. I’d cracked her veneer the other day with one coffee and one lick of whipped cream. Now I had a whole weekend to wear her down even more.

“Hi.” I leaned in to kiss her cheek, relieved that she let me.

“Hi. Having fun?”

“What?”

She looked around. “Lots of pretty girls here.”

“Yeah, and they’re all looking at Tristan.”

“Jealous?”

I took her hand and my heart leapt when she squeezed it. “Not even a little bit.”

Tristan came back with drinks and walked me and Kennedy through the weekend’s events. A cocktail party and rehearsal dinner on Friday night. The wedding on Saturday. Brunch on Sunday.

We returned to the bar area and Tristan steered us to a set of seats roped off from guests. “We keep these reserved for family.”

I nudged Kennedy’s back. She was still a Hart. Still had my heart. She was still my family. I was gonna fight like hell to keep it that way.

ONLY, KENNEDY STOPPED smiling after two sips of the red wine Tristan brought over for her. The more Tristan talked about the wedding and the plans, I saw dread in her eyes. All the hours she had to stand at my side pretending nothing was wrong.

It rocked me to think we’d reached a stalemate.

Kennedy had a damn good point. Why should she leave her job to follow me?

Why wasn’t just being an orthopedic surgeon enough for me?

I hadn’t planned to become a celebrity. It’d been thrust upon me when a tennis player with chronic pain and a drug pusher for a manager kept shoving pills at her.

The asshole had ignored that his star client had shredded tendons.

I had fixed the pro up and the word spread like wildfire. My practice had been overrun so much that I had to start an entire surgery center. New York had six major sports teams, more than any other major city. Not to mention collegiate sports.

The last few years, I’d been training damn fine surgeons at the center who’d assisted me, but star athletes wanted the star surgeon.

And I had been unable to say no.

“Where’s Luke, Tristan?” Kennedy finally spoke up to ask about my nemesis. In a friendly, love the hell out of your cousin way.

Growing up, we’d felt more like brothers. Luke was the oldest, then me, then Tristan, and years later, Grayson the baby popped out.

Luke and I were ultra-competitive. I went to Harvard and Luke went to Yale.

Luke thought he’d won when he flew off to California to attend Stanford Law School while I trekked down to Johns Hopkins in Baltimore to be a doctor like my dad.

I’d have never met Kennedy if I’d gone to UCLA Medical School.

Tristan rolled his eyes. “Luke is upstairs getting changed. Another gala tonight. That’s all he does, he goes to parties. I do all the work around here.”

“He’s the CEO,” I said. “That is a showboat title, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, my father gave him that title. I got stuck with COO. Operations. Look around. That’s all this place is. Staffing. Security. Facilities. HR. Events. It’s all operations.”

“What about Grayson?” Kennedy asked.

Tristan just exhaled, giving us the answer. Poor middle child, Tristan. Got slammed with all the work while his brothers partied.

“Are you excited to see your mom?” She followed up with something she knew would make him smile.

“Yes,” he answered right away, that grin reaching his eyes.

“Hart boys and their mamas,” Kennedy cooed.

I grunted in my scotch, figuring talking about mothers wasn’t getting me laid anytime soon. The hum of laughter around me, happy tourists in New York for the holidays annoyed me. So many people giddy while my plan to get Kennedy back was dying a slow death.

“Can I say something?” Tristan broke the aching silence. “You two are not going to fool anyone this weekend with those resting bitch faces. There’s no shame in having problems. Maybe just come clean.”

“No.” Kennedy shook her head. “Not this weekend. I won’t take the focus off Savannah. I know your parents, Seb. Yeah, your mother is in La-La land with this wedding, but you are her moon, her stars, and the sun in her sky. If she finds out we’ve split up...”

“We haven’t split up,” I grunted. “Yet.”

“If she finds out I’ve moved out, Savannah’s wedding will be napalmed. Your mother won’t be able to help herself. I won’t do that to your sister.” She took a breath and forced a smile on her face. “Is this better?”

“No,” Tristan said. “Now you look scary.”

“Can’t I just be tired?”

Shit, that’s good.

Tristan smirked and slipped a card out of his wallet. “Can I make a suggestion?”

“Please,” I answered.

My cousin tossed the card on the coffee table. “This is a spare Master Key. It goes to PH1 our penthouse floor, and will open Gray’s apartment. He’s not coming home until tomorrow. The villas on PH2 are all booked up tonight.”

“And?” I said, my heart pounding.

“Go fuck your brains out. Forget your troubles and get naked. Enjoy each other for a few hours. That’ll put a smile on your faces.”

Kennedy’s eyes hit the table, staring at the card.

Permission to have sex. Sex didn’t solve problems, but, fuck, it kept couples from drifting apart if there was constant intimacy.

I realized now I’d dropped that ball big time by ignoring my wife’s sexual needs.

Always thinking, next weekend, next weekend, next weekend, and then some superstar would get hit by a pitch or take a hockey stick to the knee.

What Kennedy didn’t realize was it’d all happened so fast for me. My fame had been a runaway train.

Tristan stalked off toward the front desk, answering his phone to deal with more hotel business.

Kennedy drank her wine, while I had an ache in my pants spiraling out of control. I had no choice but to tell her what she was doing to me. Just to see if she were up for Tristan’s suggestion.

She exhaled and the look on her face told me no way would Kennedy go for something so rash. So out of left field.

Then my heart stopped .

Down in my lap...

Kennedy’s hand.

One glass of cabernet had emboldened that wicked woman enough to stroke my cock under the table.

What the fuck?

My erection strained against my briefs. Her face glowed with ecstasy, those violet eyes shining on me. I swallowed and leaned into her. “That feels fucking fantastic.”

“I bet.” Her fingers pressed against the hard length now stretched out past the elastic, the tip dripping on my thigh.

My head dipped back and I moved my hips to push deeper into her hand. “Don’t stop,” I whispered.