Exquisite Betrayal Page 4

  “You can say that again.” We arrive at the Space Nugget about that time. “Thanks so much for a fun night.”

  R.T. scrunches her brows for a second. “Are you staying until Sunday then?”

  “Well, yes. Tomorrow night after the closing ceremony, we want to party it up. What about you?”

  “Same here. Care if I tag along?”

  “Seriously?” I can’t believe R.T. wants to hang with us!

  “Yeah. You Yanks are a blast.”

  “Well, we’re not all Yanks. We have Andrea.”

  “Right. And she’s a blast, too! Let’s hit the clubs after the closing ceremony tomorrow. I hear they’re going to have a Hot Man Abs showing for us.”

  “Ooooh! I’m so on board with that.”

  “Catch you tomorrow, then.”

  Everywhere I go, she’s there. I should’ve expected it. As a blogger, and one who loves my books and supports me like crazy, I should’ve known she’d be everywhere that Tilly was. At the Meet and Greet I had to hide the entire time. Thank God, Tilly finally corralled them all and left. I figured they’d go home and then Tilly and I would have some drinks at the club. When I saw Fallon standing there, I was helpless to do anything other than grab her and dance.

  The smart thing to do would be to stay away from her. It’s the only way I’ll be able to keep my real identity hidden, but when I’m around her, I lose my bloody common sense. I don’t want to get close to her; I haven’t wanted to get close to any woman since Iris. Being close to one, especially one as gorgeous as she is, can only spell trouble for her and me. Besides that, I find I’m out of sorts when I’m around her. She has a way of jumbling up everything in my head.

  So now, I’m positive she must think I have some mental disorder. Every time I’m near her, after a few minutes, I haul ass. No question, the gorgeous girl addles the hell out of me. But why wouldn’t she? She’s everything I’ve never dreamed of. A tall, redheaded American with a southern accent. I always thought, if I ever pulled my head out of my arse long enough to actually go after a girl, I’d end up with a blond Iris-look-alike. But this one with her gray eyes and full lips I want to lick and suck until I hear her moan… well, damn… this writer here is suddenly at a loss for words.

  This potential complication is one I must avoid. I can see myself falling head first into those gray eyes and never climbing back out. And that damn body of hers. When I close my eyes I can imagine the way her skin would feel beneath my fingers and it traps the damn air in my chest. Why the bloody hell does she have to show up here, and looking like that no less? I would pay her to let me slide my thumbs across those nipples of hers. Or better yet, mold my hands around the perfect cheeks of her arse.

  Hell, I need to go home and take a cold shower. That girl has me way too jacked up for my own good. I feel like writing erotica instead of a romance novel right now. It would probably be a best seller, too, if I kept her on my mind the whole time.

  Since the temps had dropped somewhat, I decide I’d rather walk the few blocks to the hotel versus taking a cab. Maybe it’ll help calm my dick down and clear my head. As I enter the lobby, my phone vibrates and I see it’s Tilly.

  “Why did you abandon Fallon?” Her voice is harsh with disapproval.

  She knows. I didn’t realize old hawk eyes had been watching.

  “Tilly, doesn’t anything I do get past you?”

  “Nothing. Answer me, Ryland Thomas.”

  “Bloody hell, I didn’t abandon her. I simply left after the song ended.”

  “Well, she thinks she has bad breath.”

  “What?” Then I laugh as I think about it. It really does make perfect sense.

  “So you have to apologize to her.”

  “For what? Making her think she has bad breath. It’s funny, Tills. Come on.”

  “It’s not. She’s a lovely girl with hurt feelings.”

  “Because she thinks that I think her breath stinks when it doesn’t? That’s rubbish.” It’s a wonder I ever sold any books. The mechanics of a woman’s mind escapes me, so how the hell do I ever write romance?

  “No it isn’t. What if someone told you your teeth were wonky? Wouldn’t that hurt your feelings?”

  “No. I don’t care what my teeth look like!”

  “Bollocks! You do care. You’re always flossing and brushing. I’ve seen those bleaching whatchamacallits in your bathroom, too.”

  Oh God. I groan. “Okay, so I care about my teeth. But I don’t care if others think they look bad.”

  “Then, why do you bleach them?”

  “Come on, Tills. This is crazy. Why are we discussing my dental care?”

  “If you don’t tell that poor thing you’re sorry, I’m going home tomorrow morning.”

  “You can’t do that. You’re up for an award tomorrow night. What if you win?”

  “It’s not me, you bloody fool! It’s you and you’ll just have to accept it, like you should’ve been doing now for the past three years.”

  I harrumph and scowl at my phone. I can’t possibly reveal the true identity of R.T. Sinclair and risk everything I’ve worked so hard for over the last three years.

  “Okay. You win. I’ll find her tomorrow and apologize.”

  “That’s not enough. You’ll take her out tomorrow night and act the perfect date, too.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Absolutely. And if you run off with your tail tucked between your legs, I’m done with this whole charade of yours.”

  She isn’t kidding. I know Tilly as well as I know myself. We’re two peas in that stupid, rotten pod. “Damn you, Tills. Your fucking chain is squeezing the damn life outta me. Loosen it up some.”

  “Not until I see some humanity back in you.”

  Tilly is magnificent in her acceptance speech. She nails it once again. I have to hand it to her, she’s come a long way since the first one of these conventions we attended three years ago. Her poise, her calm in front of the audience and the way they hang on her every word has even me convinced she penned those novels.

  Thinking back to the first one we attended with Sam on hand to guide us through the steps, I laugh to myself. We were both so damn green. Tilly wanted to know if she should wear a disguise, and Sam and I laughed because I was the one whose identity needed to be kept a secret. Tilly was so scared and nervous; ever since then I’ve promised her I will always be by her side for these events.

  As applause breaks out again, she blows kisses to the crowd then leaves the podium. She catches my eye and we head towards the exit.

  “You’d better meet us there,” she eyes me.

  “Um, what do you mean?”

  “I’m bringing all the girls with me.”

  “Shit, Tills. How’s this gonna work?”

  “You’ll stumble into her and then dote on her all night long, just like you promised.”

  I huff, but head over to said meeting place.

  This is not my kind of scene. As I wait at the bar for a drink, at least three women approach me and ask if I’d like some company. By the time the third one asks, I actually snap at her. I know I’m being an arsehole, but whatever. I finally get my whiskey, neat, and let the amber fluid ease the tension in me.

  My eyes scan the room and there they are, walking in the door. Damn, I can’t stop looking at her, either. The thing about Fallon is, most redheads have ghostly pale skin. Not her. Her dark auburn hair is paired with bronzed skin with barely a freckle in sight, and it only makes me want to run my palms all over that delicious flesh of hers. She’s wearing a gold halter-top that exposes entirely too much skin. Then there’s her skirt. Well, damn it all, her legs run all the way to her neck. Jesus, I need some privacy to go and adjust myself.

  As I stare at her, her head swings my way and those smoky eyes of hers lock onto mine. When her lips part, there’s only one thing I want to do and that’s not possible in a public place. What the hell is wrong with me? I haven’t had feelings like this since Iris. Well, to be honest, Iris never evoked a response like this out of me. This girl has me charged.

  She drops her head and one of the other girls says something to her, grabbing her attention. Tilly is scanning the crowd for me so I decide to text her so she doesn’t spend all night rubbernecking the joint.

  Me: I’m at the bar, straight ahead. I’ve already made eye contact with her. Getting ready to make my move.

  T: Be nice.

  Me: I will. Promise.

  I throw back the rest of my whiskey, knowing I’ll need it, and order another. Then I head her way.

  When I make it to where she’s standing, I lean over her back and whisper in her ear, “You look lovely this evening.”

  She turns and says, “You know, you’re really a weird guy. I think it best if you just leave.”

  My eyes widen because, clearly, this isn’t what I’ve been expecting at all. Then I flash her a smile. “I know you must think that, but I have my reasons.”

  “Like what?”

  Now I’m stuck. What do I tell her without making her look like a fool? “I wasn’t feeling well.”

  “Seems to me you don’t ever feel well.”

  “Yeah, I’ve had some, er, issues since I got to Vegas.” Okay, it’s lame, but whatever.

  “Oh really? What kind of issues?”

  Bloody hell! What do I tell her now? “Yeah, I’ve had some weird kind of stomach thing going on. Kind of embarrassing actually.”

  She eyes me as she cocks her head. “Uh-huh. Well, Ryland, I hope you get to feeling better soon. Maybe you ought to lay off the whiskey.” Then she turns away.

  Talk about busting my chops. She has moxie, that’s all I can say.

  “Yeah, you’re probably right. But if I do that, then I lose any chance of running into you.”


  Her head whips around and her eyes land on mine. She clearly hasn’t expected that response. Now she’s really inspecting me, assessing me. Those damn eyes of hers dig into me, and I swear to God they’re reading my bloody mind. I know in thirty seconds, she’s going to know every single secret I’ve ever had; things Tilly doesn’t even know.

  “May I buy you a drink while you continue to mentally examine me?” By this time, her friends, courtesy of Tilly, have moved away.

  Her eyes narrow, but then she nods. “Yeah, okay.”

  Linking my hand with hers, I guide her to the bar where she orders a tequila shooter and I laugh. “You don’t waste time getting right down to it, do you?”

  “Nope. This is my last night here so it’s party time for me.”

  “I see.”

  She throws her shot back like a pro, but her grimace shows me she’s a novice. I bite my lip.

  “Another, or something else?”

  “One more and then I’ll take a vodka and soda.” I get her what she wants and she smiles.

  “So, Fallon, where’s home?”

  “Spartanburg, South Carolina.”

  “And where exactly is Spartanburg, South Carolina?”

  “It’s in the upstate of South Carolina between Charlotte and Atlanta.”

  “I see. Sounds lovely.”

  “Oh, it is.”

  “Is your family there as well, then?”

  Her eyes darken and her smile fades. “Nope. Just me.” She tries to act nonchalantly, but there’s a bit more to this. My brain tells me I shouldn’t, yet my heart pushes me to dig a bit deeper. There’s something about this girl that makes me want to learn more about her.

  “So is your family elsewhere?”

  “Yeah, my mom lives in Atlanta.” That’s all I get. She’s so abrupt, I can tell she’s not into her mom and doesn’t want to talk about it, so I change the subject.

  “What do you do in Spartanburg?”

  “Boy, you’re a nosy one, aren’t you?”

  “No, just curious about the gorgeous lady I’m talking to.”

  “Slick.”

  “Excuse me?” She surprises me with that.

  “That’s a slick line.”

  My voice deepens. “That’s not a line, Fallon.” And it isn’t. I’m not one to use lines on girls. The fact is, I don’t hang in bars and pick up women, at all. It’s not really my scene. It actually makes me quite uncomfortable and it truly is the last thing I want to do.

  Her lips part and I have to quash the urge to put mine on them. I tense with the effort it takes, briefly pondering these feelings. She’s raw beauty standing in front of me and she’s exquisite. There’s nothing made up about her. All the pieces of her fit together like nothing I’ve ever seen; those deep red locks I'm itching to wrap around my fingers, silky smooth bronze skin that I could spend hours touching and kissing, eyes that shift from slate to silver when she's annoyed. It’s her mouth, though—that luscious plump, sexy mouth—that’s my nemesis and I know it will lead to my ruin. But I don’t care… I’m past caring. I can feel the scars of my past launching from my chest as I stare at her. My heart is beating so loud in my ears that I'm sure she can hear it.

  “So, are you going to tell me?” I’m so much more than curious about her now.

  She clears her throat. “There’s not much to tell.”

  How can that possibly be true? Someone that looks like her has to lead an exciting life.

  “Oh, come now. You don’t expect me to believe that? For starters, I bet you have a remarkable love life.”

  She laughs derisively. “Oh yeah. That’s a good one.”

  Now I’m perplexed. “I find it hard to believe that you don’t.”

  “I don’t really give a damn what you believe.” She crosses her arms.

  “No, it’s apparent you don’t. So what do you do then? Your career?”

  “You’re really trying to make me feel good, aren’t you?” she snorts.

  She’s difficult to figure out. “I’m just trying to get to know you.”

  “Maybe you should stop asking me questions then.”

  She’s quite touchy. I’ve hit on a sore point, however I don’t know why. “It’s kind of hard to get to know someone if you don’t ask them questions.” Her expression softens a bit and then her shoulders slump.

  “I’m sorry. I’m being a jerk. I guess I was put off by the way you left last night and then all of a sudden you show up all nice and everything. I don’t usually act like this. The thing is, I don’t have a job right now. Well a real job. I do have a temporary job waiting tables. I just graduated from college, so I’m looking for a permanent one… you know, a career kind of job, but I’m not having much success.”

  Ah, she’s a little out of joint because she needs a job. I get that. “I’m sure you’ll find exactly what you’re looking for.”

  Her brows shoot straight up. “I doubt that. That’s not the way my luck runs, so I don’t think it’s gonna start happening now. I’m just hoping for something soon to help me start paying off my student loans.”

  “And your degree? What’s it in?”

  “Creative writing and English Lit.”

  “So what’s your dream job?”

  Her eyes soften and she smiles. I can’t help smiling in return. That’s how I want to see her look all the time.

  “I would love to become a professional book reviewer or critic. I’ve always loved reading and writing. That’s one reason I started blogging,” she explains.

  Now it all makes perfect sense. I get why her reviews are so well written and on point. She understands the process of the novel itself.

  “I’m assuming you’ve sent your resumes to all the right places then?”

  “Sure. But those jobs are close to impossible to come by. I’ll have to earn one of those. In the meantime, I’ll do anything to work my way into one. Still, it’s tough getting a foot in the door.”

  My brain starts churning ideas. I have some connections through my agent and publisher, though I can’t let on the real reason for how I have them. “I’m a freelancer, you know. Maybe I have some contacts that might be able to help. I can look into it. Are you able to relocate?”

  “Yeah. Anywhere.”

  “Let me see what I can do.”

  “Why? Why would you do this for me?” She eyes me with suspicion.

  That was a good question. I never do things like this for anyone. “Because I like you Fallon.” That admission shocks the bloody hell out of me.

  And it seems to shock the hell out of her, too. Her mouth opens and closes several times, as if she wants to say something, but then decides either she has nothing to say, or can’t find the right words. In the end, she half smiles and nods.

  “How about a dance?” I ask.

  She agrees, so we walk out and move to the fast beat. Her arms are in the air and her eyes are closed. I’m more than glad because it means I can stare at her, uninterrupted. She’s facing me at first while her chest and hips have me in a trance. Or so I think. When she spins and her back is towards me, I get the full view of her lovely arse and feel the wind gush out of my lungs.

  Before I know what’s happening, my arms reach for her hips and I pull her against me. My body is electrified by her touch. If she’s shocked, I can’t tell because she stays with me and we finish the song that way. I can’t release her afterwards, though. I hold her tight against me with her ass rubbing my dick, and it’s almost too much for me. I’m sure she can feel it through my jeans. It’s wedged between the cheeks of her bum; I still can’t force myself to release her, however.

  My hand fans over her stomach and it’s all I can do not to slide it beneath that flimsy shirt of hers. I can smell her perfume, all citrus and flowers, as I breathe her in. The groan I want to release is being held back with every ounce of control I have, but it’s so bloody difficult.

  The music changes again, this time to a slow song. I spin her in my arms until we face each other. Her eyes lift to mine and it’s all there for me to see. However it’s those parted lips that reel me in more than anything. The heat and want are pouring out of them. My head dips and I’m licking them before I’m even aware of it. Her breath takes mine in as she inhales. I know I am so screwed. The reality is, I knew it before, though I didn’t admit it.

  Why does he always end up wherever I go? It’s impossible to avoid him. Even though he’s perfect and all, if he keeps pulling this crap of getting me all worked up and then running out on me, I’m going to lose it.