gone.
Flipping through papers on her desk as she waited, she was surprised at how quickly Ben came back on the line.
“You can pick up the information you’re looking for when you come in to sign the papers, Derica. Once everything is tied up, I think we’ll both be happy.”
She had gone that very afternoon, during lunch. Making it clear to the agency rep with whom she spoke that she wasn’t interested in a modeling career, she’d assigned a charity to receive all of her proceeds from the ad. After signing the appropriate X-marked lines, she’d casually accepted the sheet of notebook paper Ben’s secretary handed her and left the glamorous life of modeling behind her.
Once on the street, she’d whipped the folded paper open. Steven Hooper. Ordinary enough for a courier, but not sufficient for a master of sensual delight. No, Kailen suited that persona far better.
Below his name was the address for a building of live/work lofts off the Embarcadero, and a phone number. She’d calmly put the paper in her desk drawer when she returned to the office, and there it had stayed, all week, calling to her. As impossible to ignore as a ringing phone or crying baby, it had taken discipline each day not to leave work and run to his place. But she hadn’t. Instead, she’d waited to see if he would call her.
At first she was certain he would. She couldn’t have been alone in her desire, could she? Surely he couldn’t have faked the way his breath hitched when she tongued him or the moans that changed to cries of triumph when he came. The intensity with which he’d loved her—didn’t it mean something special to him, too? Or was she being something she’d never been in her life—a silly female—expecting Kailen to feel the same thing for their lovemaking that she did?
Her work week had been fine. A new position was announced and her boss, Daniel, had hinted that she was perfectly positioned for advancement. But each day with no word from Kailen was harder to take. Plagued with thoughts of him doing with other women what he’d done with her, she felt sick. Her appetite left and sleep eluded her. She knew she had to take steps or go crazy.
With a feeling of trepidation that was quite unlike her, she knocked on Kailen’s door that Saturday, just before noon. For several moments there was no sound. Then she heard a woman’s voice. Oh, God! There was no way she could face in reality the visions that had tortured her all week. Seeing Kailen with another woman would kill her. She had to escape, and fast.
Before she took five steps the door opened.
“Derica?” It was him. His voice sounded gruff, not welcoming.
She stopped and slowly turned. Filling the doorway, he rested his arm on the frame, watching her. He gave no smile, no indication of how he felt about seeing her again. His faded blue jeans topped ragged sneakers, and a sleeveless denim shirt, buttoned up the front, was streaked with paint. His other hand clutched a rag also smeared with various colors.
“Hello, Kailen. I-I wanted to talk with you about the shoot…” A lie she hoped he couldn’t detect. She’d grasp at any straw to find some logical reason for being outside his doorway, unannounced on a Saturday morning. There was the truth, of course. The conviction that she would die if she didn’t make love with him again. But it was better he not know that fact.
Movement behind him drew her eye. A gorgeous woman peeked curiously around his arm. Inky black hair hung to her waist and immense almond-shaped eyes showcased a petite brown face. Derica took a shaky breath and willed herself to calmness. The woman was naked. Sure, a satin robe was draped over her shoulders, but it hung open enough to reveal that there was nothing but skin under it.
“I didn’t realize you were busy. I should have called. Sorry.” She backed down the hall as she spoke, determined to make good her getaway before breaking down.
“You want to talk about the shoot?”
Flipping through papers on her desk as she waited, she was surprised at how quickly Ben came back on the line.
“You can pick up the information you’re looking for when you come in to sign the papers, Derica. Once everything is tied up, I think we’ll both be happy.”
She had gone that very afternoon, during lunch. Making it clear to the agency rep with whom she spoke that she wasn’t interested in a modeling career, she’d assigned a charity to receive all of her proceeds from the ad. After signing the appropriate X-marked lines, she’d casually accepted the sheet of notebook paper Ben’s secretary handed her and left the glamorous life of modeling behind her.
Once on the street, she’d whipped the folded paper open. Steven Hooper. Ordinary enough for a courier, but not sufficient for a master of sensual delight. No, Kailen suited that persona far better.
Below his name was the address for a building of live/work lofts off the Embarcadero, and a phone number. She’d calmly put the paper in her desk drawer when she returned to the office, and there it had stayed, all week, calling to her. As impossible to ignore as a ringing phone or crying baby, it had taken discipline each day not to leave work and run to his place. But she hadn’t. Instead, she’d waited to see if he would call her.
At first she was certain he would. She couldn’t have been alone in her desire, could she? Surely he couldn’t have faked the way his breath hitched when she tongued him or the moans that changed to cries of triumph when he came. The intensity with which he’d loved her—didn’t it mean something special to him, too? Or was she being something she’d never been in her life—a silly female—expecting Kailen to feel the same thing for their lovemaking that she did?
Her work week had been fine. A new position was announced and her boss, Daniel, had hinted that she was perfectly positioned for advancement. But each day with no word from Kailen was harder to take. Plagued with thoughts of him doing with other women what he’d done with her, she felt sick. Her appetite left and sleep eluded her. She knew she had to take steps or go crazy.
With a feeling of trepidation that was quite unlike her, she knocked on Kailen’s door that Saturday, just before noon. For several moments there was no sound. Then she heard a woman’s voice. Oh, God! There was no way she could face in reality the visions that had tortured her all week. Seeing Kailen with another woman would kill her. She had to escape, and fast.
Before she took five steps the door opened.
“Derica?” It was him. His voice sounded gruff, not welcoming.
She stopped and slowly turned. Filling the doorway, he rested his arm on the frame, watching her. He gave no smile, no indication of how he felt about seeing her again. His faded blue jeans topped ragged sneakers, and a sleeveless denim shirt, buttoned up the front, was streaked with paint. His other hand clutched a rag also smeared with various colors.
“Hello, Kailen. I-I wanted to talk with you about the shoot…” A lie she hoped he couldn’t detect. She’d grasp at any straw to find some logical reason for being outside his doorway, unannounced on a Saturday morning. There was the truth, of course. The conviction that she would die if she didn’t make love with him again. But it was better he not know that fact.
Movement behind him drew her eye. A gorgeous woman peeked curiously around his arm. Inky black hair hung to her waist and immense almond-shaped eyes showcased a petite brown face. Derica took a shaky breath and willed herself to calmness. The woman was naked. Sure, a satin robe was draped over her shoulders, but it hung open enough to reveal that there was nothing but skin under it.
“I didn’t realize you were busy. I should have called. Sorry.” She backed down the hall as she spoke, determined to make good her getaway before breaking down.
“You want to talk about the shoot?”
Similar Books
