Chapter 10

Gretchen crawled over Hunter, yawning, and tugged a T-shirt over her body. She searched his room for her panties, which were flung off hours ago. They hung on a lampshade, making her chuckle as she snatched them and put them back on again.

He reached for her, his eyes closed. “Come back to bed. It’s too early.”

“Can’t,” she said, moving to his side of the bed and pressing a kiss to his forehead. He reached for her and she danced out of his grasp, laughing. “Nice try, but I’ve got a lot of work to do.”

He reached for her again. “Come back.”

She wiggled away. “Nope. Can’t. You sleep, though. You were up too late last night working.” She’d had to come into his office to drag him to bed. Of course, he’d been reluctant until she’d started to strip. Then he couldn’t go to bed fast enough, she thought with a grin.

“I’ll get up in a minute,” he mumbled sleepily, then rolled over and went back to bed.

She watched him for a moment, resisting the urge to reach down and smooth his tousled hair. It was a mushy, silly moment, but she didn’t care. Watching him sleep filled her with an odd, easy sort of pleasure. When his breath evened out, she turned and left the room.

Breakfast could wait. She wasn’t all that hungry, and she’d dreamed about deadlines. Dreaming about work always left her in an anxious mood, and today was no different. She had to finish at least one project that was on her plate—if not the letters, then that last chapter of Astronaut Bill and Uranea that she kept promising to her publisher.

But the thought of writing more Astronaut Bill filled her with the usual loathing. She’d concentrate on finishing her cataloging of the letters, then. A week or two after she was already this late wouldn’t make much of a difference. Plus, she was a fancy bestseller now. Her mouth twisted into a sour smile at the thought. Yippee.

She padded across the manor on bare feet. The house was silent and dark, the sun not quite up yet. Hopefully that meant Eldon wasn’t up yet, either. A few minutes later, she opened the door to her library.

Igor stretched and meowed at her from the couch.

“Oh, no. Did I leave you in here all night?” She moved to pet his velvety head, making kissy noises at him. “I’ve been neglecting you shamefully, haven’t I? I can’t help it. I’ve got a new man in my life and he doesn’t even need kitty litter.”

The cat gave her a disgruntled look and then meowed again, flicking his tail at her and walking away.

Gretchen chuckled to herself, then headed to her desk.

And stopped, her heart dropping.

The vase of water that she normally kept her daily rose in was tipped over, the contents spilled all over the antique wood of the secretary . . . and her laptop.

“No, no, no!” She rushed forward, yanking her laptop out of the puddle. The case in her hands dripped, and when she turned it on one side to shake out the keyboard, droplets of water went everywhere. Frantic, she pushed the power button and held her breath, waiting.

Nothing.

Oh no.

Disbelieving, she hit the power button again, and then set the laptop down on one of the old-fashioned couches, racing back to her room. A hairdryer. That’s what she needed. She returned with it a few minutes later, plugged it into the wall, and flipped over the soaked laptop, her pulse pounding with anxiety. Maybe if she dried it out, things would be fine.

Twenty minutes later, she still had no power. Gretchen bit her lip, hard, her thoughts frantic. It was okay. She always made a backup of her work. Always. She normally emailed a copy to Kat—well, except this time she’d been avoiding Kat—and she always copied the file to her flash drive.

Which she always kept beside her computer.

Her flash drive! Gretchen bolted to her feet and ran for the sopping desk. Sure enough, her small, hot pink flash drive was sitting in a puddle of flower petals and water. She picked it up anyhow and clenched it in her hand, as if willpower could somehow restore her work.

Igor must have been thirsty, she reasoned. He’d knocked over the vase to get some water and her laptop had been in the way. She’d been so busy curling up with Hunter that she’d neglected her cat, and now she was paying for it.

Her stomach twisted into a sick knot.

All that work, down the drain.

Three weeks of work, gone.

The entire file of transcribed letters, gone.

Her latest Astronaut Bill manuscript, completely gone.

Any chance of getting paid before her landlord changed the locks? Gone.

Gretchen sank down on the couch, feeling wrecked. She stared at her poor laptop, at the flash drive in her hands.

No problem. She could fix this. She’d just start over . . . on both projects. In a few months, she’d be able to turn both in. And then she could get paid.

Gretchen burst into tears.

***

When Hunter awoke, he dressed and immediately headed for the opposite wing of the house. He’d had nightmares about being abandoned, and waking up without Gretchen’s warm body next to him hadn’t helped things.

His loneliness seemed to be slowly ebbing away, replaced with a new, different kind of agony—fear of abandonment. Hunter shook his head to clear it, trying to will away the bad dreams. He had Gretchen in his arms. She cared for him. She wasn’t going anywhere. After a visit to his greenhouse, he selected a white rose and set off in search of her, determined to deliver the rose himself.

Hunter found Gretchen curled up on one of the library couches, clutching her laptop and sobbing as if her heart had broken.

His own heart clenched at the sight. “Gretchen?”

She looked up, startled, and wiped the backs of her hands against her cheeks. “Oh. Hi. Sorry. I was just, um . . . working.” Her face crumpled and she began to cry again.

Something was wrong. He’d fucked this up somehow and he was going to lose her. That gut-clenching feeling wouldn’t leave. “Tell me what’s wrong,” he managed hoarsely, moving to her side.

She sniffed and set the computer down, moving into his arms when he reached for her. At that, he relaxed a little. If she was angry at him, she surely wouldn’t be going to his arms, would she?

“My book,” she choked out between sniffles. “It’s gone.”

Recognition dawned, and a queasy feeling hit his gut. Was that . . . shame? “Gone?” he asked, feigning ignorance. “What happened?”

“Igor must have knocked over the vase,” she said, burying her face in his shirt. “The laptop is soaked. It’s ruined.”

Her sorrow was tearing him apart. Hunter stroked her back. “We’ll fix it. I’ll call someone to come take a look at it.”

She shook her head against his chest, as if denying his words. “It’s my fault. I left Igor in here all night. I’m so stupid.”

“You are not,” he said, his tone vehement enough to make her look up in surprise. He reached out and brushed the tears from her cheek. “You’re not stupid, Gretchen. Not by far.”

“I should have emailed my backups to Kat,” she said mournfully. “I just . . .” She shrugged.

“You just what?”

She gave him a tiny smile. “The more I work, the less I seem to enjoy it. That’s all. I guess I’ve been avoiding Kat. Talking with her just feels like too much pressure.”

It was on the tip of his tongue to offer her money or work or whatever would take that miserable look off her face. But Gretchen wouldn’t want a handout. She was strong and capable. He’d have to handle this carefully.

His fingers touched under her chin and he tilted her face toward him. “We’ll fix this,” he told her in a firm voice. “Give me your laptop. I’ll send it off with Eldon.”

“O-okay,” she said in a wavery voice that made him ache with the need to comfort her.

He took it from her and then leaned into kiss her lightly. “I’m going to send this off with him and instruct the technicians to not come back until they’ve recovered your files. But for the rest of the day, we’re going to relax and enjoy ourselves.”

“I don’t think I can.”

“Oh, you can. And we’re not going to think about work. We’re just going to enjoy each other.”

She gave him a miserable look. “What if I have to start over, Hunter?”

He quelled the part of him that rejoiced at the thought of another month of her in his house. Her sadness was making his soul ache.

He’d asked Eldon to fix this, but he hadn’t anticipated the destruction of her computer. It was brilliant—and a bit evil. But the worst of it was that Gretchen somehow seemed . . . defeated. His brilliant, vibrant Gretchen had been replaced by a sad woman weighed down by the world.

And that wasn’t what he’d wanted at all.

Hunter caressed her cheek. “I’ll be back.”

“I’ll be here,” she told him with a wobbly smile, sniffing loudly.

He tucked the laptop under his arm, noting that it still dripped when he picked it up. It was definitely soaked. He didn’t know if it could be fixed. He hoped—for Gretchen’s sake—that it could. Either way, Eldon had bought him time with her, just as he’d asked.

Hunter headed back to his office and shut the door, then buzzed Eldon.

Eldon arrived a few minutes later, his eyebrows going up at the sight of the laptop dripping on Hunter’s coat.

Hunter held it out to Eldon. “Your work, I assume?”

He said nothing, simply took the laptop and gave him a meaningful look.

“She’s crying,” Hunter said raggedly. He began to pace. “I didn’t want her upset.”

“You said to fix it,” Eldon said, deadpan as ever. “You didn’t say how. You needed her work to continue to keep her here.” He gestured at the laptop. “I have ensured that, just as you asked.”

Yes, but now Hunter felt like a heartless bastard. The thought of Gretchen’s tearstained face still drove him wild with anger and self-loathing. He’d made her cry, and he couldn’t even apologize.

“Take the laptop to a technician. See if they can fix it.” He glanced at Eldon, and then hated himself for saying, “Not too soon, though.”

“I shall escort it in myself,” Eldon said in a toneless voice. “I am sure that no one will get to it for at least a week, no matter how much I ask.”

“Good.”

“And if the file can be recovered?”

He had to bite back the urge to tell Eldon to delete the file. His need for Gretchen warred with the sight of her tearstained face, her misery. “I . . . I’ll cross that bridge when I get there.”

“Very well,” Eldon said as unflappable as ever.

“Cancel my meetings today. I’m going to spend the day with Gretchen.”

“Very well,” Eldon said. His face was neutral, but his tone was disapproving. It didn’t matter what Eldon thought, though.

Only Gretchen. And he needed to somehow bring a smile back to her face.

***

When he returned to the library, Gretchen’s weeping was under control. Her eyes were still red, but she was moving around, carefully laying out several of the letters on a nearby desk, the surface cleaned off. She glanced up at the sight of him and waved a hand over the piles of letters, Kleenex still clutched in her fingers. “I think I can come up with a system of some kind. Not all of the letters are important, so if I make a pile of the ones—”

“No,” he said, and threaded a husky, enticing note in his voice. He moved to her side and took her hand before she could reach for another one of the letters. “Today, we’re taking the day off.”

“I can’t.” She gestured at the letters and then wiped her nose with the Kleenex in an oddly fragile-seeming gesture. “If I have to recreate the document, I need to get started right away. I can’t afford to lose any time. I—”

He tugged on her hand, shaking his head when she resisted. “Gretchen, you work every day. Even on weekends. You can take a day off. When was the last time you had a day off from writing?”

She looked up at him, a dazed expression on her face. “I’m not sure.”

“You’re stressed and you’re unhappy. I don’t like seeing you like this.” He pulled her closer, pressing a light kiss to her mouth. “Take a day off. I’ve cancelled all my meetings. We can just relax.”

“But my projects—”

“Can wait one day.” At her disbelieving look, he forced a smile to his lips. “You can call your agent in the morning and explain what happened and tell her you need a deadline extension.”

“She’s not going to be happy.” Gretchen’s voice wavered.

He made a mental note to contact the editor he’d hired and have a delay in launch. Give Gretchen another month or two to work on the project—and at his side. That pinched, stressed look would be gone from her face and they could relax once more. Already he missed her cheerful smiles and flirty banter.

He felt like he’d crushed her, and his heart ached at the thought. This was his fault because he was a selfish asshole. Hunter grasped her by the back of her neck and pulled her close for a sudden, fierce kiss.

If he lost her, he . . . he didn’t know what he’d do.

Gretchen looked startled at the vehemence of his kiss, but her mouth softened against his and her tongue stroked into his mouth once more. A soft moan rose in her throat when he lightly sucked on her tongue.

Her stomach growled, ruining the moment. They broke apart, and Gretchen giggled softly, her hand going to her stomach. “I think that was me. I guess I got so distracted that I didn’t eat.”

“Shall I have Eldon prepare something?”

She made a face. “I’m a much better cook than he is. You haven’t tried my three-cheese omelet yet, have you? It’ll make you a believer.” Her eyes sparkled with challenge.

“I’m willing to give it a try,” he said slowly, pleased to see the light returning to her eyes. “But I’m not a big fan of eggs.”

“I’ll make you a fan,” she proclaimed proudly, taking his hand. “Come on. I’ll make you a treat.”

He protested, digging his feet in for a moment. “Today’s about your day of rest, Gretchen. I don’t want you waiting on me.”

She rolled her eyes, a semblance of her normal attitude returning. “Cooking’s not a chore, silly. It’s fun. Now, come on.”

***

Gretchen was right—she could make a mean omelet, and even he, who normally didn’t eat breakfast, cleaned his plate. She didn’t stop with the omelet. Before he could even suggest otherwise, she was preparing a breakfast smoothie and then chopping potatoes for home fries.

This kitchen, she told him, was a shame to waste. So she talked and told him about recipes and things her mother had cooked for them when they were children. She seemed to glow with internal peace while she turned on the oven and picked an overripe banana off the counter, then began hunting for bowls. “I swear, Eldon lets most of this food go to waste. I’m going to make some muffins for the cleaning crew. It seems a shame not to use up these groceries.” She paused for a moment, then tilted her head at him. “This is lame, isn’t it?”

He was surprised by the sudden shyness in her voice. “What do you mean?”

She gestured at the ingredients spread on the marble countertops. “Me. Cooking. You think it’s stupid and you’re probably bored.”

“Not at all.” It was the truth, too. Gretchen in the kitchen seemed to be a whirling dervish of ideas. “I like watching you work. I don’t mind.”

She gave a wry, self-deprecating snort and began to peel the ripe bananas, dropping them into a bowl. “That’s funny. You never want to watch me write.”

“You don’t look as happy when you write,” he pointed out, reaching over to snag a chunk of banana and tossing it into his mouth. “You look happy now.”

Gretchen gave him an almost shy smile, her gaze on the bowl in front of her. “Writing’s my job. I don’t do it because I love it. It just pays the bills.” She picked up a small bit of banana clinging to the edge of the bowl and nudged it back with the rest. “I thought when I first started that writing would be an amazing job. Spend all day in your pajamas and no one to answer to but yourself, right?”

“I suppose.” Years of business had taught him that there was always someone to answer to. He didn’t correct her, though, because he liked hearing her thoughts and perspective on things.

“Yeah, well, I get to spend all day in my pajamas, but it seems like I have more bosses and deadlines than ever before. And I’m not crazy about the work. Like . . . not at all.” She frowned to herself and grabbed the potato masher, then began to vigorously smash the bananas in the bowl. “I kind of hate it, actually. Fucking astronauts and their stupid bimbo girlfriends.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You know. My ghostwriting work.”

He had no idea what she ghostwrote. He’d been told, but it hadn’t been important to him. Apparently Gretchen wrote about astronauts . . . or bimbos. What she wrote had never been important to him, though. Only Gretchen was. “So what would you do if you could do anything?”

Gretchen glanced over at him. “Be right here? With you?”

He smiled. God, he loved her.

For the entire morning, Gretchen cooked and baked in the kitchen. It seemed therapeutic and distracting for her to pull ingredients out of the well-stocked fridge and begin to make delicious treats. And while she baked, she chatted. She told him about how when she was a little girl, she was the eldest. The twins were Audrey and Daphne, and their mother worked two jobs to make ends meet. As the eldest child, Gretchen had been the one in charge of the food, and during the summers she’d watched cooking shows to learn how to prepare meals for her sisters. She’d enjoyed working in the kitchen and it had taken off from there. Now she baked for the coffee shop and loved to cook for friends.

By the time Gretchen looked fully relaxed, there was a fresh-baked set of banana nut muffins on the counter, something she referred to as a gingerbread soufflé, tiny, perfectly shaped white chocolate scones, and pudding-filled lemon cupcakes decorated with hints of lemon zest, freshly grated by Hunter. She seemed utterly content.

She was beautiful and incredibly sexy, and he found that he could watch her for hours and never get bored.

When the last pan was out of the oven and cooling, she began to whip up frosting. She glanced over at him and then dipped her finger in the frosting, offering it to him. “Want to taste?”

His cock jerked at the husky note in her voice and the soft look in her eyes. Ah, damn. Gretchen was thinking pleasant things, and it automatically made him hard to recognize that. Hunter leaned in and took her finger in his mouth, sucking on the fingertip.

A soft whimper of lust escaped her throat.

He licked her with languorous pleasure, his cock hard as a rock in his pants. When he released her finger, her gaze was still riveted to his mouth.

It seemed they were thinking along the same wavelength. “Is it too early in the day to throw you down on the floor and fuck you?”

Her entire body seemed to tremble with that. “God, no. Never too early.”

“Then come here,” he growled.

She moved toward him slowly, all cooking forgotten. Her hands reached for him automatically, moving to smooth along his jaw and the scars there. He didn’t flinch away at her exploring touch. Gretchen’s gaze was appreciative and hot with desire, not disgusted and flinching with revulsion.

She saw him beneath the scars.

Hunter’s arm went around her waist, dragging her against him. Her eyes widened and she smiled, placing a hand on his already erect cock through his slacks. “It doesn’t take much to get you going, does it?”

“Not when it comes to you,” he told her, wrapping his other hand in her hair and tilting her neck back. He leaned in and pressed a kiss there, running his teeth over her skin.

She shivered against him, her hand automatically clenching around his cock. “Oh, Hunter, that feels amazing.”

“I want to make you feel good,” he told her, licking at the delicate cords of her neck. “Tell me what you want.”

“Sex. Right here, right now.” Her hand pumped over his cock, rubbing through his clothing as if she could give him a handjob through the layers.

He groaned in response, sliding the yoga pants down her hips. “Yes. God, yes.”

She froze in his arms. “Wait. What about the staff? What if they see us? Maybe we should hide somewhere.”

He groaned at the thought. He wanted to sink into Gretchen right then and now. But she was right. “We need condoms, too.” Fuck. He needed to learn to keep one on him at all times. “Fine. We’ll go to your room.”

“So far away? It’s an entire hall or two down,” she teased. “I don’t know if I can walk that far.”

He grabbed her under her thighs and lifted her into the air. “Then I’ll carry you.”

She squeaked in surprise, her legs automatically wrapping around his waist, her arms going around his neck. “I was joking. I can walk.”

Hunter thrust against the juncture of her sex, settling her against his erection. “But I like to carry you.”

Gretchen sighed, and she automatically leaned in to kiss him, her thighs squeezing tight around him. “I’m out of objections.”

He kissed her back, his tongue slicking against hers in a wild tangle. With her lifted into his arms, he began to walk slowly out of the kitchen, each step pushing her against his aching cock. He turned his back to push open the swinging kitchen door, then continued down the hall. All the while, she moaned and continued to kiss him, clinging to him.

The walk down the long hall of the east wing to her room seemed endless. Why was his damn house so big? And yet, him carrying her back to her room was exquisitely pleasurable. Every step pushed Gretchen’s warmth against his cock, and her thighs squeezed against his hips. Her breasts pushed against his chest, and her mouth sweetly accepted every thrust of his tongue.

It was delicious torture.

She moaned loudly when they got to her door, and he had to pause to twist the doorknob and push the door open. “Don’t stop moving,” she told him, rolling her hips and working against his cock.

He groaned, his entire body stiffening with need. “Gretchen, don’t.”

“Don’t do this?” She tightened her hands around his neck and ground her hips against him, her lips brushing against his scarred cheek. “I want you deep inside me.”

Hunter staggered into the room, kicking the door shut behind him. He carried her to the bed and laid her down onto her back, immediately rolling on top of her.

“Mmm,” she said, working her hips again. “I liked it when you held me. Felt so close to you.”

He sat up, stripping off his shirt and jacket. “We don’t have to stop. We can make love like that, with me holding you. I just need to get a condom on.”

She gave him a surprised look, and ran a hand along his bare chest, tracing the muscles of his pectorals. “I’m not too heavy?”

“Not at all.” He undid his belt, releasing his pants to the ground, quickly followed by his boxers. “Shall I show you?”

“Absolutely,” she breathed, her voice excited. She began to strip her own clothing off with rapid hands, dragging her shirt over her head as he moved to the dresser and got out one of the condoms. He unwrapped it and rolled it down his aching length, resisting the urge to take himself in his hand and ease the ache a little. He’d be seated deep inside Gretchen soon enough, and that would be sweeter than any pleasure he could give himself.

When he turned around, she was laying on the bed, completely naked. She spread her legs wide at the sight of him, a beckoning gesture that he couldn’t resist. But instead of going to her outstretched arms, he leaned in and nuzzled at her pussy, licking the delicate, slick folds and enjoying the choked gasp that she gave in response.

“You taste so sweet, Gretchen. Sweeter than anything I’ve tasted.” He pushed his tongue through her wet petals, flicking it against her clitoris. “I can’t get enough of you.”

“Then don’t stop.” Her hands twisted in his hair, holding his head in place while he tongued her. “Oh, God, don’t ever stop.”

“But you’ll come,” he said raggedly, and sucked on the small button to make up for the fact that he’d paused.

She cried out, her back arching, and then whimpered a protest when he pulled away. “Why are you stopping?”

“Because I need to be inside you,” he said, his voice rough with need. “Right now.”

She made another wordless sound of protest, but he grasped her hips and pulled her to the edge of the bed.

“Put your arms around my neck,” he commanded, even as he placed the head of his cock against her slick core.

Gretchen did, and he lifted her back into his arms again, tugging her against him.

The movement caused her weight to slide down, and then she was sheathed around him, her heat enveloping him like a glove. The feel of her was indescribable and he groaned at the sensation.

“Oh,” Gretchen breathed. “You’re so deep.” Her muscles seemed to clench around him, sucking him deeper inside, holding him tighter. Her thighs clenched against him, her ass squeezing against his palms as he held her.

He thrust shallowly, rocking his hips even as he clenched her thighs, holding her in place. His mouth sought hers, but the motion only allowed him to graze his lips against her. “Feel good?”

She moved her hips a little, rocking down on him. The movement caused her erect nipples to brush against his chest, further driving him wild. “Oh, Hunter, don’t drop me.”

“Never.” He was strong. He could bench press hundreds of pounds. Her weight was slight in his arms. “I won’t let you go.”

Gretchen’s hips rolled against him, and he thrust at the same time, enjoying her gasp of reaction. “Harder, Hunter.”

He began to rock his hips a little harder. It was a tricky position, though. He needed more leverage. Glancing around, he spotted a bare section of wall a few feet away and moved toward it.

“What . . .” she murmured in protest as he began to move.

Hunter thrust her up against the wall, anchoring her there. She wanted to be fucked hard? He’d give her hard. The leverage of the wall allowed him better support, and when he thrust the next time, her eyes widened, her pussy clenching around him.

“Oh! Just like that!”

She was bossy in bed, his Gretchen. He loved that. Harder and harder, he pounded into her, enjoying her little cries with every thrust. Her eyes were closed tight and she clung to him so hard that her nails dug into his shoulders. And she was making deep, quivering motions with every rough thrust he made.

And he loved it.

A painting fell off the nearby wall. He didn’t give a shit. He thrust harder, each movement rocking her up the delicate floral wallpaper and bouncing her back down on his cock.

“Hunter,” she cried.

“I’m here,” he told her, his mouth swooping in to capture hers in a rough kiss. “I’ve got you.” Her cries were loud and wild, and it drove him fucking mad with pleasure. He ground his hips into her, his cock buried inside that perfect warmth.

She screamed against his mouth, and he felt her go over the edge, felt that flutter of muscle deep inside her, and then she clenched all around him, milking him with her body.

He bit out a curse, so close to the edge himself, his thrusts becoming rougher. She continued to whimper his name, the body shivers continuing on and on. And then he was coming, too, his own orgasm unleashing with a wild groan. He thrust into her again and then stiffened, remaining there as he went over the edge with her.

Gradually, awareness returned and he realized he still had her pinned against the wall, her legs around his hips, her heavy panting in his ear. Hunter shifted, pulling out of her and letting her slide to the ground.

She clung to him, her knees wobbly. He thought she would say something clever, something bold. Something uniquely Gretchen.

But she only wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face against his skin, as if she needed to be held.

And he was all too happy to comply.

***

They spent the rest of the day in bed, leisurely exploring each other’s bodies. They chatted for hours about the house, her projects, and about his work. She’d been under the impression that he didn’t leave the house to work but it turned out that he did, just not often. He had several real estate companies where he owned and leased enormous amounts of land and buildings. He might not oversee every sale, but he was involved in multiple projects at once.

Her own confessions about her job had surprised him. He’d had no idea that she’d had such an intense dislike for writing. He thought she did it because she loved it. But whenever Gretchen mentioned writing, there was a cagey, unhappy look in her eyes, as if she felt . . . trapped.

And here he’d thought he’d make her happy by making her a bestseller. But she hadn’t even brought it up. Perhaps it meant nothing to her. He’d have to think of another way to make her melt.

It seemed he existed solely for Gretchen’s teasing smiles.

***

A few days later

“We could have had this catered,” Hunter said, reaching to steal a piece of bruschetta from the hors d’oeuvres table.

She smacked his hand and arranged the remaining appetizers to hide the fact that he’d stolen one. “How many times do I have to tell you? I like cooking. Besides, this is only ten additional people. I can handle that.”

Tonight was the night of the small dinner party that she’d wheedled out of Hunter. It was a mixer of close friends and her editor and agent. At first, she’d wanted to do it to show the house off a little and get her editor excited about the project.

Now she was hoping that with a few bottles of wine in her editor, she’d be able to get an extension.

She’d made a feast for their guests—delicate pastries, savory appetizers, and a light salad. For the main course, she’d gone with an easy favorite—pasta—and had made a few different things for dessert to show off her skills. The entire day had been spent in kitchen-bliss, as she’d worked on one dish after another.

Why she couldn’t transfer some of that happy peace to her writing, she didn’t know. She hadn’t worked on her manuscript notes ever since she’d lost her file. Part of her kept hoping that she’d hear that they were able to recover the data.

Part of her was just really, really mentally done with the entire thing.

So she’d taken a few days off. She’d baked delicious treats for the cleaning staff, who were delighted at her efforts. She’d reorganized the kitchen and tested out new recipes. She’d made scrumptious dinners for Hunter and even baked cookies for Eldon. She didn’t write a lick. When she wasn’t puttering in the kitchen, she spent her time with Hunter, watching movies in his personal screening room, working out together, or learning the basics of how to cultivate roses.

This week, she was happier than she’d been in a long time. She should have been miserable, but being around Hunter soothed that part of her. He made it okay.

And he didn’t mind that she might have to spend a few more weeks at his house.

It didn’t fix the issue with her apartment, of course. Audrey had called her and had forwarded the rent money to her account so her check would clear, but next month’s rent was coming up fast and she still had no plans. Nor had the check for the new project arrived.

She was fucked. And she didn’t care. Which was weird.

Tonight’s party would either make things worse or better she thought as she surveyed the dining room. Buchanan Manor had a formal dining room with dual crystal chandeliers, wood paneling, and pastoral paintings that she was pretty sure cost a small fortune. It boasted a long, narrow table that could seat twenty and looked like something out of an old-fashioned movie. Soft classical music was piped in through the house’s speaker system. Fresh roses from Hunter’s greenhouse adorned the table.

Her guests would be impressed.

Hunter seemed on edge. He was dressed in a crisp designer suit with a pinstriped navy tie and navy shirt. He looked like a dark god, right down to his hair that fell rakishly over his forehead.

Gretchen set out the appetizers and eyed the wine selection. “What time did we ask everyone to get here?”

Hunter shrugged. “It shouldn’t matter. It’s just a gathering of friends.” The words sounded curiously flat.

“Poor baby. Are you nervous?” Gretchen moved to his side and pretended to straighten his tie, all to give herself an excuse to put her hands on him. “You shouldn’t be. You look amazing.”

His gaze smoldered as he glanced at her. “You’re the one no one will be able to take their eyes off of.”

“Flatterer.” She grinned and adjusted one of the tight sleeves of her black cocktail dress. She’d ordered it online at Hunter’s insistence and had it overnighted. The dress was a cute, low-cut number designed to show off her curves. The body of the dress was form fitting, and the skirt tightening at her knees. She’d worn a white rose in her hair just to set it off and to please Hunter. “With that glib tongue, I think you’ll do just fine at this party tonight.”

He gave her a quelling look. “Not so sure about that. You know I don’t entertain.”

“Not even your friends?”

He looked uncomfortable again. “I’ve never invited them here.”

Really? That was surprising. She knew he kept himself remote from others; she just had no idea how remote. “Well, I’m here tonight. You let me handle everything.” And she leaned in and gave him a grazing kiss on the mouth.

He grasped her and turned the kiss into something deeper, darker, and far more passionate. She moaned in response, making soft noises of pleasure when his tongue thrust into her mouth with searing ownership.

Someone clapped mockingly behind them. “Dinner and a show. You really know how to treat your guests, Hunter.”

Gretchen gasped and turned around, whirling out of Hunter’s arms. A man stood behind them in the doorway, dressed in a casual sports jacket, his collar open. He was handsome in a rakish, too-slick sort of way that she’d always despised. And he was assessing her with a speculative gaze that made her cheeks flush with embarrassment.

At her side, Hunter had gone stiff, and she glanced over at him, expecting to see a sharp scowl. But there was none. He just looked . . . resigned.

His hand went to her waist. “Come. Let me introduce you to Reese.”

They crossed the dining room, and Gretchen kept a hostess smile pinned on her face even as she extended her hand to him. “You’re our first guest,” she said cheerfully. “You must be one of Hunter’s friends.”

“I am. You must be Hunter’s new ladylove.” He gave her an approving smile and then lifted her hand to his mouth. “I applaud his taste.”

“Thanks.”

“I do hope Hunter doesn’t monopolize you the entire evening,” Reese said, giving her his best seductive look.

She pulled her hand out of his with a little grimace. “Cool your jets, lover boy. I’m not into dual penetration.”

He looked startled, then laughed, glancing at Hunter. “I see why you like her.”

Hunter simply gave his friend a tight smile, looking more uncomfortable by the minute. She moved back to his side, giving him a light squeeze on the ass to distract him before drifting away to straighten up the table again. Though she was a safe distance away, she pretended to look busy, all the while watching Hunter furtively.

Reese was still chuckling as she drifted past and began to whisper something to Hunter. He nodded, the uneasy look leaving his face. He began to whisper back to Reese, and the other man burst out laughing. One of Hunter’s rare smiles touched his mouth, and she relaxed a bit.

Maybe this wouldn’t be as painful as she expected. Hunter really seemed on edge about having people in his house. Still, she hoped the presence of his friends would calm him.

One by one, the guests began to arrive. She was introduced to a charming, aristocratic businessman named Griffin, and another gentleman named Jonathan, who owned an auto business. To her surprise and pleasure, Cade Archer showed up a short time later.

He arrived with a smile on his face, flowers in his hand, and gave her a big hug. “I’m so pleased that you’re here, Gretchen.”

She laughed, hugging him back. “A bad Petty always turns up.”

He groaned at her pun, then set her down on the floor. “Look at you. Gorgeous. Not an ounce of bad in you.”

She glanced over at Hunter, smiling. “I didn’t know you were friends with Cade.”

“We go back to college,” Cade said, flashing a white grin.

“Not nearly as far back as we do,” she said. She then turned to grin at Hunter, who had moved to her side.

“I see I don’t need to give introductions,” Hunter said in a guarded voice.

“You can, if it’ll stop Cade from giving me a noogie,” Gretchen teased.

Cade looked a bit embarrassed by her words. “I haven’t given a girl a noogie ever since I discovered they don’t have cooties, Gretchen. I think we’ve missed out on a few years in between.”

She smiled at Hunter to answer his enquiring look. “Cade grew up on the same street as I did. The twins, Cade, and I were the only children in the neighborhood, so we tended to play together quite a bit,” she told Hunter. Gretchen glanced over at Cade. “You know Audrey’s going to be here tonight, too.”

He nodded. “I’m not surprised. She’s Logan’s assistant, correct? Sometimes she shows up at these sorts of functions.”

Gretchen gave a little frown. So he knew Audrey was in the city and working for Logan? Why did no one tell her these things? “That’s right. I’m sure she’d love to catch up.” Another pair showed up at the door and Gretchen excused herself, heading over to greet her agent and her date.

Soon enough, everyone had arrived to the party, including Hunter’s friend Logan and his fiancée, Brontë. Brontë was good friends with Gretchen, so she immediately began to help with the food and drink. Her editor had arrived as well, along with his assistant and the publicist, and Gretchen spent a few minutes showing them around the dining room and talking about the house and the letters with great enthusiasm.

Gretchen introduced them to Hunter as well, but his normally reticent manner had gone stiff and cold. She couldn’t help but notice that Kat stared at his scars a bit too long and then whispered to her date. She felt a flare of irritation at her agent’s callousness. No wonder Hunter hated gatherings like this. People acted like he was a sideshow instead of just another person.

The only guest missing in their small party was Audrey. When Eldon showed up at the door of the dining room to announce another guest, Gretchen headed to his side, anticipating her sister’s arrival. To her surprise, Eldon moved into the room alone and headed to Gretchen’s side, leaning in to whisper.

“Your sister is here, Ms. Petty. And she has brought a . . . problem. Could you please follow me?”

Gretchen’s eyes widened. “Of course.” She glanced across the room where Hunter stood in silence near Jonathan and Reese, and she gestured to him that she would be back. She quickly followed Eldon down the hall and asked, “What’s the problem?”

“Follow me, Ms. Petty,” Eldon said in a disapproving voice. “You’ll soon see.”

She hurried behind him, anxiety ratcheting up a notch. Had something happened to Audrey? Her sister was always so self-contained and capable. If there was something wrong, it usually didn’t have anything to do with Audrey. Audrey strove to be perfect.

When they arrived in the massive main foyer, everything was made clear. Audrey was in the doorway, dressed in one of her coordinated suits and low-heeled pumps. Her pale red hair was drawn back into its usual tight bun. She also looked miserable.

Draped over Audrey’s shoulder was the heavily braceleted, too-skinny arm of Audrey’s twin and Gretchen’s sister, Daphne. Audrey’s polar opposite, Daphne’s hair was a dyed mess of black and pink streaks, and dark makeup pooled under her eyes. Her clothes were torn and dirty.

And she gave a goofy smile at the sight of Gretchen. “Oh, hey sis,” she slurred. “Heard you were having a party and thought I’d crash it.”

Date: 2015-02-03; view: 577