Tempt Me - By Shiloh Walker Page 0,11
said, “Brant wouldn’t want me holding on like this… and I’m not clinging to his memory. Exactly. It’s just…well, I haven’t ever met anybody else who got to me like he did. If I do, I’m not going to walk away from…well. Whatever could happen. I just haven’t…”
She glanced at him, intending to look away just as fast. But she found herself caught in the rich, ripe gold of his eyes. His hand came up, cupping her cheek. “Guess that’s one of those time things, isn’t it?”
His thumb stroked over her lip. That light touch sent something hot and shivery arrowing straight down to her core. And her heart—oh, her heart. It shuddered in her chest, shuddered, trembled, and for the briefest moment, she felt it stop.
Oh. Oh, no. This was bad.
His mouth was just a breath away from hers and she wanted, desperately, to close the distance between them, cover his mouth with hers.
But she didn’t. Instead, she turned her face and said quietly, “Cole...you tempt me. But you’re all wrong for me. The wrong type of guy completely.”
His hand hesitated and then he backed away. “And what type of guy am I?”
“The taken type,” she said wryly. “And your fiancée already hates me enough. Let’s not make things any more unpleasant than they already are.”
Edging around him, she slid out the door.
Almost showtime. Then she could go home. Slip into some PJs, get something hard and strong to drink, and collapse into the bed. At least now she suspected she might have a pleasant dream tonight, instead of a nightmare.
“...may I present the hostess of tonight’s festivities...”
Cole was edging his way to the front of the restaurant, determined to get the hell out of there before he did anything else stupid. Like try to make a move on Rocki again.
“...Lush!”
Automatically, he glanced back. His eyes widened as he found himself staring at Rocki as she accepted the hands of two tuxedo-clad men, lifting her onto the stage.
“For those who are new to the event, Lush, also known as Rocki Monroe, designs many of the pieces sold in Lush & Lace,” the petite redhead on the stage said, smiling as Rocki sauntered toward her. “Lush started out designing costumes in high school theater and began devoting more time to design in college. But it wasn’t until after her husband’s death that she actively began pursuing this particular dream—it was a dream only her husband and I knew about.”
Rocki stopped next to the redhead. The other woman smiled up at her friend. “The name even came from him...Lush, his nickname for Rocki.”
“Don’t forget about the other part,” Rocki chided, taking the microphone. “Lace. Short for Lacey Morgan, who takes the portraits. My not-so-silent partner.” She bumped her hip against the other woman and grinned as the paler skinned woman flushed a brilliant shade of crimson.
Somebody from out the crowd called out, “Can we bid on the two of you?”
Lacey quipped, “You can’t handle the two of us, Mitchell.” Then she bowed to Rocki. “Lush, the stage is all yours.”
Rocki curtsied and stepped aside as the two tuxedo-clad men helped her friend off the stage.
Staring at Rocki, Cole found himself chuckling.
“That bitch.” Mara appeared at his side, seething.
Cole, his amusement fading, looked at her. “Pardon?”
“She did this on purpose—she fucking knew I’d find out who she was tonight and she did this to humiliate me,” Mara snarled.
Cole muffled a groan. “Mara, nobody is even paying you any attention. You’re not going to be humiliated unless you bring it on yourself. Now if you’ll excuse me...”
She went to grab his arm but he evaded her. “Enough,” he warned her. “It’s done between us and I’m not going to have you grabbing me and digging your claws in every time you don’t get the final word.”
“How can you do this to me?” She stared at him, all big eyes and sadness now. Apparently going for a different tactic. “I can’t believe you want to end it without even talking things through.”
“There’s nothing to talk through. We’re through...I think we have been for a while and I just didn’t see it.” He shook his head. “I’m not going to discuss it when there’s nothing you can do or say to change my mind.”
“That’s hardly fair, is it?” she asked, her voice brittle.
“It’s not about fair,” he replied. “You don’t even see what you’ve become. If you don’t see it, you can’t change it. And I can’t marry the woman you are.” He stared at