2. Kate
Chapter Two
KATE
I whip around with a gasp, my martini swishing from my glass, over the rim, and spilling down onto the stranger’s black jeans. Oh. My. God.
“I’m so sorry!” I say, dropping to my knees and pulling a silk handkerchief from my clutch. He’s soaked from his zipper to his muscular thigh. Awkwardly, I dab my hankie against his pants.
“It’s all right,” the guy says.
“No, I’m so embarrassed.” I shake my head, keeping up the cleaning routine until I realize that I am blotting more than just his wet jeans with my hankie.
And right smack in front of the London glitterati too.
A prickling heat crawls up my cheeks, probably turning fifty shades pinker than my dress. His dark denim bulges more, growing stiff. If I keep it up any longer, he’ll bust out of his zipper too. I freeze for a moment, then ball up the damp silk in my hand and jump to my feet, locking eyes with my leather jacket-wearing James Dean wannabe. I can’t think of a more embarrassing way to meet the hottest guy at the party. Maybe the hottest in all of London. Or in the world.
Will he think I’m crazy if I run out of the room screaming and flailing my arms in the air?
“I am so sorry,” I say.
He brushes his pants with a stiff hand. “It’s fine. I shouldn’t have startled you like that, but your dress looked like it was about to hit the floor.”
I gaze at his curled upper lip. Five minutes with his sexy mouth and my dress will absolutely hit the floor.
Garret nudges my back. “Kate, introduce yourself,” he says out of the side of his mouth.
I smooth my hair back around my ear and balance my hand in the tantalizing air between us. “I’m Kate.” When his skin touches mine, a surge of electricity circuits up my arm, across my chest, and dips down below my waist.
“I’m Drew.” He lifts my hand to his lips. His breath excites my skin just before he kisses it. And it’s not one of those polite English gentleman kisses. It’s sensual. Erotic. His mouth parts slightly, leaving behind an invisible mark.
“Pleasure to meet you,” I say. “And sorry again for the spill.”
Drew grins. “The pleasure’s all mine. And don’t worry about getting me all wet. Maybe one day I can return the favor.”
Garret slaps a hand over his mouth, choking back his martini. A little liquor dribbles down his chin. I almost forgot he’s still here.
“This is my friend, Garret,” I say.
Drew nods. “Pleasure.”
“Hi.” Garret flutters his fingers in a wave, then grabs onto my arm. “Kate, can I speak with you for a moment?”
I keep up a polite smile. “What is it, Garret?”
“It’ll just take a sec!” My friend shows off his freshly whitened teeth. “Would you excuse us for a moment?”
“Sure.”
Garret tugs me along with him, and I trot close behind in my stilettos. When we’re out of Drew’s earshot, he turns to me with a wide-eyed glare. “Look, I know you’re not looking for a fun distraction, but there’s no way that guy wants to wear your lingerie. If anything, he wants to rip it off of you.”
“You think so?” I ask. Of all the beautiful people in the room, why me?
“Yes! He is bad boy gorgeous, and if you don’t take him home, I’m going to try.” He holds my hand in his, pleading with me.
“I’m not taking him home with me,” I say in a hushed tone, even though my body wants him in my bed. I have a rule about one-night stands. I don’t do them. They’re tacky, not sexy. Besides, how good can sex be with someone you don’t know?
“Kate, honey, I love that you’re such a good girl, but since you came back to work, you’ve been stiffer than the hard-on you just gave him. You have got to loosen up. Look,” Garret nods toward Drew. “He’s still staring at you.”
I glance over my shoulder. Drew patiently waits exactly where I left him. At least five glossy cover models hover nearby, but Drew stares at me like I’m the sexiest woman in the room. Like I’m the only woman in the room. And I like it. “He is gorgeous,” I say, giving in a little.
“Exactly. Go over there, graze your little Katies on his arm, and if he asks to take you for a ride, at least consider it. Guys with his vibe don’t come around that often. You don’t want to live with regrets,” he says.
I shoot him a caustic look. “I’m starting to regret this conversation.”
Garret chuckles. “No, you’re not. Now get your sexy little tush over there so we have something to gush about later.”
I barely shrug one shoulder “Fine.” Garret gives me a light swat on my booty, sending me back over to Drew.
The truth is I want to do exactly what Garret’s suggesting, but not because I need to loosen up. Because being close to Drew makes me feel like I’m already lying naked in the sheets, every inch of me wants every inch of him. It’s an urge I haven’t felt in ages. My body’s never reacted to a stranger like this before. It’s like not knowing how thirsty you are until someone offers you a drink.
I’ve been a beast in business, but I’ve never been bold in the bedroom. Maybe it’s his musky cologne or his five o’clock shadow, but something about Drew makes me want to toss the rulebook over Tower Bridge.
I smile, batting my eyelashes as I approach him, and try to appear worthy of his attention. “Sorry about that.”
Drew holds a steady gaze and says nothing. But his eyes say everything. It’s a language I desperately want to know. Another waiter passes by, this time noticing me. I swap out my now-empty martini for a sparkling champagne glass and suck down a long sip. If I’m going to even remotely consider what Garret suggested, I’ll need some liquid courage.
“Thirsty?” Drew asks.
“Yeah,” I say, catching my breath. “I didn’t realize how parched I was until I saw you—I mean saw this . . . glass of champagne.” I hold up the flute, pretending to be mesmerized by the bubbles floating near the surface when I really want to face-palm myself for that stupid slip-up.
He lets out a small laugh and takes a drink, keeping those mysterious eyes intently fixed on me—like he can see right through me. Like he’s undressing me in his mind, in every way a person can be stripped. A shiver runs up my spine.
“You from the States then?” Drew asks in a low tone.
I nod. “Yeah, I just flew in from L.A.”
“You’re a long way from home.” His lip curls up again.
Being five thousand miles from home is one thing, but being close to him pushes me way out of my usual element. I glance down at his shoes—roughed-up combat boots. Real leather. That’s unexpected. I like it. “Yeah. What about you?”
“I’m what you’d call a Londoner.”
“Ahh, London-ah,” I say, dropping Kate Golden for Kate Winslett.
The corners of his mouth turn up, and his eyes brighten. “Yes, a London-ER,” he pronounces with a hard American accent.
I giggle. “Your American accent’s pretty good. You an actor?”
He shakes his head with a twisted expression.
“Model?” I ask.
“Nope. Why? Are you a model? A Hollywood actress?” he jokes.
I raise my brows, shifting my jaw. “Definitely not.”
Drew leans in, and his lips nearly touch the edge of my earlobe. “So, what are you then?” he whispers.
My empty glass trembles in my hand as I inhale his spicy, intoxicating cologne. Can he hear the sound of my racing heart like I can? “I’m a . . . I’m just Kate.”
Just Kate? What the hell does that even mean? I usually can’t wait to gush about my company and designs. But Drew pops into my life, and my usual small talk goes out the window.
He pulls back with a slight sparkle reflecting in his leather-brown eyes. “I like that answer. Why define ourselves by our jobs or last names when we can be Just Kate and Just Drew?”
Just Kate. Just Drew. I don’t hate it. I also don’t hate how he can strip me down with one look. Though I can imagine him with his boxer briefs around his ankles, I don’t know if I quite have him pegged. On the surface, he looks like another cool playboy who’s only after one thing. But I can’t help feeling that there’s more than meets the eye.
He gestures toward the stairs with a nod. “You want to get away from this lot? Somewhere quiet.”
I glance around the room for Garret, chewing my bottom lip. “Sure. What did you have in mind?”
He raises his brow. “I know a place upstairs. No one will bother us.”
“Upstairs? Here?” Is this guy the good kind of trouble or the bad kind? I’m really not looking to be naughty in Nina Savoy’s house.
“Oh, yeah. It’s fine.”
Who is this guy? “Um, sure. Why not?” I swallow hard.
“Then come with me, Kate.” He says my name as if he’s swirling the syllables in his mouth like a good sip of wine and offers his hand. I give him my hand and he tucks it safely in his like a delicate piece of lace. Whatever hesitation is left seems to melt with every step we take up the steep staircase.
I don’t know exactly why I agreed to leave with him, but I absolutely want to find out. Maybe I will have some fun tonight. At Nina Savoy’s house. With a guy I just met.
Garret will be so proud.
The long, well-lit hallway is vacant, and all the doors are closed. We turn the corner with only one final, closed door at the end. “Here we are,” he says, wrapping his fingers around the silver doorknob.
I want to go with him. I do. But something inside me hesitates because the next thing out of my mouth is, “Is there a bathroom I can use first?” Good one, Kate. Bathrooms are sooo sexy . . .
He cocks his head, holding back a chuckle, then points down the hall. “Around the corner. The second door on the left.”
“Thanks. I’ll be right back.”
“Promise?” he asks, pushing open the door.
There’s something so inviting in his gaze that I agree with a smile, despite my nerves. I’m definitely coming back. If I can even move. My heels are glued to the floor.
A dim light radiates from the room as he enters and turns back to me. His gaze rolls over my entire body. “I’ll wait for you,” he says, leaving me breathless. And I believe him.
Better he waits for me than the other way around. I hurry around the corner, adjusting my dress but thinking it’s a futile pursuit. Nina Savoy’s hall bathroom is easily bigger than my master bathroom with her sunken tub surrounded by black-and-white-swirled marble and matching sink, beautiful recessed lighting, and a huge diamond-patterned beveled window.
I check out my dress in the full-wall mirror behind the tub, then my clutch vibrates on the vanity top. A familiar tune sounds from inside. I pull out my phone. It’s Beau, my best friend of forever. And by forever, I mean since the first grade.
“Sorry, Beau,” I utter and send the call to voicemail. That’s when I see I’ve missed her four calls in the last twenty minutes. Uh-oh. Something’s up. I swipe to call her right back.
“Thank God, Kate.” Beau’s voice is thick and cracks around my name.
My heart plunks into my gut. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s Martino,” Beau sobs. “He posted a photo with some girl on Instagram. And it was not his sister. I texted him— Nice photo . Are we seeing other people now?— and he texted back, saying he’s been so lonely since I left Italy that someone had to keep him warm. What the hell kind of response is that? I thought we were in love. I was going to fly back in like ten days to spend the summer with him.”
Beau has a fetish for unavailable foreign men. She claims that each one of them is the love of her life. I’ve heard “He’s The One” at least sixteen times in the past seven years. But despite the string of heartbreaks it’s caused her, she never seems to grow tired of putting herself out there over and over and over again.
I want to tell her to get it together. But she’s my oldest and dearest friend. Not to mention the most loyal. She’s always on my side, and so I choose to always be on hers.
“Oh, honey, I’m sorry. You know how those European guys are. They’re players,” I say, literally about to fool around with one myself. “Remember Franco, and Milos, and Isak?” How do I remember their names? Oh yeah, she obsessively told me all about them during their respective seasons of love. “You should protect your heart. Save it for someone who’s really worthy.” While I give this sage advice, I can’t help but think that no one is really worth a broken heart.
No one.
“But I thought he was worthy. I thought he was the love of my life.” She lets out a long, dreamy sigh. “The way he made love to me when we spent the weekend in Manarola, I knew he was my sex soul mate.”
A handful of men she’s been with have won the title of sex soul mate. I don’t believe in soul mates, sex or otherwise. But I do believe in chemistry. And I need to go back to that room with Drew and find out how explosive our chemistry really is.
I sigh, slouching my shoulders and leaning my hip against the bathroom sink. “I know you did. I’m so sorry, Beau. If I could make this better by bringing you animal-style fries from In-N-Out, I would, but I can’t. Can I call you back? I’m at this party?—”
She let out another huge, heart-wrenching sob. “Kate, I really need you right now. I feel so lost.”
I take a deep breath and glance at my frown in the mirror. “Okay, I’m here.” I slip out of the bathroom with the phone glued to my ear, consoling my friend as I trek down the stairs, and making my way outside. Chemistry with some guy isn’t nearly as important as Beau’s broken heart.
And if it is, I guess I’ll never know.