10. Kate
Chapter Ten
KATE
I couldn’t sketch last night. Believe me, I tried. I blame the art store for their empty Fredrickson stock. But that isn’t the real reason. The real reason is Drew ignited something in me. Something I’m not sure I’ve ever felt.
I got on the back of his motorcycle for crying out loud. And I got off too. Not even in my sexy lingerie world does that ever happen. So I finally feel brave enough to ask him upstairs. And what does he do? Rejects my offer and rides off.
Damn you, Drew Blake! Damn you, and your gorgeous face, your bad boy tattoos, and your sexy London accent.
That’s it. I’m done with him and this stupid, good-for-nothing crush.
Then my phone vibrates on the nightstand. It’s my publicist. “Hey, Garret, why are you calling so early?”
“You sound pissed. Did you see the headline?” he asks.
My heart begins to pound. “No, what headline?”
“Here. I’ll text you the link.” A moment later, I’m looking at the front page of the Cheeri-Ooh! website, London’s gossip rag. It takes me a moment to register the featured photo of me riding on the back of Drew’s bike. My arms clutched around him, and the wind whipping through my little red dress. The headline reads Bike Bachelor, Drew Blake Canoodles with Lingerie Designer Kate Golden .
“What the hell?” I say, immediately scanning the page. I spot another photo of him helping me remove my helmet outside the tech store, the two of us grinning at each other. It reads:
It’s leather meets lace on this afternoon joyride with London’s hottest catch, fashion photographer Drew Blake, and American luxury lingerie designer Kate Golden. The two were caught leaving Kate Golden Lingerie on Mount Street Friday afternoon and rumored to have ended their escapade at the Royal Regency Hotel, where Golden is believed to be housed whilst she’s in town for the London Intimates Fashion Show.
A source has confirmed the designer was photographed by Blakesie in her knickers for an upcoming issue of Lux Magazine. Did Kate Golden steal his heart on set, or is she just Blakesie’s model of the week? Or rather, wannabe model of the week.
Oh, my God. My skin is boiling hot. This is so embarrassing. It’s one thing to be outed, but it’s another when there’s nothing to out. And just when I’m ready to forget all about him, I can’t. “Garret, please don’t tell me you had anything to do with this?”
“No, of course not! I know you hate this kind of press. Not that you get a lot of it.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I’m just saying, it’s not the worst press. London thinks you’re dating the Jake Ryan of London. And they mentioned your store and the show. We couldn’t have paid for better publicity!”
“Garret, I’m a respected designer. I’m meeting with a legitimate investor from a top firm next week. I don’t want this kind of attention. And they called me a wannabe model. It’s humiliating!”
“Yeah, that part was kind of harsh. But they’re just jealous that you bagged a hot billionaire bad boy. You did bag him, right?”
I grit my teeth. “No, I did not.”
“Bummer. I wanted to gush. I can’t believe you rode a motorcycle. How was it?”
I throw myself on the bed and stuff my face into a plushy pillow, thinking back to that little moment of intense pleasure. “Amazing,” I say, muffled by the cushion.
“Huh?”
“Nothing.” I was going to let the whole thing go, but with this gossip headline, no. I won’t be smeared over sex I’m not actually having. It’s infuriating. And I know exactly who to take it out on. “Hey, can you help me with something?”
An hour later, I arrive at his building and ride the elevator to the penthouse floor.
Bang! Bang! BANG!
I pound on the cold, steel door. It’s eight-thirty in the morning. He better be home. And he better be alone.
Bang! Bang! Bang! BANG!
“Just a bloody second!” he yells from the other side. I raise my fist to pound again, but the door swings open, and my fist freezes mid-air.
“Kate, what are you doing here?” he says, but I can hardly register his words because I’m too distracted by the tattoos on his bare chest. His chin and cheeks are scruffier than yesterday, and all I want to do is grab his face and kiss his gorgeous mouth.
My gaze draws down his naked abs and lands on the bulge in his black boxer shorts, and I feel my tongue slide out of my slack-jawed mouth. “Um . . . I . . .” I stutter.
How can I be mad at that? At him when he looks so good? Maybe I should forget the bad press and make the rumors true. Then again, he seems hellbent on punishing me for leaving him alone at Nina Savoy’s party. Men have such fragile egos.
My brow furrows, and I shake away my gawky expression. “I’m not interested in your little games.”
He tilts his head. “Excuse me?”
“I don’t get you. We go through the whole song and dance, and when I finally invite you up, you drive off like you can’t get away fast enough!” My voice booms down the hall.
“Shh. Would you lower your voice?”
“Why, you got some girl back there? Some model?” I yell, hoping if there is someone back there, she hears me. And also praying he’s alone.
He takes my hand and pulls me inside. “No. Mr. Bean across the hall likes to sleep in on Saturday mornings, as do I.”
I look back at the only other door on the other side of the hall. “Mr. Bean’s your neighbor? Like, from the movies?”
“Not that Mr. Bean.”
“Well, maybe I should bang on his door and tell him how you’re dragging my name through the mud for your own pleasure!”
Drew closes the door behind me, and now I’m even more distracted by his nearly naked body. And he even smells good. How is that possible? He clearly just rolled out of bed.
“What are you talking about?” His expression tells me he has no idea what I’m talking about. So I whip out my phone, the one with the newly replaced screen.
“This!”
Drew raises an eyebrow. “It’s a black screen.”
“Dammit,” I say and unlock my phone, revealing the tabloid. He takes the phone from me, and I watch him scan the page. “I’m not one of your throw-away girl arm pieces.”
“I know.” Drew’s soft brown eyes meet my gaze. “I’m sorry. This isn’t some evil master plan. The press just follows me. I don’t even read these anymore. Trust me, Kate, the last thing I want is to hurt you.”
For some reason, against my better judgment, I believe him. And I feel stupid for coming down here and yelling at him. But there’s still one thing I don’t understand. “So why did you leave me hanging on the street yesterday?”
“For that same reason. You’d never be satisfied with a one-night stand. You’re a nice girl. You showed up to my flat at eight-thirty in the morning to defend your honor. This is just a rumor. You don’t want to make it fact. So I’m trying to do the right thing.”
Sure, I don’t color outside the lines much. Or ever. But I’m sick of Drew trying to protect me from him. I can protect myself. “I’m not as nice as you think.”
“Yeah, I noticed with all the yelling,” he says, cracking a half smile.
“Sorry. Things are just really tense.” I shake my shoulders, but I know it will take a lot more than a Swedish massage and a bubble bath to relieve the pressure.
“Don’t be. I’m glad you came over. Even if you did wake me out of a dead sleep.” Drew stretches his arms above his head and lets out a yawn. His muscles flex in the early morning light. Then he rubs his hand over his defined stomach.
“Have you had breakfast yet?” Drew asks, with a look that tells me he’s hungry for more than bangers and mash.