21. Kate
Chapter Twenty-One
KATE
Rushing back to my hotel in nothing but a trench coat isn’t nearly as much fun as it was rushing over to Drew’s last night. But in less than thirty minutes, I order room service and get in the shower. I chug an entire bottle of water with one hand and wash my hair with the other.
As I scrub away any passion particles left in my locks, my mind races with everything I have to do. The investor meeting is one thing, but now I’m revamping my entire line for the fashion show in a few days. What was I thinking, allowing myself to get swept up and distracted by all this Drew stuff? Then, I close my eyes, imagining his hands rocking my hips over him, and a tantalizing tingle shoots up to my navel.
Oh, that’s why.
Maybe it’s all too much for me right now. This thing with Drew is just a lovely London fling, after all. He knows it. I know it. And Cheeri-Ooh! readers know it too.
Should I stop seeing him? I’ve experienced enough passion to last me a really, really long time. My heart sinks at the thought. I hate the idea of not seeing him again. If I feel like that now, how will I feel when I go back home next week?
There’s a knock at the door. My stomach flips. Is it him?
No, don’t be ridiculous, Kate.
Dressed in a fluffy, terry cloth robe, I open the door expecting a bellhop with my omelet. But it’s Beau. Her blue eyes are wide and sparkling like she has something to tell me.
“What’s going on?” I ask, ushering her in.
“You tell me. What happened last night, you sexy little minx?” She smacks my behind as I hurry back to the bathroom.
I want to gush over every last detail, but all that comes out is, “Honestly, there are no words. It was . . .”
“Sex soul mate status?”
My face flushes as I slather it with cream. Yes, I had that thought last night in a moment of pleasure, but admitting it to my best friend in the light of day feels like a declaration I’m not ready to make. “I don’t know about that but when I . . .”
“Came. Climaxed. Orgasmed?”
“Yeah, I thought the world would explode.”
“That’s what I’m talking about. Isn’t it the best!” Beau says.
“Yeah, except it can’t go on forever. I go home next week.” I swipe a tasteful mauve lipstick over my frowning lips.
“Oh, girl, that’s why it’s so good. If you knew you could have him night after night after night, it wouldn’t be so hot.”
“Wait. Is that why you’re always falling in love on vacation?” I always wonder why she puts herself out there over and over again. But if she’s having sex that’s even remotely like what I experienced last night, then I can see why she does it.
Beau gasps and then lowers herself onto the edge of the tub. “Omigod. My shrink’s been telling me that I date unavailable men as a way of replicating my relationship with my dad. But maybe it’s about the mind-blowing sex. Holy shit, I really am addicted to love.”
“Might as well face it,” I say, then blot my mouth.
Beau ignores the reference. Instead, her eyes blink on repeat as if replaying every romantic encounter she’s ever had in her mind. Then her expression turns downcast, and her chin wrinkles. Uh-oh. I know that look. I turn around and watch her eyes puddle with fresh tears.
“What’s the matter?” I ask, kneeling down next to her.
“What if I never really loved any of those guys? What if fantastic sex plays tricks on your mind? Your heart? What if I’ve never really been in love?” She looks panicked.
I’ve come to the conclusion that Beau’s only been in lust. Infatuated. Which is exactly how I’m feeling about Drew right now. If I were the lovesick type, I might think Drew and I are more than sex soul mates. I might think I’m falling for him. That he’s the one . But I know better. Now, maybe Beau does too.
“No.” She shakes her head and swipes a tear from her cheek. “I can’t believe that when I feel so heartbroken over Martino. We had something. Something special. I keep posting selfies on my social all around town hoping he’ll get on the next flight to London and show up at my hotel room with a ring and promise to love me forever. How foolish is that? What am I going to do?” Her head falls in her hands, and I reach over to stroke her shoulder.
This is exactly what I have to avoid with Drew Blake. But this isn’t about my soon-to-cease pleasure, it’s about my friend’s very real pain. “You’ll heal just like you always do. And then one day, you’ll meet someone who would jump on a flight just to win you back with an engagement ring and love you forever.”
“You think so?”
“Of course.” Though, I don’t know if grand gestures like that exist outside of Hollywood movies. And since she was raised by some of the biggest names in La-la Land, there’s a chance she doesn’t know the difference between reality and romantic fantasy. But some people need the fantasy. And others, like me, know it’s just a dream.
There’s another knock at the door. And this time, it’s room service. Beau stays with me while I review my financials and talking points. We’re both in these intense seasons and somehow, we oscillate easily between supporting and being supportive.
Soon, I’m dressed in my best designer suit and belted black blazer. On the outside, I’m all-business Kate Golden, but on the inside, I’m nervous as hell. If this doesn’t go well, I’ll be the one nursing a heartbreak.
“Beau, will you come with me to the meeting, and wait in the lobby? I don’t want to do this alone,” I say.
“Kate. Why do you think I’m dressed like this?” she says, and I finally notice her London chic threads. “I’m not letting you go alone.”
I pull her in for a close hug. “Thank you.”
We take a town car over to Bonnaire Tower just north of the River Thames. I must’ve wiped my damp palms on my knees about a hundred times on the drive. My heart pounds so loudly that it echoes in my ears.
“Breathe, Kate. It’s going to be great,” Beau offers.
I swallow, but my mouth has gone dry. “You’re right.”
We walk along the marble flooring into the grand lobby, bustling with men and women in dark-colored, tailored suits. I check in at the front, and Beau and I are escorted to a seating area near the elevator. My leg fidgets as I wait for someone to come get me.
“Kate, is that you?” A voice calls ahead.
I look up at the very familiar friendly face. “Oh my gosh, what are you doing here?”
“I’m working a deal for Solids,” my friend Liz says, approaching with open arms. Her red hair is lighter than the last time we met, but she looks absolutely fabulous. She’s a designer in L.A. with an everyday wear brand called Solids.
“What a surprise. Hey, Beau.” Liz greets our mutual friend.
“Hello, darling.” Beau pecks a kiss on her cheek. “I haven’t heard from you in forever. When’s the wedding?”
“Next spring,” Liz says.
“Perfect! How long will you be in town?” Beau asks.
“I head back on Thursday. Do you guys want to meet up for dinner later?”
“I would love to, but I don’t know if I can. I’m trying to construct all new pieces for the fashion show this week,” I say. It’s serendipitous to run into her here, but we can always meet when I’m back home.
“Seriously. That’s so badass,” Liz says. “But that’s too bad for me. I’ve been so bored in the evenings. My fiancé wanted to stay home.”
“You can come by the studio later if you want. Maybe you can help. You still sew?”
“Not like I used to, but I’m confident I still got it. Just tell me when and where,” Liz says, then surveys my outfit. “And speaking of sewing, I’m loving this look. Are you here to impress someone?”
“Yes, I am. A Venture Capitalist,” I say.
“Me too. Who are you meeting with? I’m working with Jacqueline Parker.”
“I’m meeting?—”
“Kate Golden,” someone calls my name. This time, it’s an unfamiliar voice.
I turn to the woman and smile. “Yes, that’s me.”
“We’re ready for you. Follow me.”
I turn back to Beau and Liz. “Wish me luck.”
“You don’t need it. You’re fabulous,” Liz says.
I thank them both and follow the woman to the elevator, reminding myself to breathe on the way up the tower. Why am I so nervous? I know the whole finance game. My dad’s a money guy. I’ve got a great brand. Nina Savoy sees it. It just needs a little something extra.
Finally, I come face-to-face with the man who holds my lingerie’s future in his hands. The smell of aftershave wafts from his tanned face. Dressed in a tightly tailored cobalt-blue suit with a matching vest, he offers his hand. “You must be Kate Golden.”
“Yes, and you must be Collin Evans.”