Natalie was doubly glad to see her assistant. Not only did she genuinely like Cynthia, she was more than ready for a distraction. She desperately needed to think about something, someone other than Beau Stillwell. Living above her shop was convenient on several fronts. She didn’t have a commute. She saved on rent.
The downside was she’d never really had a space all her own. Growing up, from as early as she could remember, she’d shared her room, and clothes and toys with foster siblings. And now she shared her home space with her business. One day, she wanted a house of her own. But, for now, she’d take advantage of no commute and always being in the office, ready for the day, by seven-thirty. This morning, however, Natalie had hit the office at six-thirty, ready to lose herself in work, details, planning—anything but thinking about Beau.
Although she was tired last night, nothing had satisfied her. She’d run a bubble bath when she got home, dumping a generous portion of lavender bath salts in. Between the warm water and aromatherapy she should’ve been out like a light. Nope. She’d tried reading a book. Not interested. Nothing on television. She’d popped in Pride and Prejudice—A&E’s Colin Firth as Mr. Darcy, thank you very much—but not even P&P struck a chord for her.
She’d finally admitted to herself that she was sexually keyed up and taken matters into her own hands. It was a rather sad fact, but the truth of the matter was that not all orgasms were created equal. She’d had her orgasm but she’d still felt all empty and achy and needy inside.
Masturbation simply didn’t mimic the nuzzle of Beau’s mouth on her neck or the delicious pressure of his hand and mouth on her breast. And the very thought of his mouth between her wet thighs…Yeah, that had been the fantasy that sent her right on over the edge to hollow satisfaction. Kissing him had been analogous to playing with fire. She hadn’t gotten burned, but she was definitely singed. How could a man so wrong, so different from what she wanted in a man, turn her on so thoroughly, so completely?
And it didn’t matter. This, too, would pass. She’d finally gotten him out to Belle Terre. Now all she needed was the schedule from him, which she could most likely go through his secretary for, and she was done with Beau Stillwell until she had to see him again at the rehearsal dinner. Months. Woohoo.
“How was your Sunday?” Natalie asked as Cynthia put away her purse and beelined for the hot water in the back. Natalie wandered into the stockroom behind her and leaned against the doorjamb.
“I spent most of the day parked on the sofa reading a romance novel, just to remind myself there are decent men out there, and eating popcorn. But I didn’t cry. Not even once.” Cynthia measured out loose English breakfast tea leaves into the stainless steel ball.
Natalie would’ve hugged her, except Cynthia wasn’t the hugging type. The last couple of months had been tough for her assistant. Cynthia had been expecting a proposal from her live-in boyfriend, Josh, after two years together. Instead, she’d gotten the news that Josh was going to be a daddy—the sticking point being that Cynthia wasn’t the mommy. And he’d even robbed her of the pleasure of kicking him to the curb. He’d moved out and sent her a text message breaking both pieces of news while Natalie and Cynthia had been in the middle of directing a rehearsal. Bastard.
“Good,” Natalie said. “That’s real progress. Double good because he’s so not worth it.”
Tears shimmered in Cynthia’s eyes but she squared her shoulders and raised her chin. “But enough about me. Did you get the remodel schedule down? What was the race like?” She cocked her head to one side and assessed Natalie, her lips pursed. “And what’s different about you this morning? You definitely look different.”
“We got the remodel list made. We didn’t get as far as the schedule. The race was, believe it or not, kind of exciting. And I suppose this is what I look like when I’m losing my mind.”
Cynthia dropped the tea ball into the hot water. “Why do I get the feeling we’re not talking about your standard garden-variety lose-your-mind?”
Natalie brought her up to speed on most of the day while Cynthia opened a Pop-Tart and dropped it into the toaster. “His pieces aren’t quite fitting together. His crew member tells me the guy can remember stats from two races ago but I have to schlep along behind him like a hired hand, taking notes. That doesn’t add up.”
“So what are you saying?”
“I don’t know. See, that’s the problem. I can’t think straight.” There. She’d admitted it. He was messing with her head.
“So, call Shelby up and grill her about this guy. That girl loves to talk.”
It was true. Her younger foster sister was a motormouth, which was great considering the quiet, withdrawn kid she’d been when she’d shown up as a thirteen-year old. Natalie was adaptable and she got along well with almost all the kids her parents took in, but she and Shelby had really bonded. “She’s never met him.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Cynthia said, stirring a spoonful of sugar into her tea. “There’s no way Caitlyn didn’t talk about her home life, about him. Find out what Shelby knows.”
Shelby had had plenty to say about how overprotective Caitlyn’s big brother could be, but that was simply from overhearing conversations and Caitlyn’s complaints.
“I don’t want her to think I’m…” Natalie hesitated.
“You’re what?”
Natalie crossed her arms over her chest. “You know…interested.” She gave a one-shoulder shrug. “Personally or anything.”
Cynthia’s spoon clanged against the side of the cup and her mouth dropped open. “Oh my God, you are, aren’t you?”
“Definitely not. So not my type. And he’s obnoxious. And he wastes my time. And I made out with him.” She buried her face in her hand.
“Sheep shit on a stick. You made out with him? Define ‘made out.’”
“You know, he kissed me. Then later I kissed him.” She left out the part about masturbating to the thought of him going down on her. Some things were just better left unsaid.
“I’m totally confused. I thought you said he’s obnoxious.”
“He is.”
They left the stockroom.
“And you were kissing him, why?”
“To prove a point…and he is obnoxious…in a hot way. I mean, not hot according to my standards but hot according to a lot of other standards.” Natalie dropped back into the chair at her desk and Cynthia perched on one of the two chairs on the other side.
“Right. That just clears everything up…not. Exactly what point were you proving by making out with him?”
It had made sense at the time. “It’s complicated.”
“Apparently. I can’t wait to meet him. He’s the first man I’ve ever seen get you all discombobulated.”
“I am not discombobulated. Okay, well, maybe a little.” And she didn’t want to think about him anymore. She’d already thought about him half the night. Make that three-quarters of the night. She was now desperately trying to adhere to out of sight, out of mind before she got to just plain old out of her mind. “Sara Gastoneau is coming in this morning—”
Natalie’s cell phone interrupted with the instantly recognizable Mendelssohn’s “Wedding March” from A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Her clients loved that ring tone and so did she. The traditional recessional signaled yet another wedding completed and the start of a new life together as husband and wife. Caller ID flashed Caitlyn Stillwell’s name.
“Natalie! You are such a doll.”
“Hi, Caitlyn,” Natalie said with a smile. Caitlyn Stillwell possessed an infectious enthusiasm. “How’s life on the road and why