Breaking Stone: Bad Boy Romance Novel (11 page)

I was struggling with my hurt and the immense betrayal that came in waves. The blame, I rested entirely on myself. Sure, the list was humiliating, but Stone had given me fair warning that the kiss would never be spoken of again. I had read more into it. And although the list felt demeaning, maybe it was Stone’s attempt at being kind.

If it was, he was off target. The presence of the list mortified me, and if that was because he’d exposed the timid side of my nature and given it a massive shake, the way I felt remained valid.

He’d hurt me.

Carrie bounced back into the room. It was time to blot out my feelings.

“All set,” she said, waving her pen and paper at me. “Let’s start from the skin out.”

“What does that even mean?”

“Lingerie first, then we’ll work through the layers from there. Beau-Peep has a huge sale on this weekend, so we’ll get you some gorgeous bra and panties sets.” She was making notes already. “Budget? No, forget that, you’ll come up with something stupidly low. Oh, one more thing. When we’ve finished your wardrobe improvements, all that hideous stuff you currently wear goes in the trash.”

“No, that’s a waste.”

“It would be a waste if your clothes were actually wearable.”

“I’ll donate them to charity.”

Carrie rolled her eyes. “Believe me, nobody is that desperate.”

M
ason was waiting
for me at the station on Monday morning. I was dressed in my new clothes—from the skin out—with my hair in a complicated braid which Carrie had insisted made my face thinner, whatever that meant. My carryall held more of my purchases. I had not bought yoga gear. I hadn’t even mentioned that to Carrie, knowing she’d have talked me into something in lycra, and I’d have finished up looking as though I’d just been squeezed into a sausage casing.

A smart European sports car was parked in Stone’s driveway, and I prayed it wasn’t some leftover from a weekend of debauchery. I set my mouth and opened the door, prepared to hide any disapproval, or disappointment, if Stone had been messing around. I didn’t have control of his private life, and it was debatable whether he did, but that wasn’t the issue. The only thing I was concerned with was the book. That’s what I’d drummed into my head over the weekend.

The house was quiet. When I passed the tower stairs, I could see the door was wide open, which suggested Stone wasn’t working. I dumped my laptop and bag in my office and went to the kitchen to make coffee.

The woman I found there had her back to me, but she spun around to acknowledge my greeting.

Tall, slim, perfect hair tied in a messy but well-constructed knot. High cheekbones, full lips painted with a soft pink gloss. It was a shock to see Lily Clarke in the flesh.

I stuttered, inside and out. I’d adored her TV shows as a kid, when Lily was a child star at Disney. This was so weird being face-to-face with someone whose signed poster held pride of place on my bedroom wall. What the hell was she doing in Stone’s kitchen? And, where was Stone? Didn’t Lily have a boyfriend and a restraining order? Why was she here?

“Lily Clarke,” she said, offering me her perfect hand.

I shook it, the skin smooth, soft and cold. “I–I know. Um, I’m Katrina. Stone’s assistant.”

“Is that what he calls them these days?”

I ignored her comment. “Where’s Stone?” I asked.

“I was about to ask you the same thing.”

“I don’t know. I’ve just arrived—”

“I haven’t been here long either. There’s no sign of him in the house.”

I was going to suggest looking in the gym, but Lily would know the house and Stone’s habits better than I did. With Lily here, I had a problem, and it was mine to sort out. “You probably think this is none of my business, but haven’t you taken a restraining order out on Stone?”

“Pfft.” She flicked her elegant hand.

“Seriously, he can’t be near you.”

“Believe me, Katrina, Stone won’t take any notice of a restraining order if he doesn’t want to. That man thinks he’s above the law.”

Without knowing Lily’s motives, I couldn’t tell if she was trying to make trouble for Stone, but Sarah would kill me if I didn’t get rid of her. “Obviously, he’s not here, so maybe I can pass on a message for you.” Her eye on me was wary, her beauty disarming. I was packing away my own feelings about Stone because face-to-face with his stunning, talented, famous ex-girlfriend, my Stone-crush was pulverized to a little pile of dust.

She reached for her handbag that sat on the counter. Hermes, of course. I only knew because on Saturday, Carrie had spotted a knock-off Kelly bag and tried to get me to buy it.

Lily was not only beautiful, but her movements were fluid, like mercury, and I felt clumsy in her presence.

“Tell the boy we need to talk. Have him phone me.”

“Sure,” I said.
The boy? Stone would just love it if I called him that.

She didn’t walk, she sort of glided past me. Flooded with despair, I watched as she slipped into her flashy car and drove away.

In some ways, Lily’s visit made it easier for me to get my head on straight about Stone. He was out of my league, and Lily’s looks hammered that home. I told myself that this feeling that ripped through my chest was a symptom of tremendous relief. Now I could get on and concentrate on my work without the distraction of this stupid infatuation with Stone Logan that had somehow taken root last week.

The list had gone off the bench, thank God, and I hoped he’d burned it.

I searched the house in case Stone had actually been sensible and hidden from Lily. Waste of time, because I got the idea that if he were faced with a marauding pride of lions, Stone would approach to pat them to see if their fur was soft.

I stood at his bedroom door, inhaling the air that carried his scent, then scolded myself for ignoring my resolve only minutes after I’d made it.

His cars and motorcycle were in the garage, so that left me only one more place to check. Perhaps he was down by the river. A terrible vision of him burning the book came to me, and I broke into a jog across the back lawn, fearful that he was doing it again.

Once through the gate, I could see a figure along the river bank that I recognized as Stone. I tried to stay casual as I walked to meet him, but just his presence had my heart thumping. From a distance, I watched. He was throwing sticks into the water, and a boisterous chocolate Labrador enthusiastically leaped into the river and retrieved them. Neither had seen me, and they actually looked as though they were enjoying themselves.

The pup bounded through the shallows, dropping the stick at Stone’s feet and shaking himself, Stone jumping clear from the spray of water. He laughed and said something to the dog, then glanced up, seeing me.

“Poppins, you came back.”

His grin stabbed at my heart, causing a frightening surge of pleasure to rush through me.
Why can’t I control this?
“Whose is the dog?”

With casual grace, Stone launched another stick into the river and the dog raced after it. “Mine. He’s cute, huh?”

“What’s his name?”

“I thought I’d leave it up to you to name him. Right now, he’s Brown.”

“That’s a terrible name.”

“Which is why I want you to name him.”

“You don’t just get a dog, Stone.”

The whiny edge of frustration in my voice sounded awful, even to me.

He shrugged. “Looks like I did. You’re here to manage the book, Poppins, not my life choices.”

“You see? Right there. A dog is for life, Stone, not for a week. Aim for twelve to fifteen years of having to care for this animal.”

“Are you suggesting I can’t commit?”

Our eyes locked. As usual, his question was an attempt to tease something out of me. He must know about Lily. That’s why he was talking about commitment. My anxiety summited the peak usually reserved for conversations with Mom.

The damned list. How the hell did he know that one day I hoped to get a larger apartment, or a small house out of the city so that I could have my own dog? He pitied me. That’s why he was doing this. No matter how humiliating it was, I had to tell him I knew about the list. Which meant I had to confess that I’d found it and read it.

“We have to talk, Stone.”

“Oh, so serious, Poppins. What terrible rule have I transgressed now?” He turned to the dog. “Sorry, Brown, game’s over for the morning. Nanny says we have to go in.”

He was behaving like a child again. “Can you quit with that?”

“With what?” He pulled a ball from his pocket, and with an easy flick of his arm, threw it all the way back to the bottom of his property. The pup set off after it with an enthusiastic, if not bumbling gait.

“With all the nanny bullshit.”

“Did you sit on gum on the train, or did someone piss in your cornflakes, because you’re kind of snappy today. Give Brown a cuddle. Pets are supposed to lower your blood pressure. Or cuddle me. Unless you think that would have the opposite effect.”

I wanted to tell him to grow up. I wanted to fall into his arms and take up the offer of a cuddle. Mostly, I couldn’t wait for the five weeks to be over.

Back at the house, the pup left muddy paw prints across the floor, the armchair and the sofa. When Stone told him to get off the furniture, he made a wild leap to the coffee table, skidding across the surface on papers and magazines, sending a half-full coffee mug flying across the floor. When he landed, the dog picked up the nearest shoe and bolted outside to run circles on the lawn with the shoe in his mouth. Stone’s attempt to secure his shoe ended in a game of ‘keep-away’ which didn’t finish until I appeared with a piece of hotdog. I waved it in the vicinity of the dog’s nose, and being a Labrador, he promptly dropped the shoe and latched onto the treat.

“The dog and the owner need training,” I muttered, handing Stone his shoe. Brown immediately grabbed it from Stone’s hand and the entire game began again.

Stone merely shrugged. “It’s an old shoe. He can have it.”

“That’s not the point, Stone. He needs his own toys, and he has to learn that he can’t just pick up shoes, clothing, anything, and wreck them.”

“Cool, we’ll take him shopping.”

Realizing he wasn’t being chased anymore, the puppy dropped the shoe and came into the house, leaning against Stone’s legs and shoving his head in between his knees, trying to elicit a pat.

“You’re like me, Brown, always in trouble.” Stone gave me a wink. “Two difficult males to take care of now, and before you say anything, I’ve written puppy dogs into your job description. So, tell me what it is we need to talk about.”

I should have discussed the list, but given the mood Stone was in, I was certain that discussion wouldn’t end well. Although it would be just as awkward, I decided to talk about Lily instead.

“You had a visitor here in your house when you were down at the river with the dog.”

“Was she hot, a fan, or a probation officer?”

“Lily Clarke. Is this going to be a problem?”

Stone shrugged. “There are bigger things to worry about.”

Great, one weekend alone, and we had problems. “Such as?” I asked carefully.

“Such as how are we going to eat about eight hundred dollars’ worth of caviar and other fine foods before they spoil. I found this great gourmet shop online, but I might have overdone the ordering. You seem troubled today, Poppins. Why don’t you lie down, and I’ll feed you fish eggs from my special spoon?”

“Why don’t you start work...oh, no. Stop. Bad puppy. Outside.”

Stone’s laughter didn’t help, because once the dog had finished creating a massive lake of pee on the kitchen floor, he managed to run through it and jump up on Stone to somehow engage in the hilarity. “We should call him Niagara,” Stone suggested.

“You should call him Leaky,” I said. “He needs to be contained until he’s house trained.”

“Same thing’s been said about me more than once.”

I believed him. Stone and I cleaned up the mess while the puppy banged on the patio door and cried.

“You don’t need this distraction, Stone.”

“It’s the only thing that takes my mind off you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“See, there you go flirting with me again.”

“I’m not flirting.”

“You know I think you’re cute when you’re angry. You’re just acting annoyed to stir me up.”

“Everything I do is not about Stone Logan,” I said. He was deliberately exasperating, and my cheeks were flushed.

“Blushing makes it worse.”

“I can’t control my reaction to you.” I put my hand over my mouth to catch my words, but it was too late.

Stone stepped closer to me. He reached his hand out, and I stood there like a lamplight, glowing for him. I thought he was going to touch me, but his hand closed around the handle of the floor mop. I clung hard, as if it were the only thing grounding me.

“Researchers in California have discovered that people who blush easily are more generous, trustworthy and virtuous than those who don’t.” His voice was low, calculated.

He pulled the mop from my hand and set it aside. Even though I was hot, I still felt his body warmth seeping through my clothing.

“They make better lovers than those who don’t. You, even more so,” he said. “It’s not just your cheeks that go pink. It’s your neck, your ears, and your chest, too. I like that you don’t have that hidden today. That’s a pretty blouse.”

I felt ready to combust.

“Here, here, here,” he said, using his finger to mark each flushed place on my body, the way a teacher uses a pointer, emphasizing a lesson. “It’s caused by a surge of adrenalin. Young women who flush easily were considered the picture of virginal innocence. It’s why women color their cheeks with make-up, although many don’t understand the reason behind it now.”

I tried to swallow past the tightening in my throat. Stone’s voice had gone low, making my body gather in response, ready for whatever was coming. Wanting it. I couldn’t trust him. He was most likely playing out something he wanted to write, but the wishful part of me wanted to believe something different.

“I bet you light up the same way when you come.”

“I doubt it,” I said, squeezing my legs together to stop myself from pushing against him.

“But have you looked?”

Oh hell, we are not going to discuss my orgasms.

His finger traced my ear again, the place he must have noticed had caused the strongest reaction when he’d touched me just moments ago.

“No, of course I haven’t looked.” I couldn’t confess that all orgasms had taken place under the blanket of darkness and bed covers. The thought of watching, though, was thrilling.

“That’s a shame. You should know your body better. Why don’t we see?”

“What? In front of a mirror?” A certain part of me was ready to lose every stitch of clothing right now. Why shouldn’t I? Last week, I’d experienced things I’d only dreamed of. Having sex with Stone was another thing I’d dreamed of since I’d met him. Nobody would know. It would be like hot air ballooning, but without the photos.

“That’s the idea. I have a very large mirror in my bathroom.”

His smile was soft, seductive, and I was almost ready to go wherever he led me until I remembered the list. Did he somehow know what I thought of in bed each night when I read his books? Had he added that to the list? I was both mortified and excited. Stone wasn’t like the guys I met at church, the ones who wanted to have sex with me but judged me for feeling the same. There were no mixed signals coming from Stone.