Hook Up (4 page)

As Ryan held Crystal’s arm and waited for their turn to walk down the aisle, he marveled at her calm. Her self-possession made him want to shake her up a little, go searching for the laughing, carefree girl he’d met ten years ago. She was there; she had to be. People didn’t change that much.

Mark reached the front of the ballroom and Ryan watched the next pair begin walking. The bridesmaids were dressed in black, but their conservative dresses were different from Crystal’s elaborate gown. Crystal had been pretty at eighteen, but now she was stunning and the dress showcased her mature curves. He’d never forgotten her perfect breasts—full, round and heavy, a revelation he hadn’t had the sense or experience to appreciate at twenty-two. Her hair was piled on top of her head in elegant loops and twists, tempting him to sink his fingers into the inky mass and pull it down across her shoulders. Her tattoo tantalized him, a bright splash of color.

His heart sank.

He’d buried his desire for her, but it was still there. Crystal, the self-proclaimed sex psychic, was nothing like the sweet Crissy in his memory, but he found her even more fascinating. She stood out from the crowd like an exotic flower, yet she seemed perfectly comfortable. The women in his life dressed appropriately for every occasion, with every outfit and accessory deliberately designed to match, complement and blend in to the crowd. Crystal dressed to attract attention. Was that why he couldn’t keep his eyes off her?

Or was it the fact she was ignoring him? He wasn’t used to getting the cold shoulder from women. In fact, he was used to having his pick of the room. He suspected his dates admired his stock portfolio more than his good looks and charm but that didn’t bother him. After all, he enjoyed making money more than he enjoyed dating.

He knew he worked too much, but he had a gift for finding fledgling enterprises that only needed an infusion of cash to reach astronomical success. Initially, he’d used the money in his trust fund to finance his adventures, but it had been years since he’d had to touch any of his own capital. He was rich from interest now, with two houses in California, one in the mountains and one on the coast. He knew he was considered a catch, but he had no desire to settle down. He dated to satisfy the demands of his social station and his body, but he had never felt the urge to pursue a particular woman, not when his lust for the chase was satisfied with work.

Life was better lived when the only risks he took involved money, but it wasn’t money that had awakened him in a rock-hard sweat last night. It wasn’t work that had sent him reeling to the sink for a glass of water to rinse the taste of innocence from his tongue. It was Crystal, this Crystal, the one he couldn’t keep his eyes off of, the one who acted like she couldn’t see him. Pure, raw lust rocked through him.

Crystal suddenly stumbled atop her high heels and he steadied her by pulling her tight into his side. The softness of her body struck a chord of memory deep inside him. The faint smell of musk rose from her skin, and he breathed it in. She smelled warm, like good leather and mink coats, and he pressed closer.

“You’re next,” the wedding planner warned them.

At the signal, Crystal stepped forward and concentrated on taking slow steps. The emotional pulse of the room kept her off balance. She clung to Ryan’s arm, a pure case of
the devil you know
. His thrust of desire had nearly blown her off her feet a few moments ago. Jesus, the man had no restraint whatsoever.
You used to like that about him.
She stopped that line of thought immediately and focused on shutting everything out of her head.

It was easier than she had thought. Ryan was paying attention to the crowd now, nodding hello to someone every few feet and smiling broadly. Right, smile. She forced her stiff lips to curve. She could do this. They reached the front of the room and separated, taking their positions facing the crowd.

The orchestra burst into the wedding march and Crystal didn’t have to fake her smile anymore. Mark was gazing up the aisle and she knew the minute Alisa appeared by the beatific grin that spread over his face. Alisa beamed at him from the back of the church, floating toward him in her sparkling fairytale princess gown, flanked by her parents who actually looked happy now.

Her father kissed her cheek and put her hand in Mark’s. Crystal sighed, enjoying Alisa and Mark’s pure, uncomplicated joy. She might make her living from the physical side of love, the nitty-gritty aspect of the spiritual union, but she was a total sucker for romance. She closed her eyes to listen to Alisa’s clear voice recite her vows, waiting for her favorite part of the ceremony. She held her breath. It was coming.

Alisa lifted her chin. “With this ring, I thee wed.”

Tears stung Crystal’s eyes.

So beautiful. Powerful. A promise of forever.

Mark’s resolute baritone rang through the quiet room as he repeated his vows and Crystal felt a tear slip down her cheek.

They kissed, then turned their dazed, shining faces to the crowd. Cheers and applause crashed through the room, knocking her back to reality. She dashed the tears from her cheeks and squared her shoulders, moving slowly to walk back up the aisle with Ryan.

She took his arm and found herself enjoying a mellow buzz of good cheer before she realized she was channeling his surface emotions. She pulled away from him.

He held her tighter, lowering his arm to clasp her waist. “If my guess is right, you’re about to run away from me again.” His voice held a low chuckle.

Since his arm felt like a steel band, she didn’t struggle.

“Am I wrong?” he asked.

“Empaths don’t do well in receiving lines,” she admitted.

“I’ll hold your hand,” he offered.

“Yeah, like that would help,” she grumbled under her breath.

His desire blasted through her. Acknowledging the charged atmosphere between them had been a mistake. Give the man an inch…and his hand caressed her hip, brushed the top of her thigh. Her nipples hardened and her sex began to tingle, even though two hundred people were watching them walk up the aisle.

Panic welled deep inside her, in places she didn’t go anymore. She had to get away from him. They reached the hallway and she flung his arm away from her waist, panting. The wide-open door of the club beckoned.
Freedom. Safety. Sanity.

Ryan caught her arm.

“Don’t touch me!” The words were out of her mouth before she could censor them. He let her go and she felt his concern, a warm blanket around her shoulders. She stopped at the door and closed her eyes for a moment. Freedom was appealing but she needed her purse. She wasn’t going to get far without her car keys. She pulled her shoulders back and stood straight, closing out the world, the room and everyone in it, including Ryan, until she felt cold but strong again.

She opened her eyes and met his gaze for the first time today.

“Is it really that hard for you?” he asked.

She gave him a tight smile. “You have no idea.”

She watched Alisa, swept into place by the wedding planner as the receiving line began to form, and shuddered, deciding to find a nice side door into the parking lot. “I suppose I’ll see you later.”

“Definitely.”

She hoped she looked steadier than she felt as she beat a hasty retreat to the elevator. Thank God Bonita had agreed to be her date tonight, so she wouldn’t have to face him alone. The thought gave her comfort as she collected her belongings and found a side staircase. At the bottom of the stairs, sunlight beamed through the plate-glass exit doors.
Salvation.

Her high heels clicked as she walked through the quiet parking lot. At the top of the hill, near the doors of the club, she could hear laughter as the first few wedding guests made it through the receiving line and began to make their way toward their cars. She hurried to beat the crowd out of the parking lot, eager to reach the safety of Come Again and a normal afternoon with clients.

Ryan glanced at his watch. He’d been standing in the receiving line for at least thirty minutes and he was still sweating because the first woman to shake his hand had been the cashier from the sex shop this morning. She had recognized him immediately, and he’d had to talk fast to convince her to keep his afternoon appointment with Crystal a secret. She had made him grovel. He wasn’t sure how the hell she had done it, exactly. There was just something about her that told him he wasn’t going to get what he wanted by pushing. Instead, he had begged, much to the amusement of her hulking, tattooed boyfriend.

There had been a small pileup in the line before she had agreed to stay quiet, reminding him they would see each other again at the reception tonight. It wasn’t a threat, but he had felt warned nonetheless. Her date had said nothing, but his narrow-eyed scrutiny made it clear he was more than willing to back her up in any way she required.

Neither one of them needed to worry. He wasn’t going to hurt Crystal. He just wanted to talk to her, ask her the questions he’d wanted to ask ten years ago. See if he could get some closure. As he automatically smiled, shook hands and greeted wedding guests, he realized he was full of shit—he wanted more than answers from Crystal. He wanted her, had never stopped wanting her, and in spite of the fact she’d blown him off last night and all but ignored him today, he didn’t think she was indifferent to him. It hadn’t been dislike or annoyance in her eyes when she asked him not to touch her—it had been fear. He could understand why she might feel regret or even guilt about what had happened ten years ago, but he’d never given her any reason to fear him.

He checked his watch again. Four-thirty couldn’t come soon enough.

Chapter Four

Crystal unlocked the back door of Come Again and ducked into her office to change.

She pulled her work clothes out of their bag and slid into her black spandex stretch mini, black satin-and-leather demi-bustier, black garters, fishnet stockings and four-inch stilettos. She buckled a silver belt made of interlocking spikes around her waist and shrugged into her comfortable black cashmere cardigan. This outfit projected just the right amount of badass sex guru enhanced with the confidence born of a really well-broken-in sweater.

As she dressed, she thought about all the ways she had recreated herself after her gift had manifested itself. Her name had been the first thing to change. She had left Crissy behind with her shame and her fear and embraced Crystal instead. She chose to date women, not men. She wore black leather and dramatic makeup as a uniform, an outward sign of the confident woman she had become.

She was no longer at the mercy of the emotions around her. Ryan might be in Norton, but seeing him did not catapult her into the past. She was in control. She was not in danger. She just had to get through tonight and he would be gone.

Again.

The thought caused a pang.
Uh-oh.

She dug in her purse for the darkest lipstick she owned and outlined her lips. She would not allow emotions to control her actions. Not anymore.

She heard the bell on the front door tinkle, so she walked out of her office and through the short hallway. She poked her head into the store. “Hey, Destiny, just wanted to make sure that was you.”

“In all my glory.” Destiny’s dreadlocks were swirled into a bun and she was wearing a fiercely tailored gray pinstriped business suit. “Great wedding, huh?”

“Perfection. Where were you sitting? I didn’t see you.”

Destiny ducked to turn on the computer. “In the back so I could get in and out. The store was crazy busy this morning.”

The bell on the door tinkled again and a small, bird-like woman peered into the shop. Crystal waved. “Looks like my two o’clock is early. Send her back when she’s done with the paperwork, okay?”

Destiny rose to greet the client and Crystal headed back to her office to tidy up.

A few minutes later, she heard a scratch at her door. She opened it and ushered her new client into the room. She waited until Darla was comfortably seated on the red velvet couch. “I’m glad you’re here, Darla. I’m Crystal. You’ve read the disclaimer and you’ve signed the waiver?”

Darla bobbed her head.

Crystal reached for the box of chocolates on her desk. “I’ll have to warn you that I’m not really very businesslike otherwise. Would you like a chocolate?” Crystal felt she would.

“No, thanks.” Darla leaned away from the box of truffles.

Crystal held it out to her. “Darla, your time is really valuable to me. Take a truffle. No, take two, and then let’s get started.”

Darla took a truffle. Then another one. Her eyes stopped darting to the corners of the office and settled, owl-like, on Crystal as she joined her on the couch.

Crystal shut the box and placed it on the couch between them. She smiled in approval and leaned over to give Darla’s hand a lingering pat. She felt hunger, but not the food kind. Denial. Courage.

Good. Courage she could work with.

Crystal followed the hunger, figuring it had to be the dominant emotion, right down to its base. She opened herself to Darla’s feelings, widened her perceptions until the boundary between them wavered, blurred. First she would feel with Darla, and then she would know how to help her.