Make Me Sin (29 page)

“That she was glad to see me happy. That I deserved it.”

I look away because my eyes are filling with water. A.J. kisses my cheek, then murmurs into my ear, “I’m going to say something you won’t want to hear, angel, but it’s the truth so you need to hear it.”

“What?”

He turns my face so I have to look him in the eye. “For a long time, she was the only friend I had.”

That hurts and it also makes me incredibly sad for him. “Does she know about you? About your past?”

He shakes his head. “You’re the only one I’ve ever told that story to. She’s not stupid; she knows I’m not from Vegas. But she never cared. She never asked anything of me. Before you, with her was the only place I felt safe.”

Oh God, my heart. I don’t know how much more of this it can take. In a shaking voice, I say, “I can’t compete with that, A.J.”

“You don’t have to, baby. There’s no competition; all of me belongs to you. It has from the very beginning.”

He kisses me again, hungrily, his hard body pressed against mine. I break away just long enough to say, “I never want to see her again! Promise me you’ll never talk to her again!”

Against my mouth, he promises, “Never. Never. You’re the only one I need.”

I cling to his shoulders as he lifts me up onto the sink counter. His hands slip under my dress, pushing the fabric up my thighs. He pulls my panties down, and drops them to the floor.

“Yes,” I groan when he slides his fingers inside me. I need this. I need him. I’m going out of my mind. Beyond the locked door, the party rages; the bass from loud music pulses through the walls.

I fumble with his belt buckle, yanking at it until it comes undone. Tearing at the fly of his pants, I manage with my shaking hands to free his erection. He moans when I curl my fingers around it.

He pulls my head back with a hand fisted in my hair. “On your belly, baby.” His voice is husky with need; he flips me over and pushes up my dress, exposing my bare behind.

I watch him in the mirror as he stares down at my body. I see the overwhelming desire in his gaze, and it calms me, as well as excites me. It only takes him a moment to don the condom he pulls from his wallet. Then he positions himself between my spread legs, and eases his hard cock inside my wetness.

In the mirror, our gazes lock. Holding on to my hair with one hand and my hip with the other, he starts to fuck me from behind.

Someone tries the door handle. We ignore it, consumed by watching each other, the heat building hotter and hotter with every stroke of his beautiful, rigid cock.

Through the door comes an aggravated shout. “Oy! Anybody in there!”

A.J. growls, “Go away or lose your fucking head!”

He thrusts harder. I moan brokenly, my palms flattened against the mirror so I can push back against him as he thrusts.

From outside the door comes laughter. “Get it, brother!” There are two short, approving raps on the door, then nothing but the music and the sound of the party.

A.J. moves his hand from my hip to down between my legs. His fingers expertly stroke me, sliding over and around my throbbing nub until my whole body quakes with pleasure and I’m so wet I feel it slipping down my thighs. He quickly brings me to two orgasms before he finally lets himself go.

As he shudders and moans, I rest my cheek against the cool tile, close my eyes, and pray that’s the last we’ve seen of the woman who used to be A.J.’s only friend.

U
nfortunately, it won’t be. And if I thought I knew what pain was before, the two of them will soon give me an education in pain that will last me a lifetime.

“
Honestly, Chloe, it’s time I met this young man. You’ve been living with him for two months, for goodness’ sake! When Bunny asked me the other day at the club how you were doing, I had absolutely nothing to say, did I? I don’t even know his last name!”

My mother. Within minutes of calling the shop, she’s in harassment mode. I smile to myself. Not even Mommy Dearest can knock me off my high.

It’s been a few weeks since the Memorial Day party, and everything in my world is about as perfect as it can be. We haven’t seen or heard from Eric—he didn’t press charges against A.J.—and Heavenly feels like a distant memory. Best of all, everything between A.J. and me has been great. As in,
amazingly
great.

As in, I’m so in love with that man it seems like a dream come true.

“His last name is Edwards, mother, which I’m sure Dad has told you on more than one occasion. And you’ll meet him at the wedding. I’m not ready to release the hounds on him just yet.”

She makes a sound like she’s deeply insulted, which I know is manufactured strictly for guilt-inducing purposes. We both know what A.J. would be subjected to if my mother gets him alone.
When
she gets him alone; I can already picture the scene at the wedding. I feel sorry for him in advance.

Lucky for us, my father is on our side. He and A.J. have spoken several times on my burner phone, and I get the feeling they like each other, though neither one admits it out loud.

Men.

“So if it wasn’t for Kat having the good manners to invite us to the wedding, we’d
never
meet him?”

“Let’s not get carried away on the exaggeration train, mother.”

My parents have known Kat for years, since we went to high school together. Her mother was sick all through high school, and died our senior year, so Kat spent a lot of time at my house. My parents are like her godparents, so of course they were invited to the wedding. My brother, too. It’s just over two months away; I can’t believe how fast time is flying by. Grace and I haven’t even planned what we’re going to do for Kat’s bachelorette party yet.

“Well, James had a few good things to say about him, anyway,” she admits grudgingly.

I perk up at that. “Really? Like what?”

There’s a fraught beat of silence. “He says he can tell this young man really cares for you. He thinks you’re safe with him.” She exhales heavily. “And after what you’ve been through, that’s all that really matters to your father and me.”

I’m touched. “Thanks, Mom. And I agree with Jamie on both counts. In fact . . . I can’t remember ever being this happy.”

Is that a sniffle I hear? No. Impossible. My mother isn’t sentimental in the least.

“I’m glad you’ve kept your apartment anyway, Chloe. That’s very sensible of you. Just in case.”

I scowl. I’ve only kept my apartment because I signed a contract, which isn’t even close to being up. If I walk away from it I’ll get hit with a lawsuit, so it’s been sitting empty, gathering dust. My mother must sense the storm clouds building, because she quickly changes the subject.

“How’s work?”

I nearly fall off my chair in shock. “Um . . . great, actually. Thanks for asking. Kat’s mentioned a few things about the wedding on social media that have been really great for Fleuret. I’ve picked up three big new clients this week alone.”

There’s a small pause, then my mother quietly says, “Your father and I are very proud of you, Chloe. I know we don’t tell you enough, but we are. And we love you.”

Now I’m completely blown away. I wonder if she’s been drinking. “I love you, too, Mom.”

The bell on my shop door jingles, indicating someone’s come in. I’ve been expecting Kat and Nico; today I’m showing them the samples of their dining table centerpieces.

I look at the clock, wondering why A.J. isn’t here yet. He confirmed just this morning he’d be here, and he’s not one to be late. He said he had a meeting with his manager at ten o’clock, but that was hours ago. A twinge of worry pinches my stomach, but I push it aside.

“Gotta go, Mom. I’ll talk to you soon, okay?”

I hear the sound of a kiss through the phone. “Take care of yourself, darling.”

“I will. Bye.”

When we hang up, I cross my fingers that Nico and Kat will like their samples. Trina and I spent all morning setting up two square banquet tables in the shop so they could see how the final table setup would look at the wedding. I’ve rented linens, silver, and glassware, and have set the tables for eight guests, mimicking the setup for the reception. In the center of one table is the low arrangement we’ll be using, with the tall, dramatic arrangement on the other. They’re alternating tall and low for the reception tables, which is one of my favorite designs for a large party. It gives the room more visual interest than just a sea of tall arrangements, which can easily look overdone.

I hurry to the front, where I find Nico, Kat, Grace, Kenji, a stout, fortyish blonde named Jennifer, who’s the wedding coordinator, and Brody Scott, aka “Scotty,” the lead guitarist for Bad Habit and one of Nico’s groomsmen, standing in a semicircle around the display table with the tall arrangement.

Jennifer is snapping pictures of the arrangements on her iPhone. She looks impressed.

Grace is fingering the linens. She also looks impressed.

Kat is staring at the flowers with her hand over her mouth. She looks like she might cry. When she sees me, she says in a trembling voice, “Holy fucking shit, Chloe. I can’t even . . .” She bursts into tears.

Nico puts his arm around her, pulls her against his chest, and smiles at me. “She loves it, darlin’. So do I. You’ve outdone yourself.”

Flooded with relief, I beam. I’ve been stressing about this moment for a week. “Really?”

Brody is looking at the flowers like they’ve just arrived from outer space. I think he must hate them, but then he asks, “Where’d you get peonies in June?”

Everyone turns to stare at him, even Kat. Grace looks him up and down as if
he’s
just arrived from outer space.

“Israel. But their production will be finished in August, so we’ll get the peonies for the wedding from my grower in Amsterdam.”

“Man,” he says with awe, staring at the arrangement, “I don’t know what you’re paying for this Nico, but it’s worth every damn cent.”

Grace glances at me. We’re thinking the same thing, because she asks, “Are you a big flower fan?”

He turns to look at her. He’s what I think of as the “cute” member of Bad Habit. He’s got a boyishly handsome face and a killer smile, with flashing dimples partially hidden by scruff. He’s also got great hair, thick and brown, and an even greater sense of style. Today, for instance, he’s wearing a pale blue button-down shirt rolled up his forearms, a smart navy vest, a pair of trendy jeans that fit so perfectly they look tailored, and black leather shoes I recognize as Ferragamo, because my father owns a pair. He’s tall, but unlike Nico or A.J., who are both bulky, he’s on the slender side. I think he looks more like an Abercrombie & Fitch model than a rock musician. A.J. calls him the fashionista.

With a hint of heat in his voice, Brody says to Grace, “I like all beautiful things.”

Grace ignores his obvious come-on and turns away. I guess musicians aren’t her style . . . though I actually thought all men with working genitals were her style.

Meanwhile, Kenji is bored, which is what happens when he’s not the center of attention.

“Lovey, do you have anything to drink around here? I’m so dry I’m practically Mormon.”

“Now that you mention it, I do.”

I yell for Trina to bring out the bottles of champagne I’ve bought for this occasion, hoping it would be a success. Now that I know Kat and Nico like the flowers, I feel like celebrating.

So does Trina; grinning like a madwoman, she bursts from the back room with two bottles of Perrier-Jouët held aloft. “Woot! We nailed it! Par-
tay
!” My other designer Renee follows with a sleeve of plastic champagne glasses. They were obviously eavesdropping.

Kenji curls his lip. “Oh, lovey, you know Kenji doesn’t drink from petroleum-based glassware.”

“You will today, Divalicious,” I answer, “because I don’t have anything else.”

Kenji points to the table. “What do you call
those
?”

I look at the rented crystal champagne flutes beside each place setting on the table, and start to laugh. “I call those a giant oversight on my part. Trina, trash the plastic. We’re drinking in style.”

She snorts. “I bet I know who’s going to be washing these suckers, too,” she mutters good-naturedly.

Kenji looks appalled. “Well I’m certainly not!”

Which is a given.

Once the champagne is poured and we’ve raised our glasses in a toast, the coordinator pulls me aside to go over some details, while Kat and Nico neck around the side of the flower cooler. Kenji, Trina, and Renee squeal and launch into an impromptu zombie dance-off when Michael Jackson’s “Thriller” plays over the radio, and, most interestingly, Brody follows Grace as she drifts away from the sample floral arrangements and starts to peruse the display of glass and ceramic vases along the wall.

Musicians might not be her thing, but it certainly looks to me as if redheads are
his
thing. I try to remember if they’ve met before . . . maybe at the House of Blues party last year? Or on Memorial Day? I make a mental note to ask her about it later.

Jennifer and I finish our talk, and rejoin the rest of the group.

“So where’s A.J., Lo?” asks Kat. “I thought he’d be here.”

“Me, too. He said he would. I’m not sure what happened.”

She and Nico share a look that scares me. It’s an “uh-oh” look, one that has my heart beating a little faster as soon as I see it.

“I think I’ll leave a little early to go check on him,” I say, trying to keep my voice light.

“He still doesn’t have a phone?” asks Nico, his arm around Kat’s shoulders.

I try to make my shrug look nonchalant. “He’s got a burner so I can call him in case of an emergency . . . you know, because of Eric. But I don’t want to use it unless it’s a real emergency.”

“Chloe, he’s not going to be mad at you if you call him and the shop isn’t on fire,” says Kat, exasperated.

“I know. It’s just that phones aren’t his thing. He doesn’t like the idea of people being able to bother him whenever they want. So . . . I’m respecting that.”

Nico smiles at me. “He’s a lucky son of a bitch to have you, Chloe.”

“Yes, he is,” agrees Kat firmly. “If Nico refused to talk to me on the phone—”

“He hasn’t
refused
, there just hasn’t been an emergency. If there was, I’d call him.” My voice comes out louder than I intended because I’m feeling defensive all of a sudden. When Kat blinks at me in surprise, I look away, embarrassed.

Then she’s hugging me. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel bad. It’s none of my business.”

I release a pent-up breath and hug her back. “Don’t be sorry, I’m acting like a weirdo. I think I’m more worried than I realized about him not being here. Is that stupid of me?”

She pulls away and squeezes my arm. “Of course not. I know exactly how you feel. If I don’t know where Nico is every minute of the day, I can hardly breathe.”

That makes me feel a little better. We smile at each other. Grace interrupts us by saying, “So, Vegas for the bachelorette? Or is that too much of a cliché?”

Kat wrinkles her nose. “Do we have to do a bachelorette party?
Aren’t we a little old for that kind of thing? I’ll just spend the entire time
pining away for my hubby-to-be, anyway. I doubt if I’d be any fun.”

Grace looks at her as if she’s off her rocker. “The bachelorette party isn’t for you, silly; it’s for the bridesmaids, as a reward for all their hard work toward the wedding.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s not the case,” I say.

Grace waves a hand in the air, dismissing the subject. “Anyway, Vegas is on the table. If either one of you girls,” she nods at Kenji and me, “has a better idea, let me know.”

I say, “Where’s Nico going on his bachelor party? Maybe we should go to the same city and stay in adjacent hotels.”

Grace and Kenji look like they might throw up. Kat, on the other hand, squeals in delight. “Yes! What a great idea!” She turns to Nico. “What do you think, honey?”

He smiles down at her, and brushes a lock of hair from her forehead. “I think I’m up for anything that makes you so happy, darlin’.”

She claps. I can tell from the glare Grace shoots me she is less than thrilled with my suggestion, but I blow her a kiss and she rolls her eyes, and I know I’m forgiven. She’ll have fun no matter where we end up going.

“Anything else you need from me, Chloe?” asks Jennifer, packing away her notes, schedules, and timelines into a shoulder bag.

“Nope. We’re good.”

She nods. “I’ll be in touch next week, then. Call me if anything comes up in the meantime.” She blows me an air kiss, hugs Kat and Nico, waves good-bye to everyone else, and leaves.

“I think I’m on my way, too, guys. I’ve gotta go find out what happened to my man.”