Definitely Naughty (9 page)

Although she’d told him more than once that sex relaxed her. Made her subconscious feel free.

Behind him, he heard her moving the covers, the squeak of the bed. So he got the condoms, draped his stuff and her red dress over the chair, then turned off the overhead light.

It didn’t take long for her to flip on the little lamp that sat on a makeshift nightstand by the head of the bed. On her side, naked, head propped up on one hand, she patted the bed next to her. Her smile was all Aubrey. Inviting, sweet and wicked.

When he joined her, she pulled him into a kiss. Thankfully, it was a slow-builder. He needed a little time to get back into the swing of things. To stop thinking so much, and give the lady what she needed.

She ran her hands down his back until he relaxed a bit, and then she moved her leg over his thighs and pushed him down, his head landing on her pillow.

He got hard again quickly; how could he not with that body rubbing against him? She nipped the end of his jaw, licked the hollow between his collarbones, then moved on top of him, straddling his thighs. A moment later, he was sheathed and she was sliding down onto his cock, clenching him so tightly he couldn’t control the bucking of his hips.

Too soon, the heat coiled in his groin, the beginning of the end. “Aubrey,” he whispered, urgently tugging at her shoulders, not wanting to come, not yet.

But she didn’t relent. When he realized her fingers were rubbing her own clit as she rode him, he shot off like a bottle rocket.

When he could see again, and breathe, she was lying next to him, her head on his chest, her leg over his. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice wrecked.

“For what?”

“I don’t even know if you came.”

She squeezed his side, kissed him right where she lay. “I’m fine. I’m great. Just sad that I have to go back to work.”

“Seriously? Wait. What am I saying? Of course you do.” Nothing to argue with there, even though it felt all wrong. “Have time for a quick backrub?” he offered. “Scalp massage?”

Her smile warmed him. “You sure?”

“I’ve been told I’m pretty good. So what’s it going to be?”

She pulled the comforter over both of them, and stretched out on her stomach, facing away from him. “Both?” she asked, her voice muffled.

“For as long as you like.”

They only exchanged a few words as he worked on her. Unfortunately, the quiet was too tempting and he started thinking again. Questioning. What she was hoping for after the window business was finished? What were tonight’s nerves about? Was it all because of her deadline?

He was glad his tenure as Aubrey’s muse would end soon, but then what? It was too soon to think about forever. They’d been on a roller coaster since the night they’d met. What would it be like when the ride ended?

All he knew for certain was that he wanted to find out.

Aubrey was at Le Muse by seven the next morning, panicked beyond belief. More sure than ever that her life was completely out of control. Every time she thought about tonight’s meeting with Yvonne, she went into a manic flurry of new ideas, all of which were horrible. To escape the maelstrom she’d think about Liam, and that would send her into a tailspin of sadness.

She wanted so much more from him than she could have. It was all her own doing. She understood now that she’d subconsciously set herself up to fail. The whole night at her apartment had been a farce, and she’d been the central boob in charge. As for her so-called friends, they hadn’t said a word. But then they didn’t get it, not really. They hadn’t seen him talk about his future. His plans. They didn’t know she was only a scenic byway on the road to his lifelong dreams.

That he happened to be an amazing man was some kind of perverse luck. He should have been a total prick. Gorgeous, only just bearable and great in bed. But no. Liam had to be ridiculously close to perfect.

And now it officially, unequivocally was more than just sex. She wanted
him
. All of him. More than any other man she’d ever been with. She knew without a doubt that as a couple they would be doomed. And yet when she saw him, when she thought of him, she couldn’t help dreaming of an impossible future. It was nothing short of torture.

Nothing would make the breakup easier. But there was a chance that breaking up now would help her focus on the window.

Although she hardly ever cried, she’d been weeping on and off since the moment Liam left her last night. She hadn’t gone to work. She’d barely slept, either. This morning had been spent chugging down her weight in espressos and staring at a blank page in her sketchbook.

With shaking fingers, she pulled out her cell phone. She thought of sending Liam a text, but that would make her the worst person in the history of the world.

She hit speed dial four, holding her breath as tears streaked down her cheeks. She had no idea what to say to him. What if he was in the middle of a case or—It went to voice mail. Just listening to his message made her want to sob. After the beep, she sniffed a couple of times before she could say anything. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. You’ve been the best. Best muse, best friend, best lover, best…everything, but I can’t do you and the window at the same time. I’m sorry.” She sniffed again, balling up a wad of tissues to wipe at her nose.

“It’s sooner than we planned, and I’m sorry for that, but I can’t. There’s no time, and I’m probably going to be fired, anyway, because I can’t do this. I can’t. I thought that maybe, at the last minute, when I still had time, I would be hit by a brilliant idea, but I haven’t. I keep thinking about you. About us. And that’s just ridiculous. I hope you don’t hate me forever. Because I’ll never forget you. Never. I hope all your dreams come true and you find someone perfect. I’m sorry.”

She disconnected and lowered the cell to her desk. The sketch pad was ruined, just like her career. Which didn’t bother her half as much as the fact that she wouldn’t get to see Liam tonight. Or any night.

Her whole body twisted in a spasm of pain and she sobbed from so deep inside it felt as if her soul had shattered.

By the time her tears had dried up, she could barely see past her swollen eyelids. She’d gone through an entire box of tissues. She could forget about breathing through her nose. She could barely breathe at all.

But the clock kept on ticking, and she had one last chance to turn this nightmare into something that wouldn’t humiliate Yvonne. She forced herself to throw all the garbage away, including her self-pity. She’d wept her last tear over the end of the muse experiment and now it was time to focus. To clear her mind and her heart and leave room for the magic to happen. She’d done it before. Come up with something fabulous at the last minute. She could do it again.

The desk and drawing purge turned out to be useful. She couldn’t pretend she didn’t ache, but putting things in order helped her calm down. The most important things now were her master lists. The first was an inventory of all the supplies she had. Both in the store and in storage.

Over the weeks of sketching she’d figured out the basics of what she’d need, no matter which idea she settled on. Artificial snow was number one, and she’d ordered plenty. The snow machine was also in storage, at the ready. Also, a sheet of Plexiglass large enough to contain the snow, but not have the flakes all over the set pieces and mannequins. Speaking of which, she had mannequins up the wazoo—males, females, two Santas and a couple of fake pets. Before the store had even opened Yvonne had stocked enough wigs to cover the heads of everyone in Manhattan.

The list of props was pretty decent, too, as long as she wanted the most boring Christmas tableau ever. Comfy chairs, a fake fireplace, a naked Christmas tree, two decorated trees, several tiny trees and a metric ton of wrapped empty boxes.

The second set of lists itemized all wardrobe selections. Naughty or nice, she had a large assortment of fantastic new items straight off the runways that she could play with through New Year’s Eve.

But what did it matter when she didn’t have a theme?

Or Liam.

No, no, no. She couldn’t think about him. Or the message she’d left. Or…

God.

She needed coffee. And not that crap from the break room. A trip to the coffee shop meant she would have to make herself look less like a before photo for a facelift. Screw it. She shoved on a pair of sunglasses. Just before she reached the back exit her cell rang. She dropped her purse in her haste to see if it was… “Hey, Caro.”

“Don’t tell me you have a cold.”

“Just stuffed up.”

“We’re in line at the falafel place. You want anything?”

“No! I mean, don’t come by. I’m really, really busy.” Aubrey had meant to sound anything but hysterical. Ha.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I’m meeting with Yvonne tonight.”

“Oh, crap. Well, you’ve got to eat, right?”

“I’m not hungry. I have to work, that’s all.”

Caro didn’t say anything for too long. “Aubrey, tell me what’s wrong.”

“Aside from the fact that I’ll never see Liam again and that I’m going to be fired, and you’ll have to find a new roommate because I’ll never work in New York again, I’m fine. I’m just peachy.”

“Stay put. We’ll be there in ten.”

Before Aubrey could say anything, the call disconnected. She hit speed dial three, determined to convince her friends to leave her alone, but when Caro answered, she only managed to say, “Bring me a big coffee please?”

Instead of heading out to the street, Aubrey got two new boxes of tissues from the restroom cabinet and holed up in her drawing room.

“I understand,” Sanjula said, folding up her napkin after Aubrey had whined her way through the whole story, “that you’re scared. And what you do when you’re scared is run.”

“It’s not running if you’ve actually been fired.”

“It is,” Caro said, “if you’re the one who’s setting yourself up to be fired.”

Aubrey couldn’t stand looking at the stupid sketch of the scary Christmas idea another second. She got her thickest black marker and slashed an
X
over the whole damn thing. “I wouldn’t cross the street for any of these,” she said. “I’ll have to move back to Utah. Get a job at the drugstore. Mortify my parents until they kick me out. Again.”

“Shut up.” Caro got off the folding chair and into Aubrey’s face. “Stop it. Work with what you have. They’re great ideas, and Yvonne’s going to tell you what works and what doesn’t. That’s the easy part. What the hell were you thinking kicking Liam to the curb? Are you insane?”

“It was always a matter of time, Caro. You know that.”

“No, I don’t. You guys are fantastic together.” She turned to Sanjula, still sitting on the edge of Aubrey’s desk. “Tell her.”

“I love you, Aubrey, you know I do, but you’re a fool to let him go.”

“Thanks. Both of you. As if it’s my decision.”

“Of course it’s your decision.” Caro rolled her eyes very expressively. “Unless you’ve suddenly decided to follow the runes or something.”

“Yeah, because I’m exactly the woman he needs at his side when he runs for police commissioner.”

“Why not you?”

Aubrey wanted to strangle both of them. “Are you guys purposely being dense? I never even got my degree. I’m a flake. You guys just said that. Not two seconds ago. You said I run when I’m afraid. That’s not the kind of woman Liam deserves.” All the air seemed to leave her body, as if she’d been popped like a balloon. “He’s better than that.”

“Don’t you even,” Caro said, taking her hand. “He’s not better than you.”

“Even if he weren’t, I still couldn’t see him anymore.”

Sanjula hopped down, and grabbed Aubrey’s other hand. “Why not?”

“I let him get to me. It’s why I don’t have the design yet. Why I’m in this mess. I got so caught up in him, I forgot to do my job. God, last night he kept looking at my college artwork…he thought my paintings were gallery worthy, and when I said I was already a sure thing, he got pissed. ”

“How awful,” Sanjula said. “That bastard.”

“Oh, shut up. You know what I mean.”

Caro finally looked at her with some sympathy. “Well, then, you’d better get to work. Because once this stupid window is done, you’re going to call him, and he’ll come running.”

Aubrey winced. “Don’t say that. It’s already so hard, I can’t afford to set myself up like that.”

“Fine. We’ll talk about it another time. Now, can we do anything to help?”

She hugged each of them in turn, trying not to get tears and snot on their clothes. “No. I’m on my own.”

“Don’t be so sure.” Sanjula hugged her back, hard. “We’re with you. Yvonne’s with you. There are a lot of people in your corner, and we all have faith that you’ll knock this out of the park.”

The whole ride over to Le Muse, Liam couldn’t get over her voice mail. Voice mail. Who the fuck breaks up over voice mail? After all they’d been through?

Oh, he was pissed. Not just at that message, but at the fact that he’d been so shaken he’d left his meeting with the ADA.

Aubrey had sounded like hell, and utterly desperate, but lots of people were desperate around a big deadline, and Jesus, they didn’t just cut out the people who cared about them.

Shit. He should never have left. It was irresponsible and he’d have to do some major damage control once he got back to the office. Just when he was really making headway with the crew, with the boss.

Damn it all to hell, what had Aubrey done to him?

Once inside the store, Liam almost barged into the back room, ready to have it out with her, but the closed door gave him a second to think. It wouldn’t do either of them any good for him to be angry. She was bone-deep scared; he needed to remember that. She probably didn’t even mean what she’d said. After the window went up, they’d just go back to normal. But for now, she needed him calm, so he would help her calm down.

Aubrey didn’t jump when he walked in. Didn’t even look up. Of course, employees walked in and out of there all day. Which would be very inconvenient now, so he locked up. If anyone knocked, he’d deal with it.

God, she was tense. And just as miserable as she’d sounded. The steel of her spine had morphed into something brittle, bringing her shoulders forward, her dark curls tumbling over her cheeks. The grip on her pencil would break it soon. She’d slapped a few of her sketches on the whiteboard, but two of them had angry black
X’
s from corner to corner.

“Aubrey?”

Her head jerked up, her eyes swollen and red, but wide and wild. “What are you doing here?”

“I got your message.”

“And you didn’t understand the part where I said I couldn’t see you again?”

“I understood the words. But the explanation sucked.”

She pressed her lips together before she looked down, away. “Please don’t, Liam. I said I was sorry, but I can’t deal with this. Not today.”

“I know. You have that meeting with Yvonne.” He walked to her desk. “That’s also why I’m here.”

“To dig my grave deeper? Gee, thanks.”

“You know that’s not true.”

“Please, Liam. I meant what I said. I can’t be with you.”

Her fear was palpable, her face pale, her hands shaking. She was twisted into knots, but that wasn’t news—he’d heard it in her voice mail. Looking at the misery in her swollen eyes, he wasn’t feeling so hot himself. This had to be about the window, right?.

She needed perspective. That’s all. “I think you’re expecting so much from yourself that your view of what you’ve already done is skewed.” He looked at the whiteboard. “That one, the sleepover. That’s great. It’s creative and different. I’ve never seen the theme done that way before. And Yvonne’s already said she liked it.”

She stared at him for a long moment, then sniffed before she said, “I know you think I’m terrific, and that’s really sweet, but I’m sorry, you’re not exactly an expert. Or a blogger, or a journalist. I’ve got to wow this city, Liam. In pictures, on YouTube, on television and all over the internet. Nothing about a sleepover is in any way going to impress the media.”

“If you’d drawn teenagers and sleeping bags, I’d agree, but that’s a Manhattan penthouse, and what they’re wearing is as close to X-rated as you can get on a public street. It’s sophisticated and witty. Like a Norman Rockwell painting after a few martinis.”

She smiled. Shook her head.

Her condescension would have pissed him off any other time. “Okay, then tell me this. Why did you keep that drawing when you’ve thrown out so many others?”

“I don’t know. I was drunk? Distracted?”

He went around the desk and crouched next to her. It hurt when she scooted her chair back, frustrated the hell out of him, too, but he stopped her. “I think you’re forgetting something pretty important.”

“What would that be, Yoda?”

“Yvonne hired you because she knew you were amazing. She didn’t hire you as an apprentice, or expect you to work your way up to the front window. She saw you, and knew you were the right person for the job. You’ve thrown away more great ideas than most of the window dressers in this town will ever come up with. Of course it’s scary, but those ideas on that board? Yvonne would be thrilled with any one of them.”