Sex Addict (22 page)

“I’m sure it’s just a shortcut,” she murmured half to herself, wondering where the hell Evan was headed.
 

The man shrugged and kept driving, leading them down even further into an area that, in the pit of her stomach, Reagan knew couldn’t mean anything good. She felt a gnawing unease, and she shifted restlessly in her seat, hoping like hell that any minute now, Evan would turn on to a main street, or head back to his apartment.
 

“Lady, I don’t think you want to go down this road.”

“It’s just a road.”

“Wellll,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “None of my business, but you’re followin’ this guy, and I don’t think you’re gonna like what you see.”

“I’m not paying you for advice, so please just drive the fucking cab,” she snapped, her anxiety taking over.

Fuck
, this was a bad idea. She knew it, but she couldn’t stop now. She had to know.

Her gut churned as she watched Evan’s SUV slow to a crawl up ahead and pull alongside a curb where a group of women were gathered. Every one of them that she could see wore skintight dresses that couldn’t even really be called that—scraps were more like it. Even in the dim light, she could see the pounds of makeup on their faces and their motivated expressions at seeing a high roller pull up to their curb.
 

A woman stepped forward from the back then, almost as if she was called, and Reagan’s blood went cold. Long, dark curls spiraled down her back, and unlike the others, this one didn’t look the part of a skanky prostitute. Her heels were every bit as high as the others, but her dress was less revealing, almost as if she were going to a bar instead of working a street corner. Evan’s window went down, and the woman bent over, letting her elbows rest against the side of the car.
 

Reagan’s heart sank as she watched him finger one of her curls as they talked, and the nausea she’d felt pooling in her stomach made its way up her throat. She tried to fight it back, not wanting to open the door and be sick, exposing herself to Evan and his fucking whore.
 

Taking a deep breath through her nose, she bit out, “Go,” and the driver had enough sense not to comment or ask questions as he u-turned in the middle of the street and sped away.
 

What an idiot I am
, she thought as she squeezed her eyes shut and tried to rid herself of the images burned inside her eyelids.
What a goddamn fool.
 

CHAPTER NINETEEN

IT WAS OFFICIAL. Reagan had shut down.

As soon as she’d arrived home Saturday night, she’d turned her phone off, crumpled into a ball on her couch, and stayed there until Monday morning. There was no way she was ready to face leaving her apartment yet, so after calling Bill and giving a few pitiful coughs, she hid under blanket and tried to sleep away her reality.
 

When the sun rose on Tuesday morning, Reagan finally crawled her way to the shower, hoping she could wash away her thoughts of Evan as easily as she could the dried trails of mascara down her cheeks. The hot water was invigorating, and afterward, she even managed to eat a few bites of toast, though she chose not to make any coffee, since it reminded her of Evan standing there in her kitchen casually, as if he belonged there.
 

Maybe she’d switch to tea.
 

Her bed was still as they’d left it after their wild night, Polaroids strewn across the rumpled sheets, and the scent of him on every fucking inch. She grabbed at the pictures, fully intending on throwing them in the trash bin and lighting every one on fire, but one photo stopped her.
 

Evan was sitting on her bed, looking up at her as she straddled herself over him, and the look on his face was so hungry, so…reverent. Holding it up closer, she wondered how she’d missed that hint of vulnerability from him underneath the sex-god exterior. He was looking up at her with an expression more than lust, and that made her heart ache.
 

Why did he have to fuck it all up?
 

Not quite able to let go of the photo, she walked over to her nightstand and stuck the film in between the pages of a hardcover novel and then turned back to face her bed. She ripped the sheets from the corners, gathered them into a ball, keeping the Polaroids inside, and then went to grab a trash bag.
 

After stuffing the material inside the plastic, she tied a double knot around the end, as if that would help keep the memories from escaping the confines. But it was no use; that explosive night was etched inside her mind for all time—unfortunately, so was the image of what came after.

Goddamn him.

She kicked the bag into the corner of her room and stared at her now empty mattress.
 

She never should have invited him here. Not to her home, not to her bed, and not inside her fucking heart.

The worst part of it all, though, was the fact that she had no one to blame but herself. Evan had never lied to her when it came to telling her who he was. He’d told her several times over that he was no good. He was in therapy for his problems, for fuck’s sake.

But no…like a stupid moron with a savior complex, I’d thought my magical pussy might change that.

How on earth was she ever going to face him again? Not only that, but face him and act as if she hadn’t followed him like a crazy woman and seen him conversing and God knows what else with a hooker.

As that word rolled through her mind, the nausea started again.
 

She needed to pull her shit together. She was Reagan Spencer, she had a kickass career, and she ate men for breakfast. She wasn’t some lovesick, wilting flower who stayed at home eating ice cream over a guy…
 

Well, at least the last half was true.

She walked over to her dresser and looked in the mirror at her sad reflection, determined to turn it around. She would not let Evan James control her emotions any longer.
 

Deciding a day at the spa might just help in revamping her overall attitude, she set out with one thing in mind. It was time to stop hiding from her past, from who she really was, and the first thing that had to go was the woman who’d taken Evan into her home and bed this past Friday night.
 

It was time for a brand-new start.

* * *

“WOW, MS. SPENCER, you look great,” Amy said as Reagan sauntered into the lobby of Kelman Corporations on Wednesday morning. With a facial and a new ’do to match, she felt confident and reenergized. At least on the outside. She was still waiting for the inside to catch up a bit, but she planned to fake it till she made it.

“Thank you, Amy. Is Bill in yet?”

“Yes, ma’am, he arrived about twenty minutes ago.”

Reagan gave an acknowledging smile and pushed through the main entrance, not bothering to drop her things off before knocking on Bill’s office door.
 

“Come in,” he called out.
 

When she walked inside, Bill looked up and gave an appreciative whistle. “Now there’s the Reagan I haven’t seen for years.”

“Well, I thought it was time for a change. Do you approve?”

“I do. The blond was nice, but you know I’m a sucker for a brunette.” He winked and set his pen down. “You feeling better?”

Taking a seat in one of the chairs in front of his desk, she set down her briefcase and said, “I am. Just a bit of a head cold. Made things foggy for a few days.”

“I see.”

She crossed her legs and folded her hands in her lap, carefully choosing her next words. “I just wanted to check in with you regarding Evan’s probation. You said to let you know when he’s ready to fly solo. I think now is the perfect time.”

Bill raised his eyebrows. “No doubts about his ability to provide superior performance without your supervision?”

Oh, I have no fucking doubts about his unsupervised performances without me.

“None whatsoever.”

“Hmm.” Bill leaned back and rocked in his chair, and Reagan struggled to keep her face nonchalant under his scrutiny.
 

“I’ve spoken with several of the high-profile clients he’s been working with during his time here, and even those he left on disagreeable terms have all agreed that he’s proven himself more than capable of handling their accounts.”

“So it’s time to kick him out of the nest and see how he flies.”

Oh, I’d love to kick him, all right.

“I think that’s best for everyone.”
 

Narrowing his eyes, Bill asked, “And that’s what’s best for you too?”

“I don’t think Evan needs me watching his every move any more, and honestly, I’ve got a full plate as it is. He’ll be just fine.”

A few silent moments passed, and then Bill inclined his head. “I’ll have the paperwork drawn up today and let him know.”

She stood, picked up her briefcase, and headed to the door. As she opened it, she turned back and saw Bill giving her a fond smile.

“I really do like the hair. And your dad is gonna love it.”

With a soft laugh, knowing he was right, she waved and walked out the door, calling, “Thanks, Bill.”

* * *

FIFTEEN MINUTES LATER, Reagan was seated at her desk and sorting through her inbox. Her first task had been deleting the email reminders from Mr. James last week. No need to keep them around as evidence of her lack of judgment.

She then moved on to the overwhelming amount of junk she had to sift through. That was the one downside to taking days off—the monumental task of catching up. After deleting what wasn’t needed, she was just about to click open a request for a meeting from their clients over at Whitehead International when there was a brisk knock on her office door.
 

She called out for the person to come in, and reached for her phone to dial the company’s number.

As Evan entered, he stopped in his tracks when he caught sight of her, and then looked around the room before letting his eyes fall back on her.
 

“Oh…I’m sorry, I was looking for Ms. Reagan Spencer. Have you seen her?”

The humor in his voice surrounded her, and when Reagan locked eyes with him where he stood, she steeled herself against what was to come. Without cracking a smile, she looked back to the phone and told him, “She’s busy. Do you need something, Evan?”

She knew she sounded waspish, and hated that she couldn’t play it cool, but the minute she’d seen him her intentions of being the put-together woman who didn’t give a damn flew out the window.

“I can come back,” he said, and she heard him walking farther into the office.

“I’m going to be tied up all day today. Is there something specific you wanted?”

“Speaking of ties—”

“We’re not speaking about ties.”

When he stopped in front of her desk, she willed herself to put on her best impartial face and glanced up at him.

“
Okay
…well, to answer your initial question, I don’t need anything in particular, no. But I’ve been trying to reach you for the past three days, and all I got was your voicemail. If you hadn’t come in today I was going to send out a search party.”

She pushed a piece of hair behind her ear and explained as quickly and impersonally as possible, “I’ve been sick. I slept the last few days. That’s all.”

“Sick, huh? Well, for someone who’s been sick as a dog, you look fucking stunning.”

She tried not to let his compliment go any deeper than the surface, but could feel it seeping through the cracks of her resolve. She needed to get away from him—now.

“Thanks. Just thought I’d switch things up a bit. If that’s all…”

She could see in his eyes that the wheels in his mind were turning, trying to work out why she was doing everything she could to get rid of him, but instead of asking, he gave a slight smile and started to back away.

“Okay, I can take a hint. But for the record, your hair looks great that dark. Really suits you.”

As he left the office and shut the door with a soft click, she had to wonder if he realized he’d seen her hair that way many times before.

* * *

MID-AFTERNOON, REAGAN made her way down the hall toward Katrina’s office with the files she’d requested on the client she’d met with yesterday. She was almost there when Evan stepped out of his office, closed the door behind him, and aimed a smile her way.

“Just the lady I was coming to see. I’m heading out to get some lunch and wondered if you’d like to join me. I promise we can eat with utensils this time.”

With the reminder of their date front and center, Reagan found it close to impossible to remain neutral as she shook her head. “No, I’m good. Just going to eat in today.”

Evan’s smile vanished at her refusal, and as he took a step closer toward her, she chanted over and over in her mind,
Do not back up, do not back up. Stand your ground.

“Then how about I pick you up some chicken noodle soup? You still seem a little…” He paused, and a frown formed between his brows. “Under the weather.”

“I’m fine,” she snapped, and when his eyes widened, she walked around him and muttered, “I’m just busy.”

She didn’t even bother to look behind her, instead choosing to march off and, without knocking, walk into Katrina’s office—for the moment, her sanctuary.

Fuck
, but why was he trying to be nice to her today? She didn’t need nice. She needed douchebag Evan to come out to play so she wouldn’t feel the trickle of guilt that kept trying to invade her thoughts. And why the fuck would
she
feel guilty, anyway?
He
was the filthy asshole here. She hadn’t done anything wrong except fall into cliché territory by falling for the unredeemable, stereotypical bad boy.
 

If ever there was proof that her “no repeats” rule was one to live by, Evan’s actions that weekend were it. Tonight, she’d go out and find someone to take her mind off the last man she’d let inside her—and to reclaim her single and fucking fabulous status.

* * *

NIGHT FELL AND Reagan was still at the office.