Not Until You: Part VI (5 page)

His expression went stony and he stood, rocking me back from my kneel. “Of course.”

I shoved myself to my feet, his icy tone chilling me. “Foster, I—”

He picked up the phone, his whole posture closed off to me. “Lindy, please call a cab for Ms. Medina. She’s heading out. And give Bret a call, too, tell her to come by the office for a chat. Make us lunch reservations at that Italian place she likes.”

I blinked, icicles spiking through my chest. “What are you doing?”

“Giving you time, space, whatever,” he said, hanging up the phone and sitting down behind his desk. “I told you in the beginning, you could always pull the escape hatch. Frankly, you lasted longer than expected.”

The words hit me as well as if he’d slapped a palm right across my face. “So that’s how you’re going to handle this?”

He glanced up, gaze cool. “What? Would you prefer I tie you to the chair and demand you be with me? I’m not going to get on my knees and beg for you, Cela.”

“No, that’s my job, right?” I bit back, hot tears burning my lids.

“Apparently not,” he said, the bitter smirk the final dagger in this disaster of a morning.

I turned on my heel, before I did something stupid—like cry or throw a blunt object at his freaking head. “Thanks for the tour.”

I collected myself in the few steps to the door as best I could and strode out his door, offering a quick good-bye to Lindy and heading straight for the elevators. As I rode down to the lobby, every part of me was shaking—with anger, with grief, and with utter frustration. When I had said I needed time, Foster had looked at me like he’d already known it was coming. Like I’d been some forgone conclusion he was waiting out. I hadn’t been breaking up with him. I’d only wanted to be honest. But he’d cut me off so quickly it was like I’d never meant anything at all.

I’d stayed here for him. I’d taken the risk and put everything on the line.

And then at the first sign of strife, he hadn’t fought for me. Not one bit.

I walked through the lobby, only half hearing the receptionist inform me that the cab should be there in about ten minutes. I plunked myself on a bench near the front windows, wishing I could close my eyes and teleport back to my place. Hell, maybe I should teleport all the way back to graduation night and just stay inside and drink alone.

Unfortunately, no portal to the past or wrinkle in the space-time continuum appeared to save me as I sat there. And of course, the cab was late. Twenty minutes and the receptionist let me know the driver had gotten a flat and was sending another car this way. I pinned a polite smile to my face but groaned inwardly. Dallas wasn’t a place to have a lot of cabs rolling around anyway, especially outside of downtown, but I could’ve walked home faster than this. I should’ve just called Bailey.

A car pulled up a few minutes later, drawing my gaze upward, but it wasn’t a taxi. The shiny black Jaguar pulled into an empty spot, and a tall blonde stepped out. She seemed to move with utter confidence as her knee-high boots clicked purposely over the pavement. The runway-style walk caught the attention of a guy heading out to the parking lot, and he did a full one-eighty turn to watch her after she passed him.

I couldn’t help but watch, dread sinking and settling in my stomach. The woman perched her sunglasses atop her head, revealing kohl-lined blue eyes that appeared to be evaluating everything in their path, and stepped inside the main doors. The air seemed to part for her as she made her way to the front desk—like even oxygen was taken aback by her presence.

“Good morning, Ms. Avery,” the receptionist said, as if she interacted with the woman all the time. “Love that handbag.”

The woman returned the greeting with warmth, then cocked her head toward the elevators. “Is Ian ready? I know I’m a little early.”

Ian.

I wanted to vomit right there on the shiny marble tiles. This was the woman he was going to have lunch with, and she called him Ian. A name, which by his own admission, was only used at one place and for one purpose.

I turned away, closing my eyes. Part of me wanted to believe he wouldn’t be that cruel, that vindictive. But as the footsteps of Ms. Blonde and Gorgeous disappeared into the elevator, and my cab finally pulled up, everything that had been bright and glowing inside me these last few weeks shriveled and died.

I sank into the backseat of the cab, feeling like roadkill. The last time I’d ridden in a taxi, I’d been sandwiched between Foster and Pike on the way to a night of no-strings fun. This time, I wrapped my arms around myself, stared out the window, and sobbed.

Chapter 31

Monday morning I sat outside Dr. Pelham’s office, watching her through the glass and waiting for her to finish a phone call. I’d spent the rest of the weekend after the fight with Foster holed up in my apartment, watching movies with Bailey and doing a chef’s tour of the junk food aisle at the grocery store. It was pathetic. I’d never felt so damn shitty. It was like having the flu without the chest congestion and fever.

But Bailey had informed me that I had every right to be miserable and mopey for a few days. According to her, it was breakup law. However, she’d also laid down the edict that by today, I had to get my shit together because it would be the first day of my new beginning. New job. New me. And, hopefully, in a few weeks, new apartment. Because God knows I couldn’t live next door to Foster anymore.

I hadn’t seen him since the day at 4N. And there’d been no sound from his side of the wall. So either he was out of town or he was sleeping somewhere else. Probably with blond amazons who wore fuck-me boots. My stomach rolled. I forced myself to sip my coffee, even though it tasted as bitter as my mood.

Dr. Pelham seemed to sigh as she hung up the phone and frown lines framed her mouth. She glanced over toward the glass, meeting my gaze, then waved me in. I got out of my chair, taking a deep breath to put on my professional face, and went inside.

“Hi there, Cela,” she said, shifting some papers around on her desk.

“Hi, Dr. Pelham, did you enjoy your cruise?”

She smiled, though it seemed a bit tight. “It was lovely. Thank you.”

“Well, I know you’re busy, but I just wanted to talk about the pos—”

“I got your email,” she said, cutting me short and pressing her palms to the papers on her desk. “And I’ve been on the phone for the last half hour with Dr. Foreman.”

“Okay,” I said, a little unsure of what Dr. Foreman had to do with anything.

“When you didn’t take the job before I left for my cruise, I gave Dr. Foreman the go-ahead to hire from the other candidates.”

I stared at her, my thoughts going blank. “What?”

“Hon, last I had talked to you, you were planning to go home. And the position needed to be filled. If I had known your were truly considering it . . .” She shook her head, then pulled her reading glasses off and rubbed the bridge of her nose, clearly distressed by all of it. “There’s no one I wanted more on my team than you. You’ve been a stellar intern. But another offer has already been extended and accepted. I can’t undo it.”

“Another offer,” I repeated, the words falling from my lips like heavy stones.

“I’m so sorry, Cela,” she said. “I will absolutely write any recommendations you need to apply other places if you plan to stay in town. I know that Dr. Murphy over at Banks Street Emergency needs a—”

“Right.” I stood so abruptly that the gust I caused sent papers fluttering off her desk. “It’s fine. I should’ve . . . it’s my fault . . . I just didn’t . . .”

“Cela,” she said, standing, too, worry on her face.

I pasted on some smile that seemed to belong to someone else. “It’s okay. Thank you, Dr. Pelham. For offering recommendations and for all that you’ve taught me. I’ll let you know. I just . . . I need to take care of some things first.”

She may have said something else, but I was already cruising out the door on automaton legs. I didn’t stop, didn’t go by the front desk to see Bailey. I just kept walking, straight to my car. By the time I stepped into the lobby of my building, I’d gone full numb, my thoughts locked in some suspended state. I was unemployed.

I had no job.

I had no Foster.

I had nothing here.

At the top of the stairs, I didn’t even see Pike coming out of his apartment until I nearly bumped right into him. “Whoa there, doc.”

I glanced up, mumbled a “Sorry.”

“Hey,” he said, putting his hand on my arm when I tried to walk past him. “You okay?”

“Fine,” I muttered and tried to move forward again, but his hand stayed on me.

“Look, doc, I know Foster is being an asshole. Believe me. But don’t give up him yet. I think you two—”

“My job fell through,” I said flatly. “This isn’t about Foster. Can you please let me go now?”

Immediately, his hand lifted from me. I felt bad being a bitch to Pike. He hadn’t done anything to me, but I couldn’t handle talking to anyone right now, especially about Foster. “But I thought you had that job locked up.”

“Yeah, well, not so much, apparently.”

He ran a hand over the back of his neck. “Is there another position?”

“Yeah,” I said with a bitter smile. “Back home.”

“Oh, doc, you don’t need to do that. I’m sure there are—”

“I have no job, Pike. No job means no money, no rent, no anything. I have a position waiting for me at home, a house, and my family. It’s where I should’ve gone in the first place.”

“But what about Foster?”

“What about him? I haven’t seen him in days.”

Pike stuck his hands in his pockets. “He’s out of town.”

“With Bret?” I asked.

Pike’s brows went up. “He told you about
Bret
?”

“No, but you just did.” My throat tightened until I could barely draw breath. I stalked past him and into my apartment, slamming the door behind me.

Screw. It. All.

I grabbed my cell phone and tossed my purse onto kitchen counter. He answered on the second ring.

“Papá, it’s me. Everything’s wrapped up here. I’m coming home.”

“Well, it’s about time,
mija
.”

Yeah. It was.

Read more of Cela and Foster’s red-hot romance in Part VII of NOT UNTIL YOU

NOT UNTIL YOU BELIEVE

Available from InterMix on July 23, 2013

Keep reading for a special excerpt from the third book in Roni Loren’s Loving on the Edge series

FALL INTO YOU

Available now from Berkley Heat

Come on, baby, don’t give up on me now.
Charli Beaumonde gripped the steering wheel tighter as her eight-year-old Toyota’s headlights flickered for the second time in ten minutes. She adjusted her rearview mirror, wondering, not for the first time, if she should’ve stopped in one of the small-town motels she’d passed thirty miles back. The deserted highway hadn’t seemed quite so jeepers creepers this morning on her way out of the city as it did now.

But then again, those motels had looked more Norman Bates than bed-and-breakfast. She was probably better off taking her chances with her on-its-last-wheel car.

She hadn’t planned to be out in boondocks Texas this late at night, but the chance to see who was coming and going from the family home of Dallas University’s top quarterback recruit had been too good to pass up. Who knew so many men in suits had business in such a podunk Texas town?

She hadn’t gathered enough damning evidence to put together a story for the station yet, but she was getting there. If she could get one of the players to slip up and talk, give her some names, she could blow the cheating scandal wide open and virtually secure her promotion to the on-air sidelines reporter for the Texas Sports Network.

Her boss had already told her she was one of the final candidates. Charli didn’t know how many other people she was up against, but she knew that she could go toe-to-toe with anyone on sports knowledge. Plus, she felt like her screen test had gone well. All she needed now was the one big story under her belt to show that she had the reporter chops as well.

She smiled, picturing herself on the sidelines of the college football games—microphone in hand, the smell of fresh-cut grass and sweaty athletes, the deafening roar of the crowd cheering for their teams. She couldn’t think of anything that would make her happier or any place she’d rather be. The years of working her ass off behind the scenes would finally pay off. She may even get enough of a salary boost to be able to spring for a new car.

She adjusted in her seat, but the faint flash of light in her rearview had her glancing in the mirror again. Distant headlights pierced the black vortex behind her. Her shoulders loosened a bit, her grip on the wheel easing. For some reason, knowing she wasn’t the only person on this lonely road gave her a weird sense of comfort. She pressed a button on her radio to tune into her favorite sports talk station and settled in for the last hour of her drive back to Dallas.

But right when one of the hosts started bitching about the Cowboys offense, the glare of headlights became blinding in her rearview as the driver flashed his high beams on and off. Squinting, Charli grabbed the mirror and turned it away from her. “What the hell?”

She slowed down a bit, thinking the driver must have some emergency and wanted to get past her. But when she eased up on the gas, he didn’t go around, he just got closer.
Flash. Flash. Flash
. The lights created a strobe effect in her car, disorienting her. She grabbed the steering wheel and jerked it to the left to move into the other lane, but the other car stayed on her rear as if it were tied to her bumper with rope.

“Shit.” She tried again, going back to the right lane, but the car followed, nearly clipping her rear bumper. The creeping unease she’d been fighting since she’d pulled onto this highway morphed into a hot flood of panic.

Whoever was in the car wasn’t trying to get past her—he was trying to get
to
her.

She slammed on her gas pedal in an attempt to put some distance between them and regain her vision, but her four-cylinder Toyota was no match for whatever was behind her. The rumble of a bigger, more powerful engine drowned out the quiet hum of her own.

She felt around for her cell phone, but the damn thing had tumbled to the floorboard when she’d made the hard lane change. Keeping her hands firmly on the wheel and knowing her speedometer was sliding into a zone it’d never ventured to, she tried to bump the phone closer with her left foot. Once it was within reach, she took one hand off the wheel and attempted to make a grab for the cell.
Come on, come on, just another inch.
But as soon as her fingers closed around her only lifeline, a hard jolt rocked the vehicle, knocking her head hard into the steering wheel and sending her world into a spin.

The sound of squealing tires was the last thing Charli heard before everything went black.

* * *

Grant liked the quiet cocoon of the night. His resort, The Ranch, didn’t slow down until three
A.M
. most evenings. So after spending his time over there, supervising and making sure everything was running smoothly, he relished the walk over from the main resort area to his private cabin on the far corner of the property.

Not many things could match the calming effect of the breeze blowing through the fields of grapevine, the night bugs singing, and the kind of rich silence that could only be had this far out of the city. In fact, there was only one other thing that could trump it—having a beautiful woman fully surrendering under his hand.

That’s what he’d really been hoping to find tonight—and every night for the last four months since he’d handed off his last trainee to her new dom. But even with The Ranch at his fingertips, finding a woman who appealed to him and his particular wants was proving near impossible. His tastes had grown refined, specific. He had no shortage of applicants for his monthlong immersion training. But the submissives he came across were either not ready for the level of commitment he required during training or were secretly hoping he’d take them on long term. And long term wasn’t his game.

The one-off, uncommitted play sessions could sometimes meet his immediate needs in between trainees. But it was like a carnivore living on a vegetarian diet: He was never truly satisfied. He craved the intensity that could only be reached when a sub fully gave herself to him for weeks at a time.

So instead of a clearing his mind with the all-encompassing experience of D/s, he was left to rely on the sound of the crickets and the blanket of the night to soften the edges of his thoughts. It was really the only time of the day when his brain would shut down and simply be.

But when he made the turn around the last bend in the path toward his home, a faint screeching sound sliced through the thick night air. He stilled, his ears and body going on full alert—a skill he’d never shaken from his years in the army and CIA. The distant sound of a revving engine followed the screech and then faded.

He frowned. Probably a driver stopping suddenly to avoid an animal in the road or something. The car had sounded like it had driven off, but Grant didn’t want to assume everything was okay. The highway his ranch sat off of wasn’t heavily traveled. So if someone had gotten in an accident, the coyotes and bobcats would probably find them before help did.

He jogged the rest of the way to his cabin and headed straight for his pickup truck. He pulled his keys from his pocket and his boot hit the gas before he’d even shut the door completely. The drive up to the main road only took a few minutes at a normal pace, but when Grant saw twin beams of light in the distance, he kicked into overdrive, his truck bouncing along the dirt road like an off-road racer.

By the time he got to the main gate, he could see the front end of a car peeking out the ditch on the opposite side of the road. The soft whine of the dying horn filled his ears. “Shit.”

He threw the gear into park and jumped out of the truck. The gate was chained with a padlock, but he didn’t want to waste time getting it unfastened, so he planted a foot on one of the bars and vaulted over it.

“Hello?” he called out after landing with a thud on the other side. Only the fading horn and the smell of burnt rubber greeted him. He hurried across the road and peered down into what appeared to be a wrecked Toyota. The tail end had slid into the ditch, the runoff rainwater from yesterday’s storm rushing past the back tires. Grant squinted, trying to see into the front seat. The headlights were the only illumination besides the moon, and all he could make out was the outline of a person in the front seat.

“Hello?” he called again. “If you can hear me, I’m here to help you.”

No response.

Grant hurried around to the other side of the car and carefully worked his way down the muddy embankment to get closer to the driver. His boots hit the bottom of the gully and water sluiced over his feet. Even this close, it was still too dark to see much. He grabbed his cell phone out of his jeans pocket and hit the button to illuminate the screen, holding the phone out toward the closed driver’s side window. The faint light from the phone spilled onto the profile of a woman, head slumped against the head rest, eyes closed.

His stomach flipped—a familiar sick feeling that never failed to show up no matter how much injury or death he’d seen in his life.
No. Come on. Be okay.
He wedged open the door, the soft earth only allowing him to get it halfway open, and leaned into the car to put fingers against the woman’s neck. The strong
thump, thump, thump
of her pulse touched his fingers.

“Thank you, God.” He touched her clammy cheek. “Ma’am, can you hear me? You’ve been in an accident. We’re going to get you some help.”

Though, with the nearest hospital forty-five minutes away, he wasn’t exactly sure when said help might get there. He hit another button on his cell phone.

Marc, one of his managers, answered on the first ring. “Hey, Grant, what’s up?”

“I need you to find Dr. Montgomery. I think he was playing with Janessa tonight in a cabin on the west side.”

“You want me to interrupt a scene?” Marc asked, the surprise in his voice evident. “Is everything okay?”

Grant quickly explained what was going on and told him to also put in a call to 911 to get an ambulance headed this way. Once he’d given Marc his marching orders, Grant returned his focus to the woman in the car. He’d learned first-aid skills in the military so knew not to move her neck or try to get her out of the car. But he checked her breathing to make sure nothing was obstructed.

Her seat belt was on, so she’d had some protection in the crash. But based on the swelling knot on her forehead, she’d hit her head on something—most likely the steering wheel. With gentle fingers, he brushed her hair away from the tender spot to examine it closer and make sure it wasn’t bleeding. He leaned in to get a better look, but a low moan made him halt.

He turned his head and the woman’s eyelashes fluttered. Another garbled sound passed her lips.

“Shh, easy now,” he soothed, using the tone he employed when dealing with skittish horses. “Try not to move, darlin’. We’re going to get you some help.”

Her entire body went rigid, and her lids flew open, her eyes going wide with fear.

He backed out of the car a bit, so as not to freak her out more, but put a hand on her shoulder. “It’s okay. You’re okay. You’ve been in an accident. I need you to stay still until the doctor gets here to check you.”

She blinked, her lips parted as if to say something, but then she winced and her hand went to her head. “Dizzy.”

“You’ve hit your head. Try to take some nice, slow breaths.” Grant kept his voice coaxing as he watched her follow his directions. “Can you tell me your name, darlin’?”

She squeezed her eyes shut, continuing to take deep breaths. “Uh . . . Charlotte, no . . . Charli.”

“Okay, good, Charli,” Grant said, relieved to hear she still knew her name. “Do you know where you are or what happened to you?”

“I’m . . . I . . .” A crease appeared between her brows as if she were trying hard to locate the information. “I can’t remember.”

He squeezed her shoulder. “That’s all right. We’ll worry about that later.”

The sucking sound of feet hitting wet earth drew Grant’s attention back toward the ditch’s embankment. Dr. Theo Montgomery was making his way down, wearing a pair of pajama bottoms and an open oxford shirt, and holding one of the well-stocked first aid kits from The Ranch. Red marks, no doubt from Janessa’s flogger, marked his bare chest.

“Status,” Theo said, all business.

“Name is Charli. She just woke up. Breathing is fine. Probably concussed—can remember her name but nothing about what happened. Contusion on her forehead. I haven’t moved her.”

“Good.” Theo moved in when Grant stepped out of the way. He introduced himself with the short, quick style of an ER doctor and started his examination. Charli would be in good hands.

An hour and a half later, the sun was starting to peek over the horizon as an EMT checked Charli over one last time and discussed the situation with Theo. Grant stood off to the side, watching as the beautiful redhead tried to stay focused on the conversation these people were having about her.

“Looks like it’s only a mild concussion. We can bring her back to Graham Regional and keep her for observation,” the EMT told Theo.

“I don’t want to go to the hospital,” Charli said, her voice low and hoarse. “I just want to go home and rest.”

The young guy frowned down at her. “Ma’am, do you have someone at home who can keep an eye on you for the next twenty-four hours?”

She closed her eyes, rubbing the bridge of her nose, like it hurt to think. “Uh, Tom Brady.”

The EMT’s head tilted. “The quarterback?”

“My cat.”

The ever-serious Theo smiled a bit at that. “Charli, I don’t think your cat can call 911 if you go unconscious again.”

“He’s very smart,” she said, not opening her eyes, but her mouth twitching at the corner. “Could probably . . . figure it out.”

Her voice was fading a bit, her exhaustion evident.

“No, I think you’d better let them take you in,” Theo said. “You need to have someone with you for a little while. And you can’t drive home right now, anyway. It’s not safe and your car is trashed.”

She raised her gaze then, a flicker of fight-or-flight passing through those green eyes. “Please, don’t make me. I hate hospitals.”

The underlying quiver in her voice hit Grant square in the sternum. He prided himself on being able to read even the subtlest of clues in others. It had served him well when extracting information from people in his days in the CIA and made him quite the formidable dominant now. And what he was sensing was honest fear in this woman. It was more than not wanting the inconvenience of a hospital—she was genuinely freaked out at the thought.