Sugar (25 page)

They shared a smile. Opening up to her in the aftermath of the nightmare had been a game changer in more ways than one. Try as he might, he couldn’t go back to thinking of her as just a fuck buddy even if he wanted to.

Cole didn’t want to.

“I tried telling you earlier, but you were busy.” Petulant as that probably sounded, he wasn’t used to sharing her.

Her gaze softened. “Well, you’ve got my attention now. Is there anything else you’d like to tell me?”

She wasn’t acting any role now. Sugar was totally out of the picture. The question came entirely from Sarah,
his
Sarah. Cole knew how to deal with Sugar. Sarah, however, remained a puzzle he wasn’t anywhere close to solving. He hesitated, feeling as if bricks had dropped on his chest. Suddenly his tie felt too tight, his tuxedo too constricting.

She shook her head, looking at him as though he were a lost cause. “I should go check on the cake.” She shifted to walk away.

Impulsively, he shot out his hand and grabbed her arm. The unexpected force sent champagne lopping the rim of his glass. “Sarah, wait.”

Startled, she swung around. “What’s gotten into you today?” she demanded, shaking him off or trying to. “This isn’t some movie scene we’re reenacting. This is real life, my friend’s wedding, so stop acting like everything’s about you because this once it’s not.”

Startled, he shook his head. Was that really how she saw him? “It’s not about me. It’s about you, I want to—”

A flash and pop cut Cole off, peppering his vision with black dots. His ingrained response was to tackle Sarah and hit the ground. Before he could, several young women scribbling on notepads and scruffy guys shouldering cameras crowded up to them.

“So Sugar, how long are you in New York?”

“Are you filming here?”

“What’s the real reason you left LA?”

“How’s your substance abuse recovery coming along?”

Cole stepped in front of Sarah, shielding her with his body. “Stop shooting—now!”

Looking back at Sarah, he saw that her startled face confirmed what, in his gut, he already knew.

Their days of flying under the radar screen were over.

“I am so sorry, Ms. Halliday. They told me they were with the wedding photographer. I thought something might be off but the cameras—”

“It’s okay, Randall,” Sarah assured the harried event coordinator, giving his shoulder a pat. “Once we get this glass cleaned up, it will be like they were never here.”

If only that might be true! In the midst of hiring vendors for all aspects of the event, she hadn’t once considered a firm to handle security. Thinking of the damage that couldn’t be undone, she looked over to where the server was sweeping up bits of broken glass. Who knew one shattered camera could create such a mess?

When his order to “Stop shooting—now!” had gone unheeded, Cole had charged, tearing the camera off the nearest guy’s shoulder and smashing it before everyone’s startled eyes. The second camera guy hadn’t required any convincing. Like spooked mice, the four had scurried toward the stairs, one shouting threats of suing and such, which sounded pretty empty to Sarah as they’d intruded on private property.

The camera was the only casualty. Having seen him in action pulverizing her purse snatcher, Sarah knew the crew had gotten off lightly. Now that she was aware of his PTSD, she marveled at his self-restraint.

Smashing the camera had made a powerful statement, but they hadn’t escaped the range of smart phones. Imagining the pictures they’d gotten of her, open mouthed and cowering, she felt more vulnerable and exposed than she had on any porn film set.

Addressing the room, she said, “Sorry for the distraction, folks, but let’s get back to celebrating the reason we’re really here.” She lifted her champagne flute, hoping the others would follow. “To Peter and Pol, we wish you a long life, much love, and of course, great sex.”

Shouts of “huzzah” and “here, here” rumbled through the room. Satisfied that the event was back on track, she turned to Cole.

Having a big, virile man get physical to defend you, not once but twice, was every woman’s fantasy. It was a major turn on, no doubt about it, but she was too shaken to even think of sneaking away with him for sex. If reporters had tracked her here, they could follow her elsewhere, too. Having lived in LA, she knew firsthand how intense these things could get. Would she find a posse waiting outside her building when she went home? Would they dog her on her walks to and back from Liz’s? If they went knocking on her dad’s door, someone well might end up shot.

Beyond the obvious leak, how had they found her? Liz was above suspicion, and she couldn’t believe any of the other FATEs would reveal her. Had someone involved with the wedding, one of the vendors perhaps, recognized and reported her whereabouts? What was the going rate for ratting out a celebrity? Or was being in the know as to the whereabouts of the so-called rich and famous a sufficient high of its own? Maybe it was the bragging rights as much as the money that brought people so low.

“What, no lecture?” he asked, glancing down at his split knuckles.

Except for his tuxedo being gray rather than black, he looked almost exactly as he had on the night they’d met—slightly disheveled and primally sexy. Then she’d been willing to settle for a thrill ride of sexy moments. Now she wanted more. She wanted the Big White Wedding with all the trimmings, the Happily Ever After once the vows were exchanged. She didn’t want to playact at being a bride. She wanted to be a bride—Cole’s. But as his earlier reticence had so painfully confirmed, he wasn’t interested in that kind of permanence, certainly not with her.

Heart in her throat, she shrugged. “So far as I’m concerned, that asshole got what he deserved, less actually.”

Flexing swelling fingers, he grinned. “Would you believe that before I met you I was a peaceable man?”

She shook her head, wondering after today whether he would still want to see her. They’d just been outed together. As disastrous as that felt for her, Cole had his own deal to protect. Pornography and kid-focused philanthropy weren’t exactly compatible message points. He might be made to choose—and soon. Twitter would be exploding. For all she knew, the story might end up trending. The first round of blog posts would be up by that evening. Longer length articles would make it into tomorrow’s print papers.

“Sorry, I’m not buying. By the way, you make a great bouncer.”

“Thanks, I do, don’t I?” He shoved his hitting hand into a footed champagne bucket and pulled the bottle out.

Seeing him start for the stairs, Sarah said, “Hey, where are you going? I was kidding.”

“Well, I’m not. I’ll save you a dance,” he called back, another joke.

Sarah started after him, but Peter intercepted her. Hand on her elbow, he steered her away. “Sarah, sweetie, they’re getting ready to bring out the cake, and you’re the only one who knows where it goes.”

Cole and Sarah stayed beyond seeing the two grooms off. Waiting until the last guest was out the door, he walked up to her. Even though they’d gone on with the party as planned, he knew the paparazzi raid was uppermost in both their minds.

Laying his hands on her shoulders, he said, “It happened. It’s over. You need to try and relax.”

She exhaled heavily. “It’s not over. It’s just beginning.” Expression exasperated, she held out her phone. “Would you believe I already have an email from a TMZ reporter requesting an interview exclusive and another from
Time Out New York
? And it’s only been a few hours. Can you imagine what tomorrow will be like and the day after that—and after that?”

Unfortunately she wasn’t wrong. Taking the phone from her, Cole slipped it into his pocket. He wished he could do or say something to reassure her. He wished he’d done a better job of protecting her earlier. He wished he knew who the son-of-a-bitch was who’d outed them, if only so he could put a face to the fantasy of wringing the life from their throat.

He tried telling himself it could have been worse. They’d been together at a private function, a wedding. They’d been caught on camera while talking, not fucking as might have happened. For his part, it would be easy enough to claim they hadn’t been on a date at all but had met by chance for the first time.

Whatever flack he caught from his family and the Foundation donors and board would be minimal compared to the media stalking Sarah now faced. And not only her but those close to her. Liz, Jonathan, and the other FATEs stood to come under scrutiny as “Sugar’s” friends.

But they wouldn’t stop there. Reporters might soon be staking out her place if they weren’t already. A wise man would break things off between them but Cole made no claim to wisdom, not where Sarah was concerned. Even with his eyes wide open to all the risks, he wasn’t prepared to stop seeing her.

Feeling protective towards her, he tightened his grip. “One day at a time, we’ll deal with it. It’s not like it’s a matter of life and death.”

For the space of several seconds, she stared at him strangely, making him wonder what he might have said. Giving up, he said, “I have an idea how to make you feel better.”

At last, a smile! “Just one.”

His hands slid away from her shoulders. “Well, one at a time.” Taking her arm, he led her up the stairs to the garden room and through it to the gilded bathroom.

Seeing where they were heading, she darted a nervous look around. “Here? What if someone walks in?”

Reaching for the door with his hurt hand, he shrugged. “There’s an extra chair. I don’t mind if they want to watch so long as they don’t touch,” he teased though the thought of anyone but him touching or even seeing Sarah was crazy-making.

As soon as the door closed, he pulled her into his arms. Lowering his head, he matched his mouth to hers, kissing her thoroughly and deeply. Drawing back, he admitted, “I’ve wanted to do that since before we left the house. You look amazing.”
You are amazing
, he almost added, dragging his lips across the juncture of neck and shoulder.

She shivered and lifted her face to look up at him, the clouds in her eyes banished by the familiar light of desire. “You look pretty amazing yourself. I like you in tuxedos,” she said, toying with his lapel. “That reminds me. Don’t I still owe you a replacement one?”

Cole laughed. His hands slipped to her waist. “I’ll take it in barter.” Turning with her in his arms, he lifted her onto the marble-topped vanity.

Her dress rode upward. Cole pushed it higher still. Her parted thighs provided a peak of open-crotched panties. Reaching down, he teased his fingertips along the lace-edge.

“Sarah,” he said, reveling in her wetness, her scent, her submission.

Laying a hand on either side of his face, she dragged him back down to her. Their mouths met. Their tongues sparred. Sarah milked him as though she were thirsting, as though this was their last kiss and she was hell bound to harvest all the memories she might. She tasted of champagne and desire, sadness and regret.

She dragged her mouth away at last, her nimble fingers searching out his zipper. She tugged it down and freed him from his briefs. Her slender hand encircled, glided, squeezed. Teasing her thumb over the slit bisecting the sensitized head, she tested his wetness and his willpower.

Cole answered with a growl. Setting her hand aside, he focused on her perfect pussy. She was very wet and very pink, putting him in mind of a Georgia O’Keefe canvas he’d once come close to acquiring. He’d lost the painting to a higher bidder at a Sotheby’s auction, but he didn’t intend to likewise lose Sarah. Sex was the only way he knew to bind her to him, and he had every intention of using it now.

Spreading her folds, he positioned himself over her channel. One quick, clean thrust carried him inside her. The emotions of the day made restraint seem foolish. God only knew what tomorrow or even the next hour would bring. For the present, Cole’s reality reduced to Sarah. The slickness of the pussy he pounded, the pull of strong, slender fingers in his hair, the slightness of the nubile body straining to meet his, the little moans that sounded almost like weeping.

They came hard, fast, and together, their urgent breaths and unbridled cries filling the room. Gaze melding with Sarah’s, Cole released himself inside her, willing his eyes to tell her all the things he might never find the words, or the courage, to say.