Busted (Barnes Brothers #3) (8 page)

There was a soft laugh from the back of the room. He ground his teeth together and focused on the coffee setup over at the side of the room.

*   *   *

The forty-five minute panel passed in a blur.

There were laughs from the audience, there were questions and grins from the panelists—Ressa remembered that. She did her best not to think about the cameras—there wouldn’t be a day when the thought of
those
wouldn’t turn her stomach, but she kept her body angled to the side and went with the flow.

When another assistant signaled it was time and she had to tell everybody they had to wrap up, there was a groan that echoed through the crowd.

She took that to mean she’d made it through another one.

Half the time she felt like she was faking it and more often than not, she didn’t even remember
exactly
what had happened until she listened to the podcasts or watched the videos that streamed out in the days that followed these sort of events.

As much as she hated the videos, she always watched.

But she didn’t have to look at a video or listen to a podcast to know how this one had gone.

One look at Max’s face and she knew.

He caught her hand as she stepped back from the podium. “You knocked it out of the park, sweetheart. Good job.”

Rolling her eyes, she blew out a theatrical breath, although she really did need the oxygen. “Thank you.”

As readers started to approach, she moved away. She’d done her job, now she was going to stand by and watch as the people at the table continued on with theirs.

*   *   *

“How long has it been since you did this?”

Trey studied his numb hand closely. Yep. Still shaking. That had been . . . kind of a rush, he decided. Nerve-wracking in a crazy way, thus the shakes. But fun. Tucking his numb, shaking hands into his pockets, he flashed Max a grin as they moved out into the hall. “About six and a half years. I had that three week tour when
Odd Girl
came out.”

Neither of them mentioned the conference he’d been at
when Aliesha was in the wreck—he’d barely even had time to meet a few people, talk to some of his fellow panelists, before he received the call.

Eyes squinted in thought, Max stared at nothing in particular for a long moment. “That was your first one, wasn’t it? First tour?”

“Yeah.” He sighed as the adrenaline started to drain away, as if those words had just pulled some unseen cork right out of him. “First and last.”

“It’s only been your last because you have too much going on in your life,” Max said softly. “Hard to handle that sort of thing when you got your son to take care of. Can’t really spend two or three weeks flying around the country when you got a young son, now can you?”

“Some people think I can.” He jerked a shoulder in a restless shrug, thinking of the publicist he’d fired only six months after Aliesha’s death. The son of a bitch had insisted it was time that Trey start focusing on his career again—
enough time had passed, right
?

Max clapped a hand on his shoulder. “You put your son first. You still do. Not a thing wrong with that, Trey. You’re all he’s got and he needs you.”

I need him
, Trey thought. Out loud he just said, “I know.” They’d been so busy in the room that the next session of panels was about to start so they managed to slip through most of the crowd.

He wanted to go up to his room for a little while, sit down. Call Clayton—

“Hi!”

A punch of heat that was becoming almost brutally familiar slammed into him, catching him in the throat, the gut—lower.

Ressa cut in front of them, so close now that he could smell whatever she’d smoothed on her skin. She was glowing, the grin on her face was a cross between ecstatic and nervous—sort of how he felt.

“That turned out pretty good, didn’t it?” The words tumbled out of her, a hard 180 from the easy calm she’d shown both last night and during the panel.

Arching a brow, he opened his mouth, but she was already talking.

“Don’t you think? Max, I know you said it went well, but you always say that. What did you—” She stopped, snapping her mouth shut and then blowing out a sigh while the smile on her face turned sheepish. “Sorry. Nerves. They never really hit until I’m done.”

“I get that.” Trey smiled as that blast of heat melted away into something . . . softer. Easier. She wasn’t just sexy as hell, he realized.

Just then, she was . . .

“You know what? I think I’m going to go up to my room for a little bit,” Max said.

Both of them whipped their heads around to look at him.

Trey almost shot out a hand to catch him by the arm.

“But—” Ressa opened her mouth, closed it.

“I’m getting too old to pound the floor all day,” Max said, grinning at her. “I’ll see you both around later. It was a great panel, Ressa. You know better than to think I’d lie.”

As Max disappeared, Trey ran his tongue along the inside of his teeth. He should do the same thing. Go up to his room. He needed to call Clayton. Relax, maybe change into some shorts and go running or something. Swinging his head around to look at Ressa, he opened his mouth.

The words that came spilling out shocked the hell out of him.

“Would you have a cup of coffee with me?”

Her mouth fell open. “Ah . . . excuse me?”

What the hell . . .
The words couldn’t be pulled back, but he realized, now that they were out, he didn’t want to take them back.

Elation, and nerves, pounded inside him, but he managed to hide all of that behind a grin as he took a step closer.

It was like riding a bike, he told himself. He hadn’t thought it through, and he hadn’t ended up flat on his face.

In a matter of seconds—a blink, really, her lovely, wide eyes cooled.

“I’m afraid not. I try to avoid having coffee with married men.”

Then after a scathing look that left him feeling like she’d just sliced the top layer of his skin off, she turned on one ice-pick heel and strode off.

He was distracted enough by the sway of her hips—and the delightful, round curve of her ass—that it took him another fifteen seconds to make himself move.

Yeah, maybe he should have explained that part first.

*   *   *

“Hey, wait a minute.”

As he ducked into the elevator with her, Ressa folded her arms over her chest. “Afraid I can’t, Mr. Barnes.”

Her icy tone drew the eye of more than a few passengers in the elevator. She started to tap her foot, watching the numbers speed by.

The floor stopped at eleven, fourteen, fifteen—

“Ressa, wait.”

She pushed through the bodies as the elevator slowed at seventeen. “I’ve got a busy afternoon, Mr. Barnes, so if you’ll—”

She hissed as she turned to see him coming off the elevator after her.

Not a single damn soul said a word, although more than a few watched with rapt gazes until the elevator doors slid closed in their faces.

“I guess I didn’t make myself clear,” she said. “Let me take care of that now.”

“I think I should go first.” He shoved his hands into his pockets, inclining his head.

“Oh?” With a cool smile, she waved a hand. “Please do.”

Despite herself—and the disappointment—and heaven help her, that knee-jerk reaction she’d had to say yes to whatever he wanted to do—she wondered what excuse he’d pull out of his ass.

He lowered his head, reaching up to rub at the back of his neck. With his left hand, one that was noticeably bare today.

He was nothing but another player. It pissed her off, too. She’d
liked
him. He’d seemed so . . . nice. He was an amazing father, and he adored his son and he was . . . well, he’d seemed almost
perfect
. Taken, yeah. But still . . . perfect.

He went to drop his hand, head still bowed. But as he was lowering his hand, he stopped, pausing, staring at the pale strip where his ring would have been.

He looked at his hand like he’d never seen it.

“We only had a few years together,” he said, his voice soft, almost distant. “We met in college and . . . that was it for us. We just knew. We waited until we graduated to get married.”

Something about his tone had her stomach twisting.
Stop it. You’ve heard these lines before.

“My wife . . . she . . .”

“Look, if you all are separated or whatever, fine. But I don’t date married guys. So—”

“She died almost six years ago.” He looked up then, his gaze flat. So flat, almost cold. He looked back at his hand, staring at the place where his ring would have been. “I was at a conference. She was pregnant with Clay and there was an accident—a drunk driver crossed the lines while my wife was on her way to her OB appointment. She . . .” He stopped and looked away, but not in time to keep her from seeing the diamond bright glint in his eyes.

“She went into early labor—died during the C-section.” He cut another look her way. “The ring . . . well. I know she’s gone. It’s not like I’m clinging to her memory or anything. It’s just . . . things were . . .” He stopped and shook his head. “Never mind. I’m sorry I bothered you.”

With her heart tangled up somewhere in her throat, Ressa stared after him as he walked away.

“I rode the roller coaster!”

Back braced against the headboard, Trey smiled as Clayton peered up at him from the screen of his iPhone. His grin was a mile wide and he had a smudge of chocolate or something on his nose, and the sight of the boy soothed the ragged ache in Trey’s heart.

“Did you throw up?”

“Gross! No. Have you ever thrown up on a roller coaster?” Clayton asked.

“Nope. One time, though, when we were kids, your uncles and I ate like three hot dogs—”

Two seconds later, his mother was on the phone. “Don’t you dare, Trey Malcolm Barnes. You hear me?”

“Ah, hi, Mom. How are you?” He summoned up his best smile, knowing it wasn’t going to do any good. It hadn’t, even when they were kids.

Denise just narrowed her eyes at him.

That made him laugh. “So that panel earlier was . . . kind of intense.”

“Don’t you go putting any ideas in that boy’s head,” she said, ignoring his attempts to distract her.

“Mom. He’s my kid,” Trey pointed out. “He was probably born with those ideas imprinted on his DNA.”

“Exactly. I’m hoping they’ll stay there—inactive—and here you are, telling him about . . .
that
.”

He laughed, felt more of the shadows fall away. He could practically see his mother shuddering as she remembered
that one time
. A hot dog binge, three kids on a coaster—Zane had proven to be smart enough to not do it—although
he
had dared them. Sebastian had been too short, and of course, he’d cried the entire time. Right up until they all started getting sick and then he’d laughed. And laughed. And laughed.

“Okay. I won’t give him ideas while he’s at Disney with you.” That was the most he could promise. “Now, can I talk to Clayton? Please?”

Her aggravated sigh only made him smile wider. “You boys, it’s a miracle I still have any hair left.”

“So did you throw up after?” Clayton asked.

“Tell you what, Clay. We’ll talk about it—all about it—once we’re home. Grandma doesn’t wanna hear about puke and stuff. We don’t want to make her unhappy.”

“Oh. Okay.” Clayton was quiet for a second and then veered onto the next topic. “When are you going to be done? I miss you.”

“Soon, buddy.” At the knock, he rolled off his bed and moved to the door. A quick look through the security hole had him frowning. No. He didn’t think he wanted to open the door. Turning away, he moved out of the bedroom to the narrow little strip that served as a balcony. There was another knock just as he shut the door.

He had no idea what Ressa wanted, but he’d already decided it was better to just let it go.

“I want a Darth Vadar backpack for school.”

At that, Trey pulled his attention back to what mattered—focusing on the excited boy on the other end of the line.

He’d surprised himself, though.

He’d taken the ring off.

He’d asked her out.

Start living again
.

Yeah, he’d do that. Later. He could still feel something inside, he’d proven that. But he’d try again . . . later. With
somebody who didn’t have the power to rip a hole in him with just a look.

He wouldn’t lock himself back up again.

He’d made himself that promise when he came back inside his room and saw the ring on the floor. It wasn’t meant to be a shield and it shouldn’t have been worn as a reminder of . . . whatever had happened that night.

It had been a sign of a promise, one that both he and Aliesha had honored, until death had come between them.

Now he just had to accept it—and let go of those things he couldn’t remember.

*   *   *

Feeling a little sick, Ressa stared at the coffee she held—a peace offering—and then back up at the door.

He was in there. She knew it for a fact, because she’d heard him, the low rumble of his voice. She had no idea who he was talking to and she hadn’t heard anybody else, but he was in there—ignoring her.

Sighing, she lifted her hand to knock a third time, but in the end, she turned away. Eying the narrow table behind her, she shrugged and figured it wasn’t going to hurt.

She left the coffee sitting there, with a note scrawled across the side in scrawling black.

T.

I’m sorry.

R.

*   *   *

“It’s the hottest one yet, I’m telling you.” Ellie Barrister leaned across a table roughly the size of a dinner plate and tapped the postcard she’d slapped on the table earlier. They’d made it through the first days of the book fair—tomorrow was the final day. Tonight was for chatter, a few drinks . . . and brooding.

“I hear you. L. Forrester, whoever she is, puts some of the best I’ve ever read to shame. I just wish she’d do interviews.”
Tori Caldwell clicked her beer to Lynnette’s cosmo. “Signings, a book tour . . . something. She’s practically a hermit.”

Ressa snorted and shook her head. Sitting at a table surrounded by her friends, they were talking books and men and life in general. “Sounds a lot like somebody else I know.” Although, to be fair, there
was
information out there on Trey. She just hadn’t
looked
.

At the curious gazes directed her way, she shrugged. “Actually, there are a few authors I can think of who fit that bill. Some of them are weird. You ought to know that by now.”

“True. And if
weird
translates to
amazing
 . . . then fine. Be weird. But she could at least
talk
to me. I mean, listen to this . . .” Lynette flipped through the book and stopped close to halfway through.

Ressa winced. “If you spoil that book for me, I’ll smack you over the head with it.”

“I’ve already finished mine.” Ellie grinned at them. “If you’re nice, Ressa, I might let you borrow it, as long as you return it. I need to read it another three, four . . . ten times to decide if it’s my favorite or not.”

“Nothing is going to top
You, I Desire
,” Ressa said, absolutely certain.

“Guys? Hush.” Lynnette reached for her cosmo, took a sip and then started to read.

“She shouldn’t be here.”
Lynnette looked up, winked. “This is our heroine, by the way. Nina. She’s seducing a billionaire.”

“She’s telling us to hush,” Tori muttered, shaking her head.

“Another billionaire?” Ressa rolled her eyes. “You know I hate billionaire books.”

“Me, too.” Tori slumped in her chair, her gaze roaming the room. “I want another drink. Should I go to the bar or hope we can flag our server?”

“The bar. It’s packed,” Lynnette said. “Ya know, I’m not big on billionaire books, but sometimes they work for me. I was kind of surprised Forrester did one. But this one was fun, and Ressa, you especially are going to love it. The guy is a geek.
And
borderline awkward. He made eggs explode when he tried to hard-boil them because he got distracted reading Patricia Briggs. He goes to SF/F cons and the first time he saw
her, he had this crazy thought that he might believe in love at first sight.”

Ressa started to laugh. “Shows that a woman is writing it. Men don’t believe in love at first sight. Sex, yeah . . . but love?” She shrugged. “I don’t know if
I
believe in love at first sight.”

“I do.” A wide, satisfied smile settled over Ellie’s face. She had just celebrated her tenth anniversary—and she married a guy she’d known under a month.

“I think I could believe in it . . . if I met the right guy. Now let me read.” Lynnette cleared her throat, and then she started to read, getting into it, too by the way her voice changed oh, so slightly.

“She shouldn’t be here. She liked this guy—she wasn’t supposed to like him. It was a job—he was a job. She was supposed to get to know more about him, understand what kind of guy he was now and how he’d gone from Geek Central to Mr. GQ and then . . . then . . .

“
‘
Nina? Hey, what are you doing here? I thought you—’”

Fuck the job. With need and want a vicious tangle inside her, she launched herself at him. His mouth opened under hers and it was a vivid, almost vicious delight when his tongue rubbed against hers. His arms came around her and her head started to spin—

“Oh. Oh, wow. Who in the hell is that?” Tori whispered, interrupting Lynnette. She jabbed Ressa in the side, staring at somebody in the doorway. “Damn. Isn’t he pretty?”

Ressa looked over her shoulder and damn near choked. “Sweetheart, you don’t want that.”

“Yes, oh, yes I do.” She hummed a little under her breath as she leaned forward.

“You all are killing me.” Lynnette put the book down with a snap. Ressa took advantage of that and snagged it, flipping through and looking for the spot where Lynnette had been reading.

“Hey!”

Grinning, Ressa continued to turn the page even as she glanced up at Tori. “Girl, that man is a prick—with a capital
P
. He loves the sound of his own voice. Shit, he probably loves his voice so much, he jacks off to the sound of it.”

Lynnette and Ellie laughed while Tori shot her a dark look. “You could let me have my fantasies, you know.”

“Okay. Fantasize away.”

“Ah . . . he’s coming over here, ladies.” Lynnette lifted her cosmo. “I don’t know about any of you, but I have absolutely no time for—”

“Ressa. How lovely to run into you again.”

She didn’t bother smiling as she looked up at Baron. “Baron.” Then she looked back at the group. “So, has anybody speculated much about—”

“Ladies, I was wondering, if maybe—”

Teeth grinding together, Ressa turned her head. Jack-
ass
.

With a sweet smile, she met his gaze. “Yes, Mr. Capstone? Did you need something?”

He studied her, a smile flirting with his lips.

Just as he was going to respond, though, Lynnette whispered, “It’s him.” Then her hand shot out. “Please, Ressa. You have to introduce me. Please. I’m dying. I . . .”

Baron turned his head at the same time as Ressa.

Her belly sank.

She thought maybe she’d just like to disappear as Baron lifted an arm. “Max. Trey. Why don’t you come over here? Trey has some . . . fans.”

He gave Ressa a charming smile. “Why don’t you join me for a drink while they chat? I swear, you really do look familiar to me.”

The look in his eyes made her skin crawl and she wanted, very badly, to put a lot of distance between them. “I already have a drink, Mr. Capstone,” she said, lifting hers and smiling.

He opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, she pushed back from her chair, watching Trey and Max. A funny little twist of heat went through her at the sight of Trey.

Heat . . . and awkwardness.

“Max.” She looked at him first, managed to smile. Then she slid her gaze to Trey. His blue eyes were blank. Almost carefully so. “Mr. Barnes. If you two have a moment, I’ve got some friends who wanted to meet you. And . . . I . . . ah . . .”

Just get it out. Before he disappears and you can’t.
If she didn’t say it, the words would burn inside her, like an open sore—festering and raw.

“I needed to apologize, for earlier. I’m sorry.”

Trey’s lids flickered.

You should have said yes
, a small voice inside her murmured. Regret was a living, breathing thing inside her.

“So!” With a bright smile that she didn’t at all feel, Ressa turned around. “May I introduce Lynnette, Tori, and Ellie? We’ve been friends online for forever and once or twice a year, we try to hook up at one of these events. Guys, this is Max . . .” She moved to stand at his side, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. “And this is Trey Barnes. Sorry, Max, but it’s him they really want to talk to.”

Max chuckled. “That’s okay. I’m used to being tossed aside for the younger, better looking guys these days.”

She breathed out a nearly silent sigh of relief as Trey moved forward to talk to her friends.

“. . . join us?”

She blinked, caught off guard a few minutes later.

Max tightened the hand he’d laid on hers. “Ressa, are you feeling well?”

“I’m fine. My mind was just wandering. What were you saying?”

“We’re all getting sort of hungry and thought we’d order something.” Max cocked a thick brow. “Are you going to join us? We’ll need a few more chairs.”

“Oh. Well . . .” She shot a look around the table. “Um, no . . . no, I don’t think so.” She eased her hand away from Max and edged around Trey to grab her bag. She caught Lynnette’s eye and held her friend’s gaze, hard, for a long moment, before she turned around, her gaze skating past Trey to meet Max’s once more. “I’m actually heading to bed. I’m still dragging from that drive in. Raincheck?”

“Breakfast, right?” She glanced at her friends, saw the speculative glance in Lynnette’s eyes, saw Ellie opening her mouth—then wincing. Probably because Tori had just kicked her under the table.

“Breakfast!” Tori smiled. “You’re buying, remember. You owe us.”

Ressa bit back a groan and then nodded at the group in general, before turning on her heel.

She had a bottle of wine in her room. Ellie had brought it when she drove in from Albuquerque—her friend
hated
to fly and drove everywhere.