Caught on Camera (9 page)

Suddenly as cool as she’d just been riled, she tilted her nose in the air with a dignity that kept him quiet in his seat, and stated, “Don’t get up. I’ll get it.”

A
FTER ESCAPING TO
the kitchen, Vega braced her hands on the counter and sucked in deep gulps of air. Her entire body shook with the anger coursing through her as she replayed the last few minutes through her mind.

Of course JP hadn’t planned to hear her out. She’d known that as surely as she’d known she had zero business thinking she could play his game. Text-flirt, short skirt…who the heck had she been kidding? She’d never been good at games and clearly still wasn’t. That was, after all, why she was behind the camera instead of in front of it.

With an audible groan, she flipped around and slumped against the counter, realizing she was far too tall to even appropriately slump. She yanked off both shoes and, with a guttural growl, had an arm raised to throw one across the room before she remembered what she had in her hands.

Her absolute favorite pair of Alexander McQueens.

How stupid would it be to not only chuck them across the room, but to do so because of another human being.

Fire bathed her anew at the mere thought. Disgust battled to overpower the anger. She knew better than to trust. She absolutely knew better.

Yet Mr. Charm-and-Smarm in there had somehow gotten under her skin at the golf course, and though he’d never actually encouraged her to trust him, she’d very much wanted to. She’d wanted him to be different. But what she didn’t understand was why.

Gritting her teeth, she shook her shoes at the closed door separating her from the despicable man, and realized there was yet another emotion whirling around inside of her. Disappointment.

Lowering her hands, she gently tossed the shoes to the throw rug stationed in front of the sink and slumped her shoulders. Then she faced facts.

That achy spot widening behind her ribs was disappointment in the man who had invited her here for the sole purpose of sleeping with her. She had really thought he might be more than the playboy the rest of the world knew him to be. More than the sleazy, slimy politician she knew all of them were.

She had wanted him to actually…what? See the real her? Care for her?

Stupid!

She yanked open the refrigerator to find two of the most awesome-looking dessert cups she’d ever seen. And yes, they were chocolate. At least something good would come of this evening. With barely a thought to the fact that if she was going to eat the dessert the man provided, she should at least take his out to him, she shoved the plastic covering from the top of one, rummaged around in a couple drawers until she found a spoon, then dug in.

Oh, and did she find heaven.

Man.
She closed her eyes and savored the taste of the creamy mousse. Digging a little deeper, she found a rich chocolate cake. The quality of the ingredients was definitely as superior as the rest of the meal.

Four quick bites later, she calmed down enough to open her eyes and face the real issue she’d been doing her best to ignore.

She dipped the spoon in, swiped the deliciousness off with her tongue, and bobbed the curved end toward the door as if warding JP off. In the span of a few short sentences, he had unearthed the past hurt she’d lived through when she’d first found out that Ted was happily married and had been lying to her from the start.

More chocolate.

Three bites later, the spoon clinked against the empty crystal. With a huff, she shoved aside a bowl on the counter and replaced it with the now-empty dessert flute while once again replaying those minutes through her mind. JP had looked at her for an instant as if he’d understood.

But what had he understood?

Her pain, most likely. She nodded. That was all he’d seen. She’d let her guard down, and he’d seen the hurt cross her face as she’d remembered.

Turning away, she snatched open the refrigerator and decided to totally blow her calories for the week. If a person didn’t live once in a while, what was the damn point?

With no guilt whatsoever, she dug into JP’s dessert.

As she licked each spot of lusciousness off the heavy spoon, she finally noticed the general dishevelment of the kitchen. A chef would have cleaned up before leaving.

At least a good chef. She slid another bite between her lips and silently noted that whoever had prepared the meal was definitely good.

Scanning the entire area, she took in a dirty broiler pan on top of the stainless-steel range, a top-quality skillet and another pot pushed to the side, and an apron tossed haphazardly in the corner behind a butcher block of knives. She stepped closer to the stove and lifted a lid to peek inside. The remains of the potatoes they’d eaten. Peering back at the door, she studied it as if she could see through the solid wood. Had Cat cooked all this for them before leaving?

Because surely it hadn’t been JP.

Not that she didn’t think men cooked, but men like JP? The last thing he would ever need to do was cook his own meals. He could afford anything he wanted, and probably never bat an eye at the cost. Plus, he’d brought her here for sex, not to impress her with a fancy dinner.

At the thought of sex, she remembered how much his simply looking at her turned her on. She dropped her head back and stared at the ceiling. Despicable or not, the man was hot, and her body didn’t seem to care about his character. She needed to get out of there now, before she calmed down completely, lest she should find herself once again vulnerable to his charms. Because like him or not, it had been a long darn time, and her body was well aware it could have one heck of a night if she would just turn her mind off.

Her phone and purse were at the table. She couldn’t simply waltz back in and call for a cab without having to talk to the man. But if the cab were already here, she could breeze through, grab her stuff, and go.

Slipping another bite between her lips, she searched the room until she spied a phone tucked into the corner of a desk. Padding across the floor, she enjoyed the cool slate against her bare skin, then snatched up the receiver and dialed information. With a cab secured and the guard at the gate made aware to expect it, she turned back to the room and surveyed the area, looking for a way to spend the time waiting for the driver. Because she wasn’t going back in that dining room until she absolutely had to.

Just like she clearly wasn’t getting out of Savannah anytime soon. She’d go home, her figurative tail tucked between her legs, and explain to her boss how she’d stretched the truth just a tad. She’d assured him the interview was as good as in the bag. Bob had always been her biggest supporter, so no doubt he’d forgive her and hopefully do whatever he could to save her job. She simply wished it hadn’t all ended like this. She’d really wanted the chance.

Facing the mound of dishes before her, she gave a quick nod. Chores focused her, and she needed to pull herself back together. Plus, there was no need leaving such a mess for Cat.

Setting the partially eaten dessert beside the sink, she turned on the water and went to work.

JP eyed the kitchen door for the tenth time in the last few minutes. What was she doing in there?

His hands rested across his lap, fingers twined, thumbs tapping together, as one possibility after another played through his mind.

One: he’d ticked her off so much she’d bolted through the outer kitchen door and left. Eyeing the bag resting against his sister’s dining room chair, he didn’t think she’d leave without that, no matter how mad she was.

Two: she wanted him to follow her into the kitchen?

No.

He shook his head. It had become painfully obvious she wasn’t playing games. She didn’t want him anywhere near her at the moment.

Then three: whatever memory he’d caused to resurface had hurt her even worse than he’d thought.

Wide, panicked brown eyes flashed through his mind. That was it. Something had hurt her badly. He pushed back from the table and stood, reminding himself it was none of his business.

A quick shake of his head. Didn’t matter.

She was hurting.

He crossed the room and pushed lightly against the door until he could see exactly what she was doing.

It was neither his one, two, nor three.

With her backside facing him, he scanned the woman. Arms up to her elbows in a sink full of bubbles, her do-me-now shoes were tossed to the side, and her pink-tipped toes curled slightly inward. A soft song drifted from the high-end under-the-counter radio, and her long, lean, perfect body swayed, just the slightest, to the country song currently playing.

A warm gush of emotion JP didn’t recognize filled him. He stepped quietly into the room and held on to the door until it closed behind him. He then leaned against the wall and watched.

The chorus of the song started, and Vega began to hum so softly he at first wasn’t sure it was her. As the next verse began and the hum grew to singing, he cringed, recanting his thought. No one could honestly call that singing.

Taking a break he was very thankful for, she snaked one arm out of the bubbles and scooped up a bite of dessert, filling her mouth so no treacherous noise could escape.

And that was when he noticed the other dessert cup sitting on the counter as well. Empty.

The woman had snuck off to the kitchen and was eating his dessert as well as her own?

He silently crossed the room to stand directly behind her. “You’re eating my dessert.”

A squeak came from Vega as she turned, bubbles floating up between them. She looked as sweet and innocent as one of the Disney characters Becca loved so much, and he was suddenly flooded with conflicting thoughts. Kiss. Hug. Devour.

Protect.

“What are you doing in here?” She breathed the words into the space between them.

He wanted to close the distance and bury himself so deep he couldn’t find his way out for a week. Instead he touched her cheek with the back of his fingers and willed his desire down to a flicker. “I came to apologize.”

Her eyes fascinated him. They went warm with his words, then immediately reversed to cold. “Apologize? I doubt you even know what the word means.”

She didn’t trust him. Good. She probably shouldn’t.

And he couldn’t help but touch her again. He traced a fingertip over the line of her jaw, to the point of her chin. “I’m sorry I was playing games, Vega,” he whispered. “That’s what I’m used to with women. It’s what they expect.”

“I didn’t come to play games.” Her voice trembled. “I mean…I suspected you were toying with me, but I wasn’t just…I didn’t just…” She huffed then, her warm breath bathing his jaw. “I really came for the interview, JP.”

“I know.” He nodded. “And like I said, I’m sorry I didn’t take you seriously. I should have made my stance on the interview clear before and not pushed for anything more.”

Her body relaxed as if all the air inside had been released. She leaned against the sink. “Thank you.”

He studied her, more than a little interested in what made her tick. He hadn’t expected her to admit she’d known he was playing games but came anyway, and now she’d said as much twice. Such forthrightness was rarely found in his world. The thought reminded him of their earlier conversation and made him wonder what kind of situation she’d gotten involved with that had hurt her so deeply. “I’m also sorry for whatever happened in your past that I reminded you of tonight.”

And the dark eyes once again closed down. Vega shoved her arms deep in the bubbles and began to scrub. “You have nothing to apologize for there. The past is just that. Over. Finished. No discussion needed.”

“No?” He tilted his head and studied the stiff
back off
sign she was posting in every direction. “If I’m not mistaken, it isn’t over for you.”

Silence.

“You can talk to me about it if you want.” He shrugged and picked up a clean pan, suds still clinging to it. He held it under running water. “I’ve had my own hurts.” Not that he would be sharing them. “Maybe I can help.”

She didn’t reply, just watched him through shut-down orbs.

But if the posture read correctly, along with the pain he’d already witnessed, she definitely wasn’t over whatever it was. She hurt, and she hurt right now because of something he’d said. The fact that she wouldn’t let him help riled him. Not that she and he were anything other than acquaintances, but for some reason he wanted her to let him in.