Obsession (The Plus One Chronicles) (6 page)

“Are you worried I’ll lose my temper and go after David or the guy in the picture?”

“A little, but it’s more than that.”

“All right, tell me.” Sloane could almost feel her struggling. He’d let this go last night because her eyes had been bruised with fatigue. He didn’t need to be a genius to know he’d hurt her badly enough that she hadn’t slept the night before. But now they needed to face whatever was bothering her because Sloane was going to see the picture. He couldn’t protect her if he didn’t know the threat.

“When I came to your house after your mother’s visit, you were in your studio doing your Tae Kwon Do forms.” Her eyes shimmered bright blue. “You were amazing, so beautiful. I’ve never seen you like that.”

He frowned, trying to follow her point. She knew he did martial arts, so why would seeing that bother her? “Beautiful?” A strange word choice.

“Stunningly powerful.” She twisted her hands together. “I’ve never seen you full force like that. You’re so far out of my league I don’t know why you agreed to work with me.”

Shit. Now he got it. She thought the picture of her so badly hurt would change his view of her.

Taking her hands, he threaded their fingers together and told her the truth. “That’s how I feel when I watch you go through your yoga moves. You put your headphones on and slide into the zone where it’s you and your body working to the music. Every time you balance on one leg, my heart seizes. I’m scared for you. It’s a battle for me to stay back and not spot you. But at the same time, I’m entranced by your goddamned stubborn bravery. You won’t let your leg defeat you. I’ve seen tough-as-nails fighters defeated by their injuries. But not you.”

Her fingers tightened around his, and the pulse at her throat fluttered. “That’s what you see?”

“You’re a survivor. My beautiful survivor. A picture isn’t going to change that.”

A blush chased out the tension in her face. She leaned in and kissed him.

Sloane inhaled her warm, sweet scent. God he’d never get enough of her. Once she broke the kiss, he told her another truth. “You’ve seen and felt me full force when I’m thrusting hard and deep into you. I don’t hold back with you when we’re together. Couldn’t if I wanted to.” She undid him every damn time.

Kat shook her head. “You’re making me love you too much.”

“Right there with you, baker girl. Now show me the picture before I decided to violate all the health codes and fuck you on this table.” He slapped a hand down on the stainless-steel top. “It looks sturdy enough for the full force of us.”

Kat shivered and turned in his arms to load the flash drive on his laptop.

Sloane leaned down to her ear. “Don’t want to find out if I was bluffing?”

She glanced back. “My employee and security will be here soon.”

“So? You can toss a couple muffins out the door and tell them to wait.”

She rolled her eyes, turned and clicked on the title of the picture. The image materialized on the screen.

His lungs locked. “Jesus Christ.” He’d thought he was ready. Thought he could handle it.

So fucking wrong.

Kat lay in the hospital bed, her face swollen and bruised to vivid blue and purple. Dried blood matted her hair. Her arm was in a cast, her braced leg in traction. Rage tore through his guts like wildfire. His blood pumped violently.

What they’d done to her. With a bat.

Her fingers covered his clamped onto her hips. “Focus on the man standing by the door.”

Sloane forced his hands to relax before he bruised her as he studied the man. Average height and well muscled. In the picture he looked around thirty, and that was six years ago. Wearing jeans and a T-shirt, he hovered in the doorway, staring at Kat with hard eyes. No sympathy softened his expression.

“Do you know him?”

Sloane let his breath go. “No.” He reached around Kat and saved the picture to his hard drive. “But I’m going to find out his identity.”

“How?”

He looked down at her. “I have investigators on retainer. They do my backgrounds for employees, clients, enemies. I’ll crop the picture so you’re not in it, send it to them and see what pops. Your name won’t be involved.”

“I guess that could work.”

“Trust me.” He closed the file to work on later, while keeping his breathing steady, trying to shield her from the fury boiling in his stomach and chest.

“Your scar is white.”

Shit. “Don’t know why I bother trying to hide my feelings from you.” Kat saw him, knew him. Few others ever penetrated his poker face, but she did.
Because Kat cares enough to look deeper.
That thought tripped a profound terror he didn’t want to think about. She could see too much of him one day, and like his mother, come to hate him or fear him. But Kat was not his mother. She’d never leave her child. She wouldn’t even leave Drake, had risked Sloane rejecting and humiliating her by coming to his house and hanging with Drake.

Sighing, he wrapped his arms around her and tugged her against his chest. “This helps. Feeling you warm and safe.” She was his. No one was going to hurt her again.

Not that asshole in the picture, not David the Dickhead and not Foster.

The front door of the bakery opened. Sloane set Kat aside and leapt up.

“Morning!”

“It’s Ana.” Kat raised her eyebrows in amusement then called out, “In the kitchen.”

“You’ve got reporters outside and…Sloane inside.” Ana held up the computer clasped in her hands. “And here I worked most of the night and came in early to cheer you up.”

Sloane frowned, caught on the idea of paparazzi bothering Kat. “There weren’t any reporters when we got here.”

“They’re just showing up. From
Afterburn
.”

Icy rage froze his veins. He hated that show.

“That video of you rescuing Kat from reporters has over eight hundred thousand hits. They want more like that.”

Kat laid her hand on his arm. “Don’t give it to them, Sloane. Ignore them.” Shifting to Ana, she asked, “How do you know how many hits the video has?”

“I’ve been researching for my project, which…” she flashed a huge grin, “…is done.”

Kat’s fingers burrowed into Sloane’s arm. “Really? Can I see it?”

“Right now.” Ana set up her computer on the table.

Sloane moved behind Kat as she perched on a stool next to Ana. He could feel the tension and excitement eating at her shoulders and back.

“I have the longer bio tape set up to play first.” Ana glanced over at Kat. “Swear you won’t kiss me or vow to name your firstborn after me once you see this. Because that’d be embarrassing.” Her eyes sparkled behind her glasses. “Especially if your firstborn is a boy.”

“Agreed, but I reserve the right to name any reptile I get after you.”

“You’ll be singing a different tune once you see this.”

Kat arched an eyebrow. “Will that be today? Or next year?”

Ana bounced on her seat. “You’re lucky I’m so excited or I’d make you wait.” She pressed play.

Sloane’s amusement at the girls’ banter shifted into total focus on the screen. Music flowed softly as Kat came into view sitting at one of the tables in the front of her bakery. “There are people who think the best part of me died the night thugs with a baseball bat crushed my bones.”

He was hooked right there. Kat wore her Sugar Dancer apron over black pants and a shirt. The lighting caught the pink streaks in her brown hair. He loved that signature touch of defiance in her. But it was her eyes looking directly into the camera with a startling authenticity that made him hold his breath waiting to see what she’d say next.

After a single heartbeat, Kat stood up in the video and walked with her slight but distinct limp toward the glass cases displaying an array of cakes, cupcakes, muffins and cookies. She turned to the camera, an imperfect woman framed by all those perfect, sweet creations. “But I think the best part of me woke up in the hospital and realized that this is my life. The only one I get. And I’m going to live it my way.” A slight pause, as the music crested in the background and the camera shot tightened on her face. “My name is Kat Thayne. This is my story about how I rebuilt my shattered life and created Sugar Dancer Bakery.”

Sloane remained transfixed as the shots changed, showing one of Kat in the hospital. He winced at the brief but effective image even though he’d seen it only a few minutes earlier. There were two more quick pictures of her struggling to walk on crutches and then with a cane, clear proof of her progress. The rest of the pictures or video clips were of Kat with her desserts and customers, all full of smiles. In those shots, Kat’s passion and joy shined.

At the end of the video, Kat summed it up.

“Dancing was my grandmother’s passion, and she taught me to dance from the time I could walk. While I was in the hospital, I remember her holding my hand and whispering over and over, “You’ll dance again, Katie. You’ll feel the music.”

Kat’s smile flowed into something so powerfully poignant, Sloane couldn’t quite breathe.

“She was right. Every day here at Sugar Dancer, I feel the music as I do what I love, baking special creations to share with people celebrating their best moments: weddings, birthdays, graduations, etc. I get to share in their joy. Some people dance with their legs, I dance with sugar.”

The video pulled out and ended. All Sloane could hear was the hum of the laptop and the pounding in his ears.

“Was I right? Told you to trust me.” Ana peered at Kat.

Kat took a deep breath, her shoulders expanding against his rib cage. The moment kept stretching.

Ana bounced on her chair in growing agitation. “You hate it.”

“All I’m going to say…” Kat seemed to have trouble dragging her gaze from the screen. Finally, she angled her head toward Ana. “…is I hope my firstborn isn’t a boy. Because that would be totally embarrassing.”

The younger woman’s face blanked, then morphed into laughter. “You scared me.”

“That’s fair, because I think you might have exposed a piece of my soul on that video. I’m not sure I’m ready for that, even though I think it turned out great.”

Sloane leaned down, wrapping his arms around Kat, holding her against him. “If that video came across my desk, I’d have you on the phone trying to sign you before the music ended. You’re not exposed, Kat. You’re real and owning who you are—a very talented, pretty, sexy and imperfect woman who loves to bake.”

Her smile carved through the doubt on her face, beaming her happiness.

For years she’d hidden, both behind her scars and in her bakery. But in that video, she revealed herself as a strong woman with vulnerabilities. “It rocked me.” He shifted to Ana. “Excellent work. You captured Kat’s struggles and triumphs, and showed her as the face of Sugar Dancer—the woman who dances with sugar instead of her legs.” Returning his gaze to Kat, he said, “That last line will bring people in to see what you can do with sugar.”

Ana flushed, her eyes sparking behind her glasses. “Thanks.”

“Kat says you have a marketing plan for her.”

“I do. Complete with pitch lines. The trailer is good too.” She set it up and hit play.

This trailer was less than sixty seconds, hitting the high points of Sugar Dancer and Kat. Fast-paced and punchy, it was good.

Kat grinned. “I like it.”

Sloane couldn’t contain his growing excitement. “It works, but that bio package is gold. I think we should look over Ana’s plan, then you give her the go-ahead to submit the packages to the baking shows. My only request is that you have security with you at all times.” Kat’s safety came first, but he knew how much she wanted to grow Sugar Dancer into a brand.

“But…” Kat’s shoulders deflated enough for him to grasp her worry.

Sloane tucked his hand beneath her chin. “New plan. If you’re called to be on a show, I’ll go with you to tapings as your security. Together we can handle your panic attacks. And Ana can come as your publicity director and baking assistant.”

Kat stood up and faced him. “You’re not going to pull any strings to get me on a show, are you?”

For one blinding second of temptation, Sloane wanted to do it and make her beholden to him. If he held her future in his hands, could he keep her love?

Even after he killed?

But the woman he loved wanted so much to do this on her own with the team she was building. “You and your team…” he nodded toward Ana, “…have this covered.”

Her radiant smile lit up his insides.

* * *

Late Sunday afternoon, Sloane leaned back against the industrial fridge in Sugar Dancer’s kitchen, observing as Kat demonstrated to Isaac how to draw a skull on the boy’s cookie. Five boys and Ethan watched her with rapt interest while little Kylie frowned. “Skulls are ugly. I want flowers on mine.”

Kat glanced up. “Yeah? How about a pony with flowers on her mane?”

Kylie’s shrill of delight made Sloane wince. “Damn.”

“Try it with four or five little girls taking over my house or out in the pool. My ears bleed.” John bit into a cupcake. “These are wicked good.”

“Must be since you’ve eaten a half dozen.” He tried to keep the pride out of his voice.