Scarlett Red: A Billionaire SEAL Story, Part 2 (In the Shadows) (11 page)

Once Hank recovers and turns to high-five his brother in agreement, Bash says in a bone-meltingly low voice meant just for my ears, “I couldn’t agree more.”

“W
hat are you going to do with the information you learned from Hank?” Bash asks as he pulls into a shaded parking spot at the Hawthorne resort.

I glance his way as he cuts the engine and sets his glasses on the dashboard. He appears relaxed, but my gut tells me he’s far from it. “Since all I have is Hank’s description of a tall redhead and no name to go on, the best thing to do is follow the lead I do have. Once I get a hold of Mr. Sheehan’s contact information, I’ll ask him how he got the invitation.”

Resting his wrist on the steering wheel, he turns to me. “Can’t you just get that information from the front desk?”

I shake my head. “Since everything was paid for, he never had to provide any personal information.”

Bash frowns slightly. “Do you think it’s possible Mr. Sheehan met with this woman who bought him the voucher? That she actually pretended to be you?”

I mull his question for a couple of seconds, my stomach twisting at the idea. “I hadn’t thought about the fact she might’ve actually impersonated me in the flesh, but now that you mention it, it’s oddly coincidental that she resembled me so much.”

He thrums his fingers on the dashboard as the wind starts kicking up, blowing his hair away from his face. “If he rented a car while he was here, I should be able to get his information. I know the people who run the rental car companies. What’s his full name?”

“That would be great.” Opening my purse, I jot down Bradley Sheehan on a piece of paper. “Hopefully I can get to the bottom of this before I leave in a couple of days. I really don’t like the idea that someone might be going around impersonating me.”

When I hold the paper out to him, he clasps my hand along with the paper. “Have dinner with me tonight.”

My gaze snaps to his. We’d worked well together to get the information I needed. He didn’t have to help me, but he did. Would it be such a bad thing to have dinner with him?

“Hey, Bash!” Two California bleach blondes wearing short tennis skirts walk behind his car, rackets resting on their shoulders. The shorter one arches a perfectly plucked eyebrow. “Care to give us some pointers?”

He glances up at the darkening sky, then smiles at them. “Better make it a quick game, ladies.”

“Aw, you can do better than that,” the tall, thin one says suggestively before they both laugh and turn down the path that leads to the tennis courts.

When his gaze swings back to me, my pulse jumps and surprise shoots through me. Bash has a dark brown spot in the upper curve of his left iris. I’d never noticed it before, since we’ve mostly been indoors and whenever we’ve been outside, he’d worn shades. Until now.

Shoving the paper into his palm, I pull my suddenly shaky hand away from his hold. “I have work to do,” I say, and quickly grab the door handle.

Just as I push open the door, he grips my hand once more. “I’d like to spend more time with you.”

All I can think about is Sebastian. How he’d ruined me for all men. Nathan had been a bandage. One I thought I could slap on, and with enough time, he would heal the gaping hole Sebastian left behind after our one mind-blowing night together.

I shake my head and pull free once more. “I’m sorry, Bash. I just don’t think it’s a good idea.”

His brow furrows, frustration evident. “It’s a fucking perfect idea and you know it.”

I step out of his car and shut the door, feeling as if I owe him some kind of explanation. Yes, the chemistry is there “in spades” as he put it. He doesn’t deserve this. “You remind me too much of someone from my past.”

When I start to turn away, he demands in a low tone, “Was it that good? Or that bad?”

“Both,” I answer honestly, then walk away as thunder booms overhead.

On my way to my room, I get a text from Nathan.

Nathan: I want to talk to you. It’s important.

Me: Talk later.

Nathan: Need to talk now, but you’re not here.

Ugh. He must be at my apartment. What could be so important?

Me: I’m out of town. Will call when I return.

Once I get back to my room, I don’t even turn on the lights. Instead, I instantly strip and head for the shower. Miraculously I manage not to cry while I let the hot water wash away the festival’s dust clinging to my sun-kissed skin.

I automatically pick up the bar of soap, but then put it back. The same with the shampoo. By the time I’ve towel-dried my hair, the storm is raging outside. Thunder rocks the floor and lightning illuminates the room in a strobe-light effect. A heavy wall of rain rushes against the window, its fury thrashing against the glass.

I walk over to my suitcase in the darkened room and slip on a pair of clean underwear, then I unzip the extra compartment in the suitcase and pull out a folded jacket.

My fingers trace over the supple expensive leather before I slide my arms inside and sigh at the brief arousing feel of the coat’s lining rubbing against my bare nipples. I tug the cushioned high-back chair over to the window and sit, glad the sheer curtains give me privacy but allow some light in the otherwise dim room.

Leaning against the chair’s side arm, I tuck my knees against my chest and push my nose into the jacket’s leather collar. Inhaling deeply, I exhale a sigh of relief that it still smells like Sebastian. Well, the seventeen-year-old boy he was when he gave it to me that night in the pouring rain eleven years ago. I’ve always been careful not to use perfumed products right before I slip into his coat. His smell has faded over time, but I would hate for the leather to lose the unique masculine scent completely.

I’ve taken Sebastian’s jacket with me wherever I go, but it’s only when I’m feeling particularly alone that I pull it out. Today definitely qualifies.

“Why can’t I let you go?” I whisper as silent tears fall. I know fundamentally why, but it has been three years since I felt his touch. One would think I would’ve moved past the pining stage by now, that I shouldn’t let one person occupy so much space in my head.

Protector, benefactor, lover…my obsession. That is what Sebastian has become.

And now that I’ve met a man who could possibly push him to the back of my mind and make him a distant memory, I’m sitting here alone in the dark, wearing his jacket. How fucked up is that?

I sigh toward the ceiling and clasp the coat tighter around me, letting the constant rush of the rain outside work its magic on my mind that doesn’t want to settle.

Closing my eyes, I listen to the steady beat against the glass and allow myself to embrace the memory of the night I lost my virginity to the only man I’ve ever fully trusted. The only man I completely submitted to in heart, body, and mind. My skin flushes as I mentally summon the feel of his hands on my skin, the intensity of his gaze and strength in his possessive hold.

During that masked party, I’d given him the name Mister Black before I learned his real name was Sebastian. I rub away my tears and soak in the deep resonance of his voice calling me “Miss Scarlett”. Telling him to call me Red later that night in his bed had been my way of revealing that he’d already met me eight years before as a young troubled teen. He’d called me Red back then after he’d given me his coat to keep me warm. Scarlett and Red are the only two names he knows me by.

I never told him my real name, but I’m not sure how long I could’ve held out if we’d continued our passionate encounter beyond that one night. He’d been too damn good at making me submit to him in ways that should embarrass me, but with Sebastian, they just felt intensely natural. A man with that much power over my body and mind is beyond dangerous to someone with dark secrets. I’ve stayed away from him physically since then, but now, for my own future happiness, I have to mentally distance myself as well.

“One last time, Mister Black…” I whisper into the storm-darkened room. Settling farther into the chair’s deep cushions, I slide my hand up my thigh and fully indulge in every single Sebastian memory and fantasy before I have to let him go once and for all.

“F
uck!” I slam the heel of my hand against the steering wheel after she walks away, her gorgeous red hair swaying against her back. Thunder rumbles overhead, and as I push the button to close the convertible’s roof, I can’t believe how she can continue to deny the connection between us.

It was good and bad.

What kind of bullshit answer is that? What happened to make her so afraid to acknowledge what we both know is true. Our chemistry is off the charts. It’s so intense, I had to keep gripping the damn steering wheel so I wouldn’t reach over and touch her the way I want to. The way I know she wants me to.

I lean my head back against the seat and run through our day.

I knew she was smart, but I had no idea just how intuitive she is. Watching her at the festival had been both awe-inspiring and arousing at once. Her compassion is heartening, but her obvious intelligence only makes me want her more. I lost count of the number of times I got hard.

A mystery writer. Who fucking
knew
? But after today, I can see where her passion for chasing down a story comes from.

I don’t like discovering that someone might’ve been impersonating her, and it bothers me that I don’t have a clue who this mysterious redhead is. At least we have this Sheehan guy’s name to check on. Not only will finding out his contact information help her investigation, but it’ll be another excuse for me to seek her out again.