Keep (Command #2) (12 page)

Kara ate the dinner that arrived in utter silence, knowing he must have ordered it for her. The food was probably amazing, but it tasted like nothing. She wanted to talk to Laurel, but Jason had asked her to stay off her phone. That left little to do but stare at the unmade bed and drink the rest of the bottle of red wine he had opened.

Shawn thought he could do whatever he wanted, like men in his position often did. Three days ago he waltzed into her office and had taken her over. He said it was to keep her safe, but it had been so he could sleep with her. No, wait,
fuck her
. That’s how he would have put it.

When she finished the glass of wine, she went on to drinking straight from the bottle, which was a really bad idea. She’d get hammered in a heartbeat. Her feet were already numb from the alcohol. Maybe after she finished the wine, she’d raid the mini-fridge and rack up a huge bill for him.

But she’d forgotten. It was stocked with nothing but Osterhägen beer, and she couldn’t bring herself to go near it after discovering that. In fact, she couldn’t bring herself to go near anything without slamming into it. Too much wine and high heels were not a good combination. She stepped out of the shoes and wanted to throw up, but wasn’t sure if that was the wine or the fact that she’d been wearing them when she’d had the best sex of her life. How could she wear them again?

He’d ruined her shoes, air travel, and sex with other men. Pretty good for three measly days. Or was it four? Things blurred together.

She changed into her pajamas and fell on the couch. She wouldn’t dare sleep on the bed. Why hadn’t she pushed to move rooms so she didn’t have to face the memory of what had happened here? God, she was stupid. He was going to use her and discard her like he did with all the other women he’d had. She forced herself to focus on the spinning ceiling and not the man that was next door, but that lasted a single breath.

What was he doing right now? What would she do if he came calling? She’d cave in a heartbeat. Less time, if he touched her. Weak. She rose from the couch and stumbled to the bed, pulled the covers around herself, and tried to quiet the desire for him to knock on her door.

Shawn ate alone in the room with almost all the lights off. Melodramatic, his mother would have said. Somehow he was the only one in his family who wasn’t afraid of feelings. He didn’t view them as a weakness; instead, he welcomed emotion. Controlled emotion.

Kara Hayward had turned him into an idiot who would say or do any terrible thought that formed in his idiot brain, but sleeping with her hadn’t been a mistake. He was certain. Because he wanted to do it again. And again.

He wanted… more.

So he spent a long time thinking of how he was going to get what he wanted, not climbing into bed until he had a plan laid out. Yet sleep would not come, no matter how tired he was. Concerning thoughts repeated in his brain, relentless. His feelings were developing much too quickly for the woman next door, the one who loved to challenge him. The woman that he was fairly sure despised him.

-7-

Kara threw up the entire bottle of wine plus dinner, then sank down on the cold tile floor, pressing her forehead against the porcelain base of the toilet. She didn’t care if that was gross. It felt too good on her heated skin. It was a luxury hotel; the cleaning crew was probably thorough.

She drank a glass of water from the tap, refilled it and carried it back to bed, with her head hung. She’d had enough hangovers to know she needed aspirin and something to eat to soak up the stomach acid, and then she could rejoin the land of the living. But she also needed five more minutes in bed.

As soon as her head touched the cool pillow, there was an odd chirp from across the room. It sounded exactly like Shawn’s cellphone when he received an e-mail.

“
Guten Tag
.”

He sat on the couch facing her, looking comfortable. Like he’d been there awhile. His eyes were exceptionally warm in the morning light, filtered by the gauzy hotel curtains. She did everything in her limited power not to react.

He was dressed in a black suit, one that reeked of expense, with a crisp white dress shirt and a steel-colored silk tie at his neck. He was gorgeous. It was so impossibly unfair. He was going to ruin looking at men for her too, while she could not possibly look or feel worse than she did right now.

“How long have you been there?”

He gave her an enigmatic smile for an answer.

“What the hell are you doing, besides being creepy?”

“I wanted to have breakfast with you.” He left the couch, and when his impressive form approached, she took in a sharp breath that forced her to inhale his subtle cologne.

“But I have to go.”

“Where?” she gasped. “Why?”

Yes, why? Why in the world had she said that? She prepared for some cocky answer, but instead Shawn hesitated, as if the question had thrown him off balance.

“You’re not still mad?”

“No, I am,” she said, too quickly. “Why did you want to have breakfast? Is that something you do after all your one-night stands?”

“We can’t have breakfast because it’s late,” he said, not rising to her challenge. “I need to be in the office today.”

“Is that safe?”

“Yes. My head of security insists that the brewery is secure, and you know how he feels about my proximity to you.”

It was then that she noticed the faint smell of coffee. Shawn strolled to the side table and poured a cup from the carafe beside a spread of danishes, adding sugar into the steaming mug. They’d had coffee with breakfast on his plane yesterday, so she knew he took his black. He must have noted that she did not.

Her cloudy mind wouldn’t focus. Shawn was leaving. When he held the cup out, Kara sat up and accepted it but didn’t offer any gratitude. The hangover had disrupted her brain-to-mouth filter, and she had no idea what was going to come out of it.

He pulled a small bottle from his pocket and set it on the nightstand. “I had them send up some aspirin with breakfast when I discovered you weren’t feeling well.” He probably discovered that all of the red wine had gone missing as well. Shit, she wanted to die from embarrassment.

“Do you think you’ll be feeling better later today?”

She pressed her lips together and nodded slowly. Her face was on fire. “I’ll be fine.”

“Good. I’ll have my assistant arrange for a shopper to help get you clothes.”

Her gaze fell to the steam rising from her coffee. She did need clothes, but shopping? “I can’t use my credit cards —”

“I’d like to take care of that.” The words came from him softly. Not presumptuous. “Is that all right with you?”

She couldn’t find anything to say. This was sweet Shawn, the one she had no defense against, who could make coherent thought evaporate instantly. Her lack of answer must have been read as acceptance for he traveled to the door and dug his wallet out, dropping a business card on the table. “I’ll be back late this afternoon. My mobile’s on the back if you need to call.”

“Why are you doing this?”

He gave her the same enigmatic smile, and was gone.

She showered and dressed, and at noon Markus escorted a young woman into Kara’s room, pulling a luggage cart full with hanging bags. She was introduced as Brigitta. Kara blinked back an amused smile. Her sister and she had watched “The Sound of Music” repeatedly growing up, practically wearing out the VHS tape. She’d always had quite the ridiculous crush on the elegant and bossy Captain von Trapp.

She shoved the realization away that Shawn was bossy, and elegant, and not too far off from being Austrian.

Inside each clothing bag, Brigitta had the same outfit in multiple sizes, so it didn’t take long to find a few days worth of clothes that would work. It was awkward buying clothes with Shawn’s money and a stranger selecting them, but there was no helping it. Then Brigitta brought out the box at the base of the luggage cart and lifted the lid. Kara swallowed a breath. Bras and underwear, in varying degrees of sexiness from full coverage to thong.

Her pettiness reared its ugly head, so she looked at the price tags and picked the two sexiest, most expensive bra and panty sets in Brigitta’s selection.
Holy crap, these clothes are expensive.
Shawn would foot the bill and maybe it’d get under his skin that he’d never see her in them. The German woman gave her an assuming, sly smile, but Brigitta couldn’t know Kara’s real motivation for buying them.

After Brigitta left, Kara slept again and finally purged the rest of the hangover and jetlag from her system. Then she dressed in the new clothes, feeling a million times better — and a million times worse. She couldn’t call anyone, she couldn’t check e-mail, couldn’t work. All she could do was wait for him in the room he’d paid for, wearing clothes he’d bought. The independent woman in her, born after her divorce, died a little.

There were a few magazines in the welcome basket but only one in English.
Forbes
, from six months ago. She was halfway done flipping through it when she saw a familiar face. Shawn posed at a large oak bar, an open bottle of Osterhägen beside him. The number eleven was to the side of his photo. All the air cleared from her lungs in an instant.

It was the
Forbes
annual list of the top twelve most eligible bachelors. Not millionaires, but billionaires. Besides the company, Shawn had investments.

He didn’t have a difficult time finding women. He had money, looks, and power. In spite of all of that, he pursued her, even when she treated him like the enemy. Well, now he’d had her. What was the point in sticking around? He could have left last night and let Jason clean up the mess he’d made. The mess that she was. Why come back?

There was a short knock, the door opened before she could answer, and Shawn breezed in, his tie loosened at the neck. Her heart lurched at the sight of him and she cursed herself. He didn’t notice the magazine in her hands, and she dropped it like it was made of lead as she bolted upright.

His gaze started at her feet and rose to meet her eyes. “You look nice. Feeling better?”

She frowned.

“Sorry,” he said, “I forgot. You look like shit. Feeling better?”

Her frown intensified. “Well, I’m no longer hungover, but don’t worry, I still feel like an idiot.”

A light, pleasant smile fell on his lips. “Why? I own breweries in thirty-two different countries. You think I’ve never seen someone overdo it?”

“I’m sure you have, but it’s embarrassing nonetheless.”

His eyes were warm and playful. Relaxed. Being back at his job had recharged him and brought him back on his game. She should be cautious.

“I want to ask a favor,” he said. It set off alarms in her head. “When this is all over, come work for Osterhägen.”

“What? No, I’m not going to do that.”

His expression was puzzled, like he expected her to leap at this opportunity. “Why not? You said you were amazing at what you do. I want amazing people on my team.”

“Shawn.”

“I’m sure the salary is higher in the alcohol-beverage industry. Are you happy at Incentive?”

No, not remotely, but… “This conversation is silly.”

“It’s not. At least let me set up an interview so you can see what you’re missing. More benefits and more opportunities.”

She put her hand on her forehead, rubbing out the wrinkle that developed there. It was hard to see past tomorrow right now. But he had that same look from the lunch in New York, the one that said he wouldn’t take no for an answer. He’d get his way.

“Okay, yeah, whatever. When this is all over, if you want to set it up, fine.”

“Promise me,” he commanded. When she didn’t respond, he added: “Please.”

This order, issued in typical Shawn fashion, annoyed her like it always did. “I said I’d do it.”

The victorious smile on his face was sobering, like she’d just made a deal with the devil. “So, you’re feeling better?”

“I’m fine, thank you. How are you?” Her voice was heavy with sarcasm.

He didn’t reply.

“What?” The silence from him was unnerving. “What’s wrong?”

He seemed to be evaluating her. “I can’t stop thinking about you.”