Sugar and Spice: A Karma Café Novella (7 page)

He stepped into the dim living area and frowned.  Well she wasn’t working.

What was going on?

Why had she left?

And when would she be back?

Unless she was bringing food and a few more sexy pairs of shoes, there wasn’t a single excuse that would cover his having to awake alone.

Irritation taking hold, Paul stomped back into the bedroom and tossed the sheet on the rumpled mattress.  He grabbed his boxers, resisting the urge to peek under the bed, and yanked them on with enough force to inspire a wince.

He was a little more judicious in pulling on his jeans.

Like an alarm, as soon as he closed the snap, his phone rang.

“Yeah?” he answered, scowling at the clock.  “This had better be good.”

“I met with Sylvia,” Peter got right to the point.  “Took her out to dinner, did the whole wine and dine extravaganza.  That is one pricey woman.”

“So?”  Paul poked his head into the dark—and dammit, empty—bathroom.  Just in case.  Then, feeling like an idiot, he dropped to his belly and looked under the bed.

“So, I figured it was worth a shot at doing a little renegotiating.”

Paul snorted.  Right.  Because Sylvia Bittle was the kind of woman who, once she got the upper hand, liked to play nice.  Not.

The idea of spending any of his life with her was almost as infuriating now as the fact that, he finally acknowledged, Dedra was gone.

Absolutely gone.

He stormed through the living room, kicking uselessly at the furry beanbag chair before stopping next to the small work table.

“She’s not going to renegotiate,” he told his brother.

“You’re right.  She said no go.”

But...

Paul didn’t know what the but was, but he could hear it in his brother’s voice.  Before he could ask, though, he noticed the shoes shimmering on the stack of files like a glittery paperweight.

Sugar and Spice, he’d named the design.  Dedra had come up with that, as he recalled.  She’d said they looked like the kind of girly shoes that screamed sweet naughtiness.

She’d been right.

He stopped next to the small table, frowning.  How had her shoes gotten there? Then he noticed that none of her clothes were anywhere to be found.  Just the shoes.

Like she’d left them, just them, as a goodbye.

Sugar and Spice had been the last shoe of the princess collection they’d launched before the board’s fall down the rabbit hole.

Paul ran his finger over one instep, his eyes blurring as he remembered how she’d looked, that foot propped on his shoulder and the view all the way down her long, silk-covered leg.  Straight to heaven.

Then he noticed the files beneath the shoe.

The Bittle contracts.

“We have to get out of this contract,” he barked into the phone.  “One way or another, because I’m not marrying Sylvia Bittle.”

He shoved his hand through his hair, then, hoping movement would spark some brilliant idea, started pacing the length of the tiny room.

There had to be some way out of it.  They hadn’t actually signed the contract yet, so legally, he had options.  Sure, he’d lose the Bittle merger.  And Sylvia would give new meaning to the term ugly breakup.  But he couldn’t continue a relationship with Dedra while he was married.  He wasn’t an asshole, nor would he cheapen this incredible magic he’d found between them.

And there was no way in hell he’d let Dedra go.

Not for the board.

Not for his brother.

Not even for controlling interest of Chastain International.

“You said it yourself, she’s not going to renegotiate.  The woman thinks she holds the winning hand and she’s not going to budge.”

“But?”  The but was still there in Peter’s tone.  This time, Paul wanted to know what it was for.

“But I might have bought us a few more cards to bring to the table.”

“How?”

“I let her seduce me.”

Chapter Seven

D
esperation lent strength to Dedra’s fist as she pounded it against Anja’s door.

When it didn’t open immediately, she pounded again.

A few seconds later, she heard the chain against the wood before Anja peered around the doorframe.

“Do you know what time it is?” the dark haired gypsy asked, her words low and furious.  If the sparks in her eyes could have started a fire, Dedra figured her skirt would be ablaze.  “It’s just past midnight.  I start work at five.  In the morning.”

“You did this.”  Dedra’s tears fell freely now.  “This is your fault.”

Shock wiped the anger off Anja’s face.  Her black brows rose as her gaze made a quick tour of Dedra’s tousled hair, disheveled clothes and heartbroken expression.  “My fault?  I’m pretty sure when I sent you out of here yesterday, you were all kinds of excited.”

“Things change,” Dedra said with a sniff.  Then she pulled on her high-powered, administrative assistant face and stormed into the apartment, past a slightly startled and now glaring Anja.

There was only one way to deal with this situation and get her discreet, modestly fitting clothes back.

Calm, cool and collected.

“You put a spell on us,” Dedra accused going for crazy, hot and all over the place instead.

She swirled to face the other woman, who had added crossed arms and a tapping foot to her glare.  Dedra lifted her chin, glaring right back.  She wasn’t going to be intimidated.  She shoved her hair off her face, noticing there was no surprise in Anja’s dark eyes.  Now, instead of anger, there was just speculation and a wicked sort of amusement.

“A spell?  What on earth are you talking about?”  Anja didn’t have it in her to pull off the innocent act.  Something she clearly knew, because after a second, she shrugged and sat down.  “Seriously.  What’s the problem?”

“What’s the problem?  He wouldn’t have slept with me if you hadn’t put a spell on those candies.”  Dedra sank into the swinging couch and buried her face in her hands.  “Take it off.  Turn it around.  Make it go away.”

“What’s the problem?  You wanted him.  Now you’ve had him,” Anja reminded her as she curled into a chair, smoothing her yawn with the back of her hand.  “Remember?  You’re leaving town forever, so this was your last hurrah.  Your big goodbye.  A chance to live out the fantasy.”

“I know what it was supposed to be,” Dedra snapped, lifting her head long enough to give Anja a frown.  “But it ended up...”

That wicked look was back in the gypsy’s eyes.  “Ended up...?”

“More.”

“More than goodbye sex?”

“More than anything I’d ever imagined,” Dedra muttered, taking a shaky breath to try and keep from crying again.

What had she done?  Wasn’t it bad enough that she’d ruined her heart for any other man, just because she needed to taste the heat between them?  Now she was ruining Paul’s life, and his business, too?

“Sometimes sex is like that,” Anja said quietly.

Dedra glanced over to see her eyes were filled with compassion now, her tone pure sympathy.  “Sometimes what we think is going to be simple becomes the most complicated thing in the world.  And sometimes we have to decide between the impossible and the unimaginable.”

“It was just supposed to be a memory.”

“And what is it now?”

Dedra stared at the door, wondering if Paul was still asleep.  What he was dreaming about, and if he had room for her in those sleep-time fantasies.   

Pain, like nothing she’d ever felt, washed over her.  What had she been thinking?  Before, she’d felt a sad sort of regret that she had to leave a job she’d enjoyed so much.  And a man she’d thought, maybe, just maybe, that she might be in love with.

But now?

Now that she’d tasted him?  Felt him inside her?  Experienced the joy and excitement and intensity of being with him?

All those maybes were gone.  Now she was sure that she was in love with him.  Now she knew how strong the feelings were.

“
Now
it sucks,” she told Anja quietly.  “Now I feel like someone let me unwrap the most incredible gift, then snatched it away and told me I can’t ever have it again.”

“Do you regret it?” Anja asked, her tone intense and her eyes almost glowing in the dim light.

Dedra slowly shook her head.  It didn’t matter how much it hurt.  She couldn’t regret being with Paul.

“I don’t.”  She caught the smug look on Anja’s face and frowned.  “But that doesn’t mean it was okay to do what you did.”

“All I did was help you vamp it up a little so you could go make that memory.”  Anja crossed her arms over her scarlet silk robe and leaned back in the chair with a smug look.

“You sent me over there with those chocolates.”

“I sent you over in a garter belt, too.  Do you think that had magical powers?”

“Are you denying there was something special in the candy?”

“Are you seriously accusing me of casting a spell?  Do you really believe in magic?  That I’m, what?  A witch?”

Shoulders slumping, Dedra winced.  She wasn’t sure which was worse, the amusement in Anja’s eyes, or the mild outrage in her tone.  Still, the other woman was right.  She’d done nothing more than help stage a little seduction.  She’d gone out of her way to help Dedra, and what did she get in return?  A hysterical woman without underwear pounding on her door at midnight, and a handful of crazy accusations.

“Look, whatever is between the two of you, it’s real,” Anja insisted.  “Sex doesn’t create a magic.  And no spell can turn sex into love.  So if you’re feeling something, if he’s feeling something, it was already there.  You just, you know, set it aflame.”

Was he feeling something, though?

He’d broken his no-doing-people-he-worked-with rule for her.

He’d acted like their being together was pretty fabulous.

And he’d held onto her like he never wanted to let go.

Hope mingled with despair, but both were blanketed by a layer of confusion.  “What do I do?”

“Talk to him.”

“I’m leaving.”

“Like this?  Don’t you owe it to the two of you to say goodbye?”

Dedra stared at the door, her shoulders as heavy as her heart.  Well, sure she did.  But she’d owed it to them before this little romp, too.  And she’d been fine with running away then.

But she’d upped the stakes.  So Anja was right.  She needed to do the right thing.  Even if the right thing made her want to hide under the bed.

“I really don’t think I left anything behind,” Paul argued, following Anja up the café stairs to the second floor apartments.  And if he did, she could throw it away.  Toss it out the window.  Burn it, for all he cared.  He didn’t want to go back in there.  Didn’t want to deal with the memories it’d bring.  The reminder of what he’d shared with Dedra.

Of what he’d lost because she’d left.

“I’m sorry, but you did,” Anja countered, her voice as firm as her look was indulgent.

He wanted to be irritated.  Maybe even angry that she wasn’t listening.  But he was numb.

“If I did, you are welcome to send it to my office.”  He wasn’t why the hell he was still following her.  He didn’t want to, but he couldn’t seem to help himself.

“It’s too large to ship,” she told him with a laugh, swinging the door open and gesturing inside.

He’d been here two days, brought a duffle bag and a laptop.  Neither were large.  He stepped through the door, ready to give diplomatic arguments one last try before he got rude.

And choked on the words.

“See,” she murmured before she closed the door behind him.

For a second, all he could do was stare.

Then anger stirred.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, his expression as stiff as his words as he glared at Dedra, curled up as calm as you please on that ugly couch.  Just because his heart danced and his body sprang to attention at the sight of her, that didn’t mean he had to let on.

Gone was the sensual seductress.  Her hair was smooth and calm, pulled back in a ponytail and her face clean and fresh.  Instead of the wonderfully-tight clothes, or her normal work wear, she was dressed in a soft blue tee-shirt and jeans.

“I missed my flight,” she told him quietly.

“Your flight?”  The one she’d been planning to take without telling him?  The one Peter said she was scheduled to take last night?  His brother had been full of all sorts of interesting information.

“Yes...”  She wet her lips.  Paul gritted his teeth, determined not to react.  At least, not above the waist.  “So, um, did you talk to Peter?”

“Sure.  Great guy, my brother.  He’s meeting with Sylvia today,” he said, changing the subject.  Hey, she hadn’t wanted to tell him she was quitting, he didn’t want to talk about it either.  No point in discussing betrayal, shock and the emotional impact of being kicked in the nuts.  Nope, no reason at all.  Looked like they both got their way.  “He’s renegotiating the contract.”

Dedra frowned, sitting straighter.  The worry and pain in her eyes faded a little, and he could see her mind racing through ramifications and possibilities.  “Peter doesn’t do negotiations, though.  He’s too impetuous.  And too much of a flirt to close the deal.”

“Peter’s the reason we’re in trouble with the board.  So he and I decided that it’s his job to fix the issue.”

Her mouth dropped, her full lower lip glistening in the overhead light.  Paul deliberately looked away.  Nope.  Not giving in to temptation.

“But you’ve never let him take responsibility...  I mean, you’ve never made him face—” She broke off with a sigh and shook her head.  “Why’d you have Peter deal with this particular situation?”

Paul curbed his automatic instinct to defend his brother.  She was right.  He usually didn’t make Peter take responsibility for his actions.  And given the route his brother had chosen this time, it might not be a bad idea to keep to that party line.  Sleeping with a client to corner them into renegotiating was one of those only works once kind of things.

“It’s Chastain business,” he said instead.  Nothing she had any interest in.

“You’re mad at me because I ran out?”  In usual Dedra fashion, she got right to the point.  “That I had an issue with sleeping with you because of Ms. Bittle?”