Hotshot (Buchanan-Renard #11)

Hotshot (Buchanan-Renard #11) Page 15

Finn felt the first tremors and knew she was going to cl**ax. When she tightened around him, he found his own release. It was staggering.

They stayed entwined for long minutes. He buried his head in the pillow, letting the sweet scent of her hair fill his nostrils, his breathing still harsh and his heartbeat still racing.

He was reeling from the revelation. She was a virgin. He knew he needed to talk to her about it. He kissed her neck and finally found the strength to move. Lifting up on his elbows, he looked down at her. God, she was beautiful. Her eyes were closed and she was still trying to catch her breath. For some reason that made him arrogantly proud. He’d made her lose control, and once that had happened, damn, she was wild. Her lips were swollen and rosy. He gently kissed them, then rolled to his side and stared up at the ceiling while he thought about what he would say to her. Needing a few more minutes to clear his head, he got out of bed and walked into the bathroom.

The second his warm body left her, Peyton began to shiver. She was still trying to recover from what had just happened to her. It was the most amazing thing she’d ever experienced. When they had started making love, she’d thought it was rather pleasant. Afterward, that analysis was laughable. She now understood the true definition of ecstasy: mind-blowing. Yes, definitely mind-blowing.

She knew she had pleased him and that he’d been satisfied, but it would have been nice if he’d told her so. She was feeling a bit vulnerable. Was that all part of the aftermath? she wondered. She thought she heard him muttering but she wasn’t sure. She got out of bed and put on her pink robe. The fabric pushed against her br**sts and she realized they were sore. She kept glancing at the bathroom door while she tied the belt at her waist.

Frustrated now, she sat on the bed, her back against the headboard with one ankle crossed over the other, and waited for him. It had been only a minute or two since he’d shut the door, but every second felt like a minute. When he returned from the bathroom, he was dressed in his jeans. He reached for his shirt and put it on. Was he planning to leave without saying a word? It was a good thing she wasn’t sensitive, she told herself, because he was frowning at her. He couldn’t be disappointed . . . could he?

Finn didn’t button his shirt. He threaded his fingers through his hair, took a deep breath, and sat down on the side of the bed. She moved to sit beside him.

“Did I hurt you?” His voice was soft and caring.

“No, you didn’t.”

Finn stared at her for a long minute. “Okay,” he said, nodding. He didn’t believe her, but he wasn’t going to argue. “Why didn’t you tell me you were a virgin?” His voice wasn’t quite so caring now. There was a tinge of anger.

“I did try while we were . . .”

“It was a little late then, wasn’t it? Why the hell didn’t you tell me before I took your clothes off?”

Peyton was confused. Was he angry or feeling guilty? Neither reaction made sense. She stood and glared at him. “My mistake. I should have put it on my résumé. Of course, if I had, I’d have to revise it now, wouldn’t I?”

He ignored her sarcasm. “There were plenty of times—”

“No, you’re right. When I saw you at the church, I should have told you then. I should have said, ‘Finn, it’s so good to see you again. I’m still a virgin. Are you in the wedding?’ Or how about while we were having dinner. I could have told you then. I could have said, ‘Are you enjoying the shrimp? I’m a virgin. Would you like dessert?’”

She tried to leave the room, but he grabbed her h*ps and pulled her down on his lap. She didn’t fight, but put her arms around his neck instead. The tenderness in his eyes was almost her undoing.

“I don’t understand why you’re so angry,” she said.

“I’m not angry.”

“You were.”

She was gently rubbing the back of Finn’s neck, driving him to distraction. She looked so intent on their conversation, he didn’t think she was aware of what she was doing.

“No,” he assured. “I wasn’t angry. I was surprised.” He almost laughed. Surprised didn’t quite describe how he had felt. “I just didn’t expect . . .”

He’d been so rough with her, so forceful when he’d entered her. That thought led to another and he remembered how tight and hot she had been . . . how perfect.

Peyton waited for an explanation. When he didn’t continue, she said, “Okay, you’re feeling guilty.”

He slowly shook his head. “No.”

“If I had told you, if you had known, would you have made love to me?”

He had to think about his answer. His immediate thought was no, he wouldn’t have. They both had been carried away by the moment. Her first time should be with someone special. It should matter. He tried to convince himself that he would have kept his distance, that he wouldn’t have let things go so far, but he finally decided to be honest with himself. Hell yes, he would have taken her. Being with Peyton had mattered to him. The first time he kissed her he’d known he would have her, and now the thought of any other man touching her angered him. It was crazy and illogical. But there it was all the same.

“Answer me,” she demanded. “If you had known, would you have—”

“Yes.” He was emphatic. “But I would have taken it much slower, and I wouldn’t have been so rough with you. I would have made it easier for you . . . made it better.”

Talking about it, thinking about how good it had been, was making him hard again. Her robe was partially open, exposing one beautiful leg. The temptation was too great to resist, and he began to stroke her silky skin from her knee to the top of her thigh and back.

“What are you doing?”

His hand moved up to her hip. “I like touching you.”

She liked it, too. He was making her hot, and yet she was shivering.

He gave her a slow, wet kiss. She put her hand on top of his. “It couldn’t be any better.” She looked down and watched him untie her belt. She could stop him, but she didn’t want to.

“Sure it could,” he promised, and then he set about proving it.

ELEVEN

Finn left her bed a little after two in the morning. She lost count of the number of times he’d asked her if she was all right. Did he expect her to become hysterical when he walked out the door, or at the very least break down and cry?

All she wanted was sleep. There would be plenty of time to miss him tomorrow and all the days after.

No one would know how she felt. She was determined to keep her feelings bottled up inside her. No whining to anyone, no matter how much her heart ached. In high school, when her hormones were playing havoc with her emotions, she sometimes felt in need of a padded cell. Everything was so much more intense and dramatic back then, but she found a way to deal with a broken heart. Each time she suffered rejection—and God only knew there were plenty of those—she would get in the car and go for a drive. She’d play every bad love song she could find and sing along, wailing loud enough to crack glass. Other drivers who pulled up beside her at red lights and saw her hunched over the steering wheel crying and singing her heart out would look so appalled.

Those days were behind her now. Her hormones were under control, and she didn’t carry on like that anymore. She couldn’t remember the last time she had had a good, long cry. Her way of handling sorrow or misery these days was to keep busy and try not to dwell on things that couldn’t be changed. Eventually the painful feelings would lessen and fade away.

She didn’t want her feelings for Finn to fade away, and she didn’t want to forget what they had shared. It had been so beautiful, so perfect. But now he was gone, and she had a hundred things to do before she left for Bishop’s Cove. There simply wasn’t time to think about him.

And yet she did. She stood in the shower a long while, letting the hot water pour over her shoulders and soothe her muscles. She was sore everywhere from their vigorous lovemaking. Her br**sts and her inner thighs felt bruised, remembrances of how demanding both of them had been.

The day was half gone before she started packing. Lucy had hired movers to take her one good piece of furniture, a sofa, to her parents’ house to store. Everything else was being donated and would be picked up tomorrow morning. Peyton planned to spend tomorrow night in her old bedroom at home and leave for Florida the following day. Lucy was already on her way.

Mimi’s phone call late that evening changed Peyton’s plans. Her friend was so upset, her voice shook. “He’s looking for a new girl.”

The news made Peyton sick to her stomach. “You’re sure?”

“Oh yes, I’m sure. He came in late this morning as cheerful as could be. The jackass was whistling. I didn’t find out what he was up to until I was leaving work,” she explained. “I passed Bridget in the hall, and she mentioned she had just placed another ad.”

“For my replacement.”

“That’s right. Drew and Eileen must think you’ve decided not to make trouble. Ever since they got back from Europe, they’ve acted like they don’t have a care in the world.”

“Then they’re in for a surprise.”

Several seconds passed in silence, and then Mimi said, “Maybe you should forget about all of this.”

“You know I’m not going to do that.”

“Peyton, I’m worried about you. Drew’s got a terrible temper. If he loses everything, he’ll come after you.”

“We’ve been over this. I know he can be dangerous.”

“He’s got Parsons, who will do anything Drew tells him to do.”

Peyton thought about the bullet holes in the back of her car and the chilling expression on Drew’s face the night he’d tried to break into her room. She knew exactly what he was capable of. “I can’t let Drew do this again. I have to try to stop him.”

“I know. I just worry,” she said. “Holy smokes, I nearly forgot.” Her thick Minnesota accent grew stronger. “There’s going to be a memorial for Miriam Swift, and get this. According to motormouth Bridget, it was all Drew’s idea. He’s going overboard to get on Randolph’s good side, and it’s working. She said Randolph was very pleased. They’re having it here at the company on a weekend and making everyone come in for it.”

“Have you given your notice yet?”

“We agreed that you would get settled at the resort, and after you’ve been there a while, then decide if you need another accountant. I don’t want a pity job.”

Peyton laughed. “It isn’t a pity job. I need you to help turn Bishop’s Cove around. I explained my uncle Len’s terms. We have to show a profit or we’ll lose it.”

“Yes, but how do you know I’m qualified for the job?”

Being married to that unfaithful so-and-so and then working for a degenerate who treated her abominably for the last eight months had beaten Mimi down and made her insecure, Peyton thought.

“I did my homework,” she answered. “I know when you were transferred to Drew, the head of the accounting department had to hire two people to replace you. I also know you should have been promoted years ago, but your husband squelched it.”

Mimi’s indrawn breath told Peyton she hadn’t known.

“He didn’t want you to outshine him,” she said.

“How do you know that?” Mimi asked. “And don’t tell me Bridget. She’d never talk to you.”

“No, Lars found out. He’s made friends with Sandy in HR. She’s not a fan of either Annette or Bridget, and she doesn’t mind sharing. He even got me a copy of your résumé. You’re very qualified for the job I have in mind. But there’s something else just as important. I trust you.”

She heard sniffling and thought Mimi might be tearing up.

“Holy smokes,” she uttered.

“Isn’t it time for you to travel south of Minneapolis?”

“Yes, I believe it is. Are you still hiring Lars?”

“Yes, of course.”

“How about he and I give you a couple of weeks to get settled. Then we’ll quit and be on our way. Drew won’t want me to stick around. I’m not sure about Lars, though. I’ll talk to him. When do you leave for Florida?”

“I thought the day after tomorrow, but I’ve decided to talk to an attorney here. He comes highly recommended. I’m hoping he’ll work me in.”

“Holy smokes, you’re thinking about suing?”

“I’m going to discuss options.”

Peyton ended the call a few minutes later and made a cup of tea while she thought about what questions to ask the attorney. She would call Mark Campbell first thing in the morning. He was probably booked for weeks, but she couldn’t wait around. She needed to get to Bishop’s Cove. If he couldn’t see her in person, they could schedule a phone conference, she supposed.

It took a long while for her to relax and fall asleep that night because she couldn’t stop thinking about Finn. The last time she’d been in this bed, he was holding her, kissing her, making love to her. The memories made her groan. What was he doing now? Had he given her a thought since he’d left her? She hadn’t expected a call, yet during the day she’d kept checking her phone for texts or messages.

Had last night simply been a hookup? She didn’t know how her friends could do it: go to a bar, find a guy they wanted to be with, and take him home—each of them going their separate ways the next day. Was that what she had with Finn, a one-night stand? There were absolutely no expectations. No promises were made, no talk of seeing each other again. She knew all this. Why then did her heart ache for him?

She called the attorney at nine in the morning and was told he could see her at four that afternoon. Mark Campbell’s smile was almost as appealing as Finn’s. His office was large and smelled of leather. The receptionist opened the door for her, and as she walked in, Mark crossed the room to shake her hand. He was built like Finn, too, she thought. She realized the comparisons she was making and told herself to knock it off.

“Thank you so much for working me in today,” she said.

“It’s my pleasure,” he replied. “I hoped you would call. Finn filled me in on what happened to you.” He pulled out a chair for her, rounded his desk, and sat down as he reached for his notebook. “Tell me what you want to accomplish,” he began.