Rebound Read online

  Oh God, oh God, oh God.

  A masculine chuckle rumbled up from the chest pressed to hers. “I could stay like this all night, but you might be more comfortable in a bed.”

  Amie tried and nearly failed to stem the panic. She was on the verge of hysteria—and considered embracing it. Silent, because words were currently beyond her, she pushed at the heavy shoulders. He pulled back and, despite the dimness of the room, she felt his gaze travel over her, leaving heated skin in its wake.

  “A little late for second thoughts,” he said, tone soft.

  Suddenly she felt very exposed, very vulnerable. She was still half-naked, still pinned to the wall by a man who was a stranger in every other regard. This time, she shoved at him with fisted hands.

  “Talk to me.”

  A bubble of hysteria escaped as a short, uneven laugh. “What’s there to talk about? It was meaningless sex.”

  His tone grew softer. “You do this a lot?”

  “No. Never.” She paused, skin hot. “Once.”

  And never again, she added to herself. Her mouth twisted. It wasn’t like she’d give David a second chance to cheat on her and drive her to do something reckless.

  The ensuing silence filled her with unease. Then he took a step backward, she unwrapped her legs from around his hips and he untangled their bodies. The wet sound as he withdrew generated a heated flush of embarrassment and a tingling of fresh arousal, both of which made her grateful for the darkness.

  She squeezed her thighs together and yanked her dress down. The damn thing ended above her knees. She ran trembling palms down the fabric, attempting to smooth out any wrinkles. At least it was black and if she moved swiftly enough, she could make it back to her room without attracting attention.

  A lamplight came on. She jerked her head away and shielded her eyes.

  “Here,” he said, voice low, and held out a white handkerchief.

  She glanced at the proffered item and no higher. He came closer but when Amie flinched, he halted. Without speaking, she accepted the handkerchief, turned her back to him and made use of it. She heard the soft rustle of clothing and the sound of a zipper and was struck by the intimacy of their situation. Her hands shook as she combed her fingers through her hair and wiped under her eyes and around her lips to remove any makeup smears. She found and scooped up the wristlet, felt for the cardkey inside.

  When she could delay it no longer, she turned back, his handkerchief balled in her fist. She glanced at it and cleared her throat. “I-I’ll buy you a replacement,” she said. “I’ll leave it at the reception desk and you can pick it up there.”

  “Forget it,” he bit off, the words little more than a growl. “I’ll take you to your room.”

  She inhaled sharply. “No. No, thank you. I’m fine.” She looked at the door, started edging toward it.

  “I’m not going to attack you.”

  Guilt flooded her. She had been a willing participant. “I know.”

  “Then stop acting like you expect me to.”

  She stared at him, eyes wide. In the lamplight, he was no less imposing than he had been in the dark. Perhaps even more so because now she could see those dark, impenetrable eyes narrowed on her. He was disheveled, from his hair to his clothes. Her hands had done that, she thought. Breathing became laborious, as if the air had thickened. Amie wrapped her arms around herself.

  Suddenly he cursed, strode to the door and yanked it open. Muted sounds of conversation, laughter and music wafted in from the hallway. She expected him to stalk from the room but he waited, apparently intending to see her to her room whether she wanted it or not.

  She hurried through the doorway. They were at the end of a long corridor with rooms on either side. The area was better lit than she hoped it would be.

  “The stairs on the right,” he said. “Th—”

  “Jason!”

  Amie froze, recognizing the voice. Heavy footsteps came toward them then they were joined by a large, white-haired man, his face flushed and jovial from alcohol.

  “Frank,” she said weakly, facial muscles too stiff for a smile.

  Her boss shook the hand of the man beside Amie then beamed at her.

  “So you found her,” Frank said to the man he called Jason. “Has she sold you on our consulting services?”

  A cold sensation washed over her and a roaring filled her ears. Amie’s world tilted, as if the floor under her feet was undulating. A hand grasped her upper arm, steadying her, but she jerked free, stumbled, yet still managed to keep from falling on her face. Without a backward glance, she escaped across the corridor and up the stairs. She felt the gazes, but no one came after her.

  Slowly the roaring subsided and somehow, she found her room. A man waited for her and, for an instant, her stomach clenched and the urge to flee was nearly overwhelming.

  But of course it was only David. She shoved aside the pang of disappointment, not wanting to acknowledge it, let alone understand it. David spotted her.

  “Amie—”

  “Go away, David.”

  “Nothing happened, I swear.”

  He reached for her and she angled her body away from him. “You had your tongue down her throat and your hands on her bare ass,” she reminded him calmly. She withdrew the cardkey and unlocked the door. “Something happened.”

  “She came on to me! She sought me out and wouldn’t leave me alone.”

  A pause. Then she looked at him, waiting for the heat of anger. It didn’t come. There was only exhaustion and the need for solitude. “It doesn’t matter.”

  “What was I supposed to do?”

  She shook her head, more disappointed in herself for wasting the last year on him than in David for his stupidity.

  His gaze swept her from head to toe then his eyes narrowed. “Who is he, Amie?”

  Annoyance pulled down a corner of her mouth. “You lost the right to ask that question the moment you shoved your tongue down another woman’s throat.”

  Anger sharpened his voice. “How long has it been going on?”

  Incredulous, she blinked at him. “Do not shift the blame onto me,” she said, then went inside her room and slammed the door shut. She leaned against it, half expecting David to demand she open it. He didn’t. She pushed away from the door and headed toward the bathroom, undressing along the way.

  Ten minutes later, she emerged from the shower, opened the bathroom door to allow the steam to escape and dissipate and heard the knocking. David. Her lips thinned. She pulled on the complimentary bathrobe but remained in the bathroom, hoping David would go away.

  More knocking, louder and harder this time. She tightened the belt of the bathrobe, strode to the door and yanked it open.

  “David, I said—”

  The words died in her throat. It wasn’t David. He stood there, scowling and filling the doorway like he had a right to be there. Her pulse quickened.

  “Let me in, Amie.”

  Hearing him say her name sent a tingle of sensation through her body. She didn’t ask how he knew it. “Why?”

  “Because you and I need to talk, and I don’t think you want anyone to overhear our conversation.”

  Her cheeks warmed. When he stepped into the room and moved past her, she didn’t protest. She closed the door slowly, taking the time to gather herself. With one hand, she pulled together the edges of the oversized robe to cover her chest and neck before facing him. He filled the space, making the spacious room feel confining.

  “How did you find my room?”

  “Owning the hotel has its perks.”

  It took her several seconds to absorb his words. “Of course,” she murmured. It explained what she’d witnessed in the lobby. She asked, “Why did you question Frank about me? What did you ask Frank about me?”

  He caught her gaze, held it, and the heat blossomed over her chest. “You know why. You feel it too.” His voice lowered. “I haven’t stopped thinking about you since this morning.”

  The heat spread
lower, and she noticed that he ignored her second question but didn’t care. Under the thick terrycloth, her skin was suddenly too sensitive, too warm. She crossed the room, taking a wide path to the balcony. She pushed aside a drapery panel, grabbed the door handle and was flooded with memories of what had happened on another balcony. Her fingers uncurled one by one from around the handle.

  “And from the way you were staring at me,” he added, “I thought the feeling would be mutual.”

  She breathed in then exhaled slowly before turning around. He had moved to the other side of the bed to be closer to her. His arms were folded across his chest and a shoulder was propped against a bedpost.

  “Look,” she began, “what happened tonight was a mistake. I—” She broke off, considered her words. “Something happened, and I was angry and confused and not thinking clearly.”

  “What happened?”

  She stilled. His tone was too mild, she thought—and understanding struck. Carefully, she lowered herself onto the divan in front of the window. “You already know.”

  He didn’t deny it.

  “Were you spying on me?” As soon as she asked the question, her brain connected the remaining dots. It was absurd and ludicrous—and true. She simply knew it. She pinched the bridge of her nose, felt the frown form on her forehead. “Oh Jesus.” Her gaze lifted to his face, eyes narrowed. “You arranged it.”

  There was no guilt on his face. “If he loved you, he would’ve resisted Sara.”

  “And does Sara ‘work’ for you?” she asked, unable to suppress the sarcasm.

  “No. She’s a friend who did me a favor.”

  “A friend,” she echoed. “Right.”

  He straightened away from the bedpost. “She is. Nothing more,” he said, anger clipping his words.

  She pushed damp hair away from her face. “Why? Why like this? Why couldn’t you introduce yourself to me like a normal person?”

  “Patience isn’t one of my virtues.”

  Anger closed her throat and she could feel renewed warmth travel up her neck and into her cheeks. She forced herself to take a breath, release it.

  “How did you know I would go there? On the balcony?”

  “I didn’t.”

  She weighed his words then she started to turn away.

  “Wait,” he growled, and reached for something from his back pocket. A smart phone. He pressed a few buttons then held it out to her. Amie didn’t move to take it. How could she, with her stomach knotted so tightly and every muscle so stiff? His expression darkened. “Take it.”

  She did, hand shaking, but she couldn’t steady it. She looked down at the touch screen, hair falling forward to veil her face. This time, she didn’t push it back. She started the video. It was one of the hotel’s hallways. The elevator doors pinged and slid open, revealing a couple. A blond man and a woman with unmistakable red hair. Amie could hear her shallow breathing and held her breath. She knew who they were, of course. They hurried off the car, looked about, then reached for each other’s hands. Holding the cardkey, the woman led. The man pulled her back and she let her body crash into his as his mouth found hers. The woman broke off the kiss and pointed toward a door. He let her go, following her closely enough to be her shadow, hands already roving her body.

  Amie stopped the video and took a long, slow breath.

  “Look at the time stamp.”

  She didn’t. There was no need. “His admin assistant.” Her mouth curved in a humorless smile and she added flatly, “How cliché.” And how stupid she’d been. And how clueless. Too clueless to recognize the tone underneath the surprise in David’s voice when she’d called him this morning; too clueless to question him when he’d suggested she get her own room. After all, they hadn’t gone public with their relationship. That would only complicate their work lives…in addition to his busy sex life.

  She looked up, but not at the man in her room. She couldn’t yet, couldn’t bear to see the pity on his face. His phone dangled from her fingers, suddenly too heavy. He took it from her and she curled her fingers, the tips of her short nails digging into her palm.

  “Why the elaborate act?” she asked finally. “Why not show me this video at the beginning?”

  He lifted a brow. “You’d have shot the messenger.”

  Her mouth tightened but she didn’t deny his statement. “Why not let things play out?” David would’ve slipped up eventually. Or dumped her.

  “Like I said, patience isn’t one of my virtues. And I didn’t know about your relationship with the redhead. She might’ve been your friend. Some women feel more betrayed by their friends than by their lovers.”

  She slanted him a look. “Do this a lot, do you?”

  He met her gaze, his own steady. “No.”

  Oh God. She swallowed, felt his gaze drop to her throat and tried not to shiver. “You don’t even know me. The only things I know about you are that you know my boss and he calls you Jason.”

  “Friends call me Jay.”

  “We’re not at that stage.”

  The faint smile on his lips confused and worried her, and more. Her stomach did a little dive. He closed the distance between them. Amie stiffened, knowing the smart thing would be to run. She didn’t.

  “You’re right,” he said. “We’re beyond that stage.”

  “That’s not what I said.”

  He dropped to his haunches before her. She held her breath as he lifted a hand to her throat, stroked it with the backs of his fingers. Tingling sensations rippled over her skin, and this time she couldn’t suppress the shiver. She snatched his fingers and he entwined them with hers. His were long and calloused, not those belonging to someone who sat behind a desk all day. He brought her hand to his mouth, kissed a knuckle, scraped it gently with his teeth, and she bit her bottom lip to keep from moaning.

  “Do you truly regret what happened?”

  When she didn’t respond, he repeated the question then dipped the tip of his tongue between her fingers. Her lashes fluttered and she shook her head. “But it was wrong.”

  “Why? Did you love him?”

  She closed her eyes and said quietly, “I wanted to.”

  “But you didn’t.”

  Another shake of her head. As if he were rewarding her for the answer, he sucked one of her fingers into his mouth. His mouth was wet, his tongue rough, and muscles low in her body clenched.

  “He cheated on you. That made you fair game.”

  She blinked slowly, bringing the world back into focus. It took effort for her to form words, let alone a coherent sentence. “There…there was nothing fair about what you did.”

  “He was wrong for you. I knew it the moment I saw you with him.”

  She felt a little thrill and let herself savor it. “And someone as manipulative as you is right for me?”

  “Yes,” he growled.

  Almost hesitant, she murmured, “Rebound sex.”

  “It’s a start,” he said, and tugged on her hand.

  Closing her eyes, she let herself fall into him.

  About the Author

  Ann Bruce is the pseudonym for a self-professed computer geek who, in between snowboarding, reading comic books and wearing out the buttons of her PS3 controller, writes because it’s an acceptable means of explaining all the voices in her head.

  Ann welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website and email address on her author bio page at www.ellorascave.com.

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  Also by Ann Bruce

  A Naughty Noelle

  Before Dawn

  Dark Side of Dreaming

  Rules of Engagement

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