Chapter Twenty-One

Spencer sat on the porch swing early the next morning, scrolling through his texts. The call with MogulMania’s CEO was set for this morning; Catherine had confirmed it late last night, after midnight New York time. He swore his secretary didn’t sleep. If everything went as planned, Starr would soon be back where she belonged.

A warm feeling of satisfaction filled his chest. It felt good helping her, doing what he could to protect her interests. Not that she needed protecting. She was a strong, confident woman. She’d shown him last night. She’d been showing him all along. He’d seen her unshakable determination when she jumped in to help Matt. She’d even managed to get Spencer to rethink his position on Matt. She’d gotten him to rethink his position on a lot of things. The accident hadn’t broken her. She didn’t need to hide away, trying to be safe. She had the strength inside herself to take control. Exactly like she’d done last night.

He’d touched and tasted, at her request—at her demand. He’d explored every inch of her soft, smooth skin. Snapshots of the night flashed through his mind—images of Starr, her body under his, naked, writhing, telling him how to please her. Moaning in satisfaction when he did.

Sitting here on the swing, his fingertips ached to touch her skin, and his mouth watered, craving her sweet taste. He couldn’t remember the last time making love to a woman had affected him this much.

Making love? No, no, no, that couldn’t be right. He slept with, fooled around with, screwed, and a half dozen other acceptable descriptions. “Making love” was something other guys did—guys like Jase, with their long-term relationships and their long-term plans.

Long-term plans like the one Spencer had set in motion yesterday.

Jase was right. Spencer was totally out of control.

His phone rang. Eight o’clock. Right on time. “Spencer Kensington.”

“Hello, Mr. Kensington. My name is Jim Brown, CEO of MogulMania.”

“Nice to meet you, Jim.”

“Likewise. I know we’re under a time crunch, Mr. Kensington, so I’ll get right to the point. You’ve been working with my attorney, and everything seems to be in order. You’ve offered us exactly what we’re asking, and on top of it, St. Clair Investments has a great reputation.”

Spencer smiled. He knew St. Clair was a good carrot, a gold-plated carrot, especially for a start-up. “Everything I’ve heard and read about your company is very impressive,” Spencer said, stroking the entrepreneur’s ego. “Great products, great team.”

“Thank you. We’ve working hard. If I could just clarify two points with respect to your funding demands.”

“Of course.” Spencer drummed his fingers on the swing’s handrail.

“My understanding is the offer is contingent upon us retaining Ms. Taylor.”

“That’s correct. Fabulous athlete, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Yes, of course, she’s quite accomplished. In full disclosure, though—”

“And from what I understand, her design contributions are significant.” Spencer’s fingers stilled, waiting for a response.

“Um, well…”

Spencer smiled at the surprise in the CEO’s voice. He liked catching people off guard in negotiations and then seeing how they reacted. Would Jim fess up to Starr’s role or deny it? His answer would tell Spencer a lot about the man.

Jim cleared his voice. “Yes, she’s been a great help with some of our clothing and equipment designs. However, there is an issue with Ms. Taylor’s recent ski performance, which we’re concerned might reflect poorly on the company.”

“I know about Starr’s recent struggles,” he said tightly, annoyed that it was necessary to discuss something so personal to Starr, though he’d anticipated it.

“Oh, I didn’t realize you knew her personally.”

It would come out eventually as he and Starr continued seeing each other. He paused at the thought, surprised at how natural it came, but then pushed it away. Business first. “She’s a family friend. I trust her judgment. She’ll be an asset to your company. And as we’ve already established, my offer is contingent on retaining her.”

“Yes, yes, of course. I understand and have no problems with the condition.”

Smart man. And he sounded sincere. Spencer almost didn’t take personally Jim’s earlier rejection of Starr. Almost.

“There’s one more question I have, concerning the timeline,” said Jim. “I believe my attorney referred to it as an exploding offer.”

“The timeline’s firm. I’ll need your answer by noon tomorrow.” Spencer wanted this wrapped up before he got on his flight Sunday night.

“I understand. May I…may I ask why?”

A moment passed as Spencer debated how to respond.

“Don’t misunderstand, Mr. Kensington. MogulMania is worth it. She’s an excellent company. But the sudden interest and the deadline. I’m just curious as to why.”

There was only one answer, and Spencer had never felt more confident in his rationale. “Because I don’t want her to get away.”

They said their goodbyes, and Spencer hung up the phone.

“Why the smirk?” Grace asked, holding open the porch door with one hand and carrying a cup of coffee in the other.

He looked up, focusing his eyes. He hadn’t heard her open the door. “Good morning, Mrs. Taylor.” His friend glowed. Marriage to Noah suited her.

Grace slid in next to him on the wooden swing. “You didn’t answer my question.” She smiled, settling into her seat. “You weren’t around when we got back from dinner last night, and I didn’t hear you come in later,” she said, in an obvious fishing expedition, though he was pretty sure she knew exactly where he’d stayed all night—and with whom.

He grunted, finding himself in unfamiliar territory. There was a time, not too long ago, when Spencer would’ve talked to Grace about most anything. But her new position as Starr’s sister-in-law added a level of complication. He waited, wondering if Grace would question his motives. She knew him as the playboy, the guy who showed off a new woman on his arm every weekend. Would he have to fess up his feelings, explain how things were different with Starr—how he was different with Starr?

And would Grace believe him? He barely believed it himself.

“Who don’t you want to let get away?” she asked.

He blinked. “What?”

“On the phone just now. You said you didn’t want to let her get away.” She cocked her head. “Were you talking about Starr?”

How long had she been standing at the door, and how much had she heard? Spencer studied his friend, debating how much to share. “I’m helping her out with a little situation. You know me; that’s what I do. Just like when I helped you last year with your art show.”

“You didn’t put your job and your life on hold to help me with my art show.”

True, he had a time bomb in New York in urgent need of his attention. Yet all he wanted to do was fix Starr’s problems. “This is different.” The words were out before he could stop them. That didn’t make them less true. He waited for Grace to ask him why and had no clue what he’d answer. But she didn’t.

“Does she know about how you’re helping her?” A much harder question. Damn.

The look on Grace’s face said she already knew the answer. “Not yet,” he said.

Grace nodded, as if that was a satisfactory answer. As if. “Did she ask for your help?”

“Not in so many words,” he said carefully. Not in any words. But it’s not like Starr had told him not to help. And after last night and everything they’d shared, she’d understand his intentions, that his heart was in the right place. He tried to ignore the growing sensation in his gut, the one that told him the right place was never behind her back.

Grace pushed her feet against the porch floorboards to swing the seat. “Starr cares for you. I saw it on her face yesterday afternoon. So did Noah.”

He waited for her to condemn his actions or, at minimum, question his motives. Starr was her husband’s sister, after all.

She did neither. Instead, she stopped swinging and angled toward him, with this knowing look in her eyes. Like she knew him better than he knew himself.

Fine. Maybe she did.

Spencer sighed. “I should tell her.”

…

Starr felt light taps on her head, her cheek. No, not taps. Kisses. Soft, sweet kisses. Her eyes flickered open. Spencer lay on top of the covers but next to her, up on one elbow, looking down at her. She squelched the urge to run her fingers through his mussed light brown bangs, which, coupled with his stubbled cheeks, made him look positively sinful. Which was exactly what he’d been last night. Dear Lord, had she really asked him—out loud—to do all those dirty, wonderful things?

His lips turned upward, as if reading her mind and answering her question.

She cleared her throat, suddenly self-conscious. “How long have you been watching me?”

“Not long,” he said, matter-of-factly. Like it was the normal thing in the world to sit in bed and watch her sleep. She sort of liked the idea. “I had a cup of coffee and took a business call. Then I came back to bed.”

“Why?”

“I missed you.”

Again, he said it like his words were normal, and they didn’t prickle her stomach like they weren’t. She should get up before this got any crazier. She’d promised him she’d follow the rules: no commitments, no regrets. And in exchange he’d given her one more night. Though instead of taking control, he’d given it to her. And she’d taken it. It was scary and exhilarating, seeing the passion she excited in Spencer’s eyes, understanding the power she wielded.

She didn’t want it to be morning, because she didn’t want the night to be over. He didn’t seem too rushed to move on, either. His fingertips glided up and down her arm in a soft caress. His eyes watched her, his face relaxed and content. It was like they’d arrived at some mutual agreement of comfort. But would it last once she’d shaken the sleepiness from her limbs? Or would it be like a dream that seems oh-so-vivid until, once awake, you’re left only with the feeling that you’d lost something really, really good?

“What time is it?” she asked, resigning herself to the fact that morning had come and was here to stay.

“Almost eleven.”

“Eleven?” She stretched up to read the alarm clock on the nightstand. “Why did you let me sleep so late?”

Spencer hooked his arm around her waist and pulled her back to him. “Figured you needed the sleep. I wanted you nice and rested this morning,” he whispered in her ear before biting the lobe. Multiple places on her body tingled at the thought of what he’d bite next.

“We should get up,” she said, without any conviction. As long as they stayed in bed, the dream would last. She could imagine waking every morning to his soft caresses and his warm body, hard in all the right places.

“The last thing we should do is get up.” He nibbled her neck. “It’s Saturday.”

Saturday, Saturday. There was something going on… Her phone beeped as a text came in, jogging her memory. Saturday, Robert, lunch—crap. She pushed herself into a sitting position, grabbed her phone, hoping it was him canceling since, now that she was dismissed, there really was no reason to meet.

The text was from Robert, but he was letting her know that he’d arrived and would meet her as planned. As planned—what on earth for? Would he offer to help her? Expect her to grovel? Or did he just want to rub another failure in her face? She wouldn’t give him the opportunity. She wouldn’t go.

What was she thinking? Of course, she’d go. She would face that smug little bastard and look him in the eye. She had to.

“Come back here,” Spencer said, tugging at her.

“I have… I forgot that I have plans.” She clicked out of the text and saw she’d missed one, no—two calls from Jim within the last hour. Whatever he wanted could wait. She could only deal with one Brown brother a day.

Starr pushed out of bed and walked toward her bathroom, not realizing she was stark naked until she reached the doorway. She’d never felt comfortable parading around sans clothes in front of any of her old boyfriends. She waited to feel the flush of her cheeks—which never came.

“What plans?” Spencer sat up on the bed. “Since when?” He looked confused and a bit concerned, and maybe even hurt. “Reschedule.” His tone almost begged.

I’d love to. “I can’t.” She pushed the words out, barely believing she was saying them, and then forced herself into the bathroom. She stood under the showerhead, reliving the night. The hot water pounded on her back, heating her blood. Today she’d meet Robert and tell him exactly what she thought of his brother and the company and his stupid breakfast tomatoes. She was ready to move on. Finally.

She’d have never guessed how one night of the hottest sex in her life could make her feel like she could take on the world. They were good together, she and Spencer.

What was she thinking? There was no “they,” no “she and Spencer.” It was just her—and that was just fine. She was ready to face just about anything. In fact, she would go back up to Mount Rose this week. She would conquer that mountain, too.

Too bad Spencer wouldn’t be here to celebrate her success. She shook that thought out of her head. Her world did not revolve around—or even involve—Spencer. He’d been very clear about not wanting a relationship, and she’d accepted that.

She finished her shower, wrapped herself in a towel, and stepped out of the bathroom. He was lying on the bed, hands behind his head, waiting for her. The hair on her arms stood to attention, craving the feel of his body wrapped around hers. Just one more time.

A ridiculous idea because… Why was it ridiculous? Spencer wasn’t leaving until tomorrow night. Why couldn’t they enjoy another night, just sex, again? No commitment, no regrets. It’s not like he wanted something more, and she was okay with that.

He sat up. “We need to talk.” His face still wore those worried lines. Was he concerned that she regretted last night and her assurance of no strings? Did he think she was trying to escape, like she’d done before—like he’d called her on before?

“Don’t worry. Everything is fine. I’m fine. Last night was…”

“Fine?” He raised a brow. “Is that a step up or down from ‘nice’?” The word she’d used to describe their first night came back biting.

She smiled. “Spectacular.” She cocked her head to one side. “In fact, since you don’t leave until tomorrow, maybe we should do it again. Same rules, no strings.” The words came out smooth. She was getting good at this.

He didn’t respond, staring at her like he was trying to understand her incoherent babble.

“Unless…unless you’re not interested,” she rushed out. He’d had enough of her. How embarrassing. Heat crept over her bare shoulders and up her neck. She’d be as red as a Roma tomato any moment. She moved to her dresser and grabbed the first shirt, panties, and jeans her hands found. She turned to go change in the bathroom and almost ran into him, as he now stood all stealth-like in front of her.

“What if I’m interested in more?”

More days? “You’re leaving tomorrow.”

“That doesn’t mean we can’t continue to…see each other. It’s New York, not Neptune.” He gave a chuckle. She could’ve sworn it had a bit of shake to it. Ridiculous. Spencer was never nervous.

“You mean, like a long-distance booty call?” That seemed even sluttier than a one-night stand, though not totally unappealing.

He’d ruined her; of that much she was sure.

“That’d be one benefit.” His tone was more serious than she expected, and he looked uncertain—and totally uncomfortable. “There could be more,” he said.

More. Her heart hopscotched at the thought. More could be good. More could be great, if he was serious. She stared into his blue-gray eyes, earnest and caring. Could she trust him? She wanted to trust him. “Yeah, we need to talk. But I can’t now.” Once she cut ties with Robert and MogulMania, Starr would be ready to move on. With Spencer? Quite possibly.

Quite possibly, he’d been right all along. Maybe this was the start of a beautiful friendship.

And more.