Drew had already removed his necktie and jacket before he walked through the door of his executive suite. He headed straight for the wet bar, but set down the decanter of bourbon he’d ordered without ever removing the crystal stopper. If he was going to have a drink, he’d rather have it at the bar downstairs instead of in his hotel room. Being alone held little appeal after being surrounded by his classmates tonight. And to think he’d almost skipped the reunion.
He didn’t bother with the tie, but slipped his jacket back on before leaving the room and heading for the elevators. It stopped on the eighth floor and a group of twentysomethings boarded. They wore matching bright pink T-shirts with SHANNA’S BACHELORETTE WEEKEND written across the chest. Their hair matched the T-shirts.
“Catching the bars on Sixth Street in all this rain?” Drew asked in an effort to make small talk.
“All night long!” the women answered in obviously practiced unison. They cheered and high-fived each other until the elevator made it to the first floor.
As if their youth and exuberance hadn’t already made him feel old, Drew heard himself say, “Be safe out there,” as they exited the elevator.
When had he gone from being the guy asking to join a group of beautiful women on their barhopping adventure to the guy issuing warnings like a concerned dad? If he wasn’t careful, he’d find himself crocheting alongside London.
Drew did a double take as he looked toward the bar and spotted her. He was surprised to see her still here, since the reunion had ended a half hour ago. These days, the class of 2007 was more concerned with making it home to their kids than partying past midnight.
He walked up to where she stood with both elbows on the bar. “You’re still here?” he asked.
Was that a flash of interest he saw in her eyes when she looked over at him, or was that just wishful thinking on his part?
“Yes, I am.” She held up a silver credit card. “I have to square away the remainder of the bill for tonight.”
“With your personal credit card?”
She shrugged. “I added a few things that weren’t agreed upon by the committee. It’s only right that I cover it.”
“Let me take care of that.” Drew pulled out his wallet from inside his jacket pocket.
“Put that away,” London admonished. “I may not be a rich hedge fund manager, but my little job down at the county hospital pays me well enough to cover a few dozen bacon-wrapped shrimp and fried ravioli.”
“But you’ve already put in enough of your time planning this reunion, you shouldn’t have to come out of your pocket,” Drew said. “And don’t try to deny that you put most of this together. Tonight had the London Kelley hand stamp all over it.”
“It was my job as class president,” she said.
“I call bullshit on that. You just wanted to make sure things were done your way,” he said. Drew raised his brows as she remained silent. “What? No rebuttal?”
“Shut up, Drew.” She laughed. She jutted her chin at his leg. “How’s the ankle?”
He stretched his foot out and rotated it. “Good as new.” He put his credit card back in his wallet and tucked it away. “If you won’t let me cover the balance for the reunion, you can at least let me buy you a drink.” He pointed to the tall, smoke-gray windows. The storm raging outside made it nearly impossible to see anything beyond the sidewalk. “There’s no way you’re going anywhere anytime soon.”
The woman Drew had noticed London talking to earlier at the reunion—the banquet manager, he presumed—came over, and London handed her the card.
“I’ll have this back to you in just a few,” the woman said.
“Thanks, Yvette.” London glanced at the windows, then turned her gaze on him. Her eyes traveled from his head to his feet, as if sizing him up, or trying to figure out what kind of game he was running.
“It’s just a drink,” Drew said. “Something to do while you wait out the rain.”
She thought about it for a moment before answering, “Fine.” She turned to the bartender. “A Tom Collins. Use that Hendrick’s Midsummer Solstice up there.” She glanced back at Drew. “He can afford it.”
Drew grinned. “Whatever the lady wants.” He pointed to the glass enclosure that held a single bottle of bourbon behind lock and key. “I’ll take a shot of the Willett.”
“I’ll need payment beforehand,” the bartender said.
Drew noticed the way London’s eyes narrowed in confusion as he passed the bartender his credit card.
“What kind of drink requires prepayment?” she asked.
“Bourbon,” he answered.
The bartender handed the shot glass to Drew.
“This is the first time I’ve gotten to pour this one in the two years that I’ve been working here,” he said. “Enjoy!”
Drew threw back the ninety-dollar shot in one swallow. “You want to try it?” he asked London.
She looked to the glass-encased Willett and shook her head. Taking her drink from the bartender with a smile and a thank-you, she told Drew, “I’ll stick to my gin.”
She tipped her glass toward him in salute before taking a sip. “Thanks for the drink,” she said, then turned and started for the seating that ran along the far wall of the bar area. Just as she approached one of the plush couches, a group of college-aged kids, drenched from the rain, invaded the bar. They were raucous and unruly and a reminder of everything Drew hated about college towns.
London stood with her drink in the middle of the bar. There wasn’t an open seat anywhere.
Drew walked up alongside her. “Before you get the wrong idea, this is only an offer to sit out the rain,” he started. “But you are more than welcome to bring this drink up to my room.”
Her reply was quick. “I don’t think so.”
One of the college kids struck a John Travolta pose, à la Saturday Night Fever, and the rest of the crew broke out into boisterous laughter.
“On second thought,” London said.
The banquet manager returned with the credit card, then London followed Drew to the bank of elevators. They took one up to the twenty-seventh floor. Once in the suite, London headed straight for the span of windows, which afforded a spectacular view of downtown Austin. The jagged crown of the Frost Bank Tower, one of the most recognizable structures in the city, sparkled despite the deluge taking place outside.
“Goodness, but it’s coming down out there. I should have checked my phone to see when this rain is forecast to end,” she said.
Drew slipped his out of his pocket and did just that. He grimaced as he held it up to her. “You may want to get comfortable,” he said.
London squinted at the phone and released another of those long-suffering sighs. She held her glass out to him. “Can you hold this for a minute?” She stepped out of her heels, kicked them to the side, and reclaimed her glass. “Thanks.”
She turned and moved away from the windows. Heeding his advice to make herself comfortable, London folded her long legs underneath her as she sat on the couch.
Drew walked over to the wet bar and poured himself another bourbon. He wasn’t expecting much after that shot of Willett he’d had downstairs, but it was pretty decent. He returned to London, taking a seat in one of the chairs instead of on the couch. He kicked his shoes off and stretched his legs out in front of him.
“So what are you really doing back in Austin, Drew?” she asked.
“This is home, isn’t it?”
“Yes, but it hasn’t been your home in a long time.”
He cocked a brow. “Have you been keeping tabs on me, Dr. Kelley?”
“Stop flattering yourself.” She rolled her eyes, but amusement played at the corners of her lips. “Your classmates are obsessed with you,” she continued. “You went to some fancy party a few months back, and the reunion committee spent the first half hour of the meeting fawning over your glamorous life.”
“Sounds as if you weren’t part of the fawning crowd.”
She shrugged. “Celebrity doesn’t impress me. And after having a small taste of notoriety, I know for certain that I do not want anything to do with it. I much prefer the humdrum existence of becoming a world-class doctor who saves the lives of sick children.”
Her cheeky smile was, without a doubt, the most enchanting thing Drew had seen tonight.
“From what I’ve gleaned over the years, you’re pretty damn good at saving the lives of sick children,” he said. “Although I’ll admit that I’m surprised you work at County.”
“Well, I’m surprised you’re staying at the Hilton and not the Driskill,” she countered. “And, for your information, County is a wonderful hospital.” Her affronted scowl told him everything he needed to know about the pride she took in working at Travis County Hospital. He stored away that tidbit for later.
“All the suites at the Driskill were taken,” Drew said. “And I just assumed a doctor of your caliber would be at some world-renowned hospital, like Dell Children’s here in Austin. Your talent seems…I don’t know…wasted doesn’t seem like the right word.”
“That is definitely not the right word,” she said. “The patients at Travis County Hospital deserve the same caliber of care as those at any other hospital.”
Drew sat back and took another sip of his bourbon. “If you approach patient care with even half the passion that you had toward your schoolwork, I have no doubt they’re getting all the care they need.”
“Is that your way of complimenting me?”
“I never had a problem complimenting you, London. You had an issue with accepting compliments. Is that still the case?”
“I don’t know.” She swirled the ice in her tumbler, that hint of a smile returning to her lips. “Why don’t you take another shot at it?”
He stared at her over the rim of his highball glass. “You’re wearing the hell out of that jumpsuit. It’s stunning.”
“Hmm.” She took a sip from her drink. “It appears I have gotten better at accepting compliments. Thank you.” She gestured to him. “The suit is nice.”
“You can work on your delivery, but I’ll take it.”
She looked over at him, and they both burst out laughing.
Drew was surprised by how at ease she seemed. The London Kelley he remembered from fifteen years ago would have never accepted an invitation up to his room, let alone feel relaxed enough to lounge barefoot on his couch.
“The slideshow that played throughout the reunion brought back some pretty wild memories,” Drew mused. “There was one picture from School Spirit Week I wish I’d grabbed a shot of.”
“I have them all on my phone.”
Of course she did.
“Come on.” She motioned for him to join her on the couch. “You should see the ones that didn’t make the cut for the slideshow.”
Drew halted in the middle of rising from his chair. “Tell me you don’t have that picture from when the basketball team got our hair cut to spell out TROJANS.”
She scrolled for a second before holding up the phone.
Drew groaned. “I’ll pay you a million dollars to delete that.”
“Your money can’t buy me off.” She practically cackled. “I do believe your barber intentionally cut that O to look like a condom.”
“I later found out he graduated from Anderson High,” Drew said as he sat beside her. London’s knee brushed against his thigh and his pulse skyrocketed.
It suddenly occurred to him that reducing the distance between himself and the woman he’d been halfway in love with in high school wasn’t his smartest decision of the night. But he refused to move. London Kelley was in his hotel room, joking around with him like an old friend. He would savor every second of this.
They browsed through the photos, pointing out who had changed the most—and the least—in their graduating class, then they got into a heated but hilarious debate about his favorite math teacher. London was adamant that Mrs. Wallace had it out for her, which she claimed was the only reason Drew had ended the year with the better grade.
“You’re delusional, Dr. Kelley.”
“That woman hated me,” London said. “And, of course, she absolutely loved you, just like all the other teachers.”
“Mrs. Wallace didn’t hate you. She was intimidated by you. You can’t really blame her.”
She arched a brow. “Were you intimidated by me?”
He was fascinated by her back then. He still was.
“Nah,” he answered. “Not after I discovered your weak spot.” Her brow arched higher. “You had to control everything,” Drew continued. “And if you didn’t, it drove you out of your mind. Do you think I actually wanted to be president of the Beta Club and the debate team?” He shook his head. “I only ran for those things to keep you from winning.”
“I knew it, you bastard!” She took one of the stiff throw pillows and lobbed it at his head. “This is the real reason you’re here alone, because no woman in her right mind would put up with someone like you.”
Close enough. Although it was his tendency to be a workaholic rather than a bastard that ran most of his serious relationships into the ground. Now that he thought about it, the two went hand in hand.
“You’re probably right,” Drew told her.
He looked down at his watch and did a double take. It was nearly two in the morning. When he glanced toward the window, he saw that the rain outside had slowed to a light drizzle.
London glanced over her shoulder. “It looks as if the rain has finally let up.”
Drew couldn’t deny the disappointment that swept through him when she stood. But then his brow creased in a frown when, instead of retrieving her shoes and bidding him farewell, she walked over to the bar. She picked out the mini bottle of gin, emptied it into her glass, and downed the contents in one swallow.
Then promptly broke out into a coughing fit.
Drew rushed over to her. “You okay?” He patted her back until she stopped coughing.
“Holy shit,” she said. “I haven’t done that since college.”
“I would suggest you not do it again.”
“I think you’re right. Thank you.”
Drew reached for a clean highball glass and poured himself a finger of bourbon. He probably shouldn’t have any more tonight, but he was so keyed up after spending this time with London that he figured he’d need something to relax him once she left.
“You okay now?” he asked her.
“Yeah, sorry about that. I just really needed another drink.” She paused, then said, “I’m not drunk enough to have sex with you, so I’m trying to fix that.”
He choked on his bourbon. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me. I want sex tonight. And, well, you’re here.”
He cleared his throat. “Who says I want to have sex with you?”
London rolled her eyes. “Don’t think for a minute that you can convince me you’ve changed that much since high school.” She took the glass out of his hand and swallowed down his drink. “At one time you would sleep with anything with a pulse.”
She reached for the decanter, but Drew stopped her. “First, there won’t be any sex happening here if you get drunk. That’s not the way I operate. And give me some credit, Dr. Kelley. Anyone I slept with also had to have a personality.”
“Mallory Lawrence didn’t have a shred of personality.”
“It was the tits when it came to Mallory.”
“Yeah, I can see that.” London nodded. “She did have tits for days.”
Drew hooked his thumb toward the coffee table, where he’d left his cell phone. “I can call her. I’m sure she’ll come over and join us.”
“Oh my God. Shut up!” London said. “Just…don’t talk anymore. You’ll remind me how much I don’t like you. Now, are you going to take your clothes off, or what?”
The fact that she’d asked that question with such nonchalance blew his mind. This could not be real life.
But it was. The London Kelley was standing in his hotel room, looking like a goddess, and asking—commanding—him to take off his clothes.
“Why me?” Drew asked. Because he had to make sure this was something she really wanted. “You just said you don’t like me?”
She hunched her shoulders. “To be honest, after all these years I don’t know you well enough to decide whether or not I like you, Drew. But I don’t have to like you to fuck you.
“Here’s the deal: I haven’t had sex in nearly a year. I’m under a ridiculous amount of stress at work, and my friends think ending my drought is the perfect way to relieve some of the stress. They suggested I find a single doctor at the hospital and get laid, but I refuse to have a one-night stand with a coworker. However, I also want to make sure it’s with someone I at least semi-trust.”
“And you trust me?”
“Semi-trust,” she reiterated. “You’re better than a stranger I pick up at a bar.” She cocked her head to the side. “Although, I kinda did pick you up at the bar tonight, didn’t I? Or you picked me up.” She waved that off. “It doesn’t matter. The important thing is that after we sleep together, I won’t have to worry about awkward run-ins in the hallway at work.” She nodded toward his foot. “How’s that ankle feeling? You think it will hold up?”
“I don’t know what kind of kinky stuff you’re into, but my ankle isn’t the body part you should be concerned about, Dr. Kelley.”
Her brow arched with mild irritation. “Are we doing this or what, Drew?”
Drew couldn’t help but think of those long-ago nights he’d spent in bed, praying his mother didn’t come into his room and discover him damn near bruising himself as he self-pleasured his way to sleep with thoughts of London swimming in his head. After all this time he finally had the chance to experience the real thing, and she thought there was a question as to whether he would be interested?
He thought about Monday and what her reaction would be when she discovered that she would, in fact, have to encounter him in the hallways at work. At least on a temporary basis. Members of his team would be at the hospital most of the time, but he would be required to be there for the occasional meeting over these next three to four weeks.
“Uh, London, before we do anything, maybe we should talk about the work I’ll be doing while in Austin. You should know that…”
Drew’s voice trailed off. He stared at London in awe as she reached behind her head and unhooked the clasp at the base of her neck. She shrugged her shoulders out of the jumpsuit and shimmied her hips, letting the sparkly material glide down her legs and pool onto the floor at her feet. She stood before him in a sheer bra that did nothing to hide her deep brown areolae. The matching panties didn’t hide much either.
His pulse pounded as he drank in the sight of her.
“You were saying?” she asked.
He would figure out how to deal with the fallout on Monday.
He clutched her hip and pulled her to him. “You’re damn right we’re doing this.”