Page 44 of Tempting the King

Ugg. Backspace, backspace…

I re-group, then send another.

Me: I have to go, my friend is going to be here soon.

King: I’ll be there at eight.

I’ve never met anyone as infuriating or as sexy as this man. I’m aware enough to know that what’s going on between us is twin-flame level crazy.

I have goals, and alienating the NHL not only puts my business in jeopardy, but also my chances of keeping Benjamin alive and well and housed and fed.

Never mind my Martha Stewart Turkey Hill dreams. That seems to be last on the list right now.

There’s a knock at the door to my suite, and my heart lurches in my chest even though I know who it is.

I pad across the cool marble floor, wrapped in one of the bamboo and silk fluffy white robes with The Lux embroidered in gold over my heart, and peer through the little peephole to see Anita’s cherub face with the bug-like curve caused by the lens.

I unlatch the secondary lock and the deadbolt, and swing open the heavy door.

“Girl. Let me in, this cheesecake weighs, like, ten pounds.”

She shuffles inside, making a kissing sound toward my cheek as she passes, and I latch the door shut behind her.

“I only have, like, five minutes.” She flusters as she sets down the little carrier with two extra-tall coffees and the white box tied with a string onto the gleaming dining room table surrounded by ten chairs. Then she grabs one of the coffees and chugs a huge gulp, screwing up her face as she swallows, though whether from the heat or the harsh flavor of the triple-strength brew she always goes for is anyone’s guess. “My boss called while I was in the elevator. There’s an impromptu board meeting, and I have to be across town by seven thirty. Damn,” She finally stops for a breath, looking around. “Holy shit, this place is incredible. You’ve arrived, my friend.”

I nod, but I’m more disappointed that she can’t stay. I needed some girl bonding in the worst way. “What? I wanted a nice cheesecake and coffee breakfast with my bestie.”

“Sorry, girl. Life’s a bitch. And so am I.” She crosses her arms over her sheer white blouse, a blue lacy corset underneath that she’s paired with skintight torn Levi’s, rolled up at the ankles, showing off a pair of chunky distressed-leather heeled booties.

She’s always had this amazing, effortless style I’ve envied. But, since we met our freshman year at Michigan State, she’s been on a mission to upgrade my wardrobe and style sense.

It’s worked. When I showed up in our dorm room, high style to me was pairing my gray sweats with a lace-trimmed tank top and blue jean jacket.

I still think that’s a perfectly acceptable outfit, but she’s worked hard on broadening my fashion horizons, and for a girl from the trailer park, I pride myself on being able to tell a knock off pair of Louboutins from the real deal.

“So, how’s the hockey dude?” she says, flipping open the top on the white bakery box and waving a white plastic fork in my direction.

Before I can take it, or answer her question, my phone starts buzzing against the tabletop. Benjamin’s photo fills the screen.

I hesitate, and Anita raises an eyebrow.

“Gonna answer that?”

I sigh and shake my head. “It’s Benjamin. He’s in trouble.”

She rolls her eyes as the phone stops buzzing. “When isn’t he in trouble? Honestly, I know he’s your brother, but you put up with too much bullshit from him. My brother asks me for money, I send him job listings.”

“That’s not fair,” I say defensively, feeling my cheeks heat with protective sibling fury.

“I know you don’t like to hear it, but—”

“You don’t understand.”

“So make me understand,” she says, digging into the dessert. “Why do you put up with his shit?”

“You weren’t there when we were growing up. Our home life was f’d up.”

“Whose wasn’t?”

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