Page 20 of After-Party Consequences

She’d run out on him.

He scratched his stomach, still groggy and strung out after the deepest sleep he’d had in months, and read the note again.

The blip in his heartbeat, though, refused to subside. But as he scanned the note a third time, looking for any kind of hidden meaning, any hint she planned to get in touch with him again, anger tangled with the hollow ache in his gut.

She hadn’t even left a cell number. This was the female equivalent ofwham, bam, thank you, ma’am.

He’d been given the kiss-off before—back in high school, when the rich, pretty, popular girls had been happy to use him for kicks but had never wanted to date him in public—and it had stopped bothering him a long time ago.

So why did Charlotte Courtney’s kiss-off note bug him so much now?

Perhaps because he thought he’d left that easily used kid behind after he’d made his first million. Perhaps because these days, he was always the one to disengage first. Maybe even because he’d decided late last night that Charlotte would be the perfect summer date to see off deMarco and her brother when it came to the Helberg bet?

But as he screwed up the note and lobbed it into the trash, determined to forget it, and her—Charlotte’s breezy, brazen, couldn’t-give-a-damn-about-you note still bugged him. Big-time.

What the hell had he expected? Yeah, it had been a memorable night, one of the best he’d had in a while. But thatwas as much to do with the fact he’d been working his nuts off for months, preparing the groundwork to bring Helberg and its assets into the Landry brand, as it did with Charlotte.

As for making her his summer date? He could always find someone else...

They hadn’t arrived at the Broussards’ together, and the press had been long gone by the time they’d left. No one knew about last-night’s hook up, so his options were still open.

It was all good. Or at least it ought to be...

But after showering and changing, he gave in to the urge to contact his cleaning crew, to ensure they put fresh linens on the bed so he wouldn’t be able to smell Charlotte when he returned that evening. Which was more than a bit obsessive—because they didn’t need reminding to change his sheets.

As he headed out for a series of meetings with his architects—to discuss plans for one of Helberg’s old hotels in the Presidio—he couldn’t shake the hollow ache in his chest. Or the constant blip in his heart rate...

While he spent the day discussing the cost and scope of the renovation work needed, thoughts of Charlotte—so captivating, so fierce, so forthright and alive as she discovered the joys of Zydeco and sex—kept intruding and making him lose the thread of the conversation.

By the time he got back to the apartment that night, he was exhausted and still preoccupied with every damn detail of what had happened between them—which wasn’t like him at all.

He’d never had trouble moving on before, even back in high school.

But he couldn’t shift the unpleasant thought that something had slipped through his fingers, something he wanted and couldn’t have. Something he hadn’t even known he wanted until he’d met Charlotte Courtney again—and danced with her in the moonlight.

He wasn’t that reject kid any more who allowed other people to call the shots or let himself be hurt because people thought they were better than him.

So why had he let Charlotte’s crummy kiss-off note make him feel like that again?

Damn her.

CHAPTER SIX

One week later

‘HI,CHARLEY.I’VEasked our photographer, Rapinda, to send you some shots from our Fourth of July event.’ Cassandra Broussard’s voice was warm and friendly on the other end of the transatlantic phone line. ‘The ones of you in your dress are terrific, definitely something to use on your social media channels.’

‘Wow, really? Thank you so much, Cassie.’ Charley beamed as she took in the view from the new space she was hoping to rent for Trouble Maker Designs, overlooking Shoreditch High Street. The elevated overground train line and the market stalls below gave the space a funky urban setting which was perfect for her brand. The bright, airy offices of an old printing warehouse also gave her the space she needed to hire some seamstresses. Working out of her front room wasn’t going to cut it any more. ‘I’ve had four commissions already from the connections I made at your party. I really can’t thank you enough.’

Her new best friend gave an easy laugh. ‘My pleasure, Charley. We don’t usually issue photos from the event to the media, but Luke agreed the shots of you and Cade Landry were too good to waste. You guys look fabulous together.’

‘Right. Thanks,’ Charley said, her excitement downgrading at the mention of the man she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about for over a week. ‘It was fun,’ she added.

Too much fun, really. Because she hadn’t been able to stop second-guessing her decision to run out on Cade ever since.

If only she could start sleeping again, without dreaming about his hands, his lips, his tongue inciting her senses, the wrysensual smile curving his lips, or the tattoo on his chest tensing as he came with a throaty roar...

Heat exploded across her collarbone.

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