Bad Reputations: A steamy, celebrity romance (The Breaking Through Series Book 1) Page 13

  Dull sunlight peeked through the curtains, giving just enough light to see what he was holding. An instant camera print, and by the stage of development it was at, he guessed it hadn’t been taken long ago.

  It was him. Buck naked and tangled in the sheets. Sprawled on his back with his mouth slightly open, he looked relaxed, off guard. The thought of Kirin standing naked and watching him sleep while she took the photo was almost as hot as last night.

  His skin was tender from where she’d raked her nails down his back, his lips roughened from kissing her all night long, and other parts of him still hummed where she’d sheathed him. For a woman who hadn’t made love in a long time, she sure knew how to get back on that horse with style.

  He swung his legs over the side of the bed and scrubbed hands through his hair. If anyone had told him a week ago that Kirin Hart would be sharing his bed on his next available weekend, he’d have laughed them out of the room. But he didn’t regret it for a second. Lying awake into the early hours, talking and holding her close had felt damn good, and he couldn’t wait for it to happen again. But their time was running out fast.

  He stared at a spot on the wall. When their time together was over, Kirin would be too busy focusing on the new success of herself as an independent businesswoman to have room in her life for any sort of relationship, in fact being on her own for the near future would keep the focus firmly on her as it should be. And he’d be on the other side of the country, managing the enormous corporation she’d helped him acquire. When this deal was over, there would be no more long nights of holding her close, no more evenings cooking in her warm kitchen. Suddenly, only seven days more together seemed far too few.

  He dragged on a pair of boxers and padded down the stairs. When he saw her working behind his kitchen counter, he stopped dead. Damn, it always put him off balance when he watched her cook.

  Stepping back into the shadows, he reveled in the sight of her. She wore one of his business shirts, sleeves rolled to the elbow and short enough that the curve of one butt cheek was visible. A smile tugged at his mouth. She’d caught her hair back in an alligator clip that she’d obviously had in her bag, and odd sections of hair brushed past her face.

  And she was humming. A low, slow tune that made him want to sit here and listen all day long.

  “Seen enough?” She looked up with a cheeky smile. He’d been caught. “I’m making frittata if you’d like some. Have you ever cooked in here? Most of your utensils were still in their plastic wrappers.”

  He took the last few stairs. “If God had wanted me to cook, he wouldn’t have invented burger joints. It’s far too early to eat, but what’s in the frittata?” He moved closer and the aroma of browned butter and Kirin filled his senses.

  “I’d usually take leftovers from the refrigerator and cook them with some really fresh eggs and tasty cheese. You didn’t have any leftovers, so I did some sweet potato and spinach. You’ll like it.”

  He stood behind her and reached around to her front. The feel of her breasts, lush and warm under the cotton of his shirt, her body pressed close, was all he needed for breakfast. “Blake, I’m cooking!” She giggled, and he couldn’t stop himself from nudging her butt.

  “And I’m hungry,” he whispered close to her ear, “but not for your cooking.”

  He nuzzled her neck, and she laid her cheek back on his. “I have a little surprise for you,” he said, “and it’s not what you’re feeling against you right now. I managed a pretty big coup yesterday that I was going to tell you about last night, but I kind of got distracted. I’ll tell you when we sit down.”

  Despite the fact he hardly ever ate breakfast, he couldn’t stop his mouth watering from the sight and smell of what Kirin was dishing up. When she’d brought the plates to the table, they sat down and she reached for the coffee. “So, I can’t bear the excitement. What is it?”

  He picked up a fork. “Remember that list you gave me right at the beginning of our contract when I asked what you wanted to happen most?”

  She looked up, her wild-honey eyes round and questioning. “Yes.”

  He dug into the eggy mixture. “What was top of your list?” He put the fork in his mouth and almost groaned at the explosion of rich, cheesy goodness.

  “I don’t know.” She shrugged. “My debts coming down, having the chance to cook a big event again.”

  “Stop right there.”

  She put her hand on his arm, her eyes glistening and the warm memory of her touching him everywhere last night, firing him on. “There’s a charity dinner for eight hundred people at the Venice Ballroom Friday night. Jean-Pierre Marcand was supposed to lead the team of chefs but he’s come down with an infection from a cut to his hand. It’s yours if you want it, but I need to confirm today.”

  Her cheeks paled as her dusky lips opened slowly. “The Venice Ballroom? For 800? In place of Jean-Pierre Marcand, are you serious? Oh, God, Blake, how can I ever thank you!”

  In the next second, she’d thrown herself into his lap and was kissing him. He slid a hand across her shoulders, but she pulled back, eyes crinkling with laughter. “A week, no—five days to get this organized? This is insane, but my absolute dream come true!”

  Her cheeks glowed, her eyes sparkled, and Blake’s chest swelled at the realization he’d caused the reaction. The tops of her legs brushed his, and he breathed the scent of her mixed with him in his shirt.

  She kissed his cheek again and slid off his knee to pace the floor. “There’s so much to organize! I’ll need to review the staff, go to the venue, speak to Jean-Pierre.”

  “It’ll be fine,” he said, missing the feel of her against his body. “Come eat your eggs. You’re going to be busy. There are a couple other things I’m hoping will come through today, but this will be our priority for now. Jean-Pierre will walk you through everything. People who paid for the dinner were expecting him so the organizers will be relieved to have someone with an equal profile.”

  She suddenly stopped pacing and pressed her steepled fingers to her lips. “Will they be disappointed? After all my bad publicity, the fact I haven’t had a profile in so long, will the guests feel ripped off?” Doubt clouded her eyes.

  “It’s a perfect opportunity for your launch back onto the cooking stage. A captive audience of food lovers who also have big hearts and big wallets. We’ll build your profile with the new publicity shots this week to the extent that people will be dying to see you by the time Friday rolls around. You’ll stun them.”

  She threw him a smile—the most heartfelt, open smile he’d ever received from anyone, and it rocketed straight to his chest. And then the feeling was gone, replaced by a widening hole. In a little over a week, Kirin Hart would have won back her public, signed off with Dent and Douglas, and become exactly what she wanted to be—a woman who didn’t need someone like him. And that wasn’t what he wanted anymore.

  9

  The next afternoon, Kirin stepped from Blake’s elevator into his penthouse. Registering the broad shoulders turned away from her at the kitchen counter, excited words burst from her.

  “You’ll never guess who called. I couldn’t believe it when I heard her voice. I was so busy with Jean-Pierre that I didn’t imagine my day would get any better, but it did as soon as she spoke.” She turned to hang her cotton jacket on a coat hook and heard him move in the kitchen. “Only the hottest daytime talk show host in California. And she wants me as a live guest Monday!” Her voice began to run away as she tried to get the words out. “I know you engineered all this, but it still felt like the best surprise. I’ve met Felicity Farrell before and I’m sure . . . Blake?” He hadn’t answered. “Hey, what’s wrong?” She moved to the doorway.

  The man at the counter faced her, and she gasped. He stood like Blake, powerful and confident, had the same dimple at the corner of his mouth, the same chestnut hair, but his face was damaged. It was as if someone had dragged a huge paintbrush down his cheek and left a long, withering scar.

  Kirin
swallowed, her brain too scrambled to form words, mouth too dry.

  He held out a hand and stepped forward. “I’m Bryn, Blake’s brother.”

  Unbidden, her eyes stayed fixed on the scarring of his right cheek as she shook his hand. Had he been in an accident? Born like that? It could’ve been a burn by the way the skin was shiny in some parts and ridged and corded at others. And why had she not known Blake had a brother? A twin? So exactly like him in every other detail.

  Her insides caved. She’d spent the last week with Blake. He’d made love to her on his countertop, in his bed, knew every detail about her life. He’d become so important to her, and yet she knew nothing about him at all.

  “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have walked in like that.” She motioned back to the door. “Blake gave me a key, and I wasn’t expecting…”

  “I’ve only just arrived from the airport myself.” He moved back to the counter and the coffee machine. “The concierge checked if it was okay to let me up. My brother’s too busy to meet me until later, apparently. We can wait for him together.”

  Kirin swallowed. “I didn’t realize Blake had a twin . . . I mean he didn’t speak about you.”

  “I’m not surprised.” He picked up a coffee cup. “Blake and I might’ve looked identical once, but that’s where our similarities end.” He pointed to his face. “As you can imagine, I don’t fit into his lifestyle so we don’t spend a whole lot of time together.”

  “That’s a shame.” Should she go? The undertow of animosity indicated Bryn wasn’t here on a social call. “Please tell Blake I dropped by with some news. I’ll call him later.”

  “You don’t have to go,” he said. “Blake shouldn’t be too long. Why don’t I make some coffee? I flew here after a twelve-hour shift, and I need some java to keep me awake.”

  Intrigued to have an opportunity to find out the details about Blake and his family that he wouldn’t tell her himself, she decided to ask a little more. “Sure, coffee would be lovely, thanks.” She pulled up a stool. “What do you do?”

  “I’m a surgeon. From Long Island.” He smiled. “And no, not a plastic surgeon. I specialize in microsurgery of the hands.”

  “Oh, wow.” It felt a little strange questioning Bryn, but right in this moment she had an insatiable need to find out more about his brother, the man who’d learned about her deepest fears, had explored every inch of her body. She couldn’t pass the opportunity up. “That must be incredibly rewarding work.”

  “It is. It’s fantastic to be able to help people when they’ve been through such trauma.” He spooned coffee into the espresso machine.

  “I guess it’s tough to see much of Blake when you’re so busy and you guys live so far apart.”

  He shrugged. “We only live an hour from each other but I haven’t seen him in four years.”

  She frowned. “Oh, I’m sorry, I thought you said you lived in Long Island.”

  “I do. Not far from Blake in Manhattan.”

  A chill swept her veins. A twin brother she’d had no idea about, and Blake didn’t actually live here? She thought about what he’d promised her two nights ago. That she could trust him in everything he did and said. Did that include everything he didn’t do and didn’t say as well? About his family? Where he really lived? Obviously not.

  She spoke quickly to hide her surprise and hurt. “So, what’s he doing in San Francisco?”

  “Trying to sort some major fashion crisis, I expect. Are you his girlfriend?”

  Heat touched her cheeks. “Oh. No, I’m the crisis that needs sorting.” She tried to lighten the mood. “Blake’s helping me get my mojo back.”

  Bryn shoved a hand in his pocket. “Hey, I’m sorry, that was rude of me.” He flicked the switch on the machine and a low rumble began, followed by the smell of freshly brewed coffee. “Tell me about your work with Blake. I’ve never really understood what he does.”

  He looked at her intently, and she sensed sadness in his eyes, as if he really didn’t know his twin at all, and wanted to find out about Blake as much as she did.

  “I’ve had a bit of a PR crisis with my business and Blake’s turned around my image in less than ten days. I’m very grateful to him. He’s got a reputation for being one of the best image consultants in the industry so I’m very lucky.”

  “That’s great. You must be pleased.”

  At war with herself over whether to end the conversation here out of a sense of loyalty, or dig deeper, she let curiosity win over.

  “Are you here for long?”

  He flicked another switch and frothy milk poured into the two cups. “Just long enough to get something from my brother. I need to get back to work, so I’m hoping he won’t keep me waiting long. I’d like him to make a trip back to our home state with me.”

  He passed her the cup, and she wrapped her hands around it. “Oregon, isn’t it?”

  “That’s right. Mom and Dad are on a farm there, but they’re getting too old to cope. I’d like for us to get them somewhere smaller and more manageable.”

  Half an hour later, Kirin put her cup back on the counter. Blake hadn’t arrived and she and Bryn had reached the end of their polite discussions about cooking and what it was like moving to a big city from a small town. She’d gained no more insight into Blake’s early life, or why he hadn’t seen his brother for four years.

  Bryn seemed as closed and secretive as his brother, and it only made her want to know more about the rift that was so obvious between them.

  “I’m sorry you didn’t get to see Blake,” Bryn said.

  “I’ll be catching up with him later on, so it’s not a problem. It was really nice to meet you, Bryn. I hope we get another chance to catch up before you leave.”

  “I’d like that,” he said as he walked her to the door. “But I’m hoping I won’t need to be here after today, so maybe another time. Good luck with all your new changes. I’m glad everything’s working out for you.”

  They said goodbye and Kirin stood with the closed door at her back. She might only have a few days more left with him, but Kirin had a burning desire to find out all there was to know about Blake Matthews, the man who she’d given every part of herself to in the past ten days. He’d helped tear down the walls she’d had up for so long, and she wanted that for him, too. Whether he liked it or not, that’s exactly what she was going to do.

  “Bye, Kirin, keep practicing!”

  Kirin waved goodbye to Lucy and her sister Pippa, who’d given her another make-up lesson, and closed her front door. She leaned her head against the wooden frame and summoned the courage to walk into her living room and confront Blake about what she’d found out from Bryn yesterday.

  Blake had called and suggested she come by last night, but something had made her say no—a gnawing feeling that she didn’t really want to know the truth about him. That if she kept this relationship they had as casual as he wanted it to be, then none of this mattered.

  But it mattered to her. She wanted to know that the man she’d opened herself up to in so many ways wasn’t a liar or a heartless brother. She’d seen something in Blake when she’d first met him, a wariness, as if he was guarding a private part of himself, but he’d let her see inside him in the last few days, and she hungered for more. Despite alarms going off in her head, she had to have it out with him.

  “Pippa and Lucy are great together, aren’t they?” she said, walking back into her living room and sitting on the edge of the couch. She was bulldozing her way to the subject, but too bad. “It must be nice to have a sibling you feel that close to. Flynn and I are close but haven’t lived near each other in years, so it’s extra special when we get together. Do you have close siblings?”

  “Not so you’d notice.”

  Blake sat down beside her on the couch, and Dudley wandered over to lie on the floor at their feet. She reached down and scratched behind his ears.

  “Have I told you how much that top suits you?” He curled a finger under one of her shoestring st
raps. “I think it would suit being thrown in a pile on the floor, too.”

  She moved her shoulder a little, wanting him to concentrate on what she was saying. “Is that a yes or a no?”

  He shrugged. “I have three brothers. None of us are close.”

  “They don’t live near you?”

  “One lives close.” He tilted his head. “In the next state, anyway.”

  “In Nevada, back home in Oregon?”

  His brows moved lower, and he shot her a dark look. “You’ve met my brother, haven’t you?”

  She twisted so she could see him better, and now her knee touched his thigh. “I came by your apartment yesterday. He seemed a little uptight.”

  He sat back on the couch. “Bryn doesn’t like anyone much.” He played with the stitching on the back of a cushion. “You know what I could kill for right now is some of that pasta with the green stuff on top.”

  He thought she didn’t notice when he tried to divert attention from himself? He was wrong. “What happened to his face? Was he burned?”

  He sighed. “Scott, my eldest brother was supposed to be watching us when we were four but he was making out with his girlfriend instead. Bryn fell against a bar heater and received third-degree burns. It completely changed our family. Mom spent weeks away in the city with him while he was recovering, and then there were lots of operations to try and fix the damage to his face.”

  “It must be difficult for him, having the scars so obvious.”

  He nodded. “Of course it is. He’s happier now that I’m not around so he doesn’t need to be reminded about the way he could’ve looked.”

  “That must be so hard for him.” And you.

  “Hard for everyone. Why else do you think I was so desperate to get off the farm and away from them all? Not only was I a reminder to him about what he’d lost, but my parents as well. Mentioning anything about the way you looked in our family became so taboo, I couldn’t even tell my parents why I was leaving home. The fact I made my money and my name from perceived beauty was an insult to them when they found out. Still is.”