Impulse Control (12 page)

Chapter Nine

Susannah gazed at Russ’s text, perplexed.

I’m sorry for teasing you. I truly didn’t know about the footage. We’ll get through this and keep it classy. Have fun with the banker.

Talk about a one-eighty turnaround. What was he up to now? Should she ignore him or text back? And what did “Have fun with the banker” mean? Last night he’d been trying to talk her into a date, and she was pretty sure this morning’s text about being “prepared” had been a reference to condoms. She hadn’t been able to think of an appropriate response, and this text made her feel even more off-balance.

Her heart thudded. She’d barely gotten any sleep and had been operating in a thick fog all day. Her body felt heavy and sensitive. Every so often, heat would wash over her, leaving her restless. She’d worked her ass off today, trying to leave the unsettling emotions behind her, but now that Russ had decided to stop flirting, she was afraid she knew exactly what was wrong with her. Ever since his “prepared” text this morning, she’d been on a slow simmer, hot and churned up, thinking about sex, specifically sex with him.

She flashed back to him saying
I’ve got you,
and her stomach clenched
.
She could count the number of orgasms Ethan had managed to give her on both hands, but Russ had basically snapped his fingers, and she’d climaxed. She imagined him poised above her, pressed against her, and then sinking into her. Her legs gave out, and she staggered backward to slump against the counter.

She should thank her lucky stars he’d changed his attitude, or she might have done something stupid, like flirt back. Her lawyer assured her Ethan wasn’t going to win his custody appeal, but the publicity for the show wasn’t making her look like mother of the year. The last thing she needed to do was add more fuel to the fire. A tingling rush of heat pooled between her thighs.

Stop…just stop.
Nothing was worth risking Billy.

She took a cooling breath and started typing.

Glad we’re on the same page. Have fun in DC.

She set the phone on the kitchen counter and reached for a wineglass. Billy was down for the night, and she deserved a reward for being so sensible. A response appeared before she’d taken her first sip.

Fun? Not. If you need ideas for torturing me, check this out.
He inserted a picture of a room filled with people in tuxedos and formal gowns.

She did want the scoop on how to drag him out of his comfort zone.
What are you doing?

Getting drunk.

No, where are you?

Home.

She snorted in disbelief.
You live in a palace full of beautiful people?

You really should do more research, Susie. My father is a senator, and this is my mother’s idea of an intimate dinner party.

He sent a selfie of him raising a rocks glass.

Her breath stuttered in her throat. Russ Donovan in a tuxedo was a sight to behold. She’d have to rethink her black-tie plans for the show, because he didn’t look the least bit out of place or uncomfortable in his exquisitely tailored tux. She admired his crisp collar, sharp pleats, and perfectly tied bow tie. His shoulders looked endless, and his chest strained against the fabric. Every woman who looked at him would imagine untying that tie and popping the studs from his shirt. Or was it just her?

She dragged her gaze to his face and noticed his pale eyes were bleak and had purple smudges beneath them. His hair was sticking up, and his jaw looked tight enough to fracture. It was a good look for him, brooding and dangerous, but he did seem miserable. Sympathy stirred inside her, but she squashed it. He had an agenda, just as she did, and it was her move.

Poor baby. Thanks for the tip. I don’t like formal wear any more than you do, but I’ll make the sacrifice to torture you. Any foods you hate? Just asking.

I knew I could count on you to make me feel even better than the gin and tonic. Thanks for asking, Susie. I hate steak, loathe potatoes, and have a lobster phobia.

Surf and turf, it is.

Awesome. Looking forward to it. Duty calls. Have a good night.

She snapped a picture of herself with her wineglass and sent it. When it appeared in her messages, she regretted the impulse. Hair in a bun, no makeup, and a ratty T-shirt. He certainly wasn’t going to wish he were with her. She hesitated, hating herself for a full ten seconds, before she saved his picture to her photos.

Her phone rang and she nearly shrieked, caught red-handed.

An unfamiliar number appeared on the screen. She didn’t want to talk to anyone, but as she aimed for the reject button, her finger slipped, and the call went live.
Rats.
Sending a call to voicemail was understandable; hanging up on someone was rude.

“Susannah Stone speaking.”

“Hi, this is Adam Lowell. I met your friend Holly in line at the grocery store the other day. Did she mention me?”

Her heart sank. “She did.”

“I’m a huge fan of your show, and I’d love to meet you. Is there any chance you’d like to grab a drink on Saturday?”

Zero.

She forced regret into her voice. “I wish I could, but I just spent the weekend away from my son, and I really don’t want to leave him again so soon—”

“Bring him along. I love kids.”

Was this guy for real? He did sound kind of nice. “Can you hang on a second? I need to check my calendar.” She didn’t really, but she needed a minute to think.

“No problem.”

She stared at the phone in her hand, remembering Russ had told her to have fun with the banker. Her heart fell a little further. Maybe she should. “I can get a sitter,” she said slowly. There was no way she’d take Billy on a blind date, but Kim had mentioned being free to babysit. “How about coffee around seven on Saturday?”

“Sounds perfect.”

They agreed on a coffee shop not far from her house, and she hung up, fairly certain she’d just planned a date with the banker because she couldn’t have Russ. Was instant transference too much to hope for? Holly said Adam looked like Clark Kent. He had a stable job, enjoyed cooking, and liked kids. Maybe she’d take one look at him and forget all about the wild man who was wrong for her in every way…except the one she couldn’t get out of her mind.

I do not need sex.

She took another sip of wine, but the alcohol intensified the out-of-control feeling spinning inside her. She stood, carried the glass into the kitchen, and dumped the wine in the sink.
Sometimes, a woman’s gotta do what a woman’s gotta do.

She opened the freezer and surveyed her options. Belgian chocolate truffle. Peanut butter jamberry. She cocked her head to the side and pondered. Cookies and cream? Strawberry banana rum? Toffee coffee bean crunch? All of them?

She nodded slowly. With hot caramel, salted pecans, and whipped cream. This was no time for moderation. She was going to eat ice cream until she didn’t want any more—of anything. Hopefully the subsequent sugar crash would sink her low enough to sleep without dreaming of a tent.

She grabbed a bowl and a spoon and started digging.

…

Russ stared at the picture of Susannah. He’d give anything to be having a glass of wine with her right now.

“You’re a sight for sore eyes.”

He slipped his phone into his pocket and hugged her, happy to see his old friend. “Alicia, you look beautiful, as always.” He kissed her cheek and saw several pops of light. Bergman had kept his promise, and his parents were thrilled with the coverage. Donations were pouring in. “Are you my date?”

“I’m whatever you want me to be. You know that.”

It was a comfortable arrangement, one they’d shared for several years. Alicia kept him from going stir-crazy when he was home, and he filled a need for her, too. When she was with him, she didn’t have to pretend Lance’s death hadn’t shattered her heart. He was a piss-poor substitute for his little brother, but their shared history made situations like this tolerable for both of them.

She lifted her face and gave him a blinding grin. “Goddamn, I still miss him.”

“Me, too.” He blinked as more flashes popped. She was easily the most beautiful woman in the room. He couldn’t blame Stan and the other photographers, but enough was enough. Offering his arm, he led her to the bar and ordered fresh drinks. When she brushed against him, briefly fitting their bodies together in a way they’d enjoyed dozens of times, he flinched.

Her touch felt all wrong, but for no reason he could explain. Shock rolled through him, and he opened his mouth to speak, even though he had no idea what to say.

She lifted a finger to his lips and looked at him for a long moment. “I knew it wouldn’t last forever. Who’s the lucky woman?”

He shook his head. “There’s no one.”

She lifted one brow. “Then who were you texting?”

“No one,” he said again.

“You hate your phone, and you were texting in the middle of a crowded party. Who is she?”

“It was a work thing.”

“Uh-huh.”

He grabbed her elbow as her hand slipped into his pocket.

“Seriously, Russ, give it up. You know I’ll get it out of you one way or another.” She dug deeper. There was no way to get her hand out of his pocket without making a scene, so he crossed his arms and let her frisk him.

Within seconds, she was grinning. “You should lock your phone, delete your texts, or something. Stealthy, you are not. Susannah Stone, huh?”

“No,” he growled.

“I love her show.” She handed him his phone. “Still running, huh?”

“I’m not running. I’m living my life.”

“And Lance’s.”

“It’s what I would have done anyway.”

She gave him an impatient look. “But you wouldn’t have done it alone.”

He picked up his drink and emptied it. “Nice seeing you, Allie.”

“Don’t be a jerk. There’s a seating arrangement. You’ll be seeing me again when we sit down for dinner, and there’s no point in running from the person who has your back.” Her gaze softened. “If there’s even a prayer of you finding someone to love the way I loved Lance then I am going to push, shove, hog-tie, and carry you in the right direction. Is Susannah Stone the right direction?”

His stomach tightened hard enough to snap. He took a long, slow breath in through his nose, sucking air to the bottom of his lungs, filling his chest and inflating his throat. He still felt like he was suffocating. “It was a simple case of lust, Allie. You know I love a challenge.”

She took his hand and squeezed it. “Enough, Russ. It’s been six years. You can’t climb forever, and he wouldn’t want you to be alone.”

“I can’t go there.” He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. She meant well, but she was wrong. He wasn’t running from his own pain—he was making sure he didn’t leave any behind him.

“So does that mean we’re on for tonight?”

His heart slammed into his gut with enough force to knock the wind out of him. He sucked air and coughed.

She giggled. “Gotcha.”

A smart-ass grin curved her lips as she threaded her arm through his and dragged him toward the dining room. His skin itched as he took his place at the table. He couldn’t shake the sense that something big in his life had just ended, and he needed to find a new adventure as soon as possible. He spotted Bergman crossing the room toward them and growled under his breath. Until he paid his debt for the man’s favor, he couldn’t go anywhere, but the second they wrapped
At Home in the Wild
, he was heading back into the mountains. Screw the Adirondacks. Maybe it was time to get serious about Everest.

He drained his wineglass, ignoring Allie’s amused glance. Once they had an endowed chair for the fund, he could be gone for years at a time, and never have to drink his way through another dinner like this.

His neck prickled, firing a warning, as Bergman stopped beside their table. He dropped a kiss on Allie’s cheek and held out his hand to Russ. “Great work on the first show, and I love your media strategy. Keep up the good work. I can feel that Emmy in my hand already.”

“What media strategy?”
And why is my wineglass still empty?

“Susannah pretending to playing hard-to-get while you chase her, of course. Genius—fits right in with the promotional shots we’ve released. This series is going to rock. Keep feeding that fire. Her ratings slipped a little last week, and we need to make up lost ground.”

“Two shows, Bergman. That’s all I promised you. I appreciate everything you’re doing here in Washington, but I’m not your personal Boy Scout and home ec project. That wasn’t the deal. Everest calls, my friend.”

“Everest isn’t going anywhere, but with your help, Susannah Stone and Media Life Networks will hit the top.” The steel in Bergman’s voice reminded Russ of every time the guy had saved his ass. Without Bergman, he might not even have a shot at Everest. He’d have found himself on another path entirely, one that involved lawyers and community service, before he’d grown up enough to straighten himself out.

“Fine.” His molars made a grinding sound as he nodded.

Bergman’s smile reminded him of his last encounter with a shark. “Looking forward to your blog post. Nice to see you, Alicia,” he said before he walked away from their table.

Shit.

Susannah was not going to be happy. But a buzz of anticipation built inside him over having an excuse to talk to her again. No reason to put it off. He slipped his phone out of his pocket.

Bad news, Susie.

Bubbles popped up immediately. Her instant response worked for him. A lot. In many ways.

What now?

Bergman wants us to pretend you’re playing hard-to-get and I’m chasing you. Says our media “strategy” is genius and he can feel the Emmy. I said yes.

He decided not to mention her slipping ratings.

Silence.

Just keep doing what you’re doing. Keep it classy, and stick to your brand. I’ll keep doing what I’m doing, too. Just ignore me.
A smile rolled across his face. Was it wrong that he was going to enjoy teasing her?

Still no bubbles.

Susie?

I’m processing. My ex-husband is appealing the custody decision. That camping trip makes me look…undesirable.