Provocative Professions Collection (16 page)

I wait, expecting him to speak or step around me to say hello when I feel his breath hit the back of my ear, caressing it.
Damn him.
Friends! Friends!

And then he surprises me yet again when he slips past me, his arm brushing mine as strides smoothly over to his date waiting beside Dylan. She welcomes him over with a sweet smile.

Brady doesn't look at me once he's there in the small group, laughing and chatting it up, so I decide to make the most of my night and walk up to the first guy I see standing alone.

"Hi," I say cheerfully. "I'm Addison Porter, Dylan's sister. Nice to meet you."

The guy looks to be around Dylan and Brady's age; not as built, but cute. His hair is dark and neatly trimmed, no facial hair and dull brown eyes but still…cute.

He gives me a noticeable once over before his lips curl up and he takes my hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "Pleasure. I'm Cole. Friends with Dylan for a few years now. Good guy."

Dylan has very few friends and none I've never meant unless he means… "Online gaming friends?" I ask, curious.

He nods with a hint of embarrassment in his smile. "Yeah, I know it's not the sexiest thing. Most girls hate guys that game, but it's in my blood. I flew out tonight to show my support."

"Addison." I look up to see my brother and Brady walking over, Brady's eyes hard and zoomed in on Cole.

What provokes me, I haven't a clue, but I tug my lip between my teeth and lean in and whisper to Cole, "I think it's kind of sexy."

"What's sexy?" Dylan asks, standing beside me now.

"Uh, nothing. Hey, sorry I didn't come over yet, I just got here and you looked busy." I give him a quick hug. "I love you. I can't tell you how impressed I am. And how—"

"Proud you are," he finishes for me with a chuckle as he releases me. "I know and I've been hearing it all night from Mom and Dad too, who are looking for you, by the way."

"Cole!" Dylan turns his attention to his cyber buddy, leaving me and Brady standing beside each other.

I steal an uncomfortable glance his way just as Ashley appears at his side.

"Gotta say, never would have believed it if I wasn't seeing it." Cole laughs, slapping Dylan on the back. "You, of all people, about to run a business."

"My brother's one of the best gamers out there," I defend him instantly, earning me a bashful look from Dylan.

Cole drinks me in. "No doubt about that. But this party—I wasn't expecting it to be so formal, so put together," he clarifies.

"Oh." I slink back, lowering my head. "Yeah, it's gorgeous."

"Can't take the credit for that. It was all Ashley over here." Dylan nudges his head her way.

Of course she put the party together, she's superwoman, after all.

Ashley takes the compliment with easy poise then excuses herself to the ladies' room. Dylan retreats a moment later to go mingle, leaving Brady and Cole standing around me.

One peek at each of them confirms that the "sizing up the competition" thing men do is in play, which is absolutely ridiculous.

"Ashley looks beautiful tonight," I say to Brady.

His brows pinch. "She does."

Cole moves closer to me. "Lucky man. How long have you and her been together?" he asks Brady.

Yeah, Brady? How long?
Has he been stringing her along this whole time? My temper peeks at the unpleasant pang of jealousy that flares.

"We're—"

I can't bear to hear his answer so I cut in. "She's good for you. I like her."

His eyes darken at my words then narrow a moment later when Cole's hand slides around my waist. I don't push him away, instead allowing the touch from a total stranger.

Cole pulls me closer. "You wanna dance?"

My eyes on Brady, I'm conflicted on how to answer. I don't want to hurt my best friend, but he's here with someone else, which means whatever he felt for me obviously wasn't that strong. Our friendship will rebound and maybe seeing me with someone else will help put things back into perspective for him. I'm not his.

"You should probably go check on Ashley," I say over the music, "in case she needs your help or something. I'm good here."

I don't give him a chance to reply. Cole takes my hand and leads me out onto the dance floor where he wraps his arms around my back, holding me close.

Leave it to Brady to deal with things in a mature, classy manner.

Or not.

Apparently Ashley rebuffed his plans or wasn't fast enough in the ladies' room, so he's now latched and I do mean
latched
, on to the tackiest bimbo in the room. Rolling my eyes and pulling Cole closer against my body, I try
not
to steal glances over his shoulder at Brady's antics, but sometimes, like a car wreck, you just have to look.

And when I do, his mouth may be on her neck, his hands groping her ass in true porn fashion, but his eyes…they're on me. Hard, determined, and challenging, he glares my way but why I'm—for once—not sure.

Is he begging me to pull him off her or outdo his brazenness with my current partner?

Is he pissed off?

I can't pull my eyes away despite Cole's whispering in my ear, which is incoherent since my brain is busily processing the sight that's crippling me with emotions I can't squash.

As Brady's fingers tighten and knead her tiny ass, he rolls his hips, pressing his pelvis into her—I have my answer. My brows raise, telling him I won't back down.

Challenge accepted!

My hand slips down from Cole's shoulder and grips the hem of my dress, hitching it up just enough to slide my leg higher up Cole's hip. I dip my head back, my chest pushing forward, and giggle at nothing, praying Brady can hear it above the music.

A deep, low growl escaping Cole freezes me in place and I fight from recoiling at the thick length hardening against my stomach.

"So fine," he whispers.

I place my hands tighter against his shoulders and pull myself back into our previous, normal dancing position. That should be enough to show Brady two can play that game.

Ashamed for involving Cole, I give him a sweet smile then chance a peek to assess Brady's reaction and the saying holds true—play with fire and you will get burned.

Which I am, scorching from head to toe in a blaze of excruciating fury as I watch Brady dip the hussy and feed feverishly at her mouth. When he pulls her back up and links his fingers with hers, the motherfucker
winks at me
while he whispers in her ear, then, to my horror, leads her off the dance floor.

I'm frozen in agony, each of their steps leading to the double doors where their sordid tryst awaits sending a splinter of jealous agony through me till my gut is twisted beyond repair, about to explode.

"Mmm, come back here," Cole grunts in my ear.

I robotically push him away, eyes still on that damn door. Brady turns back once and catches my stare, a passing flash of I can't decipher what it is on his face before he turns and continues his exit…officially taking what I thought was a bratty game of torment way too far.

"Mind if I cut in?" my father asks, appearing out of nowhere.

Cole looks to me with guarded restraint. I've definitely led him on tonight, but the fury flooding my veins keeps me from feeling the depths of the guilt. I'll simply add it to my recent list of sins as I never plan to see the man again.

"Of course not, Dad." I force a smile his way then press myself closer to Cole for a brief hug and whisper, "Thanks for the dance." I place a chaste kiss to his cheek then turn and take my father's hand.

Cole leaves the dance floor, seemingly satisfied, after throwing me a subtle wave. It eases a tinge of the rage I have when I glance at the door again.

Just like when I was a young girl, my father twirls me out then draws me back into his arms. I smile for him, always daddy's little girl, but the thought of Brady out there somewhere with that…my lip trembles.

My head rests against my father's shoulder as I blink back tears.

"You look beautiful tonight, baby girl."

"Thank you, Daddy." I swallow past the knot in my throat. "Can you believe it? Dyl's really doing it."

"Yeah, we always knew he'd find his way, just like you did."

"Right."
My way?
Had I found it? Sure doesn't feel like it.

"Is something wrong?" He pulls his head back and I lift mine, his lowered brows pressing me to talk.

"I'm just a little lost right now, that's all," I confess, shuffling my feet, constantly glancing to the infuriating door Brady has yet to reenter.

"Is this about Brady?"

My breath catches and I shake my head with adamant denial. "No, Brady and I are fine." My lie is smooth.

"Good." He looks relieved but it doesn't last. "You'd tell us if there was something wrong, right?" he asks, twirling me out again.

"Yeah, of course."

He's staring down at me as though he's waiting for something, for me to spill some big secret. What exactly does he know? Did Brady talk to Dylan? Or someone else? It's a small town, after all. I'm not sure what to say.

"Addison, honey, it's none of my business and you'd probably prefer to talk to your mother about it but…" His voice lowers and a hint of a blush creeps over his cheeks, one that I haven't seen since he attempted the birds and the bees talk when I was fourteen. "There's been some talk around town and I'm worried."

"Talk? About what?" The song winds down and I step out of his arms, suddenly apprehensive at the way his face tightens with worry. Dad's always loved Brady like a son; I know he'd be thrilled for us to get together and wouldn't understand my refusal. My head's a wreck, forming a drawn out explanation why Brady and I are better as friends.

"That you've been to doctor's office a lot lately. If there's something you need to tell us, please, we're here for you. Whatever it is, we'll get through it."

Get through it?
Get through what? Then it hits me. He thinks I'm sick. It has nothing to do with Brady. It's about all my appointments.

I laugh, almost manically so, until his worry turns into horror at my outburst. It's official—my life can get no worse.

"Addison!" my mother calls out, stepping beside us.

"Mom, hi." I embrace her, shushing my chuckle.

"I told you not to say anything to her tonight," she chastises my father in a whisper.

"If my daughter's sick I want to know it!" he retorts.

They lock eyes, a discussion with no words being held between them. I've seen it before; they rarely fight, just exchange looks that put issues to rest, but tonight it baffles me.

"When you're ready to talk to us, we'll be there to listen," my mother says to me.

My father wraps an arm around her waist and kisses her hair; I have to smother a sigh at their easy comfort with each other.

"How do you do it?" I ask. I've never questioned their relationship before, but I need to understand why some people have it so easy.

"Do what, honey?" my father asks.

"You never fight. You're always affectionate, still stealing kisses after all these years. How do you do it? How does it work so well for you?"
But not me
I want to add but don't.

"That's simple," my mother starts then looks up to my father to finish.

"I married my best friend," he says.

My mother snuggles him closer, nodding her head.

Best friends.
I swallow hard, a tight smile forming to appease them, but it's filled with sadness and before I can help it, my chin starts quivering, my eyes prickling with tears.

My head bounces in understanding. "I need some air. Excuse me." I back away and turn quickly, pushing through the guests littering the dance floor searching for an escape.

My mother's voice calls my name but I don't stop, rushing my steps, shouldering people aside until I realize there's only one escape and I refuse to run into Brady macking on some bimbo. I can't handle it.

Darting my head back and forth, I'm granted a moment of mercy when I spot an exit sign glaring along the back wall. I nearly sprint toward it as imagines of Brady kissing her, sliding his hands under that skimpy dress riddle my flustered mind. I tug at my necklace, now choking me, suffocating me. I desperately need air.

It's not just Brady I picture, but Dr. Reynolds now too, groping her in his office, spreading her legs in his stirrups. She's probably his patient, after all. It's all some bad joke.

I knock over a poor waiter, champagne flutes flying off his tray and shattering on the ground, spraying guests with the bubbling liquid. A quick "sorry" is all I can offer, though. I'm too close to freedom to stop.

I spot Ashley beside my brother, laughing at something he's saying. She's a sweet girl; I feel bad that she fell for Brady's charm. I wonder if she spent any time looking for him when she came out of the ladies' room. Brady's a jerk, I'm a jerk and this whole mess is deserved.

My palms slam open the doors and I suck in a deep lungful of cool night air. I'm standing on a gated alcove covered with a massive awning overhead with no guests around, nothing but one dying light hanging down. I welcome the darkness. It suits my mood.

Clawing at the back of my neck, unable to remove my damn necklace, my sobs begin to spill out. "Dammit!"

"Shh." A gentle voice caresses my back as do strong hands that move mine away to easily unclasp the jewelry. It's Brady that steps around me and places it in my hand, but I already knew at first touch that it was him.

"That was quick!" I snarl, stumbling back, swiping angrily at my damn tears. "Where'd you fuck her? In the parking lot?" My laugh is harsh, cruel even to my own ears. With a sinister sneer, I step back into him. "You're such a goddamn prick!"

"Is that so?" His voice is steady, indifferent. Nothing but a cool façade, albeit his glittering eyes that sheen with something else.

"Yes! Yes, it is so. Why even bring a date if you were going to screw around, huh? You just don't care who you hurt!"

His arms fly out to the sides, teeth bearing with his roar. "Oh, I care! I care too damn much! It's you that's heartless."