The Love Laws (17 page)

The
truth was that he was barely a third into the book. He’d gotten stuck when the
nightmares began and nothing seemed to be able to get him past that point. He’d
experienced writer’s block before, but nothing like this. He had a major case
of creative constipation, just like Duncan had said outside Steamworks the
other day.

He’d
asked Lou casually if he thought an extension could be arranged and Lou had
just stared at him from behind his huge, oak desk.

“Are
you kidding me?” The slick, dark-haired agent had asked, giving him an
incredulous look. “Because if you’re kidding me. It’s not very funny. You, my
friend, have a contract with a major publisher who’s gone ahead and leaked the
release date for ‘Dark Desires: The H.R. Rawlings Story’ on their website. If
there was a problem you should have told me BEFORE we gave them permission to
do that. Otherwise we both look like fools, right?”

Kevin
had blatantly lied and said he was having some problems with some fact-checking
but expected the final product to be in Lou’s hands soon. The look of relief on
Lou’s harsh face had been worth the deception. Lou was a shark, which made him
a great agent in terms of getting a lucrative contract, but if he sensed
weakness he would be all over Kevin, hounding him to work or even suggesting a
ghost writer take over to meet their commitments. But Kevin wasn’t ready to
admit defeat yet. He was convinced he could still overcome this set-back. He
just needed to get his head on straight.

 Kevin
ran his hands through his thick hair and then pushed the cut crystal glass full
of Scotch away from him. It was time to go. He was just standing up, fairly
steadily for a change, when a commotion broke out to his right.

He
stared as he took in the scene before him and thought seriously about just
walking past without interfering. If he was smart that’s exactly what he would
do. Unfortunately for him, he wasn’t made that way.

The
oversized bar patron, Greg, had his meaty fist wrapped around the wrist of a
scantily-clad woman. His face was red and spittle flew from his mouth as he
tried to pull the waif-like female onto his lap.

The
woman, of course, was Kerry. Duncan’s ex and the last person Kevin wanted to
see tonight. She was valiantly resisting Greg’s efforts to overpower her but
her 95-lb frame didn’t stand much of a chance against the salesman’s bulk.

Kevin
approached the couple, shaking his head at Rick as the bartender started to come
around the bar to assist. As much as Kevin would like to avoid this situation
he was partly responsible for Kerry being here and Rick didn’t need to be part
of this scene.

Kerry
had informed him earlier in the week that she’d changed hotels to be close to
him and she knew he often frequented this bar. She’d probably come here looking
for him and instead had found trouble. Nothing new for her.

“Let
me go, you oaf!” She cried, twisting her painfully slim arm in an attempt to
break his hold on her.

Greg
just chuckled and brought his hand up to tangle in her long hair. “Oh. I’m an
oaf now, am I?” He gave her hair a sharp tug. “Seems like this oaf was good
enough to buy you a drink. But now you’re too good for a little fun? I don’t
think so.” His smile disappeared and he yanked her hard until she was sprawled
across the table in front of him. Her short, white skirt parted revealing most
of her thighs. Greg hooted like a frat boy and reached for her exposed flesh
just as Kevin stepped into his line of sight.

“Buddy.
Seriously.” Kevin said as he calmly deflected Greg’s hand from touching Kerry’s
bottom. “She doesn’t seem into you. Give us all a break and move along. After
you apologize to the lady, of course.”

Greg
just stared at him for a long moment and then stood up. It was like watching a
mountain shift in an earthquake. He was almost as tall as Kevin, but
barrel-chested and flabby. Once standing, it was obvious exactly how drunk he
was because he seemed to list from side to side like he was on a ship rather
than firmly grounded.

Greg
patted Kevin on the shoulder in a friendly yet threatening gesture that
would’ve crumpled a smaller man to the ground. “Listen, Writer-boy. I’ve seen
you in here with a different skank every week, so don’t try and act like the
hero.” He waved a hand in Kerry’s direction. “Why don’t you leave this little
whore to me and we’ll just forget you stuck your nose where it doesn’t belong.
Okay?”

Kevin
stepped forward just as Kerry made an enraged gasp.

“Whore?”
Kerry sputtered. She dodged around Greg and tucked herself into Kevin’s side,
giving the red-faced salesman a withering look from her new position. “Even a
whore would think twice before slumming with a tub of guts like you! Why don’t
you go find an all-night buffet before my boyfriend removes your red nose and
stomps all over it?” She glared at Greg and pushed Kevin forward until he was
practically nose to red nose with the drunken giant.

Inwardly,
Kevin sighed. This is what he got for trying to do the right thing.

The
next thing he knew Greg was throwing an unexpectedly accurate and powerful
punch at his face. He heard the familiar crunch as his nose broke for the third
time, tasted the hot blood in his mouth and then the ground was rushing up to
meet him as he lost consciousness. It was the shortest fight in bar brawl history
and he’d lost in truly spectacular fashion. Could this night get any worse?

*****

He
woke up in his own room. But he wasn’t alone.

Kerry
was there. Kneeling on the bed beside him and holding an ice pack to his
throbbing nose. His shirt had been removed and for some unfathomable reason his
jeans were unbuttoned.

He
groaned and pulled away from her, holding the ice to his nose.

“Damn
it. Kerry. What the hell? Couldn’t you have picked someone a little smaller to
antagonize? Like a rhinoceros? Or maybe a baby elephant? Why that guy?” He carefully
rolled over and sat on the edge of the giant bed as far from her as he could go
without standing. His head was spinning and he didn’t trust his legs to hold
him up. He didn’t really care if he fainted in front of Kerry at this point but
he didn’t want to land on his face and do any further damage.

He
turned and glared at her and got his first good look at what she was wearing.
He gaped as he noted she had changed into a very short towel. “Jesus. Put some
clothes on.”

“What?”
She shrugged, unconcerned that most of her chest and all of her toned thighs
were on display. “You got blood all over my dress. My very expensive dress, I
might add. You bled a lot.” She gave him a disapproving look, like he had purposely
gushed gore all over her white ensemble. “I thought you knew how to handle
yourself. Weren’t you a cop?”

He
glared at her. “I do know how to handle myself. I thought he was drunk so I wasn’t
expecting him to move so fast. Or hit so hard.” He pulled the ice pack away and
touched his nose tentatively. Shit. That hurt. It was definitely broken. Again.
“Why aren’t we at the hospital exactly?”

“There
was a doctor there at the next table. He set your nose after you fainted.”

“I
did not faint,” he said between gritted teeth. “That behemoth just got in a
lucky punch. No thanks to you. Did you have to call him a ‘tub of guts’?”

“He
called me a whore.” She shrieked as she threw a pillow at his back.

Kevin
turned his head toward her and raised an accusing eyebrow but didn’t comment.

“I
am not a whore,” she said with absolute conviction.

Kevin
turned away to hide his rolling eyes. “Ker. You attempted to blackmail Duncan
for a divorce and you took money from his grandmother to reject him. What do
you call that?”

“I
call that good business sense and ancient history. Not prostitution,” she said
with a glower and a flounce against the headboard.

If
his head hadn’t been about to burst he would have beat it against the wall in
frustration. “Fine. You’re right. Shamoo was wrong to call you a whore. But
what were you doing there in the first place? What are you still doing in
Vancouver for that matter? And more specifically, why are you here in my room?
Half naked?”

“If
you must know I’m back in this hell-hole of a city to meet with my lawyers. But
there’s also going to be an open casting call for a new reality series that my
agent is convinced I’d be perfect for. And I’m here in your room because I was
worried about you and didn’t want to leave you alone. In case you had a
concussion.” She flipped her long hair back over one shoulder and sniffed
indignantly. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

“Kerry.
Did I hit my head?”

“Well.
No. But you never know.”

“I
appreciate your concern. I really do and I wish you luck with the whole reality
show thing. But I’m fine. So, thanks for nearly getting me killed tonight but I
really need to get some sleep.” He stood up on unsteady legs and walked
gingerly towards the door, buttoning his jeans up as he went.

When
he reached the door he opened it and turned, expecting to find Kerry reluctantly
following him. She hadn’t moved. She was still sitting on the enormous bed with
her shapely legs crossed at the ankle and her arms folded over her small chest.
For once, she didn’t look enraged or smug or even haughty. She looked genuinely
hurt and more than a little lost.

The
man in him could also appreciate the enticing picture she made. She was very
beautiful with her inky black hair pooling around her hips and so much of her
smooth olive skin on display. He still found her breathtakingly exotic despite
her forlorn expression and poisonous nature. But for the first time he was
unmoved by her beauty. He could appreciate it but it did not make him want to
touch her. She didn’t excite him in the slightest. Instead his thoughts turned
to Jamie and how much he would like to see her in just a scrap of towel. Kerry,
however, left him cold.

Inwardly,
he cursed. He was a goner.

Here
he was: a grown-ass man in a hotel room with a beautiful, nearly-naked woman
who clearly wanted him. And all he could think about was the one woman who
found him repulsive? Was he an idiot? The answer was simple: Yes, yes, he was a
complete moron. Why was he wasting time thinking about the indifferent lingerie
designer? She had told him repeatedly that she wasn’t interested in him. She
may have responded to him in the theatre for a few glorious moments but she
would never consider having a real relationship with him. She thought he was a
man-whore. She believed he was beneath her and maybe she was right to feel that
way.

He
wasn’t delusional about Jamie. He knew she wasn’t an untouched angel. She had,
after all, worked in a glorified strip club for a few years, but for some odd
reason she still seemed untouchable to him.

When
Kevin looked at Jamie he saw a woman who positively sparked with conviction,
integrity and passion. If these qualities weren’t enough to blow his mind it
certainly didn’t hurt that she was also beautiful, independent and intelligent,
not to mention quick-witted and feisty. A combination he’d never come across in
his long and extensive history with women. How could he not be falling for her?

He,
on the other hand, was the equivalent to an oversexed adolescent who lived in a
hotel, had the beginnings of a serious drinking problem and a debilitating case
of writer’s block to boot. He was hardly a catch for any woman.

Looking
down at his bloodied hand on the doorknob Kevin realized that he would never be
good enough for Jamie. He had slept with countless women and had enjoyed every
immoral second of it. Did he regret it? Hell no. Was he ready for a change?
Hell yes. He wanted Jamie, but he had the sneaking suspicions that she was way
out of his league.

He
was obviously not cut out for the whole relationship thing anyway. His first
attempt at one had been an abysmal failure. He was miserable and Jamie probably
felt shitty for rejecting him. He should just forget about her and take what
pleasure he could out of life. Starting right now. Yeah. He could definitely go
for some no strings sex right now. He was sick of feeling inferior and the
quickest way to get over one woman was to get on top of another one.

With
that thought in mind, he slowly closed the door and walked back to the bed,
smiling grimly as he unbuttoned his jeans.

Kerry’s
triumphant laugh greeted him as she reached up and pulled him onto the bed with
her.

Chapter Nine

When Jamie needed to think she went
home.

She loved
living in Vancouver. Adored the bustling metropolis with its unpredictability
and vitality, but it would never be home to her. White Rock, a small seaside
city about an hour out of Vancouver, was where she and Jessica had grown up. It
was here that they'd gone to school, fought, laughed, and dreamed of their
future. Now it was where Jamie came to escape and find comfort.

Since their
parent's death, four year ago, Jamie had come here periodically to check on
their vacant childhood home and to get away from the city. The four-level
house, modest by White Rock standards, was built into the side of the hill and
afforded an amazing view of the beach and Semiahmoo bay. On a clear day,
Blaine, Washington could be seen in the distance from her bedroom window as
well as the island-studded channel leading to Vancouver Island and the Pacific
Ocean.