The Winner Takes It All (A Something New Novel) (21 page)

Eyes a watery mess, she rested her head on the rim of the seat. “Good sign?”

“Everything’s gone, you’re through the roughest part.” Fingers trailed up and down her spine.

She heaved again, her stomach not getting the message that it was empty. “This is humiliating.”

He chuckled. “You’ll get over it.”

“I hate Jägerbombs,” she said pitifully.

“Most people do after a night with them.”

Stomach finally seeming to settle, she sat on her haunches.

He flushed the toilet. “Feel better?”

She stared at him. He sat on the edge of the tub, his chest bare and a pair of sweat shorts clinging to his powerful thighs, looking completely unfazed. Why was he here? Helping her?

Didn’t most men hide away when a woman was at their worst? And she was clearly a mess. Her makeup had to be everywhere. Her eyes were watery, her nose runny, the taste in her mouth foul.

But he didn’t seem apt to leave.

He released her hair, slid the washcloth from her neck and rewet it before washing her face off. He was so tender, so considerate, her chest squeezed.

Why did he have to be like this? Why couldn’t he stay in the box she’d put him in? She gazed into his green eyes, filled with concern, and admitted the truth.

She was falling for him. Falling hard. Like diving off a skyscraper where there was nothing below but concrete to catch her. She swallowed the sudden tightness in her raw throat that had nothing to do with being sick. “Why are you doing this?”

He smoothed the washcloth over her brow and along her hairline. “Doing what?”

“Taking care of me.” The urge to cry, so foreign to her last week, now a familiar companion, welled. Nobody ever took care of her. Not since she was a little girl.

His lips pressed together as though containing a frown. “Why wouldn’t I?”

She brushed her hair back, her stomach finally calm. “I’m a disgusting mess.”

Not even close to perfect. Nowhere near composed.

He smiled, trailing a finger down her cheek. “Yeah, you are.”

Exhaustion stole over her and without thinking she put her head on his knee. He stilled for a fraction of a second, and then stroked her hair, soft and gentle.

It was so like him. On the surface he was all gruff blunt force, but his heart was pure. Sure and steady and strong. For years she’d conditioned herself to be the best, to never show any weakness, and never give a man the upper hand when she could keep it for herself. But right now she wanted to stay here, sitting at Shane’s feet, her head resting on his thigh and his hand brushing her hair, forever.

Eyelids growing heavy, she closed her eyes but murmured, “I need to brush my teeth.”

“Shhh, just rest,” he said quietly. He gathered her in his arms, picking her off the floor.

“My teeth,” she protested but had no more strength left.

He didn’t answer, just held her as he walked down the hall and kicked open her cracked-open door before placing her down on the bed.

The soft sheets were heaven against her clammy skin and she sank into the mattress. He padded away only to return with a glass of water. He held it out to her. “Drink this.”

With considerable effort she propped up on her elbow and gulped, the cool water a salve on her dry, sore throat. “Thank you.”

Their gazes met and held, and the world tilted, shifting under her feet before settling again.

“Lie down and get some sleep,” Shane said, his voice low.

“Don’t leave me.” She slipped under the covers and put her head on the pillow. She couldn’t bear for him to go. “Please.”

Several moments ticked by in the quiet room before he gave her a small nod. “I won’t,” he said, slipping into the bed behind her and tucking her close.

Ah, yes. She relaxed into him. His arms enveloped her. Had anything ever felt this good? Sleepiness crawled through her like a drug, but she managed to say, “Shane.”

He kissed her temple. “What, baby?”

She couldn’t go to sleep unless he knew he was important. Until he understood. “I want to run for congress.”

There was a long pause before he said, “Okay.”

“That’s why I’m getting married.” Her lids drooped.

He stiffened behind her but didn’t make any move to back away.

She yawned, snuggling into him. Had anything ever felt as good as his arms? “I’ve never even gone on a real date with Miles Fletcher. He’s never laid a finger on me.”

She’d deal with the consequences of her admission tomorrow, but tonight she needed him to know.

“And he never will.” His voice a low promise in her ear.

She shivered, and laced her fingers with his. “I’m not a cheater.”

He pulled her closer. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”

She nodded, drifting off to sleep, feeling cared for, for the first time in as long as she could remember.

Cecilia felt remarkably good when she woke up, with hardly even a headache. Once she’d taken a shower and scrubbed away the last remnants of sickness from the night before, she’d felt almost normal.

She eyed her phone, abandoned on the secretary’s desk overlooking the window. She walked over to it, skimming the missed calls and voice mails. She flicked on the screen and looked at the e-mail icon.

She had a hundred e-mails.

She chewed the inside of her cheek, staring at the life waiting for her.

Just the thought of it sat like a weight on her chest. She had to stop procrastinating. It wasn’t like her. She’d always dealt with the truth, no matter how bad, head-on. So what was she doing?

And why?

She wanted to believe it was the arrangement with Miles and her impending nuptials that had her avoiding everyone back home, but now she wasn’t so sure. She couldn’t work up the energy to care. There were a thousand details to work out, but strategizing for her campaign held no appeal. Dealing with her father and his latest list of political problems didn’t call to her the way it normally did.

She was tired. Tired of him. Tired of the game.

But she didn’t know the reason.

She threw the phone back on the desk and walked out of the room without a backward glance.

Right now, all she wanted was to talk to Shane.

She’d figure out the rest. She always did.

She found him in the downstairs office on the phone, his brow furrowed in concentration as he listened to the caller. She propped herself on the wood frame and watched him.

Everything about him was powerful, from the authoritative way he spoke to the way he moved. She’d grown up around powerful men, but there was something different about Shane. It was like his leadership was innate. He didn’t have to force it. Or cultivate it. It was part of who he was.

Listening to him talk, it was clear he was involved in some sort of disagreement, but he was entirely calm. His voice level. Every statement he made rang with confidence and certainty.

She’d worked with enough politicians to know true leadership skills were a rare commodity. Most had to work on it. It had to be studied and learned. It took conscious effort.

But she’d bet Shane had never practiced a day in his life.

He wore power like a second skin.

He glanced up from his computer, catching her standing there. The hard, drawn lines of his face relaxed, his gaze lit up, and his lips curved into a smile that made her heart speed.

Cecilia blinked. Shocked. He was happy to see her.

The knowledge made her warm all over. She could become addicted to making Shane happy.

He waved her in and she sat on the couch to wait for him to be done.

Their gazes locked.

All that heat, all that chemistry sparked to life. Images of what they’d done last night filled her mind. The way his hands had been so hot on her. The sure way he touched her body. The way he’d made her come.

She shivered. Wishing with everything in her that he hadn’t stopped. Soberness changed none of the wildness she’d felt last night.

His eyes darkened. He told the caller he had an emergency and he’d call them back, hanging up without waiting for an answer.

She crossed her legs, sliding her hand along the couch arm. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“We were starting to go in circles, always a sign they need a break.” He got up from the desk and walked over to the entryway, closing the glass French doors and sealing them alone in the office.

“Is everything okay?”

He frowned. “We’re trying to iron out some issues on this city contract.”

“Is it serious?” She pointed to the now-closed doors. “I can leave and let you get back to work.”

“It is serious. But I don’t want you to leave. We’re at a stalemate.” He walked over to her with a lethal grace.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Later,” he said, joining her on the small love seat.

“You’re very good at that,” she said, loving the way his firm thigh pressed against hers.

“Good at what?”

She shifted, ever so subtly, wanting to be close to him. Wanting to feel that protected, intimate feeling from last night. “Leadership. I can see why you’re so successful.”

He shrugged, throwing one arm along the sofa’s back. “I never really thought about it.”

“Good leaders don’t have to,” she said. She wanted to cuddle in his arms. The desire was so unlike her, she didn’t know what to make of it.

“I’m not so sure I’m all that good, I just do what I have to.”

“Like I said before, that’s bullshit.” He looked away, and she knew she’d touched a nerve, but it didn’t stop her. “You didn’t accomplish what you have by chance. It doesn’t just happen to you. Why aren’t you proud of it?”

“Who says I’m not?” His voice turned hard, but to her surprise he put his hand on her knee.

“I do. You minimize it. And when anyone says anything about it, you act like you’re embarrassed.”

He stared out the window and Cecilia didn’t think he was going to answer, but then he sighed and squeezed her leg.

“I’m not embarrassed. It just doesn’t feel like an accomplishment. Before my dad died I didn’t have any plans beyond having a good time. I wasn’t a bad kid, just a slacker. I never thought beyond the next weekend and how much money I needed in my pocket.” He frowned, shaking his head. “When he died, everything was so desperate. I was in pure panic mode. Something just took over. I put my head down and bulldozed through every obstacle that came in my path. The first couple of years, I had three jobs, one of which was for my uncle Grady.”

He met her gaze, his green eyes flat. “He works for me now. Some bullshit family job pushing paper, because I owe him.”

She swung her leg. “Do you feel guilty?”

“Not guilty . . . Just . . . I don’t know.” He looked away again. “Responsible. His was the first company I bought out. I made it clear if he didn’t sell he’d end up going out of business because there was no way he could compete with me.” He smiled scornfully. “I was nice about it, but the gist was there.”

“Why couldn’t he compete?”

He shrugged. “I was better, more competent, more competitive, and more desperate than he could ever be. We lived and worked in the same neighborhood and he started losing guys to me, and bids. I didn’t mean to put him out of business, but my family wasn’t even close to being financially secure. Once I started I couldn’t stop. Even now, I see the numbers in my bank accounts, but I always feel like I’m one step away from disaster.”

She wanted so badly to reach out and touch him but stopped herself. Instead, she said in a soft voice, “But you did it. You saved them. They’re all successful adults. You did a good job.”

“I don’t know. It still doesn’t feel like enough.”

“I think that’s habit. To everyone else, you’re a hero.”

He laughed. “I’m sure they’d disagree.”

She was absolutely sure they wouldn’t but didn’t say that. Nor did she push anymore, her instinct telling her to back off.

He rubbed his palm over her thigh, sending a shiver of awareness tingling over her skin. “How do you feel?”

“Shockingly good.” She surprised herself by covering his hand with hers.

Their fingers twined. So natural and right, she could only stare at his long, tan fingers entwined with her small, paler ones.

“That’s the advantage of throwing it all up.”

She flushed, covering her face with her free hand. “I’m so humiliated. I wish you wouldn’t have seen that.”

“Why?”

“Because.” She shook her head. “I was messy and gross, and that’s not how I want you to see me.”

“I kind of liked it.”

Her head jerked up. “Are you crazy?”

“It makes you real, Cecilia. Human.” He tugged her hand, and she scooted forward. “I’m not sure I’ve ever seen you look so beautiful.”

The air heavy with things unsaid, she frowned. “I’m not sure thank you is the appropriate thing to say here.”

“I don’t care about you being appropriate.”

She tilted her head to the side. “You don’t, do you?”

“Not even a little bit.” He tugged again, sending her practically into his lap. His lips covered hers before she could protest.

And just like that he sucked her in.

She kissed him back. Her tongue stroking his, bold and demanding.

Wanting him. Needing him. He deepened the kiss, and she moaned against him. Wanting to crawl into him.