Identity Crisis(36)

‘So it’s true, then,’ Pittman said. ‘Tess Delaney did spend the night with you after the Golden Kiss debacle?’

Debacle! That slimy little rat! ‘Get out of my face.’ Garrett’s voice was a dangerous growl, and he wasn’t sure what would have happened if Kendra hadn’t pushed her way front and center.

‘Mr. Pittman,’ she said, her voice way too good-natured for what Garrett was sure she must have felt. ‘The answer to that question is obvious. Where else did you think I would be on such an occasion?’ As if to demonstrate, she ran her arm through Garrett’s and smiled up at him.

‘And what about Barker Blessing?’ Pittman pressed on. ‘Have you heard from him? From his lawyers?’

‘I think you need to talk to Mr. Blessing about that.’ She stepped forward into the man’s personal space and forced him back with nothing more than the power of presence. ‘If you’ll excuse us, Mr. Pittman –’ she shot a quick look around, and offered a smile and a polite nod to the rest of the rabble ‘– everyone. Coffee’s getting cold.’ Her smile turned wicked. ‘I’m starving, and Garrett promised to make me pancakes.’ Then she stepped back and shut the door in the man’s face – not slammed it, just shut it – and turned to face Garrett, her back pressed against the door.

‘Make you pancakes?’ Garrett managed before she hijacked the conversation.

‘Rule number one,’ she said, before he could even utter the curse that was on the tip of his tongue. ‘Don’t give the press any reason to up the ante.’ She shrugged. ‘All right, you already blew that one last night, and this is the result.’ She nodded to the shuffling and mumbling they could still hear beyond the closed door. ‘This is why we needed things to go smoothly last night, and why we need them eating out of our hands now.’ She made her way into the living room and peeked around the edge of the curtain at the reporters on the lawn.

‘I blew it?’ he bristled, following her to the window. ‘You’re the one who dumped your dessert in Barker Blessing’s lap.’

And that was his fatal mistake. Would he never learn to hold his tongue around Kendra Davis? He could see the tension in her shoulders before she turned to face him. ‘It was dessert, Garrett, just dessert. Not your fist to the man’s face, not a lawsuit, not jail.’ She stood facing him with her hands on her hips, her eyes bright and fiery. ‘And would you have hit Pittman there, if I hadn’t stepped in?’

‘Oh, you’re a fine one to talk about not resorting to violence,’ he said, following her around the living room as she scooped together her clothing. ‘You, who nearly dislocated my jaw!’

She turned on him. ‘Oh pa-lease. You deserved it. You’ve deserved everything you got so far, and last night, well, if you’d have just let me handle it, then this –’ she stabbed a finger at the door ‘– wouldn’t be happening.’ She shoved off the robe and stood naked in front of him, tugging her panties up over her hips and then fighting her way into the green dress. And fuck, it was so hard to stay focused with her doing that. Did she do that on purpose – get his cock’s full attention so his brain wouldn’t work? She probably did. She was a bitch, he reminded himself. How the hell could he forget the number one fact about Kendra Davis? The woman was a bitch. Interact with her at your own risk. He watched her stuff her stockings and garter belt into her bag like they were the enemy, and he was sympathetic.

‘Where’s the back door?’ she said.

‘Through the kitchen,’ he replied, his brain still half occupied by her angry reverse striptease that had left him in a bad way. ‘Wait a minute. Where are you going? What are you doing?’ He followed her into the kitchen with her stumbling into her killer heels as she went. ‘Fixing it,’ she huffed. Then she fumbled in her bag for her iPhone. ‘Hi, Dee. You home? Can you come get me? I’m at Garrett’s.’ He was pretty sure Dee got the “don’t ask” warning in her voice. She’d have to be deaf and stupid not to. ‘Come around back. The alley yes. Now.’

Dee lived close. Garrett hadn’t planned it that way, but it was a nice neighborhood. Kendra shoved her phone back into her bag and headed for the door. Then she turned her attention to him. ‘You stay put. Don’t go out until I give you the all-clear. I mean it, or you can find someone else to fix your fuck-ups.’ Then she shoved her way out the back door, pulling it carefully to behind her. He’d expected her to slam it, but then K. Ryde wouldn’t slam a door, would she – er – he?