"Sof, get off." He gritted the words out, grasping her hips to move her off him.
"No, Walsh." She moved his hands from her hips to cup her ass. "You shouldn't be in here drinking alone. Let me make it better."
Nothing could make it better. Certainly not a quickie with his longtime friend.
"Sofie, I can't take advantage of you this way."
"It's only taking advantage if I don't know what I'm getting into." She leaned down to suckle his earlobe before sitting back up to stare at him. "My eyes are wide open."
Walsh averted his eyes from the vulnerability he saw behind all that bravado. A glimpse of yellow caught and held his attention.
Beneath the table was a single orchid. Discarded, left on the floor, trampled. And he knew that it had been Kerris's first choice, not the lily she'd carried in her bouquet. She'd discarded the choice of her heart, allowed herself to be persuaded by other forces, other factors, other priorities. Just like she'd ruthlessly trampled on the possibilities brewing between them since the first time they'd laid eyes on each other.
Anger surged in his veins, a ruthless battalion squashing the rebel tenderness he felt for Kerris. Squashing the kindness of his refusal when he looked into Sofie's eyes again. He no longer saw the girl he'd grown up with, but the supermodel siren who knew the score. He slid his hands up her thoroughbred thighs, pushing the silk of her dress even higher.
"Why the hell not?"
He possessed the mouth poised over his, ignoring the howl of his darkening soul.
Chapter Nineteen
One Year Later
Walsh opened one eye and then, carefully, the other. Either his head was having contractions, or he was really hungover. In addition to the bass drum echoing inside his mind, whatever he drank last night roiled around in his stomach. He drew a quick, stale breath, fighting back nausea. Worst of all, the night before was a huge, dark, gaping void. The last lucid memory he had was of Sofie dragging him into his bedroom as he'd complained that the party in the living room was getting out of control. He had come home from a late meeting with the Merrist VP only to find Sofie already there directing a caterer on the best placement of canapés.
They needed to have the talk.
They'd been dating for almost a year. She slept at his apartment most nights and had carved out a niche in his closet for a full quarter of her wardrobe. Walsh focused enough to see her silver-blond head lying peacefully on the pillow beside him. He knew they were coming to a fork in their relationship road when the sight of her naked body barely covered by the sheet did nothing for him, even this early, when he pretty much woke up at attention. He kicked himself for letting it go on for as long as it had. After the wedding-
He pressed his swollen eyelids back together. Despite the pounding headache, the thought of Cam married to Kerris made him long for the oblivion of his vodka. He was drinking too much. Fucking too much. Playing too hard. Working even harder. Hoping something would ease the near-constant ache surrounding his heart.
Kerris.
Could he not wake up one morning without thinking of her before even getting out of bed? He shoved the thought of her aside, focusing on the svelte form beside him. If he was pushing the envelope, Sofie was ripping it up and tossing the shreds in the air like confetti. She had never been a shy girl, but her meteoric modeling success jettisoned her into another social stratosphere. Unfortunately, as her plus one, he'd been dragged, kicking and screaming, into the spotlight with her.
He hated the attention they received wherever they went. Couldn't get used to finding photographers waiting at the entrance of Bennett Enterprises. Despised their frequent appearances on Page Six. Abhorred the stupid moniker the media had given him once they discovered his philanthropic leanings. Do-Good. That was maybe the worst part of all. He wanted out.
Yes, it was time for the talk.
He'd known a romantic relationship would only ruin the friendship they'd always shared, but Sofie had been available, willing, and hungry. And the woman he really wanted …
He and Sofie were both living a little wild. Every night took him further down a path he wasn't sure he wanted to travel anymore. Sure, the liquor, sex, and parties had dulled the pain, but it never went away. And in the process of trying to forget, he was losing too much of himself. He'd probably already damaged his friendship with Sofie beyond repair. He had to end things, and sadly, hurting her was unavoidable. Who knew what boneheaded move he'd make next if he didn't pull himself back into check?
"Mornin'," a husky voice drawled at his back. Walsh stiffened, shocked when a silky thigh slid between his legs from behind. "You are something else."
Walsh looked in slow dread over his shoulder, jumping a little when he saw the beautiful face and perfectly rumpled auburn bedhead hair. She rose up on her elbow, a grin stretching across her face.
"Um, who are you and why are you in my bed?" Walsh's voice croaked like a hungover toad's. His vocal chords must have atrophied overnight.
"Wow, you really were out of it, huh?" She gave him a naughty look and laugh. "Your girlfriend wanted to play some three-way. Ring a bell?"
"Honestly, no." Walsh snapped his teeth together over a curse. "Did we, um, did I … I don't remember anything. Maybe you could fill in the blanks?"
"First blank, it seems, is my name." She had the nerve to sound offended. "I'm Lynda."
"Nice to meet you, Lynda. I need you to get the hell outta my bed." Anger roughened Walsh's voice even more.
"You got some nerve. First you pass out before I even get any action-"
"Thank God for that." Walsh celebrated the first good news of the morning. "So we didn't have sex? Nothing personal. I just like to actually remember the women I've had sex with."
"We got pretty far, but I guess all that vodka you kept downing caught up with you." Lynda crinkled her face and rolled her eyes. "You weren't really … um … up for the challenge."
Walsh never thought that particular insult would make him happy, but he gulped with relief.
"Mornin', Lynda. Mornin', Walsh," Sofie rasped from the other pillow, her voice still roughened with sleep and liquor. "Walsh, baby, can you fix us some coffee? My head kills."
"Sofie, what the fuck." Walsh spoke as loudly as his pain-addled head would allow. "I get drunk and you pull me into a three-way with some chick?"
"The chick's got a name," Lynda piped up from the rear.
"I told you to get dressed and get out," Walsh said over his shoulder to the half-naked succubus behind him. "I don't even know this woman, and you coerce me into bed with her?"
"You were safe." Sofie sat up, stretching her arms over her head, letting the sheet fall to display her naked breasts. "Check the one-eyed monster. He's covered."
Walsh jerked the covers aside, confirming that he was completely naked, wearing nothing but an apparently unused condom. Walsh released a breath he'd been caging in his chest. He climbed over Sofie, graceless and awkward, wrapping the sheet around his waist in belated modesty.
He paused by his discarded suit pants on the floor, reaching down to grab his wallet from the pocket. He extracted a hundred-dollar bill, walking back to the bed and offering it to Lynda.
"What's this for? I'm not a prostitute."
"I know." Actually he didn't know for sure, but he needed to placate her into a peaceful, drama-free departure. "I was rude, so let me cover your cab fare. It's the least I can do."
Lynda grinned, her open, outstretched palm waiting.
"When you put it that way."
She unfolded her shapely self out of the bed, slid into her jeans, and bent to retrieve her shoes from beneath the bed. He had to admit it was a nice rear view, but he wasn't even tempted. He strolled back toward his awaiting showerheads, praying their powers of rejuvenation would get him in gear. He had a flight to catch.
Aw, damn. To North Carolina.
He wouldn't be able to avoid Kerris. It was Cam's birthday, and there was a party tonight. And it just so happened to coincide with Unc's summons home. Uncle James wanted him to go to Haiti. He was ready to move forward on their plans for an orphanage there.
Walsh was eager to do some globetrotting for the foundation. He'd been benched too long finalizing the Merrist acquisition, which had stopped and stalled so many times over the last year he'd lost count. He had been to Kenya only one other time since Iyani's funeral. He'd actually taken Cam with him. That was a compromise that allowed him to see Cam without having to see Kerris. As a courtesy, he'd invited Kerris along and held his breath until Cam told him she'd refused. Was she avoiding him, too?