Night with Sole Regret

TOUCH ME XIII

She expected him to either admit he was paid to entertain women or indignantly deny it. She never expected him to cover his initial astonishment, real or put-on, with a hearty laugh.

“Do you think I could actually make money doing this?” he asked, pausing to catch his breath. “You know, in case the rock star thing doesn’t work out for me.”

“What?” Caitlyn stared up at him with her mouth agape. “You’re not a rock star. You liar. Everything you’ve said to me has been a lie, hasn’t it?”

The teasing light died from his eyes. “Caitlyn, I’ll allow you to insinuate that I’m a male p********e. I’m even okay with you struggling to believe I’m part of a famous rock band, but you don’t get to blatantly call me a liar. I’m not a liar. I never lie. I might tease and exaggerate a bit, but I don’t lie.”

She wasn’t sure if he was truly angry, but his body was tense and his expression had gone hard.

“You haven’t been lying to me?”

He shook his head, and she concluded he was the best con man on the planet, an award-winning actor (both distinct possibilities), or he was telling the truth. She felt a mix of relief and concern. Relieved that he was legitimately attracted to her and her friends didn’t have to pay a hot guy to sleep with her. Concerned that she liked that knowledge more than she should. She wasn’t even over Charles yet, was she? This was just a revenge f**k or something, wasn’t it?

“Wait,” she said, “So you’re really a rock star?” She giggled as soon as the words escaped her lips, because seriously, who claims such things and expects people to believe it without some proof? “A rock star?”

“Yep. We were the headlining band in the concert at the AT&T Center tonight.”

“Oh yeah?” That was the most ridiculous thing she’d ever heard and maybe he didn’t like being called a liar, but she was about to call him one again. “What instrument do you play?”

“What?” he said with a crooked grin. “You don’t think I’m lead singer material?”

He wasn’t lying? He really was a rock star? She took another look at him, unable to believe someone this attractive and apparently famous would want anything to do with her. He was definitely dynamic enough to be a lead singer. “Do you sing?”

“A little,” he said, “but mostly I play bass guitar.”

“What’s the name of your band?” She realized that he was sharing personal information. This was a good sign, wasn’t it? She had to keep him talking, because if he was her revenge f**k, she wanted to continue to seek her revenge for a lot longer.

A loud thumping on the wall broke the spell Owen had over Caitlyn. How did he do that, make her feel as if they were the only two people on earth?

“I’ll tell you all about it over a sandwich,” he said. “Do you have clothes in the outer dressing room?”

She nodded. “Yeah, I don’t think what’s left of that negligée legally counts as clothing.”

He cringed at the discarded pile of torn lace on the floor. “Sorry about that. I don’t usually get so worked up that I rip off a woman’s clothes.”

She smiled. “I liked it. It made me feel irresistible.”

“You are irresistible.”

She was starting to believe him. Starting to remember that she was sexy and desirable and beautiful, even if her husband hadn’t been smart enough to see it. “You’d make a fortune,” she said with a smile.

“Huh?”

“As a male escort. I’d definitely pay for this feeling.”

He snorted. “You don’t have to. But it’s good to know I have something to fall back on, you know, if I get myself kicked out of the band or something.”

He stepped away and retrieved his black dress shirt from the floor. He helped her shrug into it and slowly buttoned it from its hem—which hit her midthigh—to the very top button just under her chin.

“That should keep the hawks at bay,” he said and tapped her nose with his index finger.

“The hawks?”

“Men circling to make their kill now that I’ve chased away those man-hater vibes you were giving off.”

“I still hate men,” she said. “Well, one man. But not you. I like you.”

“You’re making this way too easy for me,” Owen said.

She tilted her head at him coyly. “Should I be playing hard to get? A little late for that, don’t you think?”

He shook his head. “I hate players probably as much as you hate your ex-husband.”

She lifted an eyebrow at him. “Aren’t you a player?”

He scowled. “Not intentionally. I’m looking for something and just don’t know exactly what it is yet.”

“Do you honestly think you’re going to find what you’re looking for in a s*x club?”

“Maybe I have.” He winked at her. “You’re going to call me, right?”

“Depends,” she said.

“On what?”

“Will you answer?”

He smiled. “Of course.”

“Then I’ll call you.” Caitlyn found her shoes and put them on. He watched her with his devilish little grin firmly in place and only then reached for his own clothes.

“Then I’ll give you my number,” he said.

She watched him slip into his underwear and slacks. As he fastened his leather belt, naughty ideas began to filter through her thoughts. Ideas that involved belts. Would he let her try all those fantasies that she didn’t want to admit she had? And did he really want her to call him or was he just getting her hopes up? She wasn’t sure why she didn’t trust him—he hadn’t done anything to break her trust. In fact, he’d been absolutely wonderful. Too good to be true. She kept waiting for him to treat her badly, as if she deserved such treatment.

Damn, Charles sure had done a number on her. Maybe she should have given her heart time to mend before getting in this revenge f**k. What if this turned out to be something she wasn’t ready for? She wasn’t looking for a relationship, but she’d be an i***t not to see how far things could progress with Owen. He wasn’t the kind of guy who came along every day.

“So you never answered me: what’s the name of your band?” she asked as he settled a hand on her lower back and directed her out the door.

Heads turned as they passed through the main lounge. She was sure they were all looking at Owen. He had a gorgeous body and he happened to be shirtless.

“Sole Regret,” he said close to her ear, as if it were a secret.

She caught the scent of his body and the spicy, slightly sweet fragrance of his cologne. When he leaned away again, she inhaled that same delectable scent from the fabric of his shirt at her shoulder. She wouldn’t mind wearing his shirt for the rest of the night. Unfortunately, they had paused just outside the changing rooms and she was going to have to find her own clothes and relinquish the garment to him. There were, however, two problems with that. One: she would no longer be surrounded by his intoxicating scent. Two: the clothes she wore to the club were likely to send him packing. She didn’t exactly have the sexiest wardrobe.

“I think I’ve heard of them,” she said. She had never heard of a band called Sole Regret and figured he’d been playing up the star part of rock star.

He chuckled. “No you haven’t. I can tell. If you had, you’d be impressed.”

“I’m sorry, I was trying to be kind. What kind of music do you play?”

“Metal.”

She winced. “I don’t listen to that stuff.”

“That’s okay. So what do you do for a living?”

And now he was about to lose all interest in her. She decided to play down her geek-i-tude. If her wardrobe didn’t send him fleeing for a sexier woman, her career most certainly would.

“I… uh… own a business.”

“What kind of business?”

When she hesitated and tried to think of way to make herself sound less geeky, he grinned.

“I know,” he said. “You’re a madam for high-class prostitutes. It would explain why you’re so good in bed.”

She was good in bed? News to her. Caitlyn was most remembered for her complete lack of athletic prowess. Any activity that required her to move her body in a coordinated fashion ended in disaster. But perhaps she’d finally discovered her sport.

“A madam? Now that would be an interesting career,” she said. “Especially if you were one of my wares.”

“You’re done with me already? Going to sell me off to the highest bidder, are you?”

“No,” Caitlyn said. “Hopefully, I’m just getting started with you. I think we have a lot of pleasurable moments in our future.”

He avoided her interested gaze, and her heart plummeted. She hoped he knew that she was teasing about the male p********e thing. Had she insulted him? It was a pretty insulting topic to joke about. She opened her mouth to apologize, but he patted her on the butt and nudged her toward the dressing rooms.

“You go get dressed. I’m going to find Kelly and let him know we’re leaving. Would you be overly upset if he caught a ride back to the hotel with us?”

“Of course not,” she said, but her heart gave an unpleasant pang. This was it. The thing that made him too good to be true. Kellen was her biggest competition for Owen’s affection, and Owen didn’t even realize it. “Should I wait for you outside?” she asked.