Forbidden Kiss: Carson Cove Scandals Read online

  “Yeah, yeah…” I shook my head and walked past her desk. “Why don’t you send me my schedule for next week before you go, so I can look over it.”

  “Did something else come up?” Her voice echoed concern.

  “I might want to move some stuff around.” I slammed my door and chuckled under my breath.

  I should actually do it just to annoy the fuck out her…

  I wasn’t really planning to move anything on my schedule—I just wanted to make sure I was prepared for Monday. Truthfully, I was just stalling for time. There was nothing wrong with being fashionably late to the art show if I could blame it on work. I couldn’t even claim a family emergency with all of my kids in college and my wedding band at the bottom of Carson Bay—where I threw it after the love of my life told me that she wanted a divorce. Half the people in Carson Cove had at least one divorce to go with the skeletons in their closet, but I thought my marriage was going to last—I didn’t even realize there was a problem until it was too late. I had to take my share of the blame once I heard why she was unhappy. I just wished she would have said something before she was ready to call it quits.

  I can’t avoid the art show forever—I might as well head that way before fashionably late becomes disrespectfully absent.

  Every social event in Carson Cove was an excuse for people with too much money to dress up, show off their latest arm candy, and vulgarize their wealth. I hated it. I tried to raise my kids to appreciate the friendships they made, regardless of social class, and do what they were passionate about instead of what was supposedly expected.

  My youngest daughter, Victoria, seemed to get it, but she was the only one. My other two kids fell victim to temptation—and Carson Cove was full of them. It wasn’t like I could say anything. My wisdom came with experience. When I was their age, I didn’t know any better either—even though my father gave me the same speech I gave them and had to watch it bounce off my thick head.

  Time to pretend I give a fuck about all of this.

  My first stop when I walked into Wellington’s museum was the bar. If there was one benefit to attending the art show, it was the Scotch. Mr. Wellington knew what I liked and always made sure there was a bottle behind the bar with my name on it. I grabbed my first drink and said hello to a few people so that my presence would be noticed. After that, I started browsing the high-end pieces that were going to be auctioned.

  I feigned indifference for the pieces that I planned to buy, and paid careful attention to the ones that I didn’t have any interest in—it was nothing more than a game—if I showed interest, others would wonder if they were missing out on something and that helped Mr. Wellington.

  “You’re thinking about the Rembrandt?” Jon Alcott—one of my closest friends and a client I managed money for—walked up beside me.

  “Yeah, it’s interesting.” I nodded. “I believe it is from his later years…”

  I hate this painting. I prefer the stuff he did in his prime. Jon knows my tricks—he would be doing the same thing under different circumstances.

  “I wish I could bid on it—but, I’m sure you’ve heard…” He sighed and shook his head.

  “Yeah.” I patted him on the back. “Sorry to hear it—we should get together and talk about it sometime. I’ve been through that myself…”

  I always liked Mary—she was a lot of fun when she was sixteen—too bad she grew up to be an ice-cold bitch.

  “Thanks.” Jon looked down at his glass. “I need a refill. How about you?”

  “Yeah.” I drained what was left of my Scotch. “Let’s take care of that.”

  Jon and I grew up together. We attended Carson Cove Academy—played on the football team—hell, we even won the State Championship the year we graduated. We were practically brothers once upon a time, but those days were long behind us. Our gridiron success didn’t carry over to college—mainly because we decided to stay local and go to Carson Cove University instead of accepting one of the scholarships we had to a football university.

  Our futures were already set for us, so the field didn’t really matter after high school. I was destined to sit in my father’s chair at Benson Enterprises. Jon was destined to do the same at Alcott Inc. It was too bad neither of those paths led to the happily ever after we thought we were going to get.

  “Alexis Devereaux is on the prowl.” Jon motioned to the brunette that was working the crowd like she was the only human being on the planet that mattered.

  “Oh?” I raised an eyebrow.

  “You know she won’t be single for long—maybe you should go for it.” Jon nudged me and chuckled.

  “Yeah, I don’t know about that…” I sipped my Scotch and stared.

  Alexis Devereaux was every man’s wet dream when we were in high school. She was two years older than us, the hottest thing in heels, and she knew how to make a man beg—hell, she loved making them beg. I took a shot once when I felt Cupid’s poisoned arrow and got turned down on the spot. She married young—divorced young—got married again—and history repeated itself.

  Her next marriage would be her fourth, and I was pretty sure she had no intention of making it her last. She didn’t even bother to change her last name when she got married—maybe that should have been a sign. She was the last person in Carson Cove that I needed to get tangled up with. I had no intention of getting my heart broken again and fuck if that woman didn’t know how to make them shatter on command.

  “My soon-to-be ex-wife wants something. I guess I still have to acknowledge her.” Jon finished the drink in his hand and got a refill before he walked over to Mary.

  It’s too early to leave. I’ll take another trip through the gallery.

  “Bryant!” A woman’s voice echoed behind me, and I didn’t have to turn around to know who it belonged to.

  I should have just left—even if it is early.

  “Hey Alexis.” I turned around to see her walking towards me with a purpose.

  “How have you been? We haven’t had a chance to talk much since your divorce…” She put her hand on my wrist and slowly moved it along my forearm.

  “We haven’t talked at all since my divorce.” I narrowed my eyes. “Hell, I don’t think we’ve said more than a few words to each other since high school.”

  I certainly haven’t tried to strike up a conversation.

  “Oh, don’t be silly.” She threw her head back and laughed. “You were married—I’m no homewrecker.”

  “Is there something you want?” I tilted my head to the side. “I was just about to head to the gallery…”

  “The gallery is boring.” She patted my arm and took a step closer. “You already know what you’re going to buy—just like I do.”

  “Yes…” I sighed. “Does that mean you’re going to bid against me?”

  “No way. I don’t like to lose.” She giggled—Alexis Devereaux giggled—I didn’t even know that was possible.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw someone walk up to the bar—a woman I didn’t recognize. She had long honey-amber curls and a black dress that appeared to be a knock-off of a famous designer, but I couldn’t remember their name—my ex-wife would have known—and swiped one of my credit cards to buy the real thing. Alexis was still babbling in my ear, but I wasn’t paying attention to her— I was mesmerized. The woman at the bar had gorgeous curves, and it was almost impossible to pretend that I was listening to Alexis while trying to drink in the sight I wanted to stare at all night.

  When the woman finally turned around with a glass of wine in her hand, I saw pale emerald eyes that snapped me back to reality. I did know her—I had known her since she was a little girl—there was no mistaking those haunting eyes. She was my daughter’s best friend, Taylor! I haven’t seen her since they graduated from high school. Realizing who she was made me immediately cut my eyes back to Alexis and pretend to give a damn about what she was saying.

  Damn. Taylor is all grown up now—and she’s fucking beautiful…

 
Chapter Three

  Taylor

  The sight of Alexis Devereaux trying to work her magic on my best friend’s father horrified me. It was almost impossible to grow up in Carson Cove without hearing stories about Alexis Devereaux—she had quite a reputation—she might as well have been a celebrity. Victoria definitely wasn’t a fan. She dated Blake Devereaux one summer and told me that every interaction with his mother was awful—even the daughter of someone as privileged as Bryant Benson wasn’t good enough for one of the Devereaux boys. Alexis seemed to have changed her stance on the Benson family if she was planning to literally marry her way into it—or maybe she just thought Bryant was an easy target with his wife out of the picture.

  He’s the one she was talking about… I know he’s not falling for her vicious charm—he’s way too smart for that. Surely, he at least suspects she is only after him for his money.

  Bryant didn’t look comfortable—but he wasn’t telling her to pound sand like I would have done if our roles were reversed—or she just couldn’t take a hint. His body language didn’t seem to indicate that he was interested, but she wasn’t backing down. She moved closer to him—tried to whisper something in his ear—and I saw him look around the room like he was trying to figure out how fast he could make it to the exit. There were too many people around for a quiet exit. He drained the liquor out of his glass—Scotch if I remembered what he liked correctly—and stared at the empty glass for a moment. That gave me an idea—a really bad idea—but I felt like I owed it to Victoria. She would never forgive me if she found out that I just stood there while her father got seduced by Alexis Devereaux.

  “Ah, yes.” I walked back to the bar, which thankfully didn’t have a line. “Mr. Benson asked me to get him another drink—Scotch, I believe?”

  “Of course.” The bartender immediately reached down and picked up a bottle that was hidden under the bar. “Please remind Mr. Benson that he can pick up this bottle before he leaves.”

  Damn—I thought the stuff that was one step above top shelf was impressive—he’s got his own bottle reserved?

  “Thank you.” I picked up the glass of Scotch and turned around.

  It felt like someone else was guiding each step as I closed the distance between the bar and the horrific sight of Alexis Devereaux trying to work her magic on Victoria’s father. If the rumors were true, once she set her sights on a man, they were already hers—even if they didn’t know it yet. I wanted to believe Bryant would never fall for a woman with venom dripping from her breath, but I was afraid of what would happen if he did. Victoria told me that her father had been rather vulnerable since her mother divorced him—and quite lonely. That sounded like a horrible combination that a woman like Alexis Devereaux could take advantage of—but maybe I could give him the space he needed before she buried her fangs in his neck.

  I owe Victoria that much at least…

  Bryant saw me coming before I got there—our eyes met, and I couldn’t tell if he was relieved or confused. Alexis wasn’t paying attention to anyone in the room except him—a train could have probably barreled through the gallery with horns blaring, and she wouldn’t have stopped trying to seduce him.

  “There you are.” I walked up beside him. “I thought you forgot all about me—I got you another drink.”

  “Thank you.” His eyes were still resonating with confusion—or maybe it had shifted to intrigue—I couldn’t tell.

  “I’m sorry, who are you?” Alexis Devereaux’s head snapped back like someone had just slapped the silicone out of her cheeks.

  “Hi!” I made my face light up with a smile. “I’m his date. I don’t believe we’ve met—my name is Taylor. And you are…”

  “Me?” Her eyes got wide—I knew that pretending not to know who she was would insult her—which was what I was going for. “I’m Alexis Devereaux!”

  “Nice to meet you.” I locked arms with Bryant and extended my hand as if her name meant nothing to me.

  “I just remembered that I have a prior engagement.” She didn’t shake my hand. “Bryant, it was wonderful to catch up with you—another time, perhaps?”

  “Of course.” Bryant gave her a polite nod and then she immediately walked towards the door—I couldn’t help but notice that her blonde friend went scurrying in that direction as well.

  “I’m sorry.” I looked up at him. “You looked like you could use a friend.”

  “More than ever…” He exhaled sharply and sipped his Scotch.

  “The bartender said I should remind you to pick up your bottle before you go.” I smiled and sipped my wine.

  “I think I might need it tonight.” He shook his head and chuckled under his breath. “How have you been? What are you doing here?”

  “I’ve been good.” I nodded quickly. “I won a raffle at the university to attend the show—I’m in the art program there.”

  “That’s right.” He nodded. “I remember Victoria mentioning that you were staying in Carson Cove for college—but art? Why art?”

  “You don’t remember that time Victoria and I turned her bedroom wall into a mural?” I looked down and smiled.

  That didn’t end well.

  “I do.” He chuckled and took a sip of his Scotch. “Hopefully you’ve gotten better at drawing stick figures since then…”

  “I’d like to believe that I have.” I sipped my wine and laughed. “Sadly, I’ll probably just end up doing graphic design instead of painting masterpieces.”

  “You never know.” He raised an eyebrow. “I might be bidding on a Taylor Abernathy instead of a Pablo Picasso one day.”

  “You would probably be the only one bidding…” I shook my head back and forth, but I couldn’t hide my smile—I might have even blushed.

  “I’d love to see your work sometime—seriously.” He furrowed his brow and nodded.

  “Maybe…” I shrugged. “I haven’t really shown it to anyone.”

  He’s probably just being nice…

  “Then I’ll be your first critic.” He lifted his glass and took a sip.

  “It looks like the coast is clear.” I let my hand fall away from Bryant’s arm. “It’s probably time for me to go.”

  “Go?” Bryant raised his eyebrows. “You just got a glass of wine—surely you weren’t planning on leaving.”

  I forgot how perceptive he is—Victoria and I were never able to get away with anything when he was around.

  “I was considering another trip through the gallery.” I didn’t have much choice but to admit the truth. “I don’t get to see paintings like this very often.”

  “I wouldn’t be a very good date if I let you leave before you were finished looking at everything.” He extended the crook of his arm. “Let’s go.”

  “Okay…” I nodded and put my hand back where it was when I pretended to claim him in front of the Carson Cove sycophant.

  He led me into the gallery—and I was no longer invisible. I was on Bryant Benson’s arm—that caused a few murmurs as we walked past the people who had previously ignored me. I started to wonder if I had made a mistake. I didn’t want to be noticed. I questioned if there was any way that Bryant would have actually fallen for Alexis Devereaux’s vicious charm—but he seemed to be relieved when I ran her off. I fulfilled whatever obligation I had to Victoria once she walked away, but I was still there—admiring paintings in the gallery with a man who could have bought every single one of them if he wanted—a man that I used to have a crush on when I was younger. The years had certainly been kind of him—he was still the most attractive man I had ever laid eyes on.

  “Pretend that you’re admiring the Rembrandt.” Bryant came to a stop and stared at the painting in front of us.

  “It’s—amazing.” I didn’t have to pretend.

  I doubt I’ll be this close to one again.

  “Yes, but while everyone is taking notes about the Rembrandt, I’m looking at the Picasso.” He gave me a slight wink.

  “I’ve never been a big fan of Picasso�
��” I cut my eyes towards the painting he was actually looking at.

  “He found beauty in chaos—then turned beauty into chaos.” Bryant closed his eyes for a moment. “He saw the world through eyes that nobody will ever truly understand.”

  “That does describe his work pretty well…” I nodded.

  “The painting Mr. Wellington is auctioning this year is from the Rose Period. I prefer the stuff he did in his later years, but I’ll never turn down the opportunity to hang a Picasso in my house.” Bryant lifted his shoulders with a slight shrug.

  “Everyone has their tastes.” I looked up at him and smiled.

  That came out wrong…

  “Indeed…” His eyes met mine, and they lingered there for a moment—then he looked towards the next painting. “Let’s move on before someone figures out that I’m just trying to lure them into bidding on the Rembrandt.”

  I started to get nervous as we continued to walk through the gallery. It felt like there were way too many eyes on me. Bryant didn’t seem to notice, but I certainly did. I was just trying to do my best friend’s father a favor—I didn’t want to become a topic of conversation. I told him what I overheard Alexis saying while we walked—and he didn’t seem to be that surprised by her ulterior motives. Maybe he saw through her from the beginning—he knew a lot more about her than I did.

  I was glad to be out of the gallery once we made it back to the bar area. Most of the people were socializing and didn’t seem to notice that Bryant had someone on his arm. My glass was empty, and I definitely wasn’t going to have more wine. I just needed to find a way to make a graceful exit. My night had taken a turn that I didn’t see coming when I walked into the art show, but it was time for it to end. I didn’t belong amongst the privileged.

  “I really should be going now.” I put my empty glass down on the table beside me.

  “I’ve put in an appearance, so I’m ready to call it a night too.” He looked towards the bar. “Let me grab my bottle of Scotch, and I’ll walk you to your car.”