Stealing Rose (The Fowler Sisters 2) - Page 25

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“I don’t know. She never mentioned it.” Violet tilts her head. “Tell me what happened in that bathroom last night.”

“You do not want to know.” She doesn’t. I don’t want any major details about her sex life and I know she feels the same. “Let’s just say it was an enlightening experience.”

“And you’d like to see him again.” Violet smirks.

I shrug. “Maybe. I don’t know.” Yes, I would. But I don’t want to sound too eager.

“I’m going to call Whitney later, try and drill her for information,” Violet starts, but I shake my head, cutting her off.

“Don’t do that. Please. I don’t want it to be too obvious. I think … I know she suspected something last night.”

“Of course she did. That’s why I interrupted her little conversation with Caden. I didn’t want it to erupt into some sort of drunken argument. Because she was definitely drunk, though I don’t know about Caden.”

He’d seemed relatively sober, but my perception could have been off. “Yeah, well, you probably shouldn’t go digging for information and get her suspicions up.”

“Do you have no faith in me? I know how to dig without being obvious.” Violet laughs, but I don’t.

Maybe I don’t want her to find out anything else. I sort of like how mysterious Caden is. I know nothing beyond his first name, the taste of his lips, and the wonderful things he can do to me with his fingers.

And I’m thinking maybe that’s plenty enough.

Violet and I part after our little discussion at the bakery. She has to go meet Ryder for whatever reason and I don’t want to go back to my boring hotel room on such a beautiful Saturday, so I decide to wander through the shops, trying to take my mind off what happened last night.

Shopping doesn’t help, though. I come upon a gorgeous little lingerie shop, and every sexy little bit of lace and silk I admire makes me wonder if Caden would like it. I don’t need any new lingerie, but that doesn’t stop me from buying a handful of lace thong panties, all in a variety of bright, fun colors, though I also get a basic black pair. They’re thin enough that a man with strong hands could probably tear them right off my body.

Clearly my imagination is running rampant today.

Plus, every tall man with light brown hair I see I immediately think is Caden. Stupid, really, but I can’t help it. He plays heavily on my mind, and I keep reliving that moment when he followed me last night. When I glanced in the mirror and saw him standing there, his expression thunderous, his gaze dark and unwavering. How we never said much beyond a few words before he pulled me into his arms and kissed me senseless, then stroked me into oblivion.

Does he think I’m easy? Is the conquest completed and he’s ready to move on? What does he do? Who is he exactly, and why was he in Cannes? God, was he there with Whitney and after our weird little encounter, ran off to return to her?

No. Of course not. If Whitney had been there, Violet would have seen her and mentioned it.

But what if he has another girlfriend? Maybe he has a woman in every city. Maybe he’s a world-traveling trust fund baby who has time to kill and plenty of money to spend. I could do the same if I wanted. In fact, I’m doing exactly that right now, pretending to work at Fleur while I hide out. From what, I’m not sure.

My boring life? My responsibilities? Myself?

Or all of the above?

I’m so lost in thought that I plow right into a solid someone while I’m walking down the street, offering a quick apology as I’m about to dart out of his way when I feel strong hands grip my shoulders and a sizzling awareness heats my veins.

Only one person has been able to make my body react like that.

Glancing up, I’m staring into his face. Caden’s. “Are you stalking me?” I ask incredulously.

He offers me a lopsided smile and slowly shakes his head, his hair falling into his eyes. He looks young. Boyish. That doesn’t distract from his sex appeal, though. “I’d hoped to run into you, but not quite so literally.”

“So you are stalking me.” I take a step back, sad yet relieved when his hands fall away from my shoulders. I can’t think when he touches me. I might do something stupid.

“Sort of.” He shrugs in this completely unassuming way and I’m charmed. “Nigel mentioned you were staying at a hotel not too far from the Swan.”

“And you thought you’d come back out here on a Saturday afternoon and hope to find me?”

“Rather ambitious, right?” He steps out of the way of shoppers trying to pass by and I do the same, the both of us leaning against a brick building that houses a hair salon. He looks good in faded jeans and a black T-shirt, much how he looked last night, only this time there’s more stubble on his face, though his hair is somewhat tamed.

I immediately imagine him rubbing those stubble-covered cheeks against my inner thighs and just like that, I’m wet.

“I’ve always appreciated an ambitious man,” I tell him, folding my arms in front of me, trying to keep my distance.

“Whatcha got there?” He lifts his chin, indicating the tiny shopping bag dangling from my fingers.

“Oh, this?” I glance down at the bag advertising the name of the shop. “Nothing much.” Quite literally.

“I’m sure,” he drawls, his expression knowing. “So tell me … bra or panties?”

Did he see me enter the lingerie shop? How does he know about it? I’ve never heard of the store before and it’s not a chain. Maybe he’s bought Whitney stuff from there.

Tags: Monica Murphy The Fowler Sisters Romance