The Ruthless Caleb Wilde

Except, this time the bed wasn’t only the woman’s. It was the bed she shared with her lover.

It made him shudder, thinking of it even now. How another man had lain between those sheets, taken the woman as he’d taken her, heard her cries, felt her heat all around him….

“Goddammit,” Caleb muttered.

He looked out the wall of glass, hands jammed into his trouser pockets.

She had made a fool of him, letting him think of her as sweet, fresh and innocent when the ugly truth was that she had a lover, and they had an arrangement.

The guy slept around, and so did she.

Caleb shuddered.

Maybe he had it wrong. Maybe he was the one who’d made a fool of himself.

The deal she had with her lover was none of his business.

It was nasty, yes. Enough to make him angry, but enough to have made him lose his self-control? To have slugged the guy?

The SOB at the club had deserved a beating.

Sage’s lover had simply walked into the right place at the wrong time.

And his reaction, the violence of it, was all because he’d been taken in by Sage’s convincing act, by the humiliation of knowing he’d thought of taking her into his life.

That idea hadn’t lasted long. How could it, when it had been so damned stupid?

But that he’d considered it at all, that he’d been such an ass …

That he still was, because he remembered what he’d felt, what he’d thought he felt, making love to her …

“Something happened in New York.”

Caleb swung around. Travis was standing beside the closed door, arms folded.

“I thought you left.”

“I shut the door but I’m still here.”

“Well, open it again. And go.”

“I’m not going anywhere. Not until you talk to me, not until you tell me what happened back east.”

“I met with a client. I had a meal with an old friend. I went to a party I was too old for. Okay? You happy now?”

Travis came slowly toward him.

“I’m not a fool, Caleb. Something happened.” Travis paused. “That morning when you were in New York. You called me.”

“Did I?” Caleb said, as if the moment weren’t forever burned into his memory.

“It was early. Six-something, your time, and—”

Caleb gave what he hoped was a casual shrug. “I don’t remember.”

“You called,” Travis said flatly. “And you sounded … strange.”

“Maybe because it didn’t happen.”