Mr One-Night Stand

‘What makes you say that?’

‘From what I’ve seen, and heard on the grapevine, I believe he’s been hitting the bottle for quite some time.’ He rested his elbows on his knees and linked his hands together. ‘The gambling is just another of his vices.’

‘But I would know if he had a drink problem,’ she said. ‘He wouldn’t have been able to hide it from me.’

‘It’s amazing how well it can be hidden.’

‘But he didn’t say he had a problem—not in that regard. He spilled his all to me today, but...’

‘He probably doesn’t even realise it himself. High-functioning alcoholics like Andrews often don’t.’

Jennifer racked her brain, thinking over the times she had seen Tony of late. Had he ever been without a drink nearby, even at the office? His mood swings, his irrational behaviour, his forgetfulness... And then there were the cold sweats, when he’d told her he’d simply been unwell. Had that been something else entirely?

‘Have I really been so preoccupied that I’ve totally missed the signs?’ she asked, her voice distant, the truth of the situation and the magnitude of her failure as a friend setting in. ‘I mean, Christ, he’s given me so much and I’ve repaid him by—what? Not even noticing? Neglecting him when he needed me the most—not giving him the time—’

‘Stop it, Jennifer.’ He reached out and cupped her hands in his, the warmth of his touch contending with the chill running through her. ‘Look at me.’

She did as he asked, her eyes meeting the fervent heat of his own.

‘None of this is your fault,’ he said. ‘He has done this to himself. He is the one to blame—he is the one who has hurt those around him and let them all down. Not you.’

The bitterness in his voice cut through her. He made it sound so detestable, so personal...

‘You talk like you’re speaking from experience.’

His hands flexed around hers, his eyes flashing with a pain so raw that her heart clenched and her own problems—Tony’s problems—temporarily faded.

‘Are you?’

He blinked, his gaze falling away. ‘Am I what?’

‘Speaking from experience?’

A warning bell rang, but the question was out anyway, and the need to know rose from a part of her she couldn’t ignore.

CHAPTER NINE

HE’D ASKED FOR THAT—her question.

He should have been more prepared, more composed. But seeing her break down, listening to her talk about her family, her responsibilities, and then having the whole Tony situation piled on top had thrown him off guard.

And then there was his guilt. Christ—now that he knew how much rode on her career... and along he’d come, shaking it up with his out-of-control cock.

What an arsehole.

And now he’d made another blunder—giving her a glimpse of the demons that no one had any business knowing about. No one saw that side of him. Not ever. He’d learned the hard way that emotions were for the weak, and that wearing them on your sleeve earned you a fist or worse.

But he looked to her now, and suddenly his philosophy no longer applied.

Her emotional tirade hadn’t made her weak. It had made her beautiful—admirable, even—and the need to pull her towards him was killing him. He wanted to take away her pain and his past with the passion that flared so readily between them.

‘You don’t have to tell me,’ she assured him softly. ‘Not if you don’t want to.’

Over her hands, his thumbs caressed her skin and for a split-second he cons

idered doing it—silencing her with his mouth, making her forget it all.

And what would that make him?