Heat of the Moment by Robin Kaye

Author:Robin Kaye
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Group US
Published: 2014-09-28T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Six

Erin pushed open her apartment door, dropped her bag and the stack of mail she’d collected on the table, and walked directly into her bedroom.

She shed her clothes on the way like leaves in an autumn windstorm. She was mentally and physically exhausted—all she could think about was pulling down her blackout shades, crawling into her own bed, and sleeping away the rest of the day.

She wished her brain had an on/off switch. Unfortunately it was stuck on repeat, intent on reliving every second of the last two disastrous encounters with Cam. She turned her face into the cool pillow and realized she was crying. She’d never cried over a man before, but then she’d never been thrown so far off-kilter by one either. One second she’d thought she’d died and gone to heaven, then she pulled the Go-Directly-to-Hell card. Do not pass go. Do not collect $200.

A banging at the door thundered through the silence.

Kendall.

Erin had called her on the way home and left a voice mail canceling their plans for the evening. The banging continued. And knowing Kendall, she’d bang on the door until someone called the cops, and then she’d take all of her anger out on them before turning it on Erin.

Erin got up, reached for her robe, and dried her tearstained face with the tail of the terry-cloth belt. “I’m coming.” She didn’t even look through the peephole; she just unhooked the chain and pulled the door open.

Kendall stood with her fist at face height, ready to either punch her or beat on the door more. In her other arm she held an alarming array of long garment bags, probably containing formal dresses for the benefit Erin had bowed out of—unsuccessfully, from the look of things.

“You didn’t get my message?”

Kendall stepped inside, giving Erin no choice but to back up—Erin was barefoot while Kendall wore sadistic, dominatrix-like boots planted shoulder-width apart. She quelled her with a once-over and back again. “Did you get the license plate number of whatever it was that ran you over and dragged you a few miles?”

Erin clenched her teeth so hard, her jaw ached and her temples throbbed to give variety to the pain. She shook her aching head, regretting her inability to hold back tears. Crying did nothing more than give her a horrible headache.

“I know what you look like when you’re sick, and this is not it. What’s wrong?”

“I’m not feeling well.” Which wasn’t a lie. A night of no sleep, self-recriminations, and a double dollop of disillusionment was enough to make any woman look and feel like not-quite-dead-yet road kill.

Kendall continued her visual autopsy. “You had sex.”

Erin was well aware of that fact. She was sore in places she’d forgotten she’d had. Actually, she was sore in places that she’d never felt before.

“If you had sex with Cam, why do you look like a raccoon that tried to tango with a truck? Was it horrible? Is he into scary kink? Is the size of his penis

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