Stealing Rose (The Fowler Sisters #2)(25)

I want to experience them again.

No. No, you really don’t.

“Ha. You didn’t talk much.” Violet shakes her head. “This is just so scandalous. You go from being a hermit hiding in your hotel room to getting it on in a pub bathroom. Talk about a complete turnaround.”

“Violet. Please.” I glance around the bakery, but no one is paying us any mind. It’s a late Saturday morning and the place is busy, but everyone is too wrapped up in their own little worlds to hear my sister broadcast that I fooled around in a restaurant bathroom. “So … do you know anything about him?” I’m trying to play this cool, but it’s probably a waste of time. Besides, I’m talking to Violet and she won’t judge. Not too harshly, at least.

“About who? Caden?”

I roll my eyes. “Yes. Caden.” I know nothing beyond that he’s gorgeous, he has a voice that can melt me with a few whispered words, he can kiss like no other, and he knows his way around a woman’s body.

Meaning, I’d love to see him again.

“Not really. I talked about him some with Whitney. You know what’s weird? She’s never mentioned him to me before.”

“What do you mean?” I frown.

“I mean, she never even uttered his name until I met him last night,” Violet explains.

“Really?” I’m eager for any bit of gossip I can discover about Caden. “If they were serious, she’d surely mention him to you, right? Aren’t you two pretty good friends?”

“Yes. We’ve become close since Ryder and I came to London.” Violet nods, takes a thoughtful sip of her coffee. “She said a few things about him right before you took off to the bathroom.”

“Like what?” I finish off the éclair because hello, it’s amazing. I’ll just skip lunch. Maybe dinner, too. I don’t know. This isn’t a smart move, meeting my sister at a bakery full of pastries. Now I’m tempted to buy a box of those gorgeous, colorful, and delicate macarons that are so popular and take them back to the hotel room so I can snack on them later.

“That they’re old friends, they’d known each other forever, went to school together in the States.” Violet smiles. “Listen to me—I sound like I plan on living here forever.”

“You’d better not,” I mutter, determined to get the conversation back to Caden. “Isn’t Whitney from New York?”

“Yes, and so is Caden.”

“What’s his last name?” A little Google could go a long way if I had more concrete facts.

“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?