Postcards From…Verses Brides Babies And Billionaires. Rebecca Winters

“Too many guilty feelings.”

      “Guilty feelings?” Rhys raised a dark brow. “Why the hell would you feel guilty for having sex?”

      She shook her head. “The people in our town are conservative, and they have a pretty screwed-up view of women and sex. Apparently, we should do it to keep our men happy but we shouldn’t enjoy it too much.”

      “I don’t even know what to say to that.” He shook his head. “That’s messed up.”

      “Yeah, it is.” She bobbed her head.

      “I’m surprised you want to go back to that.”

      “There are people there I care about. My sister is there. My best friend…she needs me.”

      “That might be so, but what do you need?”

      She blinked. “What do you mean?”

      “It’s not a trick question.” He chuckled. “If you didn’t have to worry about anyone else, what would you do?”

      Wren sucked on her bottom lip and grappled for an answer. It shouldn’t be so hard to come up with a “perfect life scenario,” but for some reason she found herself tongue-tied. Perhaps it was because part of her had given up on the idea of being an artist…but without that she was no longer sure of who she was.

      “How about living on a remote island with magical Wi-Fi and an endless supply of brownies?” she said with a glib shrug.

      “I’m not buying that.”

      “Honestly, I don’t know what I want right now.” She nestled her head into his shoulder again and breathed in the faint scent of soap on his skin. “All I know is that after the internship I have to go back home.”

      “Because your friend needs you? Surely she would understand that you’ve got to live your own life.”

      “Something bad happened to her.”

      The truth hovered on her tongue, but she couldn’t bring herself to ruin the perfect bubble of comfort that surrounded her and Rhys. For the first time in months she was happy and wanted.

      As soon as I have something on Sean, she promised herself. Then I’ll come clean.

      If she came to Rhys with proof, it would soften the blow and help to show him that she hadn’t intended to deceive him. Only to help her friend.

      “She’s not doing great.” Wren swallowed against the emotion rising up her throat. “She’s lost all the joy in her life and she’s not eating. I’m afraid for her, and she doesn’t have anyone else.”

      “That’s very noble of you.” His fingertips traced circles on her bare arm. “But she’ll get over this rough patch, and you have to put yourself first at some point.”

      “Yeah, I know.” If only she could figure out what putting herself first actually meant.

      “I’m happy to help you forget about home for a while longer.” He traced the gentle circles lower and lower until he’d found the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. His touch held promises of pleasure to come.

      “I’m happy to let you.”

      His fingers brushed higher, skating under the edge of her shorts and grazing her panties. “Does that mean you won’t sneak out on me tonight?”

      “Presumptuous,” she teased. “Who said I was staying the night?”

      The pressure of his touch intensified as he slipped a finger beneath her panties. A moan escaped her lips before she could stop it. Damn Rhys and his talented hands. She had no chance of hiding how she felt or what she wanted.

      “You’re free to go at any time.” He let out a cocky chuckle as she arched against his hand.

      “I guess I could stay awhile.” Her eyes clamped shut as he found her sweet spot. “Since you’re being so persuasive.”

      “Glad to see my plan is working.”

      Wren’s mind went blank as he eased her back on the couch. For now, she wanted to lose herself in his touch. She could deal with her conflicted feelings tomorrow.

      BY THE TIME Monday rolled around, Wren had yet to find clarity on her situation. She’d disentangled herself from Rhys on Saturday morning, intending to leave, but then he’d kissed her and somehow they’d ended up having breakfast together.

      She’d made a point of leaving before lunch, because she needed space to think. But by Sunday she was craving him again and she’d knocked on his door with an offer of dinner and a movie. They’d made love on his couch, their bodies working so perfectly together that Wren almost forget why she’d come to New York.

      Wren dragged herself out of her reverie as voices floated down the gallery hall. Lola’s soft Southern twang was instantly recognizable, as was a harsher New York accent. As they came closer, Wren caught snatches of their conversation.

      “Sean will be with you shortly, but if you want to have a chat with Wren, she’s in here.” Lola appeared in the doorway to the studio with two people. “Wren, you remember Quinn Dellinger from Cobalt & Dane? And this is her colleague, Owen Fletcher. They’re supervising the installation of the new cameras today.”

      She left her station to shake their hands. “Hello.”

      Quinn’s sharp hazel eyes darted around the room. “We wanted to give you a heads-up to watch out for our guys. They’ll have ladders and wires all over the place, so step carefully. We don’t want anyone getting injured.”

      Could this mean the storage room would be open? Maybe this was her opportunity to see what was inside. Wren forced her expression to remain neutral. “Thanks.”

      At that moment Sean poked his head into the room. “I trust you have something to work on,” he said to her, his cold stare making her step back instinctively.

      “Yes, I do.”

      She’d realized at some point over the weekend that giving Ainslie a painting with Rhys’s face probably wasn’t the smartest move. Apart from the obvious risk of Sean recognizing Rhys and wondering why Wren had chosen to paint him, there was something preventing her from parting with it. It wasn’t yet finished, but her Muse had reappeared. She’d even found herself thinking about new paintings and wanting to reach for her brushes. There was that itch in her fingertips, creative desire slowly igniting inside her like a flame resurrected from the very last ember.

      But that left her with a problem. Sean’s ultimatum. She needed a painting and she needed it quickly. So Wren had gone back to her passion and painted a woman. Her sister.

      “Good, because you owe me a painting this week and I don’t want you to bother the team while they’re working.”

      “I understand, I’m working on something new for you.”

      Over the next hour, Wren forced herself to work quickly while the Cobalt & Dane team started the installation. A technician, accompanied by Owen, was installing a camera right outside the studio. Wren used the opportunity to excuse herself under the guise of going to the restroom.

      Instead, Wren inched along the hallway toward the storage room. Quinn was in there, talking to someone. Was it Sean? She was sure he’d mentioned having an appointment today. This could be her one and only chance to get inside.

      She could only hear Quinn’s side of the conversation; she must be on the phone. Wren gathered her long skirt in one hand to stop it from brushing along the floor as she tiptoed along.

      “The installation is going well,” Quinn said. “We’re fitting the last group of cameras, but we’ll have to configure the software because the client has a few customizations. Yeah…” Pause. “Well, I could