Beth squeezed her nipple hard and gasped at the pleasure.
He’d hardly had to touch her at all, and she’d been so close. She’d begged for it.
Best of all, she’d felt like a goddess as she’d taken him, as she’d arched her back and met his thrusts and gasped at the width of him as he filled her.
She slid her hand down her belly and over her hip, feeling the same skin that he’d felt, touching the same hip he’d gripped in his strong hand as he’d fucked her. And then her body tightened with sudden, surprising speed and she was crying out his name as she came.
Beth’s hands were still shaking
when her eyes popped open. “Shit,” she panted. Had she really just gotten off while thinking about that lying jackass? Had she just gotten off in record time while thinking about him?
She groaned in frustration, but her body was limp and heavy against her bed. It didn’t seem to give a damn what he’d done; it liked Eric Donovan just fine, no matter what his name was.
She’d tried not to use him as fantasy fodder too often, worried he would become even more powerful in her mind. Afraid that if she relived it too often, she’d never enjoy another man as much as she had Eric. Turned out she’d had good reason to be worried. Even when she hated him, she wanted his body.
“Not fair,” she whispered. Not fair at all. He wouldn’t leave her alone.
Five minutes later, she hadn’t fallen asleep. In fact, she was still lying there thinking about Eric Donovan. Who was he? Why had he lied? He certainly didn’t seem like a skeevy kind of guy. He seemed a hundred percent together. Confident, handsome, successful.
Beth got up, pulled on some sweats and went to her computer. She’d been looking for information on the wrong man last time, so she typed in Eric Donovan’s name and waited.
There were still only a few image files. That group shot she’d seen before, and another she hadn’t noticed that included him sitting at a judges’ table at some beer competition.
Beth looked at the group shot again. Eric and Jamie didn’t look like brothers. Not at all. They didn’t even look like cousins. Their body language and expressions were totally different.
She clicked around a little while, but there were so many hits about the brewery that Beth couldn’t filter out any information about the man. There was plenty about his brother, but nothing out there about Eric. Maybe that was the information she was looking for. He flew under the radar. He didn’t rock the boat. He put his head down and did his job and that was it. Maybe he was a little like Beth.
She tried to imagine herself lying to someone about who she was. And she sadly realized right then that she could do it. That it would be a relief.
She sighed and clicked on another tab. News stories about the brewery popped up, and she was already starting to navigate away when a name caught her eye. Graham Kendall. Glancing at the heading again, she saw that it still read Eric Donovan.
“What the heck?” Beth clicked on the story and waited while the newspaper website loaded. When it finally did, Beth pressed her hand to her mouth to stifle a gasp.
“Felony charges have been filed against a prominent member of the Kendall Group. Graham Kendall, son of Kendall Group president Roland Kendall, has been charged with theft and fraud related to break-ins at several local businesses.”
Graham Kendall? Local businesses? Beth’s jaw dropped.
“Though there’s been no comment from any member of the Kendall Group, court records show that Graham Kendall has failed to make several court appearances. Police suspect he fled the country weeks ago. Victims of the alleged crimes include iconic local Front Range businesses, such as Creek Construction and Boulder’s Donovan Brothers Brewery.”
Beth scanned the rest of the article so quickly that she felt dizzy.
Good God, what had happened? She pressed a hand over her thundering heart.
She knew the Kendalls. She’d gone to school with Graham’s sister and she’d been a guest of the family many times. But it wasn’t just that. Yes, she’d known the Kendalls for years, and yes, she knew Eric Donovan. But the horror pumping adrenaline into Beth’s veins was that she was the one who’d pushed the Kendalls and the Donovans into business together.
She hit Google again, but the results were overwhelming. Both Donovan Brothers and the Kendall family had thousands of hits, and a lot of the sites just kept leading her to lists of Colorado businesses. She found one other news story, but it offered the same information as the first one. What was wrong with modern news media? Didn’t they ever do follow-ups?
She tried over and over again, using different search terms and combinations, but she could find nothing.
What the hell had Graham Kendall done?
Beth didn’t know him well. She’d met him only a few times, because even though she’d been Monica Kendall’s freshman roommate, they hadn’t been close friends. Monica was a spoiled rich girl and in college she’d hung out with other rich kids. Then she’d pledged her sorority and moved on from dormitory living. But her father, Roland Kendall, had taken a liking to Beth, hoping she’d be a good influence on his daughter. He’d invited Beth over for family dinners several times.
When Graham had been at dinner, Beth had thought he was a typical overprivileged kid, as well. He’d even made a sloppy pass at her one night, but she’d stopped him before it had gone too far. It had never occurred to her that he might be a criminal.
Beth closed the Google window and opened her email. Surely she’d exchanged emails with Monica at some point. She paged through and sorted for long minutes, desperate to find a contact. Her heart beat hard. Beth was the one who’d asked Roland Kendall to consider a partnership with the Donovans. It had seemed like a good deed at the time, though she’d thought she was extolling the virtues of Jamie Donovan, when it had really been Eric.
“Thank God,” she muttered as she finally found Monica’s email address. She typed out a simple message, asking what had happened between her family and the brewery.