CHAPTER FOUR

Morning comes too quickly. My hair still feels damp from the shower I took after returning to my room last night, but I dont care. I switch out of the spare pajamas and back into my clothes from yesterday. Theyre stiff and crusty from the dried mud, but that doesnt matter. Im eager to get out of here as soon as I can. If I can sneak out without running into Blaine, then all the better. He doesnt really deserve more than a thank-you note, I tell myself. Not after what hes done to the Center. Its cowardly, I know, but I dont know how to face him, not after last night. I dont think I can look at him again after what Ive done.

But luck isnt on my side. When I open the door to the hallway, hoping to slip out quietly, I find myself face to face with Blaine. He stands there in front of me, fist raised as if hed been about to knock on my door. A slow smile slips across his lips.

"Well look at that," he says. "Perfect timing." His eyes slide down my body, and his smile fades as he takes in my clothes. "Why are you wearing that? Certainly you can find something clean that fits you." My stomach flips, and not entirely because of his scrutiny—though admittedly that stings, too. I cant look at him without remembering last night, without picturing him naked and lounging on his bed, his hand around his hard length. Without recalling how much it had aroused me. My body reacts even now to the memory, and I reach out and grab the doorframe to hide the fact that my legs are quivering.

"I... I thank you for your hospitality," I say. "But I really need to be going."

His frown deepens. "You cant go anywhere. Havent you looked outside? With the water damage, theyve opened up the street to make repairs and the whole street is blocked off." My fingers tighten on the doorframe. I throw a glance over my shoulder, back toward the long windows on the far side of the room. One of the curtains is slightly ajar, and through that sliver I can see that the sky is still gray and rainy and the faint sounds of a crane or some sort of machinery is humming in the background. I hadnt even considered the possibility that the storm might still be raging outside or how it could have damaged the city streets. How long am I going to be trapped here?

Blaine is studying me. "Theres no need to look so upset. Theres breakfast waiting downstairs. You havent lived until youve tried Martins French toast."

Im still a little shaken by the thought that Im going to be stuck here another day. I cant look him in the face. I can hardly speak to him. I just keep seeing him naked; keep hearing the moans from the women on the television. Even now, my body has started to react once more. I want to slam the door in Blaines face. I want to run back to the bed, throw the covers over my head, and hide until I forget what Ive done. Until the heat leaves my skin and I feel like a normal person again.

But no—freaking out wont solve anything. I force myself to take a deep breath. Blaines given no sign that he knows I watched him last night, and my weirdness will only tip him off. I have to be calm. Pretend it never happened. Put on a smile and act like I dont feel more awkward than Ive ever felt in my entire life.

"Let—let me change," I say. "Ill be right down."

"Ill wait. I dont expect you to find your way there by yourself."

I cant argue with that, so I give him a nod and retreat to the closet. I let myself browse through my clothing options for longer than I should, but it gives me a minute to settle down. You can do this, I tell myself. Forget about last night. Hell never know what happened. Remember what hes doing to the Center. Remember how much you hate him. It helps, somewhat, to embrace the anger. That I can deal with.

I select a casual day outfit from the rack and quickly change. Ive got to face him sooner or later, and putting it off isnt going to make it any easier.

Blaine flashes one of his charming smiles when he sees me. "Another fine choice," he says, giving me an appreciative once-over. I ignore the flutters in my stomach.

"Thank you," I reply. I force myself to take the arm he offers, but when he closes his hand over mine, all I can think about it how I watched that same hand move up and down himself last night. My skin burns under his fingers, but I cant pull away without looking rude or suspicious.

We walk in silence. His thumb brushes against the back of my palm, and I cant tell if its an intentional caress or an accident.

The Center might close because of him, I remind myself over and over and over again.

"I trust you slept well?" he says, his fingers tightening on mine.

"Fine, thank you," I squeak out.

"Good." I sense him watching me out of the corner of my eye. "If theres anything I can do to make your stay here more enjoyable, please let me know. The satisfaction of my guests is very important to me."

The way he says satisfaction sends a shiver through me. I pray he doesnt feel it through our interlinked hands.

Breakfast is even worse. I cant even appreciate the amazing French toast because Im so aware of Blaines every movement. Im afraid hell touch me again, accidentally or otherwise, and every time his skin brushes against mine, I remember the way I longed for that very contact last night, how I imagined his hands on me instead of my own. My knuckles are white around my fork. Im going to go insane unless I can trick myself into thinking about something else.

Think about the Arts & Hearts dinner, I tell myself. Remember how aloof and disinterested he was? He never cared about your work. He didnt even bother to pretend.

The rage gets me through a few more bites of food, and when that memory starts to fade, I think about Will—about the sadness and the fatigue that seem a permanent part of him now. His whole life is in the Center. Hes sacrificed so much over the years—the great salary, the cushy lifestyle, even his marriage to my mom—all so he could bring arts and hope to a struggling community. And now its all about to slip away from him. Because of Blaine.

"You seem a little preoccupied this morning," Blaine says. "Arent you enjoying your food?"

"No, its great," I say quickly. "Martin outdid himself." I push at a piece of syrup-drenched crust with my fork. "Im just not a morning person, thats all."

He seems to accept the explanation. "Are you certain you slept well?" he says, looking at me a little too intently. I squirm in my seat. Does he know? Please, dear God, no. "I was going to suggest that since were stuck here together, I might give you that tour after all. Well have to skip the maze in this weather, but if you like, I can show you a couple of those secret passages." I nearly choke.

"I dont want to trouble you," I say, coughing. "Im sure you have work to do. You dont have to entertain me just because Im stuck here."

"Its no trouble at all. Ive got some things to take care of later, but theres plenty of time for me to show you around before then. At the very least, Ill point out a few places you might entertain yourself while youre here. The house has a number of surprises."

Theres no graceful way out of this. The last thing I want is to end up in one of those dark, hidden corridors again, especially with Blaine, but Im still too flustered to come up with a good excuse on the fly.

"I need to make a few calls myself," I say.

"A short tour, then. And its still early. Youll have plenty of time to make your calls first."

I have no other arguments, so I just nod. "A short tour."

He smiles at me, but its not one of his usual disarming, charming smiles. This one is wicked, hungry. Theres a dark gleam in his eye. "Trust me," he says, his gaze never leaving mine. "Ill make sure you enjoy it."

Thats exactly what Im afraid of.

When I get back to my room, I pull out my phone. The calls were an excuse, but its probably still a good idea to let Will know Ill be delayed longer than I expected. I hate leaving him alone back at the Center, but theres nothing I can do. Im stuck here, whether I like it or not.

Wills flustered when I get him on the line. He sounds even worse than he did last night.

"Whats going on?" I say.

He sighs. "Ella quit this morning. She felt really bad about it, you could see, but she found a position at an office downtown. Not that I blame her. Her last paycheck bounced. We were going to have to let her go soon anyway, and she was smart enough to see that."

I dont blame her either. Ellas stuck with us through a lot, but she has to make a living, just like everyone else. Still, now theres even more work on Wills shoulders.

"I hate to leave you swamped," I say. "I promise Ill be home as soon as I can. As soon as the roads clear, Ill be back. Ill stay at the Center all night if I have to."

"Dont stress about it. I can handle it for now. You just worry about winning over those prospects. Thats more important right now anyway."

Guilt twists my stomach. "Ill do what I can."

"Good. I know you will. Bye."

"Bye." I hang up, feeling like the worst employee in history. I dont know how Im ever going to confess the truth of my trip out here, or my spectacular failure. Its my own fault for being so impulsive—and for ignoring Wills wishes in the first place.

I put my face in my hand. The guilt of this situation is going to eat me alive. I just wish there was something I could say, something I could do to fix this whole mess. Instead, Im running into one dead end after another and lying to my boss in the meantime. Its like Im just waiting for everything to explode in my face.

My fingers skim over the keys of my phone. Theres still one option open to me. Like it or not, Adam might be our only chance. At least if I secure his help, I wont have to face my boss completely empty-handed when I return tomorrow.

Before I can talk myself out of it, I scroll through my phone and click on Dipshits number. I hold the cell up to my ear and wait, breathless, as the line rings once, twice, three times.

Voicemail picks up, and I almost cry in relief. I can deal with leaving a message.

"Adam, its me. Kurt," I say. "I know this is out of the blue—I hope youre doing okay. I know we havent talked in a while." I dont admit its because Ive refused to return his calls all these months. "Its just I—well, you see the Centers in a little trouble. We lost our largest pledge, the one we were counting on to pay off those renovations from last year, and weve had to divert program funds, and—and I guess you dont need to know all the details. Its just that things are looking bad for us, and you were always so good at finding donors. Will and I have been doing everything we can, but if theres any way you could help—I mean, I know its a lot to ask, and I understand completely if you say no. I just wanted to... ask."

I sit there in awkward silence for a moment, and then I remember that its still recording.

"Thats it, then," I say quickly. "You have my number. Please think about it." And then I hang up before I can make an even bigger ass of myself.

Ugh. I flop down face-first on the bed. I try to convince myself that I did the right thing, but I feel like Im going to vomit. Adam was the first great love of my adult life—or so I thought. There was a time I believed he was the perfect man: successful, intelligent, attractive, charming. I was so head-over-heels for him that I didnt notice when he started to take little digs at me.

Well—I did notice, but I assumed all of his little comments and critiques were true. I changed my hair because he told me he thought long hair made my cheeks look too round. I changed the way I dressed because he told me my favorite jeans were too sexy and invited too much attention.

It took me way too long to realize how emotionally manipulative he was.

This isnt about you, I try to remind myself. This is about the Center. You can handle this. Right now a tour of this place with Blaine actually sounds like a nice distraction. I roll over and resist the urge to laugh. Has it really come to this? Is being around that sexy asshole of a billionaire really the lesser of two awkward situations?

I close my eyes and wait for Blaine to return, wondering how I managed to get myself into such a mess.

"Did you finish your calls?" he asks when he arrives at my door.

I nod, pretending that Im not stressing over the fact that Adam has yet to respond to my message. Im not even sure I want him to. The thought of talking to him again makes my stomach turn, but the thought of losing the Center isnt any better.

"I thought wed start at the top," he says, his eyes drifting across my body. "Then work our way down from there."

My stomach twists. "What?"

"The top of the house," he clarifies, flashing an amused smile. I look away. Hes doing that on purpose, trying to make me blush, but I wont let him think hes unsettled me. He cant know Im attracted to him—and he definitely cant get any hint that anything might have happened last night.

"That sounds good," I tell him evenly. I study my host out of the corner of my eye. Today hes wearing a gray T-shirt and dark jeans. He looks so normal. If I passed him on the street Id never guess he came from all this. My eyes linger on the way his sleeves stretch over his shoulders, the way his hair curls down around the collar. He still hasnt shaved, but he doesnt look sloppy. Just deliciously sexy.

I glance away before I get worked up again. Im not here to ogle Blaine. Im not some sort of animal or sex fiend. Im a professional man who came here to save the art center I had grown to believe in.

Blaine leads me up a flight of stairs. My bedroom was already on the second floor—where the heck is he taking me? My question is answered when we reach the top and he throws open a door. Cold air rushes in around us. Hes brought me up to the roof.

"I hope youre not afraid of getting a little wet," he says, his eyebrow quirking. I try to ignore the sexual implication of his words. His hand grazes my lower back as he ushers me outside. A tingle races across my skin. I step away from him, but the heat from his touch lingers on my spine.

The roof is, no surprise, spectacularly beautiful. This section is covered by a high pavilion ceiling,

and globe lanterns dangle from the beams. Theres an entire freaking kitchen up here—complete with a large stone oven—a full bar, and of course the sort of furniture that puts the grungy couch in my apartment to shame. Beyond the pavilion, a pool stretches across the roof, its silvery surface dappled by rain. The surrounding patio is done in gorgeous red-brown stone. The whole scene looks like something Ive only ever seen on one of those fancy television design shows.

"What do you think?" Blaine says. "Want to go for a swim?" I must show my shock on my face because he lets out a laugh. "Havent you ever been for a swim in the rain?" he asks. "You get damp either way."

Im not sure if hes being serious or not. "I dont have a swimsuit," I remind him. The corner of his mouth curls up.

"Not a problem." Before I can utter another word, he pulls his t-shirt over his head, exposing his perfectly chiseled chest. My mouth falls open, but I snap it quickly shut again.

"What are you doing?" I say.

He grins. "Swimming." His hands move to the button of his jeans.

"Are you stripping?" Im unable to keep the shock out of my voice.

"Im not going to swim in my jeans," he says matter-of-factly. His fingers pause on the zipper.

"Youre welcome to join me, of course."

"I—" My entire face is on fire. "Im not going to take off my clothes."

He shrugs. "Suit yourself. Youre missing out, though." He unzips his jeans and slides them down in one movement, revealing a pair of dark boxer-briefs. Once more Im bombarded with memories of last night, of his naked body reclining on the bed. Of the way I touched myself at the sight of him. My body responds in turn now. I clench my hands and unclench them again, trying to gain control of myself. Blaine hooks his thumbs in the waistband, and my heartbeat quickens. Is he going to pull those off, too?

"For someone whos shy about skinny-dipping, you certainly have no qualms about watching," he says.

I almost fall over. "I—Im not watching," I say, quickly turning away. "Youre the one who tore off your pants without warning." I imagine Im the color of a ripe tomato right about now.

He chuckles. "Come, Mr. Hummel. Its nothing you havent seen before."

My blood runs cold. Oh my God. He knows about last night. "What—whats that supposed to mean?" I demand, still refusing to turn and look at him. "What are you implying?"

"Forgive me," he says, his voice thick with amusement. "I didnt mean to give offense. I was only suggesting that by this point in your life youve probably seen a naked man or two—unless Im mistaken?"

"Im not a virgin," I say, rolling my eyes. "But that doesnt mean Im okay with men just stripping off their clothes in front of me." No, but Im all right with spying on those same men while they pleasure themselves in their bedroom.

Forget the ripe tomato—Im probably as red as a fire truck right now.

"Well," says Blaine behind me, "if youre not comfortable with complete nudity, then maybe we can keep our undergarments on."

"Im not swimming."

"Wheres your sense of adventure?" he says. "May I remind you that you broke onto my property? That I had to wrestle you down in the mud? Certainly you cant be afraid of taking a little dip in the rain."

"Im not afraid," I say, spinning on him angrily. Hes closer than I thought—just in front of me now.

Theres still a bit of amusement around the corners of his mouth, but his dark eyes bore into me. Butterflies dance in my stomach. "If youre not afraid," he says, his voice breathy and low, "then why are you resisting?"

Hes so close that I can feel the heat radiating off his skin, so close that I can smell the musky scent of his soap—or is that only him? All it would take is the smallest of movements and I could brush my fingers against his bare stomach, learn if his skin is as soft and smooth and hot as I imagined last night.

"I..." I dont know what to say. I dont have an excuse, not really, except for the general sense that this is a bad, bad idea.

Oh, Im in trouble.

Blaine must sense my indecision, because his eyes suddenly darken. Before I can react, he grabs me around the waist, just as he did on the lawn yesterday.

"What the—" I cry as he hoists me off my feet. "What are you doing?" He doesnt answer. Instead he turns and starts carrying me to the pool. "Put me down!" I cry, pissed that I fell for his trick a second time. "I swear, if you throw me—"

Suddenly Im flying through the air, Blaines arms still around me. We crash into the pool, and water rushes all around us. He releases me when I start to struggle. I kick my way back up to the surface, gasping and coughing as I come up for air.

"What the hell?" The pants I borrowed are now tangled around my knees and my hair is clinging to my face. I flip the wet strands away from my eyes.

Blaine, meanwhile, is laughing his ass off. "Come on. Its just a little water."

"Im wearing your friends clothes," I remind him. I felt bad enough about borrowing them in the first place.

"I offered you an alternative," he says, still far too pleased with himself. He stands up, and the water spills down his body. I try not to notice the way the drops slide down the grooves between his muscles. The corner of his mouth twists upward.

"Ugh," I say, before he can accuse me of checking him out again. "Youre despicable, you know that?" I turn and start trudging through the water toward the ladder.

I hear sloshing as he moves after me. "Come on, Mr. Hummel," he says. "Just a little—"

"No!" I say, spinning back toward him. I move my hand as I do, trying to keep him back, and in the process I send a wave spraying up at him. I splash him square in the face. He stops, blinking and sputtering as the drops spill out of his eyes and mouth and nose.

It takes a moment for him to recover, and when he does, he stares at me with astonishment. "Did you just splash me, Mr. Hummel?"

"I... not on purpose. I—"

He moves toward me, and I stumble back, instinctively throwing my arms out again and sending another surge of water at him. But hes prepared this time, and his eyes light up devilishly. "Now its on," he says, lunging for me. I let out a squeak and splash him again, and he responds by splashing me back in turn. I gasp as the cool spray of water hits me in the face, but now the competitive side of me kicks in. Blaine Anderson is going down.

He makes another lunge for me, and I twist out of his reach, diving underwater as his hands sweep past my hair. I shoot through the water, and when I come up—some ten feet behind him—he has such a look of astonishment on his face that its my turn to burst out laughing.

"You have no idea who youre dealing with," I inform him. His eyes light up at the challenge. He moves toward me again, and I send another spray of water in his face. When hes blinking and coughing, I dive under once more. I dont know whats come over me. Its probably just the absurdity of the situation: swimming in a rooftop pool—in the rain—wearing an outfit that probably costs more than my rent. I feel strange. Reckless. Im playing along with Blaine, letting him chase me through the water. Im laughing and splashing and, dare I say it, actually enjoying myself.

But then, finally, Im too slow—by accident or not, I cant say—and Blaine catches me by the arms. I gasp as he pulls me upright, spins me around to face him. The rain is coming down a little harder now, spilling down our faces, and I shake the wet hair from my eyes and look up at him.

His eyes are dark, intense, hungry. Hes breathing hard from our little game, but I find that I can hardly breathe at all. His fingers are firm around my upper arms, as if hes afraid Ill try and escape his grip. But I cant move. Im not sure I want to.

He moves so slowly that I sense more than see him leaning toward me. His lips are slightly parted. My own lips feel suddenly dry.

I want to say something—to stop him, maybe, or perhaps to urge him onward—but the words die on my tongue. Hes so close now that I can feel his warm breath on my cheek.

I cant. I...

Thunder crashes overhead. I jump, and the moment is broken. What the hell am I doing?

"We need to get out of the pool," I say, pulling out of his grip.

"Kurt—"

"Id rather not get electrocuted." As if to punctuate my point, lightning flashes overhead just as I reach the pool ladder. Apparently the universe agrees: this was a terrible idea.

What am I doing, splashing and flirting and encouraging him? I almost let him kiss me, for freaks sake! This guy stands for everything I hate—am I really going to fall for his stupid little tricks?

I haul myself out of the water. The air is startlingly cold, and I wrap my arms around myself as I march back toward the pavilion. The slacks cling to my legs, but I try to move as gracefully as I can. I can feel Blaines eyes boring into my back.

But why should I care if I look graceful or not? I let things get carried away in the secret passageway last night, but I thought I had enough self-control to behave rationally when we were face to face.

You hate him, I remind myself for the hundredth time today. Think of the Center. Think of Will.

And I do. I close my eyes and remember my bosss face the morning I left. He was poring over a stack of invoices, so absorbed that he never realized I was standing in the doorway. He looked so tired, so defeated, so old—and its all Blaines fault.

Im so caught up in my thoughts that I dont realize hes behind me until he tries to wrap a towel around my shoulders. I jerk away and glare up at him.

"Youre freezing," he says, holding the towel up again.

I grab it out of his hand without another word. He has another towel for himself, and it only reminds me of the scene I witnessed last night in his bedroom. I turn around and begin drying myself off.

"Theres nothing to be embarrassed about," he says after a moment. "Its all right to admit that youre attracted to me."

"Im not embarrassed. And Im not attracted to you." I dont sound very convincing.

"Why dont we swing back by your room," he says. "You can change, and we can continue our tour." Hes challenging me. I hear it in his voice. If I say no, if I refuse to go on with this tour, I might as well admit that hes gotten under my skin.

"Fine," I say.

Im strong. Yes, Ive had a few moments of weakness, but Ive learned my lesson. It wont happen again.

I only wish my body shared those convictions.