Blurring the Lines-nook (3 page)

Empathy crossed her face, and she stepped out of his hold. “Coffee. God, Burke, I
didn’t even—you know I wouldn’t do that to you.”

He did. If no one else in the world understood, she did. Not being able to reach someone
was inconvenient for most people. For the two of them, it meant instant alarm. He
could remember Harris’s phone going to voicemail each time he’d tried to reach him
that day.
You’ve reached Harris Brennan of VC Financial. I’ll get back to you as soon as possible.

A few days after, when Burke had flown up to New York to help Gretchen with arrangements,
he’d found her crying in her room, calling Harris’s phone over and over to hear his
voice.
I’ll get back to you. I’ll get back to you…

“I know you wouldn’t do that,” he said. “I’m just glad you’re all right.”

She ran a hand through her tangled hair. “Yeah, I’m fine. I think. Nothing hurts.
But it’s like I’ve been dipped in the river and left out to dry. Everything’s sticky,
and I feel disgusting.”

“You’re not disgusting.” She was anything but, in fact. He was working hard not to
look down at just how
not
disgusting she was. Even without letting his gaze linger for long on any one spot,
he could see the dewy sweat along the hollow of her throat and her nipples pressing
against the clinging fabric of her shirt. It was as if she’d stepped into one of his
travel adventures with him, skin glowing and glistening from a day spent in the outdoors.

Maybe other guys would want her scrubbed down and coiffed before they touched her,
but to him, this was like one of his fantasies come true. She’d taste like salt and
smell like the garden. He ached to reach out and touch her, press his mouth to hers
to see if she’d make the same kind of breathy sound she’d made outside. His blood
stirred south. He coughed and rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m going to get the coffee
started. I’ll grab one of our T-shirts for you to change into. You’re probably cold.”

She looked down, as if just remembering how she was dressed.

“Oh, hello.” Color rode high on her cheeks and she crossed her arms over herself.
“Sorry.”

He smirked. “Don’t be. But if you don’t get something else on, I can’t be expected
to maintain eye contact.”

She sniffed. “I look like something the cat swallowed and spit out. Someone must be
hard up after his trip to the desert if you’re finding this interesting.”

He grunted. Hard up had nothing to do with it.

“What? No female adrenaline junkies along for the ride this time? I thought the former
Miss Georgia was supposed to be on the trip.”

He raised a finger. “No way. You didn’t meet me for coffee. You get no travel stories
today.”

“Don’t tell me she turned you down.”

He held his arms out to his side, letting his smile go cocky. “Turn down this? Please.”

She shook her head and laughed.

Before he allowed himself to say anything else, he turned and headed toward the back.
He would let her think what she wanted. Gretchen liked filling in the blanks when
it came to his sex life. His reputation had preceded him since she’d known him so
long. And, apparently, his brother used to reinforce it with tales of his playboy
ways. That was him—Burke Brennan, fucking his way across the world. So when Gretchen
moved back down here, she assumed the guy she used to know was still the same.

Truth was, he hadn’t been that way in a long time. But instead of correcting Gretchen’s
view of him, he indulged her. When they’d started their meet-ups, it’d been for support,
to grieve together, and to distract themselves. Since she’d been so shut down at first,
he’d had to do most of the talking. And all he had to talk about were the trips he
took. She could get lost in his stories, and he’d play them up to make them as interesting
as possible. But eventually, she dared to ask more personal questions. Didn’t the
trips get lonely? Did any women go?

He’d realized after a while that she didn’t just want his rock-climbing stories. She
wanted his sordid ones. She hadn’t had the nerve to outright ask, but he’d figured
it out by her questions and had tested the waters here and there. Soon, coffee had
turned from talking about how you start a fire in the jungle to how you fuck in a
tent when you’re sharing it with two other people. Of course, he didn’t use that crude
of wording with her. He kept it subtle, light-hearted, not wanting to cross some invisible
line and ruin it.

At first it’d seemed odd talking about those things with her. After all, his attraction
to her had never waned since he’d had a thing for her in high school. He’d locked
it down for his brother’s sake when Gretchen had started dating Harris instead. But
it’d never gone away. And the way to get a girl interested in you wasn’t to tell her
about the women you were sleeping with.

But then he’d figured it out. If Gretchen believed he was jumping in bed with every
hot thing that crossed his path, she was safe. She didn’t have to worry about anything
complicated with him. They were buds, bros, confidants. She could live vicariously
through his adventures and not have to get involved with anyone herself.

So he’d kept the ruse up. In reality, he hadn’t slept with anyone in almost a year.
The stories he told her were fantasies. But they made Gretchen’s eyes bright and her
breath choppy. They turned her on. And he wanted to give her that escape. Even if
he wasn’t allowed to touch her, he liked knowing he was getting to her on some level.
Because if she could get hot, then maybe all wasn’t lost. Maybe that distant look
she got in her eyes all too often wasn’t permanent. Maybe she was healing.

But then he’d see her the next time, and the dark circles would still be under her
eyes and that aura of sadness would follow her in. He couldn’t seem to break through
it fully. Yes, he could make her smile and forget for a few minutes. But when she
left, the weight of all that grief plopped back down on her, like some beast crouching
on her shoulders, its long fingers stroking her brain, stirring the memories on a
constant loop.

He often found himself wondering if Harris had considered what it would be like for
Gretchen to wake up next to him that morning. Everyone says they want to go peacefully
in their sleep, but for the person finding you, there’s only horror. No peace. Why
would Harris have wanted to do that to her?

Burke didn’t know the inner workings of Gretchen and Harris’s relationship, but they’d
seemed
happy. His brother had
seemed
to love her. God knows Gretchen had loved him. Burke couldn’t imagine doing that
to someone he loved, leaving her with that burden—not just of finding him, but the
burden of wondering
why
, why she wasn’t enough to keep him here. Fuck. It made his chest hurt thinking about
the questions Gretchen must run through in her head. No wonder the girl couldn’t sleep.

He grabbed a Daredevil Travel promo shirt and set up the coffee to brew. Then he headed
over to the backdoor to get the mail that had been delivered through the slot over
the weekend. Most of it looked to be advertisements, but one elegant envelope with
a gold seal caught his eye.

He picked it up and ran his thumb over the creamy paper. The address had been scrawled
in graceful script, and it was addressed directly to him and “guest”, not the agency.
It was the third he’d received in a month. Some island resort in the Atlantic peddling
paradise, decadence, and a “touch of magic” wanted him to visit.
The island knows what you need…

He’d rolled his eyes at the tagline and had tossed the invitations in the trash. He
bet what the island needed was high-end travel agencies pitching it to their clients.
He got invites to check out new places all the time. But his clientele was specific.
They weren’t looking to chill on a beach. They wanted to dive with sharks or travel
by submarine or go on safari. Pretty islands with lots of cocktails and lounge chairs
were way too pedestrian for his thrill seekers.

But he’d give it to these Eden people. They were persistent. He tucked the invitation
into his back pocket and returned to the coffee. He’d at least e-mail the resort and
tell them he wasn’t interested. Maybe then they’d stop wasting their expensive stationary.

He fixed Gretchen’s coffee and carried it to the front. She’d slid behind Dex’s desk
and was clicking the mouse on his computer. He tossed her the shirt and set her cup
down in front of her, then sat on the edge of the desk. “Be careful what you click.
Knowing Dex, you’ll end up on some porn site.”

“No, that’d be your computer.”

“Nah, I don’t need porn,
cher
. Half-naked women randomly show up on my doorstep.”

She sent him a quelling look and yanked the T-shirt from the top of the desk to pull
it on. “Perv.”

“Absolutely. But what are you researching?”

“A doctor. I think it’s time I suck it up and get some…medication to help me sleep.
I can’t risk walking out again.”

The words knocked the smile right off his face. Sleeping pills. They were what had
killed his brother—Gretchen’s prescription. She’d sworn she never wanted to be near
them again. If Burke was honest, he didn’t want them in her hands either. He didn’t
think Gretchen was suicidal, but he also would rather not have that temptation sitting
there when the dark nights hit her.

He cleared his throat. “Maybe you just need a change of scenery. You could stay with
me for a while. The guest room is empty, and I’d make sure you didn’t escape at night.”

She turned his way, eyebrows lifted. “What?”

He shrugged, trying to look as nonchalant as possible. “Stay with me. It wouldn’t
be a big deal.”

She considered him for a moment then frowned. “No, that’s not necessary. You’re out
of town most of the time anyway, and it’s not like you could stay up and babysit me.
I could walk out while you were sleeping.”

“Not if I didn’t tell you my alarm code. You’d set it off if you tried to leave at
night. Maybe all you need are a few solid nights sleep to get you back on track. Circadian
rhythms or whatever.”

She shook her head. “I’ll be fine.”

Fine.
Always fine. He reached out and put his hand on her shoulder. “Yes, you will be because
tonight you’re staying at my place. And if you won’t, then I’m coming to your house
and sleeping on the porch if I have to. In those pink boxers you’re wearing. Your
neighbors will love it.”

She snorted.

“Seriously, you don’t need to be on your own until you know you won’t sleepwalk again.
It’s dangerous, Gretch. I won’t be able to sleep, knowing something could happen to
you.”

She stared up at him and though he could still sense the fight in her, he could tell
she was too tired and beat down to take him on. Her shoulder sagged beneath his grip.
“I don’t know how much longer I can go without real sleep. I can’t even see straight
anymore.” She took a deep breath and nodded. “So maybe just for tonight, if it’s not
putting you out.”

Something inside him relaxed. He tugged a lock of her hair. “Not at all,
cher
. We’re family. Let me help. You don’t have to do everything alone.”

Her gaze dropped at that.
Alone
. It was what they both were right now.

But maybe, at least for tonight, they wouldn’t be.

~Gretchen~

I carried my duffel bag into Burke’s condo, almost too exhausted to hold my body upright.
He’d driven me home this morning and had instructed me to pack enough things to stay
for a few days. I hadn’t had the energy to argue, but now that the time was here,
nerves rolled in my stomach.

All day, I’d remained on edge, thinking about the things that could’ve gone wrong
on my little sleepwalking escape. I also couldn’t shake the dream I’d had. Most of
it had been hazy shreds when I’d first woken up, but as the day went on, images had
cleared in my head. Images of someone taking my hand. I couldn’t see whoever it was,
but I could feel a level of familiarity. The person had wanted to lead me somewhere.
And I’d wanted to follow.

Maybe my lack of sleep had finally sent me into mental shutdown. I hadn’t walked in
my sleep since the days before my mom put me in therapy and on medication. Back then,
I’d talked to my father in the night. Was that what was happening? Was I slipping
into that crazy place grief had sent me to the last time? Wishing dead people into
existence?

When I’d told Burke I was going to see a doctor, I’d made it sound like I was going
for sleeping pills. I hadn’t meant to scare him. But I also hadn’t wanted to tell
him that I was worried I was truly losing it. After he’d dropped me off today, I’d
gone in to see a physician I’d visited once before for migraines.

She’d told me not to worry too much yet, that the insomnia had probably triggered
the sleepwalking and the crazy dreams. She’d prescribed me some mild tranquilizers
to help me get my sleep schedule back on track. I’d barely managed to talk myself
into getting the prescription filled, though. Just the thought of taking a sleeping
pill stirred up memories of that morning with Harris. So I’d tucked the bottle in
my purse as a backup and would give this change of scenery method a chance first.
As drained as I was, I didn’t see how I could avoid sleeping tonight. My body had
to surrender at some point. Maybe knowing someone else was in the house with me would
help my mind settle.

Though, the other person in the house was Burke—which made me patently
unsettled
. He was my closest friend, and I appreciated his offer to help me, but the idea of
staying here with him left me in this strange suspended state of confused emotions.

I loved being around him. We had this tie from both being connected to Harris, but
we also had formed our own bond long before that as friends. I’d known him first.
So there was a comfortable trust between us. He wouldn’t be one to pat my hand in
sympathy or think oh-you-poor-thing. No, instead, he made me laugh and told me wild
stories that provided temporary mental escape…and sexy stories that sometimes offered
a more physical escape when I needed it. I looked forward to those meetups at the
coffee shop more than I wanted to admit. But that was where the sticky part came in.