Close to Heart (22 page)

“So, when is your next movie? Now that you’re back to the old Alyssa, I assume you’re acting again.” He shrugged indifferently. “Are you here on a vacation before your next gig?”

She bit her lower lip. “Something like that.”

He arched a brow, waiting for her to say more. When she didn’t, he looked over his shoulder, wondering why they were still waiting for their food while everyone else was served the catered meals they’d purchased with their tickets to the event. He saw Bailey stalling their waiter and clenched his jaw.

Damn, Bailey. Why couldn’t she just leave things alone?

He looked back at Lyssa. She was staring at him, trying to read his expression, her face filled with regret and something he hadn’t seen before—pride. She always seemed dignified but now she seemed almost regal. Now she seemed confident and self-reliant.

“How are Lucky and Rocky?” His gaze flicked up to meet hers. It was the last thing he thought she’d ask about. What did she care about a couple of stray dogs? “I felt bad leaving them behind.”

“Like this guy, Rocky’s not so little anymore. If I didn’t know better, I’d think the puppies had a little Tango in them.”

It was on the tip of his tongue to invite her to come see them, to fall right back into the easy friendship they’d shared while she stayed at his place, but he couldn’t allow himself to travel that road again.

“I’m glad.” She smiled. “I’ve missed Rocky. And everyone else.”

He tried to decipher her comment. He was pretty sure she wasn’t talking about the dogs anymore but didn’t want to read too much into it. “Well, Rocky had his family around him so he’s kept busy.”

He saw her face pinch with grief before she could hide it. “I’m glad to hear that.”

Justin fought the urge to reach for her, to comfort her, even as he wanted to lash out for the way she’d deceived him. “Here, let me take him.”

She slid her arms inside his and lifted a now-sleeping Sam, settling him in his car seat, where he could rest undisturbed. His body ignited where her hands touched him, trails of fire that burned into his chest, like a bonfire, exploding to life within him. Embers he’d thought were cold and dead sprang to life, violently, brilliantly, and he almost cried from the relief of it.

“Lyssa?”

She spun at the soft whisper of her name on his lips, and their eyes locked. For a moment, the past two months slipped away, the hurt was gone, and they were the only two people in the room.

“Sorry for the delay, Dr. Hart.” The waiter slid the plates on the table, breaking the spell of the moment, like icy water tossed on him, and he dammed the emotions that had been ready to spill over.

T
HE DINNER CONVERSATION
was tense, to say the least. Because their meal had been one of the last delivered, thanks to Bailey, there was a crowd of people already dancing when they finished. Alyssa looked down at her sleeping son and back at the couples laughing and dancing where only moments ago, tables had filled the room. She caught Dylan and Julia watching them intently as they swayed slowly, the dogs lying on the floor nearby. She’d hoped dinner would go well enough that Justin would sweep her out onto the dance floor, holding her in his arms.

Dream on.

She bit her lip to bring her mind back to the present. She wasn’t usually given to fantasies, but when it came to Justin, she didn’t do anything the way she normally did. She watched him as he leaned back in his chair, watching the couples. More correctly, avoiding looking at her. He was just as handsome as ever but there was a hardness to him she didn’t remember. His eyes held a bleakness where there had once been tenderness. He sucked in a slow, deep breath and turned to her, his blue eyes grim.

“I suppose for five thousand dollars, you’d probably like to dance.”

Thanks for making it sound worse than a torture chamber
, she thought. “It’s okay, if you don’t know how.”

His eyes went dark, hot, and heavy as they skimmed over her. “Honey, you know what they say about dancing, that it’s an indication of how a man is in bed.”

Any sassy retort she might have come up with was swept away as his eyes caressed her, resting on her lips before moving back to her eyes, reminding her of the way his hands had touched her,
where
his hands had touched her. She swallowed as she wondered if she hadn’t just unleashed something far more dangerous than she realized. She knew exactly how incredible Justin was in bed.

“Sam,” she whispered.

“Will be fine with Bailey.”

He picked up the car seat and carried it effortlessly to the table where Bailey sat chatting with her friends. She saw him lean down and talk to her before heading back to where she waited, trying to calm her racing heart. She watched him stalk toward her, like a big cat stalking prey. He moved with fluid grace, every muscle shifting under his dress shirt that tapered his waist to his narrow hips. He’d removed the tie and cummerbund, and her eyes flitted over the belt buckle at his waist. She felt the breath in her lungs disappear as she remembered his words—that dancing was an indication of how he was in bed—and heat pooled between her thighs.

He stood in front of her, holding out his hand, waiting for her to move. As she slid her fingers into his palm, she felt the electric jolt of desire shatter her resolve. She gasped at the innocent touch, which only filled her with his scent, musky and male. Justin pulled her to her feet and led her toward the other couples with one hand caressing the flesh of her back, bared by the low-cut dress, but even that was enough to make her legs turn to jelly. When they reached the dance floor, he twirled her, pulling her into his chest and letting his fingers splay over her back, pressing her against his hips. A shiver of longing moved over her and Justin dipped his head toward her, his breath fanning over her cheek and neck as he tucked her hand, encircled by his, against his chest, holding her against him.

He might act indifferent to her, as if what they had in the past had never mattered, but his body told a different story. She could feel the heat emanating from him, even through his clothing, feel his heart racing against her hand. And, as he held her hips against him, she could feel his arousal sending ravenous desire spiraling through her body in response. He swayed in time with the rhythm of music that she barely heard. Her only coherent thoughts were how best to remove the clothing separating them, how much she wanted to press her mouth to the skin of his neck, to taste him, to beg him to bury himself inside her and never leave. Her breasts ached for his touch, the peaks taut as they pressed against his chest. Her body felt like a live wire of anticipation, and she trembled beneath his hands.

As the final strains of the music played, he twirled her before bending her backward over his arm, pressing her hips firmly against him and forcing her breasts to arch against the dress, crying out for his touch. Justin didn’t move, holding her firmly in his massive arms and making her feel safe and protected again. The applause that surrounded them broke the connection of their eyes as he looked up and saw that most of the dancers had moved away from them, forming a circle, watching the spectacle. A frown creased his brow and he pulled her back to standing, the heat in his eyes doused and the grim cynicism returning.

“I’ll grab my coat and take you to your hotel. I have early calls tomorrow,” he grumbled, leaving her standing on the dance floor, watching him walk away from her. Yet again.

She hadn’t yet told him about the house and took a deep breath, squaring her shoulders as she wondered how he would react when she did, even as she tried not to feel the sting of Justin’s rejection as she made her way to where Bailey stood.

“Where’s Sam?”

“Franklin said he would take him back to the house for you and meet you there.”

Alyssa nodded, grateful for Franklin’s friendship. He’d been understanding over the past two months, especially once he realized that their relationship would never progress further than friendship. He’d seen her heart break over Justin, had witnessed the effort she’d made to rebuild her confidence and her determination to return to prove herself to the man she loved in a way she’d never love another.

“Alyssa,” Bailey began.

She held up a hand. “It’s okay, Bailey. You don’t have to say anything. Thank you for keeping an eye on Sam for me.”

Bailey handed Alyssa her clutch, grasping her hand and squeezing sympathetically. “Anytime.”

H
E STUFFED HIS
arms into his jacket and saw Lyssa talking with Bailey. It was a sure sign of trouble and he made his way to them, rubbing his jaw with a hand, waiting for their offensive attack.

“Franklin left with Sam while we were dancing.” Alyssa hesitated, waiting for his response.

When he didn’t respond immediately, Bailey glared at him. “She needs a ride.” Lyssa nodded, her eyes pleading.

Justin sighed heavily. Justin didn’t want to drive her home, didn’t want to be alone in the car with her. He certainly didn’t want to think about how much his body was throbbing with need after holding her close while they danced.

“Okay. Are you ready?” Bailey shot him a warning scowl. He didn’t need her to remind him to be on his best behavior. He was planning on keeping his hands firmly at his sides. The last thing he wanted was to open up the Pandora’s box of his crushed dreams with Lyssa again.

As they turned to walk to the door, he heard Bailey mutter his name in warning. “Don’t be a stubborn ass,” she hissed at his back. He pretended not to hear her. “Justin,” she said louder but he waved her off.

As they headed to his truck, Justin tucked his hands into the pockets of his jeans and remained silent. The less he spoke, the easier it would be to walk away again. The less he touched her, the safer he would be. His fingertips still burned from the one dance.

He opened the passenger door and held out his hand to help her inside, hating the way his heart stopped when she placed her fingers into his. He didn’t want to continue to feel this elation at her touch, or the clawing hunger in his loins that spiraled out of control the moment she’d said her name tonight.

He slid into the driver’s seat and glanced at her, staring at the purse in her lap, her hands folded over it. She seemed so calm, so serene, and entirely at ease in spite of the tension he knew she must feel coming off him in waves. The fact that she could sit beside him as if nothing happened, as though she didn’t care one way or another, infuriated him. As much as he wanted to walk away, a part of him wanted her to need him, to be broken up with loss, to be devastated. He twisted the key in the ignition and gunned the engine before backing out and heading toward the main road.

“Where are you staying?” He doubted a woman like her, with her resources, would stay at someplace like the Crazy 8 Motel, the only place in town. She must have driven in from Placerville, which meant he was stuck driving her for another twenty minutes up the highway.

“Just make a left up here at Sycamore. It’s on the corner.”

“The Miller place?” He glanced over at her but she just looked out the window, avoiding his gaze. “I thought that was for sale.”

“It was.”

Justin gave a sardonic laugh. “I guess enough money can convince anyone, huh?”

She turned toward him, confusion coloring her green eyes. “What are you talking about?”

He pulled his truck in front of the house and turned off the ignition, turning toward her as he looped his elbow over the back of his seat. “You got them to rent you the place? Why didn’t you just stay in Placerville? There are plenty of ritzy hotels and B and Bs.”

Lyssa shook her head, closing her eyes. “You’re incredible, you know that?”

She opened the door and climbed out of the truck. She’d already made it halfway up the driveway in spite of her heels by the time he was able to catch up with her. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” He threw his hands into the air.

She spun on him. “It means you’re so sure you know the truth about what happened. You wouldn’t know the truth if it bit you in the ass.”

She stalked away from him toward the front door, and he saw a light turn on in the front window. He knew without seeing him it was Franklin, waiting up for her. He lost the fingerhold he’d had on his temper.

“Oh, you mean the way you and your ex played me? Or how, when that didn’t get you the results you wanted, you divorced him and shacked up with your buddy Franklin?”

She stopped and stared down at her hands, her shoulders slumping forward. She turned back to him, looking defeated. He saw the pain that flickered over her face in the faint light and hated that he’d caused it by lashing out at her. He covered the distance between them without knowing why, only that he had to be near her.

“Franklin is a friend, a good one. He always has been.” She didn’t break eye contact as she continued. “When everyone else turned on me over the last few months, he stuck by my side.” She laughed bitterly. “Hollywood is a fickle lover. One minute people love you, the next they will throw you to the wolves.”

She meant him.

She didn’t say it, but she didn’t have to. His guilt welled up in his chest, nearly suffocating him. His hands slid up her bare arms, feeling her shiver beneath his touch. “Why did you come back?”

Lyssa laid her hand against his chest and looked up at him. “I came back for you.” There was nothing but sincerity in her eyes. “I came back to tell you what I should have said all along.”

He held his breath, unable to speak. He knew if she went on, there was no turning back. He was afraid to hear the truth. Almost as much as he wanted to hear it.

“I love you, Justin Hart. I fell so in love with you before Sam was born, but I didn’t think it was fair to expect you to deal with all the baggage I brought with me. My messy divorce, being a single mother, rebuilding my career . . . it was just too much. But if I would have just told you the truth, you wouldn’t have believed Elijah’s lies.” Her hand slid up his neck to cup his jaw, and he closed his eyes, fighting the urge to scoop her into his arms and carry her inside.

If what she told him was true, he’d made the biggest mistake of his life.

“I never used you. I never lied to you. This was never about money or fame. What happened between us . . . ” Alyssa shrugged. “I can’t even begin to explain it, but that doesn’t change it. I believed you when you told me you loved me. Please, believe me now.”

His entire family had been trying to tell him this for months. He’d turned his back on the only woman he’d ever loved when she needed him the most. He’d been so afraid she’d walk away from him, leave him behind, he’d broken her heart before she could do it to him. For nothing. She would have stayed if he’d trusted her.

Bailey was right, he didn’t deserve her.

“Justin?”

He shook his head, trying to dispel the agony eating at him. He’d hurt her, deeply, yet she’d returned. He couldn’t look at her without seeing the look of betrayal in her eyes when he’d left her on his porch, left her to deal with her ex-husband on her own. He had Chase kick her off the property. He spun on his heel, hurrying back to the truck, needing to put some space between what he’d done to her and her profession of love.

He shoved the key into the ignition, the engine roaring to life. Self-loathing gripped him. She couldn’t love him. How could he have been so blind, so stupid not to see it?

You’re doing it again now.

Justin looked over at her, still standing on the walkway to her house, the place she’d purchased just to be close to him. He could see the resignation in her posture. She didn’t expect him to believe her. She expected him to leave again. What the hell was he thinking?

He didn’t even turn off the truck as he jumped out and ran up the walkway. Justin pulled her into his arms, circling them around her waist, burying one hand into her long hair, and kissed her. As his lips met hers, she opened beneath him, her hunger matching his in eager ferocity. His tongue plunged into her mouth, tasting her, mating with hers as he pulled her against his chest, lifting her off the ground. Lyssa’s laughter fell over him like a soft rain shower, drenching his parched heart.

Justin heard someone clearing his throat on the porch.

“Go away, Frank,” he muttered against her lips.

“Just keeping an eye out for my client’s reputation.”

“My reputation is fully intact. Thank you,” she called back.

“Now that you’re home, I’m going to head to bed. The movers will be here at eight and I know you’ll break my back moving furniture tomorrow.”

“Night, Frank,” Justin muttered. Franklin waved a hand at him. Either that or he flipped him the bird, but Justin didn’t pay attention. He was too busy looking down at the angel he held. He cupped her face, running his thumb over her cheekbone.