Close Up (9 page)

“That’s my condition. I won’t insist on paying for half of our divorce if you spend the weekend with me at the cabin.”

The cabin. The very place they had spent their honeymoon, far from the pressures of the city, of school and the influence of his family or hers. Where they had created a private world of youthful love, laughter and sex. She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t go there and pretend it wasn’t breaking her heart. “Are you insane? Why would we torture ourselves that way?”

The corner of his mouth turned up. “I wasn’t planning on being tortured. I was planning to enjoy every minute of it.”

Now she was even more shocked. “What do you mean?”

His eyes were dark and full of sexual hunger. “You know what I mean.”

Yes. Yes, she did. “You want to have sex?” Seriously? It was mind-boggling. It was crazy. Stupid. Worst. Idea. Ever.

And very, very tempting...

“Well, the TV reception sucks and it’s October, so swimming is out. So, yes, I was planning on having sex. A lot of it.”

“Isn’t that blackmail?” It wasn’t, not technically, since he was saying he wouldn’t insist on paying if she agreed, which was definitely backward, but nonetheless, it was a little manipulative. Which did not explain why she was suddenly completely and totally aroused. Even her toes were turned on. It was ridiculous.

“No. It’s a bargain.”

“Sometimes a bargain is a poor purchase if you don’t need whatever you’re buying.”

“Ah, but you need this.” He reached out and stroked his finger across her bottom lip. “We both need this.”

Damn, this table was too small. He shouldn’t be able to touch her. Swallowing hard, she studied him, wondering if she were insane to even be considering his suggestion. If she had any intelligence whatsoever she would walk out of the wine bar.

“No. That is just not a good idea.” She had enough to deal with. She couldn’t handle a weekend pretending that everything was business as usual with her and Sean, circa a decade ago. Too much had changed.

But Sean, damn him, gave her a smile. “So I guess it’s okay then if I pay for half of our divorce.”

He knew her well enough to know she had drawn a line in the sand. He was kicking his foot through it. Damn him. “You wouldn’t.”

“Oh, I think you know me well enough to know that I’m completely serious. Think of it as a bargain, Kristy. You get what you want—I get what I want.”

“That is the creepiest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

He laughed. She wasn’t sure what was so amusing about the situation. “Tell me how you really feel. So why exactly is the idea of spending two days with me so appalling?”

It wasn’t. But she didn’t want to be manipulated into doing it. “It makes me feel patronized.”

The smile fell off his face and his eyes smoldered. “There is nothing patronizing about what I want to do with you. What I want to do with you is show you that we worked together. That what we had was
better
. That it ended all wrong.”

Oh, my. She couldn’t help but be very intrigued. He still wanted her. There was something really quite wonderful about that. But she didn’t want to be a triumph for him, no matter how much her body might disagree.

“And if I have to play hardball to get that opportunity,” he said, “then that’s what I’ll do.”

There was no question the sex would be amazing. It always had been between them. “Just Saturday and Sunday and then what?”

“Then it’s all up to you. I can sign your divorce papers, if that’s what you want. Or we can discuss other options at that point.”

Other options. What other options could there be? Getting back together? Why did that send a thrill through her? Or maybe he meant a dissolution or annulment. “This isn’t a good idea,” she repeated.

“I won’t do anything you don’t want to do. We only do what you’re comfortable with.”

That was the problem. She wanted to do a whole lot of everything with him.

It was dangerous.

Two whole days alone in the cabin with Sean? It
could
be good closure. It definitely would be good sex.

She’d never been known for making smart choices, and damn it, she’d been trying to change that. But she was not strong enough to resist his offer. It would mean she was doing the right thing still by paying for the divorce, and that made it actually a mature choice, right?

Sure. Justification, thy name was Kristine. But she was okay with that.

“Let me think about it.”

The minute she gave her answer and watched his nostrils flare, she knew she’d made a mistake.

He confirmed it when he stood up. “Think about this.”

“Where are you going?” she asked, bewildered, and a little frightened. He looked so...dangerous.

He came around to her side of the table. He was big and in her space and when he leaned over, she automatically tilted her head up.

And then he kissed her.

6

S
EAN KNEW PRECISELY
the moment Kristine gave in to him. It wasn’t when she tentatively said she would think about it. It wasn’t when she tried to block his movement by placing her hand on his stomach.

It was when her sharp nod and pursed lips softened as he laced his fingers through hers. It was when her eyes widened and her luscious mouth opened. It was when her eyelashes fluttered and her breath caught. It was when she said, “I don’t think that’s appropriate,” even as she stretched slightly toward him.

“I won’t tell,” he promised. Then before she could present him with further arguments, he took advantage of her hesitation, her clear desire, and slid his hand along the back of her neck and into her hair. The soft smooth strands gave way, the knot in her hair loosening under his invasion. He kept his eyes open and trained on her as he leaned closer and closer, enjoying the catch in the back of her throat and the way the tip of her tongue peeked out to moisten her lip.

He had meant it to be a brief kiss. A hint of what was to come.

But the minute his lips touched hers, he forgot where he was, who he was and what his intention had been. He was a man who had been thrown backward in time to the event that had changed his life—the moment his lips had first connected with Kristine’s. It had been their second date. They had met in the coffee shop he frequented daily. He had been on a phone call, already knee-deep in a business internship, and had paused to order his drink when Kristine had tapped him from behind and informed him it was impolite to his barista to be on his cell phone. At first, he had been annoyed, then had realized she was right. Feeling chastened, he had apologized to the barista and given her a substantial tip.

Then he had bought Kristine’s coffee and after ten minutes of staring at her as inconspicuously as possible from across the shop, he had given her his phone number and asked her out. For some strange reason, she had said yes.

During their first date, they’d shared a rather disastrous dinner at an overpriced restaurant designed to impress her. It hadn’t. She’d been too young to enjoy or appreciate the upscale menu, and had just been annoyed with the fact that every entrée came with a recommended wine, which she could not legally drink.

The second date, which he had essentially begged her for, had been her idea. A ballroom-dance lesson. And most likely a test, to see if he could step outside his box. He had felt like a monstrous ass trying to dance, but she had come alive in his arms, and at the end of the evening, after deciding there was something very sexy about both her and the tango, he had practiced one of the new dance moves outside her apartment. Deep in a dip, he had kissed her. It had changed everything. The world had come to a screeching halt in one long suspended moment of awakened passion and admiration.

This moment, this kiss, was just as shattering, but without the wonder, the awe. It was a geyser of passion, a lava flow of emotion, a metal-melting resurgence of the heat between them. For the briefest of seconds when he first touched her lips with his, she hesitated. But then she sighed, a soft whisper of air from her to him, and he tightened his grip on the back of her head. She tasted like the wine she had sipped. She was just...sweet.

“That’s not what I meant,” she whispered, lips a whisper away, close enough that he was able to nibble at the corner of her mouth.

“No? What did you mean?” He was enjoying the power position of standing, but they were still in public, so he took advantage of her confusion to sit on the bench next to her. She scuttled backward, pushing at his waist again.

“I mean that we’re not together, Sean... You shouldn’t kiss me. And I haven’t said yes to your suggestion.”

Curious that she spoke those particular words while her index fingers crooked through his belt loops. Everything in her body language shouted yes, and even her words weren’t exactly much of a protest, but he did pull back to look at her, study her expression. “But you enjoyed the kiss, didn’t you? You would find two days at the lake with me satisfying. You know you would.”

Then he leaned forward and dipped his tongue into her ear. “You always did like my tongue, if I remember correctly.”

Let’s see her reaction to that.

It was gratifying to feel her shiver. “Well. But definitely not for the words that come out of your mouth. You’re very pushy.”

Sean laughed softly. “No one can be coaxed if the interest isn’t there to begin with.”

“You shouldn’t kiss me here. We’re making a scene. We’re being
that
couple.”

They had been that couple once. He wanted to be that couple again. Or at least see if they could be. “But other places are okay?”

She pulled away. “I don’t know. I mean, no. Absolutely not. Do not kiss me again.”

That’s what he thought. She wanted him as much as he wanted her. He didn’t smile, even though he really wanted to. “Oh,” he said in feigned understanding. “Right. Sure, sweetheart, no problem.”

She frowned. “You shouldn’t call me any terms of endearment, either. It’s going to confuse the issue.”

“What issue? I don’t have any issues. Do you?”

“No. Of course not. Fine. Call me whatever you want.”

He knew her so well. It gave him an unfair advantage when he was trying to manipulate her. He was honest enough to admit that’s what he was doing. Kristine knew what he was doing, as well, and knew ultimately he would never push it past her comfort level. Which was why he never felt particularly guilty manipulating her. She was aware he was doing it, and she was allowing it. It gave her the ability to put up a stand and not compromise her position, but in the end they both got exactly what they wanted—and what they wanted was each other for this weekend.

But Kristine was stubborn, and she was going to say no as long as she could, so there was no way he was leaving until he got that yes.

Then he was going to call her
sweetheart,
and he was going to devote thirty-six hours to giving her as much pleasure as he possibly could. He was going to make her so physically satisfied she would find it a challenge to walk away from him on Monday, both literally and figuratively.

Reaching out, he trailed his thumb across her bottom lip, loving the way her breath hitched. “Perfect, sweetheart. Just like you.”

* * *

I
T WAS REALLY,
really difficult to think when Sean touched her. Kissed her. When he looked at her as if she was something delicious and amazing. It made her insides melt and her resolve disintegrate.

But he was insane if he thought she was perfect. Or was there mockery in that statement? She wasn’t sure. He sounded sincere, but it seemed so improbable that he was delusional enough to think anything even close to perfection could be used to describe her. Hadn’t he been angry that she had been too childish to talk to him about their ridiculous fight?

Yes, he had. Because she was that woman. The one who ran out and disappeared, just like her father had before her, and his father before him.

So what if it felt amazing to kiss Sean? Or that she was eager to jump back into bed with him? She needed to stay firm and not go there with him.

This phase in her life needed to be about getting her own personal life sorted out, maintaining a job, and creating stability and a sense of direction. On her own.

Not letting Sean make excuses for her poor behavior, because that’s suddenly what it felt like he was doing.

She had to be mature if it killed her. The point of returning was to move forward, not go backward.

“Well, okay then,” she said inanely, smoothing her hands down the front of her pencil skirt. “I should probably head home. Tomorrow is going to be a busy day.”

There was silence for a heartbeat, but then he just nodded. “Sure. Let me pay the check then I’ll walk you out.”

Kristine grabbed her purse and keys and started digging for her wallet. “How much was the wine?”

“Don’t insult me. I’m picking up this tab.”

“It’s not a big deal,” she started to insist, then trailed off when she glanced up. Sean looked like he wasn’t going to take no for an answer.

“I invited you. I’m paying.”

She pursed her lips. “Why are you always so damn logical?”

“I was born this way.”

He had been. She had no doubt of it. His parents were working class, and while they hadn’t been able to provide him with a lot of financial opportunities, they had given him a shrewd sense of logic, and an understanding on how to leave emotion out of practical matters.

Kristine wasn’t sure what her mother had given her, besides indigestion.

“I concede the point.” She pulled out her phone and told Sean, “I’m texting my mother and telling her that if she shows up Friday I’ll never speak to her again.”

“Do you think that will actually work?”

It seemed he remembered her mother accurately. “No. But it’s worth a shot. Thankfully, June and Ian were understanding about the vandalism, but I don’t want any more snafus.”

She sent the stern text, feeling as she frequently did that she was more the parent than the child when dealing with her mother.

“I wish I knew what the point was,” Sean mused as he put his credit card down for the waitress. “It seems silly to make a statement if no one knows what that statement is supposed to mean. I also don’t like that we were locked in the storage closet. They had no way of knowing how long we would be trapped there. It was reckless on their part.”