How many rooms will they need?
“When do you start?” Anxiety threatened to overwhelm her.
“If I take the job, two weeks Monday, after Janine’s holiday. I’d be away for about a month. I know it’s a long time, but we think it would be better if we did all the traveling in one go rather than break it into smaller trips.”
Two weeks. She had two weeks left with Daniel and then he’d leave with Janine. He’d be leaving, period. Two weeks until Daniel left her heart and their friendship shattered into a million pieces.
A fist squeezed around her heart, tighter and tighter, causing such pain it left Amy breathless.
“What do you mean
if
you take the job? Of course you have to take it. It’s an opportunity of a lifetime. You know you want it more than anything else.”
He sat back down again and looked at her, his expression serious. “Morgan, this isn’t just anyone I’ll be working with. It’s Janine. None of us—not you, not me and not Janine—is stupid enough to ignore our history. I’ve slept with her.”
The invisible fist held her heart in a death grip.
She had known all along this thing with Daniel would end, she just hadn’t expected it to happen so quickly. What could she do? She couldn’t pretend Daniel hadn’t just laid his cards on the table. She couldn’t ignore what he just said.
She stared blankly at him, feeling the blood drain from her face.
He grabbed her hand. “I won’t do this without your consent, Morgan. I won’t go unless it’s one hundred percent okay with you.”
Fucking hell.
What did he want? Her permission to sleep with Janine again? If Daniel went on this assignment, there was no way in hell it would remain platonic. Not with their past. Not with their present—a month away, exploring gorgeous coastlines, staying in romantic hotels, in who knew how many rooms…
“Danny, you have to go. This is National Geographic you’re talking about. It’s not some arbitrary project that wouldn’t matter to you one way or another. Of course you must do it.” Every fiber of her being fought her words, rallied together to suppress them. She hated giving him her approval.
As much as she loathed admitting it, it was the right thing to do. Daniel would never forgive himself if he passed up the assignment. She’d never forgive herself for forcing him to.
His eyes searched her face. “You sure?”
“Of course I am. You have to do it.”
“Amy, Janine and I were lovers.”
Shut up. Shut up, shut up!
“Danny, it’s National Geographic.”
He didn’t answer her straight away. He just looked at her as if trying to read any underlying meaning behind her expression.
She forced a huge smile into place. “National Geographic,” she reiterated. “How can you even think of turning them down?”
“But Janine…”
“Do the article.”
“You sure?” Doubt clouded his eyes.
“Say yes.”
“Morgan…” His expression was still doubtful although his eyes gleamed hopeful.
“Do it!”
He nodded. “I’ll do it.”
“Good.”
No…bad. Very, very bad.
She wrapped her arms around him and hugged him close. Partly to show him her happiness for him, but mainly to hide her utter desolation.
Amy was no fool. She knew exactly what she’d just done. She gave Daniel her permission to sleep with Janine. Signed, sealed and delivered.
Chapter Twelve
She was living in hell. From the moment Daniel had mentioned that woman’s name, life had been a bitch. Amy was on the mother of all rollercoaster rides—emotionally speaking. From the extreme euphoria of loving Daniel to the profound sense of impending doom, she experienced the entire spectrum of emotions.
The pleasure she usually felt around him was tainted by rage and jealousy churning in her stomach. Sure, she was happy when she was with him. How could she not be? Just looking at him made her smile, lifted her spirits. Stirred her body to life. Then she’d think about Janine and bam, she was miserable all over again.
She’d only met the woman once or twice, but darn, she hated her. Hated everything about her. And especially hated what she represented. The end of her and Daniel’s relationship.
All she had left with Daniel was one weekend and then he was going away with
her.
His ex-lover. His
future
lover.
She gave up fighting, gave up arguing with herself. While half of her wanted to beg Daniel to stay, to give up his dreams and work and stay in Sydney with her, the other half, the more pragmatic half, knew it was over. It was that half that had just won the final argument.
Spending another weekend with Daniel was futile. Why prolong the agony? Her mind was made up. She had to end their fling.
When he arrived at her place, she’d tell him. It would shred her heart into thousands of pieces, but at least she’d be taking a stand. Dumping him before he dumped her. Giving him the freedom to fuck Janine Stillman, or whatever other women he wanted to fuck. Just not her anymore.
Who knew? After all was said and done, maybe they could even go back to being friends again. They’d done it before, after the exhibition. Maybe they could do it again.
She’d like that. It probably wasn’t possible, but she’d like that.
The doorbell rang.
Her hands shook as she rubbed them over her tired eyes. Taking a deep, fortifying breath to brace her for what was about to happen, she opened the door and let Daniel in.
Lord!
Why did he have to look so sexy? Why did he have to stand there in the doorway, undressing her with those smoky eyes?
“Ah, babe. Just seeing you makes me hard.”
Damn it, couldn’t he say hello like a normal person? Did
she
have to get so turned on just looking at him?
He leaned in close and pressed his lips to hers. “Do we have to make small talk or can we just strip and make love right here on the floor?” He wound his hand through her hair and slipped his tongue into her mouth.
Pain sliced through her belly as she reacted instinctively, kissing him back. She responded on the most primal level, her body grew slick with need and her breasts swelled. For a very long time all they did was kiss, she prolonging what was, in all likelihood, their last one.
He pulled away and pressed a single red rose into her hand.
Her fingers wound round the stem, clutching it. God, she wanted to make love to him, fuck him senseless. But she couldn’t. If she did, she’d never find the strength to do what she was about to.
She held the rose to her nose and breathed in deeply. “Daniel…” What could she say?
“This rose is just the first of many. I intend to have a rose a day delivered to your home while I’m away. Just to make sure you don’t forget me while I’m gone.”
Fat chance. Amy suspected that every minute of every day he was away, she’d be obsessing about what he was doing. Whom he was doing it with.
She shook her head, almost choking over her words. “Dan, we need to talk.”
His smile vanished. “About what?”
“Let’s sit down.” She chose a single high-backed seat, not trusting herself to share a couch with him. “Um…thank you for the flower.” Maybe if they started on neutral ground she could find the courage to move on from there.
Instead of sitting on the couch, he knelt in front of her. He took her empty hand, held it in his and looked into her eyes. “It’s a rose, Morgan, not just a flower. A red rose. A symbol of love.”
Her breath caught and struggled to escape. Her lungs felt like they were ready to explode if she didn’t exhale. She couldn’t move. All she could do was wait, suspended in what felt like another dimension, a parallel universe.
“Because I love you.” His eyes shone. Love seemed to pour out of them. She saw it all there—all her hopes and dreams—reflected in his eyes. For a minute she allowed it to wash over her, allowed herself the wonder of being loved by Daniel. It felt like the only thing she ever wanted. It made everything right. She loved him too. For that minute, her world was whole.
Then she exhaled. Her lungs jolted and she breathed again. As the breath left her body, that impossible parallel universe fizzled away. Fresh oxygen hit her brain and brought with it the cold reality of the moment. Daniel might think he loved her, and much as she wished,
wished
it were true, she knew better.
Her sigh slammed into Daniel’s gut and he braced himself. Instinctively he knew whatever Amy was about to say he did not want to hear.
“Danny.” Her eyes were closed. “You’re confusing physical attraction for love. You don’t love me. We’re good friends who sleep together. That’s not love, that’s sex.”
What the fuck?
He wasn’t the slightest bit confused about his feelings for her. He loved her. Always had. Always would. What part of “I love you” didn’t she understand?
“Amy,” he began, when he trusted himself to talk evenly. “When you and I sleep together, we are not having sex. We’re making love.”
She shook her head. “No. It just feels that way. It’s easy to mistake passion for love. Especially since we know each other so well. We love each other like friends and desire each other like lovers. It doesn’t mean you love me.”
He stared at her.
Was she crazy? What the fuck did she think it meant?
“I love you and I desire you. What more is there?”
She sighed again. “Nothing. Everything.”
“Care to be a little more specific?” He knew what was coming.
“We have to end this…this thing between us. Now, before it’s too late.”
“Too late for what?”
Where was the air in this room?
“For us. For me. For you.”
“Lady, I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about.” But he did. And it was killing him. Everything he worked so hard for, everything he achieved was about to come crashing down. She didn’t love him. Not like he loved her, anyway.
He hadn’t just dared to hope her feelings for him had changed, he’d come to believe it with all of his heart. Amy had given herself to him totally. Once they had finally crossed the line and slept together, she’d surrendered her body to him with the ease of a lover and the trust of a best friend. When he and Amy made love they were closer than they’d ever been. They were like one person.
He had truly believed she’d fallen in love with him, truly believed they had made the transition from mates to soul mates.
He was wrong. His plan had failed. All he’d managed to do was get her into bed—and now she was climbing out, alone.
Her voice, when she spoke, was bland. “If we end it now, there’s still a chance we can go back to being friends. If we don’t, one of us is going to get hurt. If that happens, I don’t think we can save our friendship.”
Too late. He was already hurting. Hell, having a knife stuck in his back and twisting it would be less painful.
Didn’t she understand he would never hurt her? How could he? He loved her. Hadn’t he been clear enough in his feelings for her? “You don’t get it, do you? You never have. You think all of this between us is just physical.”
She shrugged. “I do get it. I’m seriously attracted to you and you wanted to fuck me. The decision to do it was mutual. It was good while it lasted, but it’s over now.”
“You think that’s what all this is about? A little uncomplicated sex? A quick fuck and then back to being friends?”
“You made your needs very clear. From the night of the exhibition to the day at your pool, you were quite clear about what you wanted from me.”
Not clear enough, obviously. “You’re kidding right?” This had to be some kind of a bad joke.
Amy shook her head.
He stared at her, his jaw hung open in disbelief. How had she got things so wrong? “Think about it, Morgan. Our relationship changed after you met Vicky. Remember that? You wanted to know what I’d discussed with her and my answer was you.”
A pained look crossed Amy’s face as she nodded.
“What exactly do you think I said to her? D’ya think I told a ten-year-old child, with leukemia, no less, that I wanted to fuck my friend and what did she think about the idea?”
She spluttered. “I…oh! God, no.”
He was on a roll now, spurred on by a burning anger. “Picture it, me sitting with Vicky and telling her every time I saw you I got so turned on all I could think about was screwing you. Does that sound like me?
Does it
?”
Amy stared at him, aghast, and he knew he took the unpleasant image too far. He silently counted to ten, forced himself to calm down. “Damn it, Morgan. I told her she inspired me to change my life, to change my ways. I told her that her strength and her will to live and enjoy life made me want to live my life to the fullest, that I could only do that with you.” He stopped and looked at her, filled with despair. “A ten-year-old can understand my feelings for you, why can’t you?”
She stared at him, her eyes bright with tears. Still he could see the resolve on her face. She was slipping through his fingers and there was nothing he could do about it.
“Amy, I don’t want to be your friend. We’ve been friends for seventeen years. It’s not enough anymore. I want more. I want it all. I want to be your lover, your confidant and your partner. I want you. All of you.”