He shrugged. “There’s nothing to talk about.”
The moon outlined his profile in silver. Gail stared at his
bare back, his broad shoulders, hunched just enough to show he was brooding even
if he pretended otherwise. His hair stood up as though he’d run his fingers
through it several times. Obviously he wasn’t okay.
Could she get him to tell her what was troubling him?
Or…somehow…help him stop worrying? She didn’t want him to backslide. He’d made
so much progress in the two weeks since they’d reached their agreement.
“Come here,” she said.
Suddenly wary, as if he didn’t trust what she might be
offering, he glanced at her again. “What for?”
“I’ll give you a massage. It might help you sleep.”
“That’s not necessary.”
Under normal circumstances, he would’ve had a flip answer for
her, or some sort of sexual innuendo; the fact that he didn’t told her he was
hurting too badly to accept help. Maybe he thought accepting help would be
revealing he needed it, and heaven forbid he
need
anyone, especially a woman.
“Come on,” she coaxed. As much as she hated to admit it, she’d
been looking for an excuse to touch him ever since he’d kissed her earlier. No,
before that. From the beginning. He’d just never shown any interest in her—not
when he was a client, so she’d never allowed herself to seriously entertain the
thought.
“There’s no reason for you to be up all night,” she said with a
little more authority.
Sighing, he sat on the edge of the bed, and she got up to fetch
the lotion from the bathroom across the hall. But when she returned and put a
hand on his shoulder to urge him to lie down, he resisted.
“What is it?” she asked.
He gave her such an intense look she knew he wanted something
other than a massage. “Kiss me instead.”
Gail swallowed hard. Today, every one of his smiles, every
touch of their fingers or accidental brush of their arms, had sent her nerves
into a jangling riot of desire that reminded her of those few minutes when he’d
cupped her breasts. It didn’t help that she was beginning to really care about
him, that seeing him healthy and happy was becoming more important to her every
day.
She was in a very precarious position, had no reason to even
consider his request. But she wanted to ease his discomfort. And she
wanted
to kiss him.
“You’d just like to check out of reality for a while,” she
said, forcing them both to face the truth. “And I’m convenient. But…whatever
you’re feeling…it’ll pass by morning.”
“Damn it, don’t say that like I’m trying to use you,” he
snapped. “I’m tired of being psychoanalyzed, tired of being found lacking. I
know more about what’s wrong with me than anyone else does. I don’t need you to
tell me what I want or what I’ll do.”
He was impatient, irritable, probably unsure how to end the
pain. He wasn’t even in familiar surroundings. Gail feared that might weaken his
determination, cause him to turn back to alcohol.
But if she gave in and had sex with him tonight, where would
she be in the morning?
She’d be no better off than the other women who’d come before
her.
“Relax,” she said gently. “And lie down.”
“One kiss,” he pressed. “Show me you trust me enough to give me
one kiss.”
“You kissed me at the house today.”
“That doesn’t count. I want you to kiss me back, here in
private, where we’re not putting on a show. I won’t take advantage if you do.
I’m not as big a bastard as you seem to think I am.”
“I know you’re not a bastard.”
“Then prove it.”
“Fine.” Planning to allow him a quick peck, nothing more, she
leaned forward, already braced to pull away. But he was as good as his word. He
didn’t attempt to draw her up against him. With his left hand lightly touching
her cheek, he kissed her so tenderly she wasn’t sure he was looking for a sexual
escape so much as he wanted human contact, someone to hang on to.
“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” he asked, surprising her by
breaking off the kiss before she was even tempted to pull away.
His gentleness and honesty shattered her resistance. As she
stared into his face, she nearly slid her arms around his neck to kiss him
again.
More.
That was all she could think about.
“Not at all.”
“You liked it.”
“Yes,” she whispered.
He raised his hands. “See? And you’re no worse for wear. You’re
not contaminated or anything.”
“I never said you’d…
contaminate
me.” She
had
accused him of carrying disease, but
that was back when they’d been fighting. He’d told her he was clean and had the
test results to prove it.
“You believe I’m morally beneath you, that I don’t care about
anything except myself.”
Because she
needed
to think that.
It was her only defense against the onslaught of desire she had to battle on a
daily basis. She tried to conjure up an appropriate response, one that explained
without giving too much away. But he didn’t allow her the chance.
“Now I’m ready for my massage,” he said, and flopped down on
his stomach.
20
W
hen Gail woke up Simon was wrapped around
her. She could feel the warmth of his bare chest at her back, feel his breath
graze her ear and remembered the excitement she’d felt while touching him last
night. As he’d begun to relax and fall asleep, she’d remained completely awake
and vitally aware of him as a man. There’d been moments when she’d been so
aroused, she’d nearly nudged him so he’d turn over.
She was pretty sure there’d been one moment when he knew that,
too. She’d leaned down, kissed his jaw, then the side of his mouth. But as soon
as she’d felt him stir as if he might respond, she’d pulled back.
They hadn’t done anything. So why was his hand sliding up her
shirt now?
At first, she thought it was purposeful, but the cadence of his
breathing didn’t change. He wasn’t awake.
She considered removing his hand as soon as it touched her
breast, but there was no intention behind his caress. He burrowed closer as he
touched her, and she liked that. Liked all of it—so much that her body seemed to
melt into his.
She wasn’t sure how long she lay there, telling herself to stop
him. But she never did, and eventually she must’ve slept because when she woke
up again, Simon had left.
There was a note on the nightstand. “Went to the coffee shop.
Join me when you wake up.”
* * *
So this was Matt.
Transferring his laptop to his other hand, Simon turned to get
a better look. But it was difficult to be discreet when he had to tilt his head
so far back. The guy standing in line three people behind him had to be
six-foot-six. He towered over Simon, over everyone, easily weighing two hundred
and sixty pounds.
Simon sort of wished the guy had a crooked nose, or a gut that
hung over his belt like some linemen, but Matt was all muscle. Not only that, he
was blond, tan, with chiseled features—what most women would consider handsome.
To top it off, he had a quick smile and was obviously well-liked. Three
different people had hailed him since he walked in, which was what had drawn
Simon’s attention to him in the first place.
Gail had gone out with this guy. She’d almost slept with him.
And Lord knew Gail didn’t take off her clothes for just anyone.
“How’s the knee?” someone asked.
While Simon took note from behind his Ray-Bans, Matt gestured
at the brace on his right leg. “Hurts like hell, but…I’m in therapy. I’ll get it
back eventually.”
“I can’t believe you’re gonna miss the rest of the season.”
“Me, neither.”
“Good to see you, man.”
“Good to see you, too.”
“You think the Packers can take the Raiders on Monday?”
A woman broke in. “Excuse me? Can I help you?”
Simon had been listening so intently to Matt’s conversations it
took him a moment to realize that this voice came from a different direction.
The barista was asking for his order. Forced to shift his attention, he
requested his usual—an espresso.
Several more people approached Matt while Simon waited for his
coffee, all of them excited to see their favorite football player.
“Your coffee’s ready,” a girl called, dimpling as she handed
Simon the cup. On one side she’d written her number. But she barely looked
eighteen. That wasn’t a call he would’ve made even at his worst.
“Thanks,” he said, and headed to a table. He’d been planning to
read some scripts. There hadn’t been much time for that this past year. He
hadn’t had much interest, either. But even with the new picture Bella had texted
him last night still fresh in his mind—of her completely naked and posing with
her hands on her breasts—he was eager to find a gem among the files Ian had
sent, a character he was dying to play, a film that would get him excited about
his career again.
He hadn’t had a drink in two weeks, was doing everything he
possibly could to get Ty back. As long as he stayed the course, he’d look a lot
better in the coming hearing. No need to worry about Bella’s threats. She could
pose and taunt him all she wanted. He wasn’t going to let her rub salt in his
wounds anymore.
For a second, he debated turning that sex video and this latest
picture over to his attorney, who would then present them to the judge deciding
Ty’s future. The way Bella was acting meant she cared more about hurting him
than protecting her parental rights. But she knew he’d never tell on her. He
couldn’t. Because that might make the court decide neither one of them was fit
to care for Ty. Then they might put him in a foster home, and that was the last
thing Simon wanted. At least Bella was a loving parent. Ty was better off with
her than complete strangers.
He opened a script called “To The Bone,” yet another thriller,
but he couldn’t concentrate. His eyes kept wandering to Matt, who had his own
drink now and was sitting with an audience in the same booth where Simon had
joined Gail and her friends yesterday.
“You going to the crab feed over at the school?” one of his
admirers asked.
“Of course.”
“You give ’em anything to auction off?”
“A signed jersey, but I do that every year. Hell, everyone in
town has my jersey by now,” he joked.
“You’ll have to go for a jockstrap next year,” someone
quipped.
Suddenly Matt glanced up and met Simon’s eyes. Something passed
between them. Simon wasn’t sure what. An acknowledgment of their interest in the
same woman, perhaps. Simon expected Matt to realize he was being rude if not
confrontational by staring at him with that challenging expression, but he
didn’t seem to care. He didn’t glance away until someone addressed him
again.
“You heard about Gail, right?” A man at Matt’s table had
noticed the exchange. Seeing Simon had obviously reminded him of Gail.
Lowering his gaze to his computer as if he was no longer paying
attention, Simon strained to hear Matt’s response, but it was impossible. The
football player mumbled his words while turning in the other direction.
Simon almost got up to leave. There was no point in staying if
he was too distracted to comprehend what he was reading, but before he could
sign off his computer, Gail walked in.
The memory of waking with his hand up her shirt brought a
deluge of testosterone. He hadn’t touched her on purpose, but once he came awake
he’d known instantly what he was doing. He’d stayed where he was for a few
minutes, savoring the feel of her. It’d been an effort not to roll her onto her
back so he could put his mouth where his fingers were. But then he grew so hard
he was afraid she’d be able to feel his erection. So he’d gotten up and left
before she could accuse him of trying to seduce her.
“Over here,” he called with a wave.
She smiled brightly—until she saw Matt. Then she almost missed
a step.
Wanting to be sure she came to him first, Simon stood to regain
her attention. But Matt had spotted her, too. Getting up, he limped quite
handily past Simon, despite his knee, and swept her into his arms. His bigger
body all but engulfed hers, reminding Simon of the comment she’d tossed at him
yesterday:
He’s so big.
Even with the memory of that statement ringing in his ears,
Simon might not have minded. It was just a hug. Except that Matt held on a
little too long—and Gail closed her eyes during the embrace, making Simon feel
he was witnessing a far more intimate exchange.
When Matt finally released her, they had a short conversation.
Then, without even glancing at Simon, Gail headed to the counter to place her
order and Matt started back to his seat. Simon thought he’d pass right by. He’d
already put on a show that underscored his importance in her life, which, Simon
suspected, was exactly what he’d hoped to achieve. But he stopped, and he seemed
more upset than smug when he rapped his knuckles on Simon’s table. “She’s a good
woman,” he said.
He gave Simon no clue how he was supposed to interpret that
remark, but Simon could guess. And he didn’t like the implication:
She’s too good for you.
“Is that why you backed off
last summer?” he asked.
A flicker of surprise appeared on Matt’s broad face. “Damn
right. It’s the
only
reason. She’s the type you take
seriously.”
“You don’t call marriage serious?”
“Not when you don’t have any idea what marriage means.”
Leaning back, Simon crossed his arms. “You’re saying you
do?”
“Damn right.”
“Then I guess your loss is my gain.”
“We’ll see about that,” Matt retorted.
“Excuse me?” he said, abandoning his relaxed pose.
Matt lowered his voice. “I’ll be waiting when you screw up. And
if I know you, that won’t be long.”
Simon couldn’t help clenching his jaw. “You
don’t
know me. That’s the point.”
“Everybody knows you,” he said, and moved on.
Gail joined Simon a second later. She must have seen their
interaction, but didn’t ask what her old flame had to say. Obviously she didn’t
want to talk about Matt. “How do you feel this morning?” she said instead.
Simon felt as if he’d just been slugged in the stomach, which
was an odd reaction considering his fear that
she
might get too attached to
him.
“As if I’m standing
in your way,” he admitted.
“Why?” Lines of confusion appeared on her forehead, but then
understanding dawned. “You mean…” She dropped her voice to a whisper. “You’re
not standing in my way. I told you, it was one date. And he never called me
after.”
Simon sipped his espresso. “I think he’s regretting not making
his intentions clearer.”
“I doubt it.”
He
definitely
was, but Simon didn’t
argue. He wasn’t used to being with a woman who wanted someone else. His ex had
cheated on him almost from the start, but only because she relished his jealous
reaction. No matter how much he professed his love, making him prove it was the
one thing that reassured her he still cared. She’d thrived on getting him so
angry he was ready to kill whatever man she’d been with, and the second their
relationship settled into a calm or even semiregular routine she’d pull
something else. Especially after Ty was born, because threatening to split up
and take him with her instantly threw Simon into the panic she was hoping
for.
Gail wasn’t like that. She was emotionally stable, didn’t
indulge in theatrics. But she’d married him even though she was in love with
someone else, and he wasn’t quite sure what he should do about it.
Maybe nothing. In two years she’d be free to marry Matt. Still,
making her put her life on hold for so long felt pretty selfish, particularly
now that Matt seemed ready to step up.
Somehow Simon had lost interest in reading scripts. “Have you
heard from Kathy?” he asked.
“I have.” She put her cup on the table. “She left a voice mail
while I was in the shower. She has a purchase agreement for us to sign, said we
can drop by her office anytime.” She motioned to his computer. “What have you
been working on?”
“Nothing.” He closed his laptop. “Can we get the key today?
Move in?”
“If we sign a rental agreement covering the period until escrow
closes, I don’t see why not.”
If they were in their new place, he couldn’t wake with his hand
up her shirt again because they’d be sleeping in separate beds. Now, more than
ever, they needed to give each other space. “What about furniture?”
“We could head over to Sacramento and do some shopping.”
“Sounds good.” After meeting Matt, he could use a break from
Whiskey Creek.
He packed up his laptop and led Gail out of the coffee shop. To
her credit, she didn’t so much as turn toward Matt, but Simon could feel the
other man’s eyes following them all the way to the door.
* * *
Gail knew she was being too quiet. It was becoming
obvious that encountering Matt at the coffee shop had left her reeling. If he
hadn’t seemed so upset that she’d gotten married, maybe she could’ve taken it in
stride. In the past few months, she’d convinced herself that he wasn’t
interested in her. But when he hugged her he’d muttered, “I blew it,” and
sounded genuinely disappointed.
She hadn’t responded to that. There wasn’t time, and she wasn’t
about to undermine the believability of her marriage to Simon with a “Wait for
me. This isn’t real.” For one thing, she’d look too mercenary, as if she’d done
it for the money. She’d kept the secret for other reasons, too. Simon seemed to
be stabilizing. The last thing he needed was for his new wife to become
regretful or act as if she wanted to break up with him on account of an old
crush.
She felt she’d handled the situation well, but she didn’t have
it in her to make small talk. She kept wondering…if she’d left Simon to solve
his own problems and tried to figure out another way to rebuild her business, as
Callie had suggested, would she and Matt have had a chance? Would they finally
have gotten together? She’d planned on marrying him since she was thirteen!
As they drove to Sacramento, she stared out at the passing
landscape, remembering how she and Callie used to take turns peering through a
knothole in Callie’s back fence while Matt threw a football with his father or
older brother.
Maybe his knee injury and the possibility that his football
career might be coming to an end were making him consider settling down. Maybe
he wouldn’t go back to Wisconsin, after all. He could stay in Whiskey Creek. He
could even marry someone else while she was tied to Simon.
Wouldn’t
that
be ironic? It was
probably what she deserved for telling the world such a lie about Simon and
her....
“You okay?” Since they’d left Whiskey Creek, Simon hadn’t
spoken much, either.
She dug through her purse for her lip gloss so she wouldn’t
have to look at him. She was afraid of what he might see in her face. “Fine,
why?”