Wild Fling or a Wedding Ring? (12 page)

Okay, so he hadn’t managed to end the relationship. She’d made it too easy, given him too many ways to justify keeping what he wasn’t ready to give up. Yet. But this thing between them—no matter how they redefined the boundaries—wasn’t going to last. He didn’t want it to. And Cali was going to London—or wherever they assigned her next. She wasn’t staying in Chicago. Hadn’t even made any noise about wanting to stay. At least that was something.

Yeah. Right.

Draining his single-serve espresso in one scalding gulp, he thought of the three-day conference coming up in Colorado.
Three days. More like five if he worked the travel and packing right. It could be a natural breaking point.

They’d have a couple of weeks before he left. Time to get each other out of their systems—though he sure had a way to go before he got her out of his—time to have some fun. To make up for a few of those years Cali had gone without.

The truth was, he wasn’t that phenomenal a catch for a woman with any kind of emotional capacity. Within a few weeks Cali would figure that out for herself. She’d be happy when he took off, and relieved when they didn’t pick things up after he got back.

It was win-win. For both of them.

Right.

He stalked out into the hall, still carrying too much tension from the night before. Juggling his keys in his palm, he ended up somehow twisting the apartment key so its teeth caught in the smaller ring of his car key and wedged in place.

Come
on
. There—he almost had it. How in the hell—? “Damn it!”

“Good morning to you too.”

Jake jerked his head around, to find Cali peering over his shoulder, amusement glinting in her all too alert eyes. She was wearing a creamy silk blouse and a knee-length skirt that might have made another woman look like the school principal, but on her….

“Cali, hey—”

“I hate it when that happens. Here, let me try.” Casting him an impish wink, she reached around him and plucked the keys from his hand. “I have less emotion invested.”

Jake barked out a laugh, catching her lighter mood
and
the straightened keys as she tossed them back. “My hero,” he said, locking the door and then turning to wrap an arm around her
shoulders—stopping himself an instant before he stiffened, gave himself away, made them both uncomfortable.

That wasn’t going to happen. Just like pulling her into an embrace and backing her into his apartment to spend an hour or so in bed wasn’t. Shake it off.

“Why don’t you let me buy dinner tonight as thanks?” He’d take her out to someplace cool. Give her a few Chicago experiences to remember him by. He glanced down at the vee where the silk of her blouse overlapped, shifting with her each step down the hall. Give her a few more when they got back.

“Dinner sounds terrific. Is seven-thirty okay?” Cali peered up at Jake as they walked down the hall together, acting as if last night their relationship hadn’t been hanging in the balance. As if they hadn’t made love, only to have Jake rise minutes later to return to his apartment rather than sleep with her, as he had before. She’d seen him waiting for her to freak when he’d told her he thought it might be “a good idea”.

It hadn’t seemed like a good idea at all, but she’d simply smiled and stretched, offering a teasing glimpse of her body as the sheet slipped below one breast. And then she’d wished him sweet dreams, acting as though she hadn’t seen his gaze riveted to that swell of exposed skin. It had been a head-game. Something she’d have sworn she didn’t have the first inclination to play, but she needed him to know she was fine…
and
she wanted him to hate to leave.

Jake flashed his even white teeth in approval, though somehow it didn’t seem quite like the easy smile he always seemed so ready to give. The blue pools of his eyes didn’t reveal anything of his thoughts or emotions, just reflected light back at her in a way she found more disconcerting than when he’d gotten up to leave the night before.

She could handle this.

“It’s a date, then,” he said, jabbing at the call button for the elevator.

Fighting the tremble trying to work its way through her lips, she nodded, quickly looking away.
It was a fling
.

A
WEEK
had passed, and Jake had taken Cali out nearly every night. This evening they were seated in the tightly woven rattan chairs of Le Colonial, where the presentation of French-Vietnamese cuisine was as memorable as the unique blend of flavors—fresh and hot, sweet and tangy—that burst over the tongue. They’d sipped lemongrass martinis, surrounded by banana trees and potted palms, with Jake feeding her bites of wok-seared monkfish with chili, lemongrass and peanuts as he charmed her with childhood stories of Amanda, making her laugh until her stomach hurt.

He was the personification of the perfect date. His attention never wandered. His conversation never waned. Flawlessly, he entertained and enthralled from start to finish—and yet something fundamental was lacking in their interaction. Something she’d all too briefly enjoyed before helplessly watching it slip from her fingers.

Of course this was what they’d agreed to—only a part of her had hoped this methodical, smooth-talking charmer would revert naturally back to the man she’d fallen for. She’d believed he simply wouldn’t be able to deny the connection. But she’d been wrong. Jake was as adept at maintaining the emotional distance between them as he was at closing the physical.

Cali hadn’t caught on to the subtlety of his manipulation at first. All the extravagant dates—the opera, the Steppenwolf Theater Company, dining out at Chicago’s trendiest and most renowned establishments. He chose carefully, ensuring that, whatever the setting, something about it—an invitation to join co-workers, raucous noise, required silence—insulated them from the kind of conversational depth that had so naturally developed between them before. No more dinners on the floor, where the food cooled ages before they stopped talking long enough to remember to eat it. Of course they still talked, but the chit-chat came from a place as open to a passing stranger as it was to her.

One element of their interaction, however, had not diminished. The heat. No matter what their activity, with each passing moment the tension between them built. A glance. A touch. A knowing smile. Each heightened the awareness. The arousal. The anticipation. Until desperation overwhelmed them, and the date ended with Jake backing Cali into her apartment, with her clawing at his clothes, climbing his body—

But, regardless of the intensity of it—their desperation to have it—it was just sex. Incredible sex. Addictive sex. The kind you wouldn’t dream of turning your back on, regardless of the hollowing ache that lingered for hours once it was over. Once Jake had pulled on his clothes, dropped a kiss at her lips, and gone home to sleep alone.

A fling
. This was how it worked.

Cali dabbed her napkin at the corner of her mouth, studying the Southeast Asian décor surrounding them. “You never should have brought me here. It’s almost too cruel to give me a taste of something so incredible, knowing I’m going to have to give it up so quickly!”

Her eyes danced around the interior, hopping from the delicate fans suspended high above, to the louvered shutters
lining the room, then the scattered photos of 1920s Saigon, before landing back at the tight expression on Jake’s face. His guard was up, impenetrable eyes showing her nothing but a defense erected against her. Immediately she recognized the problem, the way he might have taken her casual comment.

She smiled blithely. “I’ll be dreaming about this place for the next six years.”

See? No big thing. No deeper meaning intended. No need to shut her out so completely.

Or, at this point, did it really even matter?

But then Jake’s thumb grazed over her wrist in a slow circle, and every cell in her body responded to the touch, pulsing with a need to get closer. Her eyes met his—still impenetrable, but smoldering with sensual promise—so different than mere seconds ago.

Yes,
it still mattered.

“If we get out of here—” his fingers dropped beneath the edge of the table, stroked once along the back of her knee “—I’ll give you something to dream about for the
next ten
.”

Trish waved a slow hand in front her face, beckoning with an amused smirk. “Earth to Cali…come in, Cali?”

She snapped to attention, heat immediately rushing to her cheeks with the guilty knowledge of where her mind had drifted. “I’m so sorry, Trish. Where were we?”

“Confirming that we’ve got RSVPs from all the criticals for tomorrow’s meeting,” Trish answered patiently.

Right. The meeting. “We do—thank you.”

What was wrong with her? Not only was she wasting her own time, but now she’d wasted Trish’s as well. It was inexcusable, and so completely out of character Cali felt herself brimming with frustration.

“Great, we’re all set.” Trish piled up her folders, notepad
and PDA, then shifted her weight to one hip, relaxing into the stance. “So, how’s it going with your hot doc?”

Cali swallowed, busying herself with stacking a bunch of jumbled papers she was going to have to sort out as soon as Trish walked out the door, simply to avoid the eye contact. “Good. Very good.”

“That’s nice.”

“Mmm-hmm.”

Trish waited her out, until Cali relented and met her questioning stare. “Okay, what?”

“You seem a little tense this week, is all.”

Cali immediately ducked, pretending to search for something under her chair to try to give herself a moment. Oh, hell. She was losing it. Slipping at work, when so much hung in the balance. Who else had noticed? Had word gotten back to Amanda?

“I see you flipping out—just chill. It’s not like you’re wearing a billboard or something, but I work more closely with you than anyone else.” Trish grinned as Cali dared a glance her way. “And I’m very sensitive to romantic strife.”

Straightening in her seat, Cali pulled it together. “We’re not serious enough to have romantic strife. I’m totally fine.”

Trish eyed her with a delicately arched brow. “Really?”

Cali swallowed, sat back in her chair, knowing full well the plastic smile she’d forced to her lips wouldn’t do a thing to hide the melancholy she felt inside. “Really.”

“Okay, I can see you don’t want to talk about it. But you know I’m around, whenever, if you need me.”

She nodded. “Thanks, I appreciate it.”

“Just don’t forget it.” Trish turned on her heel and left.

The office door swung shut and the stiff smile fell from her lips. She’d been tense. Distracted. To the point that a co-worker had identified it. This was exactly what she’d been
trying to avoid for the past few years. Letting a relationship interfere with her career. So Trish hadn’t been criticizing her work as much as noting a change in her temperament? Still it was just a matter of time before it got in the way. And she and Jake weren’t even fighting.

There wasn’t enough emotion involved to fight, she thought with a stab of heartache.

Her mind drifted back to Jake, so quickly picking up where she’d left off before Trish had reminded her she was still in a meeting.

He’d taken her against the wall immediately inside her apartment. Her silk blouse hanging from her wrists like a sensual bind, lace panties pushed to the floor, skirt bunched at her waist. They hadn’t gotten any further than that. Hadn’t been able to. It had been erotic. Explosive and intense. But even as he’d taken her to new heights of pleasure she’d felt the void between them growing. A distance that hadn’t been there even the first night in the bar.

Against the wall.

So much the same.

Entirely different.

He’d shut her out. Kept his mind intent on the choreography of seduction, enslaving her with his touch while his heart remained disengaged. He wasn’t the same man who’d looked at her with his soul in his eyes, given her a taste of something she’d never dreamt to have. And, after years of being numb to the needs of her heart, suddenly the organ she’d previously refused to acknowledge felt hollow and deprived.

Her sense of loss didn’t make sense.

She’d told Jake she could live with it. She should be relieved. The fact that Trish had been aware of her tension at all should be reason alone to embrace an emotional retreat.

So why did she feel she couldn’t?

It was after twelve, and moonlight streamed in through the window, casting Cali’s rumpled form in blue and silver hues. A sheen of sweat coated his skin, his heart slammed against his ribs, and the blood was rushing so fast past his ears the sound was nearly deafening.

After tonight’s sexual Olympics he’d had to carry Cali back to her bed, and it had taken everything he had to force himself to crawl back out of it. It wasn’t any half hopeful look fading from her eyes that made his exit difficult—that had stopped days ago. It was out-and-out muscle fatigue.

The sex had been
insane
.

Cali let him take her beyond all boundaries, giving her body completely. It had been hot. And yet, no matter how far he pushed her, how long he held back, how explosive the release when he finally gave in to it, satisfaction remained elusive.

Something was off.

He was irritated. Dissatisfied. Uncomfortable in his own skin. He wanted to believe it was the waning of the relationship, that he’d tired of the time he spent with Cali. Except it wasn’t true. He couldn’t seem to stay away from the one woman he was trying to let go—even now when she’d begun to make it easier for him. Adding distance of her own. Shielding her emotions more effectively.

But still, every night….

The conference was coming up in a few days. He’d end it then. No more excuses or extensions. And when he got back, life would be back to normal. He’d have gotten her out of his head and from under his skin.

He’d be able to breathe again without feeling the ties of commitment binding his chest.

Cali let out a quiet moan, her hand sweeping blindly over the empty sheets beside her.

Looking for him.

His jaw clenched as a tiny frown marred her lovely face. He should go.

Only looking down at her, curled slightly into herself, the moonlit contours of her body visible beneath the sheet, he just wanted to feel her against him again. His jaw set. He just wanted
her
again.

He climbed back into bed. Not to spend the night.

Jake aligned himself front to back with her. Warm breath and a soft sigh feathered over his arm where he’d wrapped it around her, tucking her into the contours of his hardening body.

“Once more,” he whispered into the mass of curls at the nape of her neck. “I need you again.”

“Mmmm.” Her back arched, her bottom pressing into him as she reached one sleep heavy hand over her shoulder to sift into his hair.

His eyes closed as he drew in her scent. Feminine sweetness. Cali.

Sliding into her from behind, he buried himself in that soft, sweet place.

Yes.

This was where he wanted to be.

Maybe if he went slow enough, lingered, he’d lose himself—find that elusive bit of peace that seemed to always be there, hovering at the fringe of his consciousness, but still just out of reach. He was as close to it as he’d been in weeks, so deep inside her. Listening to her quiet mewls, feeling the beat of her heart beneath the palm of his hand. He could almost reach it. So close…. So close….

“Jake,” she whispered, just this side of half asleep.

Just until the conference.