Woke

by Peggy Jaeger

  Here’s the gospel truth in all its boring glory. I was thirty-five years old and the last time I had sex with a man I’d been twenty. Now granted, I was in a coma for ten of those following years, my best and most productive years, sexually, if we were going to argue about it. But I’d been back in the land of the living for five years now, fully functional with all my moving parts workable for the past two. I had no excuse from a physiological standpoint not to have sex.

  It was for purely personal reasons I hadn’t yet.

  Part of that reason was I hadn’t met anyone up until now I was willing to sleep with. Kincade Enright rang all my bells in the desire department, something I couldn’t deny. And while having rip-roaring, off the charts sex with him was something I wanted to happen in more than just my head, the other reason I hadn’t been with a man yet was purely from an optical viewpoint.

  In essence, my body was a mess and I was ashamed for any man to see it.

  During my convalescence I’d had many procedures performed on all areas of my person. Everything from permanent intravenous lines sewn into my neck, to a few pressure sores that had turned into bedsores and then gone septic and had to be surgically debrided. I’d had a catheter inserted into my bladder for 10 years, the cannula taped to various areas of my legs. Oh, it was changed periodically to prevent infections, but you could never really ward off all germs. And when that tape was pulled off, well… if you’ve ever had a bad bikini wax you know what the skin looks like afterward. A feeding tube had been surgically implanted in my abdomen so that I could be provided nourishment to help keep me alive. A tracheostomy tube had been inserted into my windpipe to keep my airway open through an incision cut into the notch at my neck.

  All those procedures, surgeries, and life saving maneuvers had left my body battle-scarred, in some cases hideously so. In the beginning, my muscles had all been lax and flabby. Through Sam Chang and his team’s efforts, I was now buff and toned. But I was loath to show my naked form to anyone who wasn’t a member of my health team. Even Maeve and my mother hadn’t seen me naked for a while, which when I thought about it was ridiculous, since they’d seen my body at its absolute worst over the years.

  Without clothing to shield it, my body was a red, swollen, twisting map of scars, keloids, and healed surgical flaps. No man in his right mind would look at it and find it appealing. Desirous.

  Fuckable.

  If I ever had the opportunity to have sex again it was going to have to take place in a blacked-out room, or the man would have to be blindfolded. And while that conjured up all kinds of kinky, erotic fantasy images, I was pretty sure I’d opt for the dark room.

  As I had at dinner, I shook my head a few times to clear it of all my outrageous thoughts and tried to concentrate on the ballet.

  No easy feat with the delicious man sitting next to me, holding my hand.

  The houselights came up for intermission while the audience was still clapping wildly.

  I snuck a quick glance at Cade who was squinting and blinking adorably as the brightening light hit his eyes.

  “Want to get up and stretch our legs? Maybe get a drink?” he asked.

  I nodded and stood. “Drink, no, but yes to stretching. I tend to get stiff if I sit too long, an aftereffect of—”

  My mouth slammed shut to rein in the words I’d almost blurted.

  “Of what?” Cade asked.

  “Being immobile,” I said.

  His brows pulled together and before he could ask me the question I knew was brewing I slid my hand into his and tugged.

  “Come on. I don’t want to get trapped in an aisle. Ballet patrons are the slowest movers on the planet.”

  With a tiny shake of head, he let me pull him along.

  Luckily, we were a pair of the youngest people in our section so by the time most of the others had shuffled their way through the seats to the aisle, we were already in the vestibule.

  “Good thing you don’t want a drink,” Cade said, spying the mile-long bar line.

  I lifted my shoulders and pressed my shoulder blades together. My neck cracked. Audibly. Cade’s eyes went wide at the sound.

  “Ouch. You weren’t kidding about being stiff. Good thing you don’t have a desk job.”

  “Truth. I could never—”

  “Aurora! Darling! I knew that was you. I haven’t seen you in ages.”

  I recognized the loud, shrill voice before I ever turned around. My mother had often referred to it as the screech a herd of cats make when they’re terrified.

  “Mrs. Milton. How are you?”

  She chuffed my outstretched hand and pulled me in to her gargantuan chest for a hug that left me breathless from its force and the shear volume of perfume she was doused in.

  “Dear girl, it’s been so long.”

  Not long enough.

  When I could breathe again I gave her a smile I hoped didn’t look too uncomfortable.

  “You look wonderful, dear, considering what you’ve been through. Just as lovely as ever, if maybe a tad gaunt. You’re doing well?”

  “Yes, thank you.”

  “I saw your mother just the other day, having lunch with Mimsey Goldman. They were having quite the good time. I remember those days when I could barrel through three martini luncheons and champagne brunches without a care in the world. My poor heart can’t take that kind of lifestyle any longer. No, it’s all proteins and green vegetables nowadays. Your mother looked well. Refreshed, if you know what I mean.”

  “Thank you.”

  “It was good to see her out and about and not home, grieving your poor father. When I lost David I didn’t leave the house for almost two years. Couldn’t dress myself, didn’t want to eat. I was so happy to see your mother has moved on and is enjoying her life again. She’s not getting any younger. Well, none of us are, are we?”

  My back, already straight from stretching it, actually snapped. This odious woman had always been the sort to compliment with one hand while stabbing a stiletto through your shoulder blades with the other.

  I wasn’t about to be rude and give her a reason to gossip about or ridicule me to others, but it was hard, believe me, to keep my mouth shut and a snarky comeback to myself.

  Cade’s presence was my saving grace in keeping my cool. His firm hand pressed at my mid-back just as my shoulders went taut.

  “We’d better be heading back in,” he said, smiling down at me when I turned my gaze to him. “Excuse us,” he added to Sharon Milton.

  “Yes, yes. Of course. It was good to see you out and about, Aurora. Take care of yourself.”

  I nodded and smiled, surprised my face didn’t crack from the strain.

  With Cade’s hand wound around my upper arm, he propelled me clear across the room.

  “Odious woman,” I muttered when he guided us into an alcove. “That crack about my mother looking refreshed meant she was digging for dirt. She’d like nothing more than to tell all her cronies that my mom had work done. Stupid cow.”

  I folded my arms across my chest, shook my head.

  “She was never nice. Never. When I was kid she’d say things like good girls don’t talk with food in their mouths, or children should be seen and never heard. My poor mother sat on more committees with her than anyone should have to.”

  I slammed to a stop when I found Cade grinning at me. He’d slipped his hands into his tuxedo pockets and was rocking back on his heels. I got the distinct impression he was laughing at me.

  “Why are you looking at me like that?”

  “No reason, really. Just listening.”

  Damn the man. His eyes crinkled with mirth and all I wanted to do wipe the smile off his face.

  Okay, well, not really wipe off. Kiss off, was more what I was thinking.

  “So, want to head back to our seats? Aurora.”

  I rolled my eyes and shook my head. “So that’s why you look like you just won the lottery? Because you found out my real name?”

  He took a step closer to
me and tugged my hand back into his. The warmth of his long, strong fingers as they trailed back and forth across my knuckles was as soothing and calming as it was captivating. My brain shut down, all my nerve endings and senses focused on this man.

  “It’s a lovely name and it suits you, perfectly.”

  “Yeah, well, thanks, but I prefer A.J.”

  His laughing face went serious as he gazed down at me.

  “Listen. I’m not much for this.” He cocked his head, once, to indicate the theater. “How about we blow the rest of this off, go somewhere and talk? Get to know one another better.”

  I didn’t answer him right away as I considered it.

  “I mean, if you want to stay,” he added, “we can. But I’d really rather just spend some time alone with you, not watching people prance about on a stage.”

  His description had me smiling. “Don’t ever let the client who gave you the tickets hear you describe ballet as people prancing on the stage. He might take his business elsewhere.”

  Cade grinned and lifted a shoulder. “So, what do you say? Want to get out of here?”

  There were two more hours left for the second and third acts, which would put the show, all said and done, after midnight. In all honesty, I was a little tired and the thought of sitting, silent and still for another couple of hours wasn’t something I treasured.

  But the thought of spending more time with this lovely man was, so I nodded.

  Ten minutes later we were comfortably settled in a back booth in PJ Clarke’s.

  “I can’t believe how empty this place is,” Cade said as he sipped his beer.

  “Everyone’s across the street at the performance,” I said. Since the wine had gone so quickly to my head earlier, I’d opted for a cup of decaf tea. “By half past midnight this place will be full with everyone chatting, reviewing the show, and posting pictures in their fancy dress clothes to their social media accounts.”

  “I’ve never understood that.”

  “What?”

  “Why put every single thing about your life up on an app for all to see, comment over, and maybe even chance ridicule? Are people really that shallow and conceited? Do they crave attention so much they don’t care who gives it to them, as long as they trend and get followers?”

  I lifted a shoulder, unsure of how to respond. Once upon a time, I’d been a paparazzi princess and some would say I craved all the attention I was thrown. I really hadn’t, but just accepted it as part of the lifestyle I led. If the coma hadn’t happened, I probably would be one of those influencers and social media mavens Cade didn’t understand.

  “It’s a different world these days.” I took a sip of my tea.

  “I get some of it. How minute-by-minute the news can change, or how you need to keep updated on what’s happening in the world. But do people really care what you’re having for dinner, or want to see you putting on eye makeup or exercising?”

  “Apparently, yes.”

  He squinted over at me. “Please don’t tell me you’re an influencer.”

  “No. I’m even one of those rare people who uses her phone for two things. Texting and talking. I don’t check my email on my cell, I don’t take and post pictures. I’m about as unplugged as I can possibly be and still be connected.”

  “Good. I don’t know how I’d feel if you were Instagramming everything about our dating.”

  “No worries about that. I value my privacy. And like I said, my phone is really just a phone.”

  He took another sip of his beer, then sighed. “I admire you for that. My clients want twenty-four/seven access to me, so my phone is another appendage.”

  “And yet I notice you’ve never once sneaked a peek at it while we’ve been together.”

  The sexy little grin I really liked slid across his face. He stretched a hand across the table, and as he had before, threaded his fingers with mine while his gaze took a slow stroll from my eyes, to my lips, and then back again.

  “That one’s easy.”

  I quirked an eyebrow and leaned in a bit closer, mimicking his movements with my own eyes. “Oh?”

  “I’ve turned my phone off and rerouted all my calls to my assistant every time we’ve been together.”

  Pleasure burned through me.

  “Is that wise for business? I mean, your clients want you, don’t they? Not an”—I flipped my free hand carelessly in the air—“underling.”

  A sensual shiver tripped up my spine at the sound of his deep, low chuckle.

  “What’s so funny?”

  In a smooth and seductive move, Cade lifted the hand he held, brought it to his mouth and raked my knuckles gently across his parted lips.

  Wow. Who knew knuckles were so… erogenous?

  “You are,” Cade said. His lips closed around my index knuckle for a moment, the tip of his tongue swiping across it.

  Under the table my thighs involuntarily pressed together.

  “No one’s referred to my assistant, Daniel, as an underling before. I’m going to tell him you called him that.”

  I swallowed as he sucked the next knuckle into his mouth.

  “Cade, what are you doing?”

  “I’m not doing it right if you have to ask.” His gaze was filled with humor and heat as it lit on mine.

  I couldn’t help but grin at him. “You’re intention is loud and clear.”

  “Good.” He drew the next knuckle in.

  By now my thighs were pressed so close together I had pins and needles in my knees from suppressed blood flow.

  “But I have to ask, why?”

  He stopped teasing my hand and tossed me a confused look. “I would think that was obvious.”

  “Maybe I need it spelled out.”

  He lowed my hand to the table, but kept hold of it. He took a moment, probably to collect his thoughts.

  “That day we bumped into one another at the Till—”

  “Literally, bumped.”

  One side of his mouth inched up. “I wanted to follow you, introduce myself and ask for your number. I can’t explain it, but I just…wanted to get to know you.”

  “Do you usually want to get to know women who don’t look where they’re going?”

  He laughed and shook his head. “First time. But I had to meet with my client, so I couldn’t go after you. When I was done, I went looking for you but you’d already finished and gone. Meeting you again at the auction was a surprise. A very pleasant one.”

  “I thought it more a coincidence.”

  “Ah, but here’s were we differ because I thought it was…fate.”

  I considered that for a moment. “Fate makes it seem like it was, I don’t, destined, maybe? That’s a little farfetched for me.”

  “But that’s exactly what it was.” He tugged my other hand until he held both. “I’m a big believer in destiny. That when things are supposed to happen, the universe will arrange it somehow. And I believe you and I were meant to meet. Were meant to be together.”

  The truth was in his eyes, in the moisture and conviction floating there. As sure as he was, I have to admit, I had some doubts.

  “You have to know how attracted I am to you, Aurora. I haven’t exactly been shy about expressing that.”

  “You get your point across.”

  His eyes sparkled. “Good. I’d hate to think there were any doubts.”

  His fingers circled my knuckles again. Every touch sent little flares of desire through me. No, there was no doubt what he wanted.

  “And I don’t think I’m wrong in thinking you feel the same way about me. Your pulse jumps every time I skim over your hand. You feel it, too, don’t you? This connection. Am I wrong?”

  “No.” I shook my head and sighed. More than just my pulse went haywire every time he touched me. “You’re an attractive, interesting man, and I’ve enjoyed being with you.”

  “Why do I hear a but in that compliment?”

  I bit down on the inside of my cheek, uncertain how to phrase what I
needed him to know without divulging too much, too quickly.

  “To be truthful, this is all a little fast for me, Cade. I haven’t dated in…a while. A long while. There are reasons, good ones, but I’m not willing to share them just yet. I am attracted to you, more than I’ve been to any man in almost a lifetime, but it doesn’t mean I’m willing to jump into bed with you right now. Can you understand that? If not, if you want to walk away now, I’ll understand.”

  The expression on his face never changed. “The fact you don’t want to share your reasons with me just yet gives me hope you will want to in the future.” He squeezed my hands. “That’s enough for me.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, really.”

  Not pushing earned him major points. Relief ran through me.

  “Now, do you have any plans for the weekend?” he asked as he settled back and grabbed his beer again.

  “Saturday is filled with appointments and then I’d planned on a long run Sunday.”

  “Define long.”

  “Ten miles.”

  I laughed when he winced.

  “If I’m going to run the marathon,” I said, “I need to start building up my run distances. I finished a half recently, and that almost did me in, so longer runs are a necessity.”

  “Want a running partner? I haven’t done more than five miles in a while, but I’m willing to up my distance, too, if it means we get to spend more time together.”

  How sweet was that?

  “Sure you’re up for it?” Flirty Rory asked. “You’d be doubling your usual distance.”

  “Is that a challenge I hear, woman?” His left eyebrow rose and I had the most irresistible urge to lean across the table and run my tongue over it.

  All over his body, if I’m being truthful.

  A few minutes later I stifled a yawn as I finished my tea.

  “Come on,” he said, rising and extending a hand. “Let me take you home.”

  “I can call my driver to pick me up. He’s used to it. You don’t have to go out of your way.”

  “It’s not out of my way and my mother taught me to always see a lady home.”