“I’m lucky to get this shot. Besides, it’s fun.” His gaze narrowed. “Why? Do you think I sold out or something?”
“No, I’m just asking. If you’re happy, I’m happy.”
“Sure doesn’t seem that way,” he muttered.
She jerked and stared at him. “What?”
“I mean, I get it. Things are hard out there, and the auditions aren’t going well, but something will break soon. Robbie told me about this new reality show they’re casting. It’s called Future Pop Star. You’d be perfect for it.”
Her stomach clenched. She poked at her pasta. “I don’t think I’m pop star material,” she said. “I don’t like all that image stuff. I just want to sing.”
“Yeah, but first you need to show them you’re marketable, or they won’t even give you a chance to do what you really want. Things work differently out here, Ophelia. You keep acting like everyone’s a sellout.”
“No I don’t.”
He tightened his lips. “Will you please audition for it? Just be more open-minded if they talk to you about image—don’t take it personally. Your voice is gold. Once they hear it, they’re going to want to make you a star.”
The dream. To be a star. Once, she’d believed he wanted fame as much as he wanted her.
Now she realized she’d been wrong. She loved singing, but she loved Kyle more. She just wanted her husband the way he used to be—not this new, shinier version she didn’t know how to relate to. What if she told him she didn’t want the same things he did? Would he still want her?
The questions whirled in her head, but she nodded, enjoying the smile that lit up his beautiful face. God, how she loved him. God, how she wanted to be what he needed.
“Okay, Kyle. If that’s what you want, I’ll try out.”
“Thanks, baby. You’ll be great. I’ll call Rob after dinner. Did I tell you they’re trying to attach Woody Harrelson to the part of the police officer? Wouldn’t that be fucking awesome?”
She nodded and smiled as he spoke—and willed the sick feeling in her gut away.
The phone rang, jolting him out of the scene. Trying to clear his head, he clicked the button and tried not to sound as irritated as he felt. “Yeah?”
“It’s Rob. I’m still pissed, you know. We may never get another chance at Jenkins.”
Kyle understood, but he was damn glad he’d stayed. Every second with Ophelia was precious. Flying back out to Hollywood would have only given her more doubts about his declaration that he’d changed.
“Yeah, I figured. What’d you tell him?”
“Made up some crap, so if this next thing falls through, we can save face and see if Jenkins still wants help. Speaking of which—when will you have the screenplay ready? I’ve got a lot of people excited to see this new side of Kyle Kimpton. People got some grabby hands here to read it first.”
Satisfaction curled through him. Once they read it, he knew it would be an easy sell. Though Fifty Shades of Grey bombed by certain Hollywood standards, it had made a ton of money from audiences made up of loyal readers of the book, so Kyle knew the market was ripe for a decent love story besides the ones penned by Nicholas Sparks. Personally, he’d enjoyed both the Sparks and Fifty Shades books and thought the fans supported the films well. Then again, he liked reading romance novels and hated how the industry looked down on them. Kind of like action movies. Everyone wanted to compartmentalize them into a box and call it trashy, shallow fiction. Always pissed him off.
“I’ll have it done in two months, by April first. You need to line up the best, Rob. This is important to me—probably the most important project I’ve done.”
“So you’ve told me dozens of times. I’m not deaf, Kimpton. Give me a ring if you need anything. In the meantime, I’ll get the players in play. Now go write.”
He clicked off, then rubbed his head and looked over the section he’d just written. He was starting to view the past differently—as if a pair of 3-D glasses had been ripped off his vision and painful memories were now clearer.
Like when Ophelia had left him.
He remembered entering their apartment to find it empty. Her clothes gone from the closet. Her scent lingering in his nostrils. An eerie silence in the air.
He’d been so enraged, so full of raw pain that he’d blamed her for running away and not giving them a chance. Now, looking back, he wondered if she’d given him so many chances, whether he’d broken her trust.
If he had come home that night when he’d promised, would it have changed their entire future?
Her taste still lingered on his lips. His dick hardened at the thought of her sweet body opening up to him as he reclaimed her. Last night had showed him the most important realization of all.
He was still in love with her.
He’d never fallen out of love with her. The past eight years had revolved around doing anything to try and forget what they’d had, but now that he had her back in his bed and his life, he only wanted more.
This time, it would be different. He needed to gain back her trust and get her to understand he wasn’t leaving.
This time, he’d choose her.
Ophelia stepped into the house and held her breath.
Straining her ears, she caught the sound of low tapping from upstairs. She sagged in relief. Yes, she was a coward, but she couldn’t face Kyle just yet.
There was no way she’d be able to step into her room and see him naked and sprawled out on her bed without jumping him.
She headed to the kitchen and unloaded the bags. She’d been at the Market to greet Fran at opening and score some of her fresh, hot cinnamon rolls and breakfast quiches. It would make her morning easier if she could just supplement them with fresh-fruit parfaits and smoked bacon for the guests. She didn’t have the focus to deal with too much this morning.
All she could think of was Kyle.
Ophelia groaned and began making the coffee. Last night had been incredible. Perfect. Soul-stirring.
And it couldn’t happen again.
Being back in his arms made her realize her emotions hadn’t really changed. He was still the only man who commanded her body and heart.
Oh, how she’d tried desperately to fall for someone else over the past decade.
She’d gone on plenty of dates and had two brief affairs, but no man seemed to interest her.
It became easier to fill her life with other things that brought her happiness.
But Kyle’s life was back in Hollywood. That meant, eventually, he’d leave her again. If she opened herself up to him, she didn’t know if she’d recover when he left.
“Avoiding me?”
Gasping, she whirled around and slammed into the edge of the counter. “You scared me! Why are you sneaking around?”
He cocked his head and stretched out his arms to prop his palms against the wall. The cotton of his shirt pulled against those hard muscles, then molded lovingly to his lean frame. A pair of jeans hung low on his hips. His hair was still mussed from last night. He was barefoot.
Immediately, her body piqued to attention. Her core heated and softened. Her nipples poked against her bra for release. Her skin got itchy and tight.
And damn if the man didn’t give her a half smirk, his lip quirking upward in arrogance. She’d never been able to hide her reaction to him, even after all these years.
“Maybe ’cause you snuck out of bed this morning without a word or even a note. Made me feel all sad and cheap.”
She glowered. “I highly doubt it. I wanted to get to the store so I wouldn’t have to worry about breakfast.”
“I would’ve helped you.”
She crossed her arms in front of her chest. “I can take care of myself and my inn.”
He quirked a brow. “Never said you can’t. Just wanted the opportunity to show you last night meant more than simply scratching an itch.”
She tried not to fidget as she regarded him coolly. “Last night was a way to close a chapter of our past. I don’
t regret it, but it won’t happen again.”
“I think it will.”
Her mouth dropped open. “What did you say?”
He pushed off the wall and stalked over to her. She hurriedly backed up.
“I said I think it will happen again. Hell, I’m going to work my ass off to make sure it happens a few times a day—and all night long.”
Heat flushed her cheeks. Her belly dropped. “You can’t say stuff like that! Last night was a onetime thing. I figured we’d get back to normal in the morning.”
A low chuckle escaped his lips. “Baby, we have never been normal. We eloped at eighteen, and I’ve never fallen for another woman since. The moment we’re in the same room together, all I want to do is touch you.”
“No—touching is not a good idea. Let’s just try to get back to a normal relationship.”
“We’re still legally married, and I’m living here for the next two months. What type of normal are you talking about?”
She blew out a breath as her back hit the refrigerator, blocking any further retreat. “A new normal. We go back to the original rules, where we stay out of each other’s way. We refile for the divorce and put this whole thing behind us.”
He loomed over her. His musky scent hit her nostrils, forcing her to bite back a moan.
Why did he have to be so damn sexy and virile and masculine? Why did her legs buckle and her mind spin the moment he got near?
She curled her hands into tight fists to keep from reaching for him and tried to rally.
“Don’t want to put this behind us,” he drawled. “I want to offer you something better. A new arrangement.”
“No.”
He bent his head, and his breath rushed against her cheek. “You didn’t hear it yet. You’ll like it.”
“No.”
He laughed softly, his hand pushing her hair back. “God, you’re hot when you’re stubborn. See, here’s the truth. I can’t keep my hands off you while I’m here. I don’t want to, and I don’t think you want me to, either.”
“You’re wrong. I got you out of my system.”
He tipped her chin up and forced her to meet his gaze. Amusement glinted in the forest-green depths. “Did you enjoy last night, baby?”
Oh. God.
She struggled to form words in her suddenly dry mouth.
She wished she could lie or play it casual, but there was no way she could pretend their time together wasn’t earth-shattering.
She settled for keeping it short and to the point. “Yes.”
His lips tugged into a half smile. “Do you honestly think we can live in the same house together and pretend we’re strangers? Pretend I didn’t touch you and kiss you and make love to you for hours?”
She hated the weakness of her body and mind. She hated that he was right.
“Damn you,” she whispered.
“I don’t want to hurt you, baby,” he said softly. “I just want to be with you. I’m not trying to play games. I’m asking for a chance to explore this and see if you can give me another chance. Do you want to walk away without ever knowing whether we could have given us another shot? You fill me in a way no other woman can. Is it wrong to fight hard for the only woman I’ve ever loved?”
Her fingers pressed against her trembling lips as she tried to make sense of his words. Truth lit from his body, his eyes, his aura. This wasn’t about just sex. He was being completely vulnerable, standing before her, asking for a chance to see if they had something still worth fighting for. She’d been so focused on battling her body’s weaknesses, he’d managed to sneak past her emotional barriers.
“And what happens when it’s time for you to return to California? How do we possibly make a long-distance relationship work?”
“I believe if we want it bad enough, we can make it work. Look at Mia and Ethan. They managed.”
“They were in the same state. Plus Mia moved upstate to be with him full time.”
Frustration shot off him. “Right now, I don’t care about the logistics. Right now, I want to see if what we have is real and can grow. I’m looking for you to be open to getting to know me again. We’ve both changed, and we may not fit in each other’s worlds any longer. But, God, Ophelia, I still ache for you. If I don’t try, I’ll regret it for the rest of my life.”
“What about our divorce?”
His jaw clenched. “I’m asking you to wait on the divorce until the end of the winter. Give us some time. I swear to God, if you still want to go ahead with the divorce when I leave, I won’t fight you. I’ll make sure it gets done. Just give us these next two months.”
She turned away and walked to the stove. Her thoughts spun.
Opening herself up for another heartbreak was like playing Russian roulette, right? Why would she possibly consider such a crazy offer?
Because you still have feelings for him, her inner voice taunted. Because you’ve never gotten over him or been able to move on.
Was this a way to truly learn to let him go? Being able to explore every aspect of the man he’d become, beyond the ups and downs of youth?
They’d been practically babies, believing their passion and talent were enough. Married at eighteen in secret like some big adventure, ignorant of what messy reality might emerge. They hadn’t been prepared.
Did she owe it to herself to see if their relationship could blossom now that they were older and wiser?
They had a specific timeline.
When it was time for him to leave, she’d know. And if they did agree their marriage could work, they’d be able to see things clearly enough to make the next step. This time with their eyes wide open.
Slowly, she turned to face him. “I don’t want to get hurt again.”
“Me neither.”
“I’ll keep an open mind. See how things go. No promises.”
He rubbed the top of his head, then nodded. “Fair enough. Let’s start with today.”
She pursed her lips. “What do you want?”
“Besides dragging you back to bed and waking you up properly?” His grin was very wicked and very male, and her skin peppered with goose bumps. “Spend some time with me today. Let’s go for a ride later on.”
“A ride? It’s freezing. The trails are closed.”
“Just a leisurely walk to get the horses some exercise. There’s no snow in the forecast, and the wind-chill factor is low today. It’ll be good for us to get some fresh air.”
She remembered how they’d loved to ride together, racing across the meadow as they chased the sinking sun. Guiding the horses through shaded, woodsy paths while they talked nonstop about everything. Her heart ached at the memory. “Okay. One p.m. works for me.”
“Perfect. I’m going to work, then to visit Ethan for a bit. I’ll see you later.”
She expected him to close the distance and kiss her. Instead, he shot her a devastating grin and disappeared, his bare heels echoing on the stairs.
The breath whooshed out of her lungs. This was uncharted territory. She’d agreed to be open to exploring a relationship with Kyle again. Maybe even to sleeping with him.
No, definitely sleeping with him.
There was no way she’d be able to fight off their intense attraction—and she didn’t want to.
The only way to give their relationship a fair shot was be honest and vulnerable enough to fall.
She just didn’t know if she was able to give him her whole self anymore.
Her mind whirling, she began to prep for breakfast. She needed to spend the next few hours catering to her guests. She had two new arrivals tomorrow; from their brief phone conversation, she already sensed they’d be divas. They were doing something with the SUNY New Paltz campus and thought it would be cool to stay at a B & B rather than a hotel. She remembered when Mia had first arrived. She’d thrown out a bunch of demands, obviously not thrilled about spending the summer outside of the city. But even from the first, Ophelia sensed a kindness in her, evident after she fell hard for he
r brother. Maybe her two new guests would prove her initial reaction wrong.
At noon, she decided to make a quick stop to check on Patrick. She was still uneasy about him being alone in that big farmhouse by himself. All those years of misery and boarding himself up couldn’t be undone so quickly. He had no social network, and no one else in town gave a crap what happened to him.
But he was still Kyle’s father. And he was trying. She wanted to make sure he hadn’t had a relapse. If he did, she’d be hit with the guilt that she hadn’t made him go to the hospital.
Packing up the leftover breakfast quiche and a cinnamon roll, she took the short drive to his house. This time, when she knocked on the door, he didn’t look as surprised to see her. His hawklike nose practically sniffed in anticipation of the goodies she held in her hand, but he pretended it wasn’t a big deal when he invited her in.
“I’m feeling fine,” he said.
She studied his face.
Yes, his eyes were clear and his throat didn’t sound like he was fighting for breath or wheezing.
“You look better. I brought you some breakfast.”
“Didn’t have to do that,” he grumbled as he reached for the bag.
“I know. Just had some leftovers to get rid of. Want some tea?”
“Aren’t I the one who’s supposed to be offering you stuff?”
She smiled as he sat at the kitchen table and tore into the sweets. “Probably, but I make better tea. What are you doing?”
The table was littered with shoeboxes and scattered papers. A bright blue photo album lay open. Curious, she bent over to examine it, but Patrick quickly slammed the book shut.
“Just some pictures,” he mumbled, avoiding her gaze.
She nodded, allowing him his privacy. The kitchen was tidier this time, so she just straightened up and made two cups of green tea, adding a squirt of honey she’d brought over the last time. When she sat down with him at the table, she noticed he’d pushed the boxes and papers to the far corner, away from her prying eyes.
“I’m glad you’re feeling better. What are your plans this week?”
He gave a snort. “Plans? Besides my visit to the Queen? Nothin’ much. Just cashing my social security check. That’s a big day at the bank for seniors. They pretty much have a party.”
A Brand New Ending (Stay Book 2) Page 18