by CA Quigg
"Google says a lot of things that aren't true. If we play it right, we won't get investigated. We'll keep the house as long as needed. You can even live there if you want. Make it your own."
"Why the fuck would I want to live in a house that isn't mine? This is my home, and I don't want to leave."
I rubbed my weary eyelids. "If anything happens, I'll take the fall. Say you had no idea I was using you for a green card. That none of the blame is yours. Isn't that what Gérard did for Andie. I can even say I fooled you into believing I loved you."
Hurt flashed through her eyes. "Everyone will have no trouble believing that because it wouldn't be the first time it happened."
There was a tinge of bitterness to her words, and she closed her eyes as if to gather composure. Every time she was on the verge of showing some emotion, she reined it in. Why? Was she that restrained in all areas of her life? In bed? Or was that the one place she let go? And as wrong as it was, I badly wanted to find out.
She opened her eyes, and all signs of her previous emotion had vanished. "Fine. We'll go house hunting tomorrow. The old Smith place-Cliffside Cottage-overlooking the beach by the edge of town is up for sale. It needs a lot of work, but it's out of the way and means busybodies won't stick their noses into our business."
"If you think it'll work, let's buy it."
"Is that how everything is with you?" Her lips twisted into a smirk. "Want a house, buy it. Want a country club, buy it. Want a wife, buy her."
I shrugged. "I do what I can to stay ahead. I'm not afraid to admit what I want. To lay it on the table and show every piece of myself. I don't hide behind anything."
"Are you saying I hide?"
I blew out a frustrated breath and stood. "Don't twist my words. I meant you don't ever seem to get excited or angry. It's like you're afraid you'll crack if you show any emotion. You barely showed any emotion when you told me about your dad, and what little emotion you did show, you shut down fast."
"Just because I don't show emotion doesn't mean I don't feel it."
"I bet if I kissed you with everything I had, you wouldn't show a flicker of emotion. I don't think you know how."
If I didn't think she would kick me in the balls, I'd pull her to me and press my lips against hers-but just to prove my point and for no other reason. Damaged women weren't my thing. It seemed everyone she loved had broken her in someway and fixing her wasn't a responsibility I wanted to take on.
Sweaty, fuck-filled nights were never followed by pillow talk and sweet nothings. They were followed by thanks for the shag, and maybe I'll see you around. She needed more than that.
She licked her lips, and her gaze moved to my mouth. "What's kissing me got to do with anything? And since we're on the subject, I'm an excellent kisser. A passionate kisser. No complaints from anyone."
She raised her chin and met my eyes. I wished she hadn't because the need I saw there beckoned like a siren's song.
"Prove it." I invaded her space until she had no choice but to step away.
When her back bumped off the wall, and she had no place to go, I cupped her cheeks and ran the pad of my thumbs over her lips.
The citrusy scent that would forever be hers swirled around me, kicking my senses into overdrive. She was passionate all right. I saw it in her eyes, feel it in the way her body strained to get close to mine.
Her wine laced breath fanned over my chin. I lowered my lips to hers.
Her lips were softer than I'd imagined and a small whimper drifted from her mouth into mine. Intoxicating wasn't the word for our kiss. It consumed me. Owned me.
She wrapped her hands around my biceps, digging her fingers into my muscles.
Her mouth drove me insane, and when her tongue tentatively reached for mine, it took inhuman strength not to strip her naked. I tugged her hair out of its bun and tangled my fingers through the falling strands.
It'd been a long time since one kiss from a woman I didn't know had such a potent effect on me. My balls tingled, and my cock hardened. I pressed my body to hers to show her how much I wanted her. She didn't back away if anything she deepened our kiss.
If kissing her was so all-consuming, what would sex with her feel like.
She broke our kiss and stepped back. Triumph shone in her eyes.
"There. I can kiss. Happy?" The pulse in her neck thundered, and her breath came in short puffs.
"That's one way to describe it."
I untangled my fingers from her hair and reality punched me in the face. Getting involved emotionally or physically was a disastrous idea. But seeing the way her chest rose and fell and the way her swollen lips teased me, I wanted to find out just how disastrous of an idea it was. But before I got the both of us into trouble, and before I did something neither of us could come back from, I stepped away and immediately missed the warmth of her body.
"I think it's time to go. I'll pick you up first thing tomorrow, and we'll go to the house you mentioned. Thanks for dinner."
Her pupils dilated, and she sucked her lower lip between her teeth. Christ! If that wasn't the sexiest thing, I'd ever seen… I needed to get the hell out of Dodge because if I didn't, I would peel her clothes off and screw her over the coffee table.
"Leaving so soon? Did I show too much emotion for you?"
I laughed, but it was forced and false. "I have things I need to do this evening. We can… talk some more tomorrow." After I'd had a cold shower, a full night's sleep and all of my senses were back in place.
Without waiting for her to say anything else, I legged it from her apartment.
Once in the safety of my car, I slapped my palm against the steering wheel.
"Fucking eejit."
I wouldn't lay another finger on her. If the kiss was anything to go by, she was passionate and sexy and hungry for someone to show her how gorgeous she was. Show her how to let go and release the passion she kept closed inside.
On the beach when I'd proposed my idea, she'd said she wasn't interested in love. Bull-fucking-shit. I tasted it in her kiss. Saw it in her eyes. Maybe she didn't realize love was what she wanted, but she did.
I wasn't the man to give it to her. I'd loved once-no, that was a lie. I'd given my heart twice. I closed my eyes and willed the memories to go back to sleep.
I glanced up at Elizabeth's window not sure what I was expecting to see. To see her gazing mournfully in my direction? For her to hang out of the window and beg me to come back? I was a dick.
Lizzie Beaufort had been hurt enough in her life, and I didn't want to be the one who hurt her even more because as sure as the sun would rise and set, I would. There was no way I couldn't.
Chapter 8
Elizabeth
He'd kissed me.
His lips had touched my lips.
His tongue had caressed my tongue.
No matter how much lavender I used, sleep wouldn't come, and I lay on top of the covers staring at the ceiling. When he'd cupped my face, I thought I would die. When he tugged my bun free and tangled his fingers through my hair, I thought I would collapse. And when his lips first touched mine, I thought I would spontaneously combust or have an instant orgasm.
His lips were soft and warm, his stubble rough against my chin. He tasted like more. So much more.
I'd dreamed about a kiss like that but never thought I would actually experience it. The hardness in his pants showed me how much he enjoyed it, but the sheer terror filling his eyes when he stepped away told me he'd rather stick his tongue inside a wasp nest than inside my mouth again.
What was his real reason for kissing me? It wasn't because he was attracted to me-how could he be? Was it his way of sweetening me up so I would move into a house with him? A new house made sense. It would mean neither of us would invade each other's personal space.
I could move in some of my things, so it looked as if I lived there, but when
I wasn't at work, I would spend most of my time in my own apartment in my own bed surrounded by my own things. Alone. Always alone.
Cliffside Cottage was a turn-of-the-century white clapboard and was somewhere I could never afford. The place needed love, but nothing some time and money wouldn't fix.
More evenings than I cared to remember after my divorce, I'd driven to the empty house and sat on the creaking swing on the wraparound porch and watched the sunset. Sometimes I did sun salutations. Sarah, Sundown Sands yoga guru, showed me how to do them, so they relaxed and recharged my body instead of raising energy. Sometimes I sat silently on the edge of the cliff hoping the fiery rays would somehow heal my pain and wipe away my humiliation. They never did. Only time would do that. Time had better hurry up because I was sick of feeling like a pathetic loser.
If the house were truly mine, I would grow herbs, somehow learn how to keep flowers alive, and make skin care products in the kitchen.
Images of Caden coming home after a day at the office filled my mind. Of our kids throwing themselves into his arms. Of him kissing me the way he had earlier.
My nipples tightened, and the space between my thighs throbbed with want and need. But, allowing him to quench that need wasn't a risk I wanted to take no matter how much I ached for it.
Chapter 9
Elizabeth
"We'll take it," Caden said.
"I knew you'd love it." Susan Taylor's eyes glowed in triumph. She'd been trying to shift what she saw as a white elephant for over a year, everyone in town knew it, but there was no way Sundown Sands' only realtor would have expected such an easy sale.
"We haven't even looked at all of the rooms," I cautioned, sliding my feet over the cracked linoleum covering the floor in the 1970's kitchen. "They could be filled with mold and mouse droppings. Critters could have made their homes in the walls." Despite the butterflies doing the side shuffle inside my belly, I wouldn't get excited or show how much I wanted the house.
"I want this to be our home," Caden said. "I can see a forever here. Can't you?"
For effect, he reached for my hand and squeezed. Susan practically melted onto the floor into a puddle of goo. I didn't blame her, because if he kept holding my hand, I would end up in a puddle of goo, too. Caden Gallagher judged his audience well and knew exactly how to work them.
"Forever's a long time," I said. "Let's not get carried away."
The place needed more work than I had originally thought. Weather-worn shutters hung off peeling frames. The siding was chipped and flaked, and a lot of the boards were missing, but it still felt and smelled like home-my home. At a million and a half, the cost was a million and a half over my budget of nothing. Divorcing Caden would be much easier than leaving Cliffside Cottage. Perhaps I could renegotiate so I would get the house when our contract ended.
Maybe I could build a cottage for my dad out back. A place where he could live without worry. He would fight me every step, but if he needed constant care, I wouldn't give him a choice.
Now who was getting ahead of themselves?
As soon as we were finished viewing the house, I would go back to the hospital and tell my dad all about my plans. I'd stopped by this morning, but he wasn't awake. He hadn't been awake anytime I've visited him. The suspicious part of me wondered if he was pretending to sleep, so he wouldn't have to talk to me.
"Happy," Caden asked, nudging my shoulder.
The butterflies were now weaving their way around my belly in a conga line.
"There's a lot of work to do before we can call it a home. Painting." I ran my hand over the bumps on the lilac walls. "Most of the plaster needs replaced, and I think the floors. I'm not sure if we have the time."
"Nonsense," Susan said. Her shrill voice gave away her panic. Losing a sale this big wasn't an option. "You have a good eye. Everyone thinks that." The way her eyes darted up and down my black suit suggested no one thought that. "The décor in the club is very…tasteful."
If Susan was handing out compliments, she must be desperate.
"I'll make sure to tell granny Beaufort you like her style the next time I see her."
Caden slid an arm around my waist like it belonged there. I glanced down. How had I not noticed his squared-off fingertips, or the small tufts of hair covering his knuckles? He pressed a kiss to the top of my head, and I closed my eyes to savor the sensation. If only this were real, and we were in love and were about to buy our forever home.
"This one's afraid to show how much she loves it," he said to Susan, "but I can tell she does, when she's excited or anxious, she nibbles on the inside of her lip."
Did I still do that? I hadn't even noticed. It was one of the few self-soothing habits leftover from my childhood.
"It'll make an excellent family home," Susan gushed hugging a pink clipboard to her chest. "When's the big day?" she looked at me expectantly. "How did you manage to keep everything so secret? I didn't hear a single whisper about you having a boyfriend never mind another fiancé. How do you manage to snag so many attractive men? You'll have to share your secret."
"We're getting married next week," Caden said, squeezing my waist. "It's been a bit of a whirlwind. No big secret. When you know, you know, and we know."
"Yes," I murmured, "when you know you know. And it seems we both know, y'know."
"How romantic," Susan said and gave a tight smile. "I'm glad you've found someone. After what happened last time with…" She paused and looked at me for help, but I wasn't going to give any.
"With?" I asked, not caring if I made her uncomfortable. At least this year the sewing circle, of which Susan was the head seamstress, would gossip about me getting married and not about my husband leaving me.
"Doesn't matter. Ancient history." Susan glanced at her watch. "Would you look at the time. It's too late to file the paperwork today, but once the mortgage is approved, the house is yours."
"No mortgage needed," Caden said. "We're buying with cash. Don't want to start the rest of our lives in debt, do we, Lizzie?"
"No, I guess not."
He said it so casually as if handing over a million and a half on a house that needed at least two hundred grand in repairs was something he did every day.
I glanced at him and saw the gleam in his eye. He wasn't splashing the cash because he loved the house. He was looking at the land through a developer's eye.
A boulder-sized stone of disappointed dropped into my stomach and killed the dancing butterflies. As soon as we divorced, he would most likely rip down the house and build something that would make him money. There would be no happily ever after in Cliffside Cottage for me.
"Do you mind if we stay for a while longer?" Caden asked Susan. "I'd loved to walk around and get a feel for the place. Talk about where we're going to put the nursery."
Susan's eyes dropped to my stomach.
I elbowed Caden in the ribs. "Don't listen to a word that comes out of his charming mouth. He's trying to be funny and not succeeding."
Susan tittered out a laugh, her hand fluttering to her throat. Caden had her wrapped around his little finger.
"I wouldn't normally, but I like you," she said, handing Caden the key. "Put it in the lock box when you're done."
"Will do. Cheers."
We walked Susan to her car, and as soon as she drove away, I turned to Caden.